Tripping Over The Carpet's Edge: The Beatles - Was It the Hair or the Music?

Andy alerted me to a ticket giveaway that he thought I might be interested in for a musical performance called “YESTERDAY & TODAY” - The Interactive Beatles Experience.

The Fab Four

All I had to do was submit an entry about one Beatles song attached to a memorable event. I had finished writing what would be my entry and rechecked the flyer, only to discover that it had to be 50 words or less. I couldn’t tell you how to thread a needle in 50 words or less. Editing what I had to say only got me down to about 242 words, so I decided to forget about trying to win the free ticket and instead have my own Beatles experience listening to the seventeen hours and nine minutes of Beatles music I have loaded on my iPod. A memorable event is attached to one Beatles song: “Yesterday.”

In 1965, I tried my best to convince my mother and father that I should be allowed a short five-minute reprieve from the television restriction I was on to watch Paul McCartney sing his new song from the latest Beatles album “!HELP!”. The song was “Yesterