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.

Beatles' Junior Press Conference was Fantastic (1966)

Beatles Junior Press Conference Was Fantastic

By Sylvie Reice

The Spokesman-Review

September 11, 1966

    The girls were screaming and squealing inside the hotel room where the Beatles were holding their first press conference for teens. The national press reporters and cameramen were waiting in an adjoining room to hear the conference over loudspeakers. I left them and stationed myself unobtrusively outside the door of the conference room.

     Girls were still coming in, nervously showing their credentials to the policeman at the door. One girl got hysterical when the officer questioned her pass, "But it's just like that, girls'!" She cried and burst into tears before they could even assure her that it was okay. The screaming continued just before they closed the door. 

    Another reporter and I begged and cajoled, and finally were allowed to slip into the back of the room. When I entered, I was amazed to realize that despite the screams, the Beatles hadn't even arrived! There were 150 girls present and about three boys. 50% of them were members of the Beatles USA fan club. The other 50% had been selected randomly by WYCA deejay Gary Stevens who had greeted the girls, (12,000 teens had written in for these passes.) 

    "Now this is an honor, girls," Tony Barrow, the Beatles' press representative, was saying, "And we know you're going to prove you can be well behaved." He was perspiring. He looked nervous, as did all the adults in the room wondering what the girls would do when the Beatles appeared. Beside me, a policeman whispered, "Boy, oh boy, this is nuts."

     When the boys finally came out, there was a rush of screams, camera flashes, girls stood up on their chairs. "If you don't quiet down," Mr. Barrow said, "we'll have to stop." Pandemonium continued, but then the Beatles themselves spoke. "Keep quiet," said John. "Why don't you quiet down?" said Paul. "Thank you for keeping quiet," said George, and suddenly they kept quiet. In fact, they behaved wonderfully the rest of the session, expressing their unique love in many marvelous ways. 

    One girl didn't take her eyes off a set of binoculars, though she was only 30 feet away from the Beatles!  Another had tears running quietly down her face the whole time. Two girls in front of me were all dressed up with little white fur capes. When the mike roved among the girls, one said, "I want to welcome you back to America." She said it so formally and sweetly; it was touching. Another asked Paul, "How is your tooth?" He smiled. "It's fine, thank you." "Are you going to marry Jane Asher, Paul?" Screams at the sound of her name. "Probably," he said. Happy congratulatory applause followed.

     These girls really do love the boys. "Do you like the Beatles cartoon?" Answer: "Not really, but it's fun." "John, are you writing a new book?" Answer: "I have about 20 pages." Small applause. 

    "Do you like English girls better than American girl?" Answer: "No, girls are the same everywhere." "Who decides which of you will take the lead in a song?" John: "Whoever knows the words." The Beatles are smiling now and loosening up. "Do you know a girl named Patricia Slater?" Paul muses.    "S-u-r-e."  Everyone knows he's kidding. They laugh.

     "Don't you ever find your real self getting lost in the Beatles group self?" Answer: "No, we don't really work at a Beatles image." Girl:  "I want to wish John a happy anniversary." John smiles, "Thank you," and everybody applauds. 

    There's love in the room coming from these girls. You can feel the goodwill and the sweetness. The Beatles feel it too. They're smiling, and they joke around more than they did with the professional press. "John, who cut your hair?" Answer: "George."  "Did you buy a 12-string guitar in Hoboken?" Answer: "Where's that?" Mr. Barrow interrupts to say, "There's time for only one more question". Anguish sounds through the room, and the wells as the boys disappear through a side door in the stage.

     The girls mill around, smiling, talking, flushed happily. "It was fantastic," a girl said to me. "Fantastic." Her eyes shone. "Were they like you expected or different?" I asked Robin Burkowitz of Brooklyn. "It's amazing. They were exactly the same. I mean, you expect them to wear wild clothes, and they did, and to act friendly, and they did. I mean, it was even better than what I expected."

A group of girls, all presidents of Beatles fan clubs in Queens Village, Long Island, gathered around me:

Barbara Fox and Martha Cohen, and Susan Mullery and Elaine Stileman, "I still don't believe it happened," Robin said. The Beatles were more mature than she expected. The girls too. "The girls acted marvelous. I was so pleased."

    

     Elaine didn't want to leave. "Don't you want to ask us more?" she said, but the policeman was trying to disperse the crowd. As I left, they were still staying, saying "It was fantastic. I can't believe it."

 

Toronto P.C.

