A Grandmother's Notes on a Night with the Beatles (Toronto 1966)

 A Grandmother's Notes on a Night with the Beatles

By Maggie Grant

The Gazette 

September 17, 1966

The Canadian's Maggie Grant, a grandmother, spends an evening with the Beatles and reports on one of the true wonders of our times.

     Set out to observe Beatle phenomenon, Maple Leaf Gardens, Toronto, August 17. Temperature 85 degrees. Hair combed à la Ringo. Arrived early with firm grip on press conference pass ticket. Found area a swarm with little people. Several more years apiece to grow. Explains puzzling term "teeny boppers." Array of rament, quenched hope, astonishing styles shown in magazines would be unmarketable. 

    One belle, "I love Paul", stenciled across seat of bell bottoms, was telling world at large, "I got all the way up to their floor in the hotel, all the way to the eighth floor, and then the stinking cops caught me!" 

    "The eighth floor should be declared a national shrine," said a lass in black mesh stockings, no shoes.     Two tots wearing granny dresses, unrealistically blonde hair, sprawled in alleyways, sobbing like disaster victims. Police had barred entry to Beadle's dressing room. 

    Stirring of anti-copism in own breast upon officers' brush off of press credentials was passed from entrance to entrance back again. Three circuits of building maintained iron control despite foot moans, sweat bath. Police regained esteem by averting trampling by flying wedges of maidens. Had fancied they spotted Beatles in far distance. Incident lent courage to Pengate Guardian to Turnstile asked, "Do I look like a teeny bopper?" Guardian conceded did not, was passed into sacred premises. 

    Conference heavily attended by Veterans of Fourth Estate, conducted with solemnity. Accord senior statesmen, Beatles resplendent in pastel suits, settled vexing world problems to satisfaction of all retired, began searching for press box. 

    Several false leads furnished by distraught ushers.  Located it hanging from roof beams. Temperature at that altitude: 95 degrees. View liked peering into Grand Canyon. Stage size of postage stamp. 16,000 ticket holders, bits of color, shifting kaleidoscope, overtaken by dizziness, set back closed eyes, jarred to chair edge by uproar greeting first preliminary act, group name of the Remains.  Guitarist lept about like orangutans, presumably also twanged instruments. Couldn't hear above audience. Thunderous work of drummer. Kleenex stuffed in ears. Prayed for survival.

     Other prelims equally clangorous, fortified self with hot dog. Hung on. Beatles' hour approach. Further, police march to battle stations. Then the magic moment: terrible sound decibels forth from 16,000 throats. Prelim reception like cathedral hush in comparison. Cannot describe marathon mating cry of Beatlemania. Cannot describe assault on eyeballs of 16,000 exploding flashbulbs; the combination could petrify brain tissue. Finished came senses reeled on stood more or less direct. Sought first aid station overflowing with stretcher cases, withering in religious ecstasy, all subteens.  Decided not to offer self-retreatment. Groped out of building and home. Will confine Beatle devotion to record in future.