I watched the Beatles 50th American Anniversary Special a week or so ago. Ringo and Paul each took the stage and performed separately and then they came together for the last few minutes. It was great seeing them and hearing them once more but I couldn’t help feeling sad for those of us who spent the 60s listening to their tunes with our friends and family who are now no longer with us. How many of us sat there that night, alone, remembering better times, special times, exciting times watching this program and reminiscing about our lives, lives just starting out in 1964 with a loved one who is no longer near except in our hearts.
The classic movie that was the inspiration for all the music videos, “A Hard Day’s Night,” is celebrating its 50th Anniversary this year as well; remastered and digitally spiffed up to appear once again on the large screen. I have a VHS copy of the movie which Jerry and I watched often but now, it sits down in the basement without a VHS player to make it work. The movie was shown on television recently and I had a good time seeing it again. Paul’s grandfather is easier to relate to as you get older. He certainly was clean.
“A Hard Day’s Night” was showing in a theater near my home and I, like most girls my age, obviously wanted to go see it. Along with seeing the movie I also wanted to see Jerry. In 1964, Jerry and I were friends – good friends – but were not dating. My parents didn’t think I was old enough to go out with boys and I wasn’t ready to break it to them that this was going to happen and that the boy it was going to happen with was Jerry. Thinking of a way around a confrontation with my parents, at least for the moment, I casually mentioned at school, in front of Jerry, looking right into his eyes, my intentions to be at the Marquette Theater for the early showing of said movie. I took matters into my own hands and did what any red-blooded American girl would do. To make sure nothing could sidetrack my mission I even volunteered to take my young nephew to the movie, thus putting my sister on my side as she saw the opportunity for a quiet Saturday afternoon.
Things went off without a hitch. I got my nephew ready in plenty of time and we walked the few blocks to the theater. A line had already formed and as we walked past those already waiting, I saw no one that I recognized. We got to the back of the line and I gave my nephew his quarter for admission. Remember, this was 50 years ago; I had to pay 75 cents to get in. Luckily, the doors hadn’t opened yet and there was still time for Jerry to show up, I hoped. It was a warm, sunny, Chicago afternoon and my nephew wanted nothing more than to get inside, out of the sun and the heat. The line started to move. I panicked. I resigned myself to the fact that without Jerry there I could scream if I wanted to and sing along without looking like a dork. Okay, that worked. Anyway, I reminded myself that George, the cutest, most lovable Beatle of them all would be up there on the screen, larger than life, larger than on our 18 inch TV screen at home.
I looked back, scanning the crowd. There he was. Not George Harrison, Jerry. Did he see us? Was he hiding from us? He came because I’m here, right? Are his parents with him? I grabbed my nephew’s hand and hauled him with me to the new back of the line, telling him to keep his mouth shut, or else. What a surprise to see Jerry waiting to see the movie way over here, in my neighborhood! We waited in line together and I introduced Jerry to my nephew who promptly punched Jerry in the stomach. I couldn’t get mad since he had been used and abused for this covert operation and did keep quiet about how we had been up front near the box office, on the verge of entering the cooler environs when I had dragged him back to suffer in the outside world still more.
We had a great time, the three of us. Jerry and I held hands but tried not to make it too obvious to “you know who.” My plan had worked. We did start dating shortly after this and yes, my parents said no up until the moment Jerry knocked on our front door. A teenage victory was ours and it felt good. We were rebels! Later, when we had our own teenagers...
Life was at a turning point back in 1964. We argued over who was the best Beatle or what other groups from England were groovy and how much shorter could skirts go. We watched Shindig and Bewitched and The Man from U.N.C.L.E on our television sets. Cassius Clay soon to be renamed Muhammad Ali, TKOs Sonny Liston and becomes the Heavyweight Champion of the World. Ringo has his tonsils removed and Congress passes the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution which gave President Johnson the power to take whatever action necessary to defend South Vietnam against Viet Cong forces. G I Joe emerges as a popular action figure and the FTC rules that cigarettes need health warnings on their packages. The Civil Rights Act passes. Race riots and college campus demonstrations become common occurrences. A 9.2 magnitude earthquake hits Anchorage, Alaska on Good Friday and the Disney movie “Mary Poppins” hits the big screen. The Beatles are invited and attend Queen Elizabeth’s birthday party. Life was rushing faster than the space race.
These were the days before “Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll” turned us, made us a little less naive and perhaps hardened our hearts a bit. Things were happening around us and over us and to us. We lived life and were quick to change along with it. Hell, we had fun in 1964! All we needed was love!
Sharon