 

Ringo and Marilyn

Photo by Jim Marshall

 

I have seen the top photo go around on social media, and people are trying to figure out who is talking to Ringo.  I have seen guesses such as "random fan,"  "Mrs. Beasley (that one made me laugh), a nurse, someone's mom..."   Well, you can stop guessing because the answer is in the photograph: it is reporter Marilyn Doerfler, who traveled with the Beatles.   

Police and Fans Play Beatle Football (New York City 1966)

 

Police and Fans Play Beatle Football

By Kathy Parker

Hartford Courant

September 3, 1966

    The excitement of our trip to the Beatles concert at Shea did not begin with the appearance of the Beatles themselves. It started on the highways outside the city, where cars passed us displaying signs, "To the Beatles", "Beatles forever," "We love the Beatles."

     Inside the halls of the stadium, I could feel the tension. We took our field-level positions just four rows behind the police barriers. Busloads of police patrolled the field and parking lot. Behind us rose a towering wall of fans. Huge signs suspended from the railings flapped in the breeze. Many took note of John and Cyn's anniversary. 

    Every few minutes, a helicopter chopped overhead, and tremendous screams went up from the crowd. Last year, the Beatles arrived by helicopter.

     Just before showtime, the throng swayed toward one end of the stadium, where a red truck was backing into the lower level; the Beatles were inside. The 7:30 p.m. show began at 8:15 p.m. with the Remains. Other acts included the Cyrkle and the Ronettes. The crowd was impatient. People were standing on their chairs. 

    All the announcer said was, "And now...." and the crowd went wild. The announcer asked for a few bars of "We Love You, Beatles. Oh, yes, we do." The crowd sang in remarkable unison, 45,000 strong.

 One Beatle... two Beatles, three, four. Could I really be seeing them? Everyone climbed to the armrests on their seats. Faces were washed with tears. Girls clutched each other for balance. Some fell backward into the crowd. Lines of police moved in and stood like toy soldiers along the barriers. Field glasses were selling better than hot dogs. 

    About halfway through the concert, someone got through the ropes. Several policemen ran after the girl. Gradually, more and more people tried the same thing as groups of police rushed first to one place, then another, playing Beatle football, tackling fans.

     Suddenly, it was over. The Beatles waved a hurried good night, and ran off the stage into a station wagon. As the car sped across the field, hundreds in the lower level rushed outside. A huge trailer truck was concealing a hole in the fence where the Beatles' car would exit; the truck moved. The Beatles drove through. They changed into the Wells Fargo truck and roared out across the parking lot. Throngs ran down the stadium ramps and out into the night, chasing along the zigzagging trails of the Beatles. Later, the Fab Four switched to a limousine and drove to the airport, where they boarded a plane to the West Coast to enter the lives of 1000s of other American teenagers.

Written by Gail Andrews:

     I  too went to see the spectacular show at Shea. There was some excitement during the show when fans spotted two of the Lovin' Spoonful in the audience. The Beatles wore beige suits with light blue striped shirts and sang 11 songs. Paul introduced the first song and said the initial "hello," which brought screams from the stadium.

     I don't know what it meant, but Paul and John kept referring to the year 1948 as they introduced the songs. Paul seemed to be in an exceptionally happy mood, but John, George, and Ringo were quiet. The security measures were more than needed, as only eight fans tried to reach the Beatles. The performance ended abruptly, and the Beatles were whisked away in a gray station wagon with New York license plate number 97368.

Beatles USA '66

Photo by Bob Bonis

 

Beatles USA '66

By Jerry Leighton (Chief DJ Caroline North)

Disc Music

August 27, 1966

    New York, Tuesday: Time for the reckoning. Now that the Beatles' American tour is over the halfway hurdle, I could give a firm answer to the $64,000 question: Are the Beatles still as popular with stateside audiences? There has been a lot of talk in the press that their popularity is on the wane, but the boss's office provides the answer.

     Brian Epstein tells me that more people have come to see them this year than last. This means, of course, that the gross takings are far greater, so that's cleared up the big question of  '66 and knocked the knockers for six. 

    Cincinnati was rained out, but it didn't dampen the spirits of the kids. They just stood there getting soaking wet for four hours. There was no canopy over the stage, and the equipment was spoiled by condensation, which made it dangerous for the Beatles to use. So the show was postponed until 12 noon the next day, when the kids turned up by the 1000s to see the world's greatest group. 

    Another thing that had us a bit worried: the concert in Memphis, Tennessee. There was threatened trouble from the so-called Bible Belt, but when we arrived, we were greeted so warmly and with such genuine enthusiasm. We really wanted to stay forever. The police, the fans, and the people in the street just went out to make us feel at home. Even at the religious meeting held at the same time as the Beatles concert, the people prayed for the forgiveness of our audience and all of us!

