Page A3 The Joan De Arc Crusader / Wednesday, December 24, 2003
Front Page A1 / Editorials A2 / Christmas Nostalgia A4 / Crossword A5
ENTERTAINMENT
The Beatles on Sullivan, 40 years on
By J. Bueker
On
February 9, 1964, there transpired what was arguably the greatest cultural event
of the 1960s, the first appearance on American television
of a group of
gregarious young Englishmen who would forever revolutionize the very nature of
popular music. That Sunday night forty years ago signaled the beginning of
breathtaking social changes and brilliant musical innovations that only grew in
their wonder as the decade unfolded. Such is the unmatched influence of this rock
and roll quartet from Liverpool that forty years hence, it is still difficult to
believe that it all really happened.
On that February night so long ago, we were introduced by a rather shrewd variety TV show host by the name of Ed Sullivan to the Beatles.
My personal recollection of that fateful day is that my siblings and I accompanied our mother to the Humane Society shelter at 13th Avenue and Hatcher Road that afternoon, and that the topic of discussion the entire time was the upcoming appearance of the group on the tube that night. Why we happened to the shelter on that particular day has long since deserted my memory, but I distinctly remember this trip to the pound as a prelude to the big show that night. Once home, we excitedly gathered in front of our trusty black and white Philco in the family room, waiting impatiently while it warmed up and finally came to life so that we could behold the making of history. We were not disappointed.
As with countless families that came of age in the 60s, the Bueker years on Joan De Arc Avenue can be organized, in hindsight, in terms of the Beatles’ career as it evolved. From initial Beatlemania through the end of touring, across the psychedelic years and then to the break up and early solo careers, virtually every stage of my childhood can be associated with a Beatles album, single, event or influence.
In the summer of 1964, my sister Susan solemnly solicited my financial assistance in the purchase of the “Something New” album, which she then bought at the A.J. Bayless store at Westown Shopping Center. I can distinctly remember tapping out my savings and making my 45 cent contribution for this unquestionably worthy cause. Sue and I posed for a photo in front of the house at 3219, proudly holding up the coveted new record, which we played on the living room stereo until the vinyl had all but worn out.
No more formidable argument can be put forward for the unprecedented excitement and achievement generated by the Beatles than the fact that it inspired Carl Bueker to pry open his wallet one memorable evening in late ‘64 and treat his children to a completely unexpected trip to the cinema.
The Buekers were on a routine shopping trip to the Woolco department store at Hayden West Shopping Center when the highly improbable event occurred without warning. After the shopping activities had been concluded, we were led back to our vehicle in the parking lot for the ride home. Heading for the exit onto Indian School Road, Father suddenly stopped the car without explanation in front of the Hayden West movie theater, where “A Hard Day’s Night” was showing in a double feature with “It’s A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.”
Slowly it dawned upon us. We were actually going to go see the Beatles movie. Our collective sense of disbelief was palpable. Not even our miserly pappy was immune to the charms of the Fab Four.
With the issue of the sublime Rubber Soul in ‘65 and the flawless Revolver in ‘66, it became clear that this band was decidedly not a flash in the teeny bopper pan. But the milestone musical event of the Joan De Arc Avenue years occurred in 1967 when my sisters brought home the disc that would forever alter the face of rock music, Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.
The album sleeve alone was an astonishing phenomenon. No one had ever seen anything like it before, and so it was especially difficult for a mere nine-year-old to fully comprehend. The front of the sleeve, with its curious miscellany of Beatle heroes, living and dead, all crowded into that small space, was bewildering. One then noticed the unique gateway sleeve, which opened up to reveal a glorious color photo of the Fabs in their magnificent Pepper regalia.
However it was the enigmatic back cover of the Sgt. Pepper sleeve that I found the most puzzling. Here, for the first time, were printed all of the lyrics to every song on an album, superimposed over a rich red background with the Beatles posing at the bottom standing shoulder to shoulder and acting a bit goofy. Paul is standing with his back to the viewer with his arms crossed, suspended in a subtly different space above the other three, details that later became important in the apparently false “Paul is dead” rumors.
I looked at all of the lyrics printed on the Pepper sleeve and I simply had nothing in my experience to which I could compare it. I innocently asked my sister Barbie if each printed line of words was itself a song title, even though I was also thinking that this was probably way too many songs for one album. Barbie laughed in derision at my query, and understandably so. But such was the novelty of this great new work of art that I honestly could not quite fathom it. The actual musical contents of the sleeve were of course, on balance, surpassingly brilliant. This was clear even to a nine-year-old.
The Beatles' final period produced some of their greatest work, above all the masterpieces The Beatles (the "White Album") and Abbey Road. If I am not mistaken, it was Patti Krohn who first played the White Album on the Bueker living room stereo. A couple of years later, Charles and I pooled our resources and bought our own copy of the double set at Smitty’s. I had some difficulty forgiving our dog Amoreena for then proceeding to chew off a corner of the plain white album sleeve.
The break up of the Beatles was as inevitable as was the band’s great success once they had caught on with the public. At the time, our only real clue that the boys were going their separate ways was the fact that they were all busy making solo albums rather than producing the next Beatles album. The greatest Beatle solo works, in my opinion, appeared at this time: McCartney, Plastic Ono Band and All Things Must Pass. The process took years to play out, but we slowly came to understand that the Beatles really were no more.
A new DVD/VHS was released last month that contains all four of the Beatle performances on Sullivan, the full one hour shows featuring all of the performers appearing each evening. Frank Gorshin, Soupy Sales and Shelia MacRae were just a few of the acts who were lucky enough to be booked on one of the same nights as the greatest rock band of them all. The group performed a total of twenty songs on the Sullivan telecasts, including seven number ones.
While we may lament the state of popular music in 2003, it must be acknowledged, with bittersweet irony, that the Beatles made it all possible.
1966
Can you identify to whom the following phone numbers belonged in 1966?
(Answers at the bottom of page A5)
1) 942-3658
2) 942-1541
3) 944-7808
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________JDA
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