     As I'm writing, we have just arrived in New York for Tuesday's concert at the Shea Stadium. Everywhere we have been, hundreds of kids have been hanging around our hotel, hoping for a glimpse of the Beatles. But the security arrangements have been very tight, and not many of the fans have been lucky. "We come out here to do shows, and if we show our faces outside our room, we would be torn apart. So it has to be this way, " George told me. "After all, the main thing we want to do is stay alive." Sounds fair enough.

    Paul tells me the decision to release "Yellow Submarine" and "Eleanor Rigby" was Brian Epstein's alone, although it is usually up to the boys. The reason is that it wasn't really scheduled for release, but Brian thought the two best tracks should be made a single before anyone else could cover them. He seems to know what he's up to, judging by the success of the record. Brian adds he expects the boys to bring back over one million dollars to Britain, which should help the financial scene quite a bit. The trouble is we can't give them MBEs all over again. Perhaps a knighthood this time?

     Now for the other acts in the show. It's quite a lineup. The Cyrkle, whose "Red Rubber Ball" reached number two out here; Bobby Hebb, number one at the moment with "Sunny"; and the Ronettes, who, of course, have had so many hits and are expecting to release a new one soon.

     Incidentally, Veronica of the Ronettes is getting married to Phil Spector in the near future. They're all great to be with, and it's a real happy show. 

    There is quite a thing here with those granny sunglasses, the ones with the small lenses and gold rims. Nearly all of us wear them. I think I've got the weirdest selection so far with triangular ones, big squares, oblongs, ovals, etc. I always get John laughing when he sees me wearing any of them, but maybe it's not just the glasses. 

    On the plane from St. Louis to New York, John said he'd heard that Radio Caroline is now the number one station in Britain; he thought it was right to be this way. We spent about half an hour discussing the difficulties confronting the marina radio stations, and between us, we have got the whole problem solved. 

    While we were talking, George was working on a wild-flowery sort of doodle. Believe me, it was really wild! The fellows are looking forward to reaching Los Angeles, where they will have a rest before returning home to Britain. 

    If you want to see them arrive at London Airport, you will have to get up early. Our plane is due in at 6:30 a.m. on August 31. We're hoping to see you there. Until then, from John, Paul, George, Ringo, and me. Goodbye for now.

£11-16s a Minute for Beatles in U.S. (1966)

 

£11-16s a Minute for Beatles in U.S.

No writer listed

Lancashire Telegraph

August 31, 1966

    The Beatles, unbloodied and unbowed, flew into London Airport today after another grueling American tour. They all had one thing in mind: sleep. Of their three-week tour and their fourth in America, Paul McCartney said, "We had a good time, but it was very tiring." Did the Americans still love the Beatles? "I think so," he replied.

     John Lennon was asked about their rating in light of the tour. Declared, "Look at the charts. That's a silly question."

     During the tour, the quartet earned $1,000,00.  That's £11 16s a minute! Questioned about his so-called antichrist remark, John's reply was drowned in a background of screams. Paul, the only Beatle bachelor, denied that he was getting married. "No, no, no,"he said, waving his arms. "That was a publicity stunt dreamed up by the Americans." Ringo Starr commented, "It's great to be back."

     About 250 screaming girl fans on the balcony of the Queen's building were waiting to give the Beatles their usual noisy welcome. While the Beatles' Pan American Airliner was over the Atlantic, about 100 fans had spent the night at the airport dodging the police. Police ordered fans to take out one banner, which had "Thank Christ, you are home safely." But there was the usual cry of welcoming banners, posters, streamers, and balloons. One banner stated, "Success is Beatle-shaped."

     A strong squad of police was on duty as the Beatles arrived. They were insuperable. They had seen it all before. First out of the car when they arrived for a customs check was Paul wearing a blue striped jacket, black trousers, and a red carnation. He was followed by John, who had a white suit and sunglasses. Ringo was dressed in a white jacket and black trousers and sporting a red carnation. George Harrison, the quiet one, wore a black velvet suit. 

    After passing through customs, the Beatles were hurried into waiting cars. John, George, and Ringo were in a black Rolls-Royce, and Paul was in his own chauffeur-driven green Aston Martin. They waved cheerfully to the excited fans. Then they drove off with the drama-topped tour behind them to the well-earned rest

John takes the field

 

Ranks Revere to Candlestick Sound (San Francisco, 1966)

Ranks Revere to Candlestick Sound

By Cynthia Grant

New Register

September 2, 1966

    The ranks of the reluctant fathers inched along bumper to bumper in the slow lane. The tolerant mothers chauffeured back seats loaded with 14- and 13-year-old girls, while more daring teenagers filed through the fast lane, and all headed for the Beatles' concert Monday night.

     Moving into Candlestick Park, the crowd was obviously a show in itself. Boys' hair hung longer than the girls' and curlier. Mod clothes, definitely in fashion, ranged from sleeveless purple halters to Indian moccasins and headbands.

     Good seats were filling quickly. Center field remained empty, but about 26,000 found their way inside. Sitting in front, three 12-year-old girls looked and pointed, insisting they had sighted the Beatles. Screams arose, and the whole park stood as the armored car, which the Beatles would leave the park in, pulled up to the stage empty.

     For the audience, the show began not with the preliminary acts, but with the Beatles. It was the Beatles everyone wanted to see. The Remains led off the show, followed by Bobby Hebb of "Sunny" fame. The Cyrkle and the Ronettes followed. All were entertaining. The crowd applauded politely for each number. 

    The tension began gripping as the Beatles' approach was nearing. Suddenly, they stepped out of the Giants' dugout, all the Fab Four decked in green suits, screaming, waving, shrieking, cheering; the crowd went wild. The four young men stepped briskly to the stage, waving and smiling at the crowd.

     "Rock and Roll Music" led off the show, and the crowd continued their noisy tribute, standing all the while. After about three numbers, Burns' cops sat the crowd down. Other songs done included "Nowhere Man," "She's a Woman," "If I Needed Someone, ""I Want to Be Your Man" (with Ringo), "Yesterday" and "Long Tall Sally". All 11 songs at 9:25 p.m. and ending three minutes after 10. The show was over. 

    The sound had been excellent, clear, and loud. Compared to the Cow Palace fiasco of last year, the crowd itself was well behaved. Two girls were removed from the field, only one via a stretcher. One rush was made as boys swarmed over the center field fence. Apparently warning the Beatles, the crowd shrieked as they surged in from Willie Mae's pasture. After the first abortive try, another assault was made with the same results. Burns police snapped the youth. 

    Enjoying the happenings, Ringo glanced over his shoulder at the intruders, while John muttered, "They're coming this way! They're coming this way! Head them off!" to the harried officers, away from any of the four. A wave of frenzy swept through the crowd as the 20,000 girls sprang to their feet, screaming and waving. As the Beatles sang, cameras flashed like spotlights. Screams and cries shook the air and blended with the fantastic sound, while bodies rocked or jumped up and down.

     From "She Loves You" to "Eleanor Rigby", their current number one record, the crowd actions expanded. When the 10:30 farewell came, the park was on its feet, giving the last thunderous ovation. The armored car, surrounded by the Burns patrol, pulled away. Fans fled for the exits. The Beatles obviously not to return, but the exit and remembrance solidified the devotion. And parents, adults, non-believers, etc. You only had to be there to know it wasn't as bad as all that.
 

Jim Marshall's backstage photos

All photos taken by Jim Marshall 

 

10 Years Ago the Beatles Last Show (1976)

 10 Years Ago the Beatles Last Show

By Phillip Elwood

The San Francisco Examiner

August 30, 1976

    Beatlemania seems to be sweeping the pop music world again, as it did a decade ago. Capitol Records is repackaging the original issues of Beatles singles and albums, and an International organization has been formed to encourage the Beatles to get together once again in public performance.

     10 years ago, the Beatles concluded their U.S. tour, which included 19 shows in 14 cities, with a performance at Candlestick Park. The concert, on the evening of Monday, August 29, 1966, lasted 30 minutes, included 11 tunes, and ended at 9:50 p.m. That was the last time the Beatles appeared together in public performance. 

    The Beatles had played San Francisco twice before, 1964 and in 1965, at the Cow Palace. The evening show in '65 set a record there, which still stands, for over 18,000 customers for a reserved-seat concert. 

    Early in June 1966, it was announced that promoter Tom Donahue, in conjunction with station KYA, and using DJ Johnny Holliday and Emperor Gene Nelson as MCs, would present the Beatles at Candlestick with tickets at $6, $5, and $4. A total of 30,000 seats were ticketed, but the event didn't sell out. About 25,000 customers paid a gross of some $130,000.

     The Beatles arrived by plane late in the afternoon. They were sealed up in an armored truck and driven to Candlestick, where they arrived at 5:45 p.m. The San Francisco police provided a station wagon and a couple of motorcycles for an escort. The caravan also included a bus and a few limousines for the supporting acts and equipment.

     After cruising around the stadium parking lot, waiting for an attendant to find the gate key, the caravan finally went through the right center field gate, and the Beatles disembarked and walked directly into the dressing room clubhouse area used by the San Francisco Giants. By 6o'clock, the fans were also arriving. They found most of the stadium lights illuminated, as they were for the whole show; spotlights were also used to pinpoint featured performers. The stage was built over second base. The closest any fans got was about 150 feet, and those in the second deck, the "cheap seats", could barely see the platform and often could not hear anything. 

    The Boston rock group The Remains opened the program with four numbers and was followed by Bobby Hebb, who also did four selections ending with "Sunny," his big hit for the summer of '66. Holiday was MC at the beginning, as I remember, filling the brief space between acts. The pace was fast. The performers were anxious to get the tour over with, and the crowd, very young and agitated, was there only for the Beatles. Two piles of loudspeakers flanked the stage. No one, except a few guards, was allowed on the stadium grass or infield. Artists came to the stage by walking from the Giants' dugout area across first base and eventually to the stage stairs. After Hebb, the Brian Epstein-managed group Cyrkle played five numbers, including "Red Rubber Ball," which had been a big hit in the spring of 1966, and "Turn Down Day," which soon became a hit. Following Cyrkle, with the crowd screaming every time any head stuck out of the dugout entrance, the Ronettes, a first-rate soul rock group, trudged through the grass (there was no plastic turf then) and onto the stage. 

    I remember thinking, with amusement, how strange the three black Ronettes seemed in shimmering nightclub gowns, singing "Be My Baby" and "Walking in the Rain" to 25,000 Beatles fans, most of whom were bubblegum teeny boppers about 14 years old. The gutsy, sensual Ronette's lyrics didn't have much effect, however, since the crowd noise, anticipating the Beatles, was horrendous by this time. 

    All 19 tunes performed by the opening four acts, plus the on-track comments by Holliday and his colleague Nelson, absorbed only 70 minutes. Without any intermission, and barely time enough for the Ronnetts to leave the field, the four Beatles raced across the turf and onto the stage. The crowd's response was deafening. It was as if Willie Mays had just homered into the left-field bleachers to win the World Series.

    The Beatles' performance began with "Rock and Roll Music," and then the tunes ground out one by one mechanically and with little distinction. I recall no informal comments from any of the Beatles during the program. Paul handled the introductions.

     Although the Revolver album had been issued three weeks earlier and was on top of the charts, the Beatles did none of the tunes from it. Even "Yellow Submarine", the hit single that week, was not played. "I Want to Hold Your Hand," "Eight Days a Week," "Day Tripper," "Paperback Writer," "Yesterday," and finally "Long Tall Sally" were included. So fast was the performance, and so brief the interval between tunes, the noisy reception given at the end of each number spilled into the roar, which obliterated the first 30 seconds of each new selection. As "Long Tall Sally" was ending, a young lady raced toward the stage front with guards in hot pursuit. As the fans watched her attempt to climb the platform, many didn't notice the armored truck, which had been sitting innocently at the rear of the stage, had thrown open its back doors.

     The four Beatles had hopped from instruments to stairs, to vehicle, and within one minute of concluding the song, the Beatles inside the truck were out of the center field gate onto a service field and heading toward the San Francisco airport. The Beatles were heading finally for England. Their last public concert appearance was over. 

    My review in the Examiner the next day was headed "Beatles Strike Out at Ballpark." Ralph Gleason's Chronicle column was headed "A Puppet Show for the Beatles." There was no press conference here, as there had been in Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles. Beatle John Lennon's comments about religion and the Vietnam War, and a sour attitude toward the Beatles by the U.S. entertainment establishment, had made relations with the press difficult.

     The San Francisco City Treasury netted $17,500 from ticket sales, and the local musicians union was paid $1,072 for providing 25 standby musicians who sat in the stands and played the Star-Spangled Banner at 8p.m. At the time, the evening seemed just like another disappointing rock and roll concert. Certainly not as much fun as the earlier Beatles shows in town. Little did those 25,000 San Franciscoans realize they were seeing the most successful and influential pop music group in history perform together for the final time.

Critic Takes Daughters to a Beatles Concert (Los Angeles 1966)

 

Critic Takes Daughters to a Beatles Concert

By Bob Thomas

Ventura County Star

August 31, 1966

    The Beatles have come and gone, collecting $146,000 and promoting 10 songs in 27 minutes. By way of social commentary, their pay exceeded the combined annual salaries of the President and Vice President of the United States. 

    To the adult, a Beatles concert must be viewed as a social phenomenon, since it is impossible to enjoy as entertainment. Even those with a failing for some of the Beatles' songs can find little pleasure because of inaudibility. 

    The Thomas Group made its third annual pilgrimage to hear the Beatles. Nancy, 18 and ready for college, showed no disenchantment for the Mop Tops. Janet, 14, was in the full throes of fandom. Caroline, eight, was a new entry and not lacking in enthusiasm. This year, the concert was in Dodger Stadium instead of the Hollywood Bowl, and it seemed more fitting for the event to take place in a sports arena rather than a citadel for long-hair music. 

    Dodger Stadium looked somewhat like the Berlin border. Burley guards stood at the bottom and midway of each stairway leading to the field; uniformed policemen with helmets and billy clubs lined the field. Some of them communicating with walkie-talkies. Behind them were three rows of hurdles. Then came a newly erected wire fence. 

    Preliminary acts poured a torrent of noise through the 27th speaker, 2000-watt public address system, while the 40,000 onlookers grew restless and stared at each other. There was much to stare at. One bearded chap in my aisle wore a headdress and robes of an Arab sheik. Another sported a green velvet cape. The girl next to me with the orange page boy bob turned her head, and I discovered she was a fellow. 

    At 9:33, the Beatles came out of the dugout at third base, and it was noisy. Oh yes, it was. At 10 p.m., the Beatles had finished their labors and disappeared into a tent behind the bandstand. Two limousines raced from the tent and out of the ballpark amid screens. Reviews by the Thomas girls: "They didn't sing enough new songs. George's hair was a mess. Paul was the only one who tried to please. They seemed bored, but they're cool. Yes, they're cool. I love the Beatles."

Beatles Hits Seattle Like a 3-Ring Circus (1966 Seattle)

 

Beatles hit Seattle Like a 3-Ring Circus 

By Barbara Hanna

Kitsap Sun

August 26, 1966

    Cool is when you recognize the whole thing's a circus. You go ahead and play the game anyway without losing your sense of humor, and throughout all of Thursday's happenings in Seattle, the Beatles were clearly cool. 

    Their three-ring circus began Thursday afternoon when they arrived at the Seattle-Tacoma Airport to be greeted by 33 fans, even more policemen, and the Port of Seattle's fire truck. From there, they were driven to the Seattle Center Coliseum, where they moved through crowds of screaming teenagers who lay in wait at the gate and into the Coliseum. They emerged only to give two concerts at three and 8p.m. and headed for Hollywood that night. 

    The action in Ring One of the Beatles Circus was staged by some eight dull-looking persons who paced up and down in front of the Colosseum, bearing signs that included "Teenagers who support the Beatles continue to crucify Christ." They were in distinct contrast to the excited teenagers, male and female, who milled about the Colosseum in all their mod finery, waiting for the big event inside the Colosseum-- Ring Two.

     The big event transpired twice before an 8,200 afternoon audience and a 14,382 sellout evening crowd. Now, when it is said that the Beatles are giving a concert, it does not mean that they are giving an entire concert. So the teenagers had to first sit through the Remains, Bobby Hebb, the Circle [sic], and the Ronettes, which they did in profound silence. It's not that these groups are bad; it's just that they aren't the Beatles. 

    With the announcement that the Beatles were coming on, the teenagers began venting all their saved-up energy. They began screaming, and as the Beatles appeared on the stage, it was like the Fourth of July. What with all the flash bulbs going off all over the Colosseum, neither screaming nor flash bulbs bursting abated significantly in the course of the concert. As for the Beatles themselves, they wore gray suits with lilac stripes and lilac pint shirts. Their singing style was easy and open, and their music, while people who like Beatles' music like it, and all the words in the world won't convince those who don't that it's really a pretty good thing. 

    At 6 p.m., between the two concerts in Ring Two, Ring Three was activated. A couple dozen press people who had duly presented their letters at each checkpoint found themselves in a hot, dingy room in the basement of the Coliseum and were given the ground rules for the press conference. One of the ground rules was that still photographers had priority the first five minutes, and then they had to step back so the TV cameras could have clear shooting. So the Beatles came in and stood behind a table, and everyone with a camera rushed to the front of the room and stood along the other side of the table. And for five minutes, the Beatles stood there trying to be casual about the whole thing, while being thoroughly photographed. Actually, that part wasn't like a circus. That part was like a zoo. 

    During the press conference proper, the Beatles parried the reporter's sometimes silly questions with good humor and apparent frankness. The number one issue was whether Paul McCartney was to be married to British actress Jane Asher that evening, as the Associated Press had reported. "No," said Paul. "I just got here today and found out I'm getting married tonight," he said. Yes, he really knows her. He said, "But really, it the marriage rumor was just sort of a joke."  And fellow Beatle George Harrison added, "If she does come here tonight, we're going out, so we'll miss her." The Beatle spoke the truth, as it turned out. For this morning, Paul was still unwed.

     Asked about all the furor over Beatle John Lennon's "The Beatles Are Bigger Than Jesus" statement, Beatle John said they've all been missing the point. Beatle George said, "People who think that need their mind straightened out."  Beatle Paul said it was ridiculous for people to say they despised Jesus and Christianity, and Beatle John concluded that "Twisting what they said that way isn't Christian." 

    When they were told that a revival would be given at the Seattle Center during their evening concert by an anti-Beatle religious group, Beatle John quipped, "Yeah, we'll be there". The Sagarid concert by baritone Fuge Springman drew 250. The Beatles weren't there.

    Has the furor hurt their present tour? The press keeps saying, "See, it hurt you, but our manager keeps telling us no," Beatle Paul said. "And we listened to our manager. "Then a reporter asked them if, having disposed of religion, they'd like to try American foreign policy. They agreed that they wouldn't.

     Asked if it's true their average fan is older now than when they started out, Paul said "Yes, somewhat older." Was that what they were trying for? "We don't intend anything," Paul said.

     And a woman who identified herself as a mother of three said she was concerned about a statement of theirs that "When moms love us, we're dead."  "We were rebels when we said that," said Paul. 

    In the evening, there was more picketing and another concert, and then the Beatles were whisked off to the airport, taking with them $73, 717.81 for their half-hour performance at the two concerts and at the press conference. The gross take for the two concerts, $118,071, was the largest one-day take in Seattle entertainment history, according to Zolly M. Volchok of Northwest Releasing, the event sponsor.

Yea Yea Yea They are Here for Concert (1966 Los Angeles

 

Yea Yea Yea: They Are Here For Concert

By Ken Lubas

The Van Nuys News

August 26, 1966

    "Hot" best describes the day, and "frantic" denotes the atmosphere as crowds surged about the Capitol Record Tower in Hollywood last Wednesday evening, awaiting the arrival of rock and roll's young kings, the Beatles. Youngsters and oldsters alike awaited the opportunity to catch a glimpse, and that's all that it was of the shaggy-haired foursome, as the Beatles emerged from the back door of an armored truck and were quickly swept away by security guards to their Hollywood press conference. 

    Revolver, the title for the British foursome's 20th gold record since the Beatles made their U.S. debut in January '64, proved to be the golden word of the evening. Alan W. Livingston, the president of Capitol Records, announced that with the awarding of a gold record for Revolver, their latest album, the Beatles now have a greater number of certified million sellers than any other artist in the history of the Record Industry Association of America. A gold record for a single is given for selling more than 1,000,000 copies. Capitol Record officials estimated the Beatles' separate recordings of either "Yellow Submarine" or "Eleanor Rigby", both on Revolver, will reach the magic mark.

     Sitting before the throng of reporters gathered in the large but, under the circumstances, not too spacious sound studio, Ringo Starr, the drummer, appeared in a blue-and-white polka-dot, high-colored shirt, multicolored sports coat, and blue-and-white striped pants. John Lennon was dressed in a reddish-brown wide-lapel suit and black sweater. Paul McCartney wore white slacks and a gray striped long-sleeve shirt, and George Harrison was in blue jeans, a white silk shirt, and a brown suede jacket.

     Answering questions concerning everything from their latest run-in with religion to future plans, the mopheads flourished their Liverpudlian personalities and aired their views. In reference to the widely quoted article in which Lennon allegedly said the British foursome is more popular than Jesus, Lennon said at the press conference. "I've clarified it about 800 times. I could have said more popular than telly or any other number of things, but they certainly wouldn't have been as good publicity."

     McCartney said bigots took it (the remark) up. He feels the bigots understood the statement to mean, "Ah, he's bound to be arrogant." When asked about reports of Beatles' record burnings, Lennon said Pictures he had seen showed "middle-aged disc jockeys and 12-year-olds burning a bunch of LP covers."

     When asked if they thought all the publicity hurt their image, all agreed."Our image is what we read in the newspaper." Elaborating on the subject, McCartney said, "We know our real image, which is nothing like our picture image."

     Turning to the subject of their expected money from the current American tour. The Beatles don't have time to worry about such matters, Lennon said, "If we worried about it, we'd be nervous wrecks."

     About future plans, the group is considering a script for a new movie, but couldn't give any details of pending production. Lennon explained his appearance in the movie How I Won the War came about while he was alone on a holiday. "They just asked me, and I said yes." When asked what his favorite American singing groups were, Lennon said the Byrds, the Mamas and the Papas, and the Lovin' Spoonful. 

    Starr explained to disappointed reporters that he doesn't carry pictures of his baby in his wallet, or any other pictures for that matter. Harrison, the quiet Beatle, was overshadowed by his counterparts during the meet. 

'    When earlier asked about politics, Lennon said, "Politics? They have no message for me, nor for any of us. I haven't got much time for politicians. I've never bothered to vote. The bomb? Nuclear disarmament? Well, like everyone else, I don't want to end up a festering heap, but I don't stay up nights worrying. I'm preoccupied with my life, not death."

     The Beatles, who were in Southern California for a performance at Dodger Stadium Sunday evening, said their most disappointing tour was in Manila, Philippines, last month, where they were booed as they left the islands.

    Following the conference, the Beatles, surrounded by security guards, bounded for the nearby armored truck and were mobbed by about 500 hysterical teenage girls. Guards surrounded the truck, and once their valuable cargo was safely enclosed, they rode through the Capitol parking lot on the rear and front bumpers to prevent the girls from hanging on. As the vehicle departed into the sunset, heading toward the Hollywood Hills, many of the excited youths leaped onto motorcycles to follow the group back to their residence there.

The Agony and the Ecstasy (New York City 1966)

 

The Agony and the Ecstasy

By Anthony Burton

The Daily Mail

August 24, 1966

    The Beatles stepped onto the turf of Shea Stadium last night, and the world went mad. Kids in tight hip huggers, kids in miniskirts, kids in poor boy sweaters, 45,000 of them took a deep breath and started screaming and squealing and screeching and sobbing till the whole stadium seemed to rock. 

    It couldn't get any worse, you thought, trying to shield your eardrums, but it did. When the Beatles climbed on the platform and started to play to the packed stands, Ringo, John, Paul, and George attacked their instruments with the dedication of men earning hundreds of dollars for every note they played. But the kids screamed even louder. It seemed a pity. The kids were making too much noise to hear their idols.

     Some of the kids started jumping onto the turf in an attempt to get closer to the kings of kiddydom. Cops headed them off and carried them away. More than 100 police reinforcements, together with policewomen, streamed onto the field and confronted the stands. After 30 minutes, it was all over. The Beatles raced to a station wagon and drove off into the night. From Flat Bush Avenue and Columbus Avenue, from East End Avenue and Park Avenue, the hordes of kids had poured into the stadium, paying an average of $4 for the privilege of adoring the Beatles in person. Waving above their heads were such bannered battle cries as "Ringo is sexy" and "America loves you."

     It was just like their earlier visits, except that they seemed smaller, as if they had been tamed. Their eyes, sad spaniel eyes under the long fringes, were haunted now by the ghost of a hick disc jockey. The kids screamed, and the money poured in, but it could never be the same. The Beatles would never be able to forget that they had bent the knee and apologized to the hick disc jockey from a state notorious even in the South for its bigotry and racism, and then they had suffered the humiliation of having their apology patronizingly accepted. 

    The sad irony was that when John Lennon said the Beatles were more popular than Jesus, he was touching on a serious issue. That, of course, is fatal in the world of Good Guys and Murray the K and transistors. You can be imprudent about the Queen, but you can't get away with trying to discuss a serious subject. That's not cool, baby. 

    And so Lennon presented his glass jaw to people who would rather attack the innocent who raise a problem than the problem itself. It's easier. They denounced the satanic foursome and burned their records. Even then, the Beatles could have saved themselves by one of those flip remarks with the Liverpool twang around the edges. But they were older now, and corruption inevitably comes with age, and there were all those records to be sold and all that money to be collected. 

    Lennon became the penitent. He announced he was sorry he had ever made the remark. Few popular idols can pin down the exact moment when they reached the pinnacle and then began the long slide, the downfall. The Beatles call it into obscurity, but Lennon and the others will be able to do just that. It will take years to complete the slide, and lots more money will roll in. But when it's done, they'll look back up the slope and see that it began August 11, 1966, the day Lennon tucked the flip remark into his cheek and instead pleaded to an Alabama disc jockey that he had been misinterpreted. 

    Well, it was fun while it lasted. And there's always Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones. Can you imagine him apologizing? Give him time, baby. Give him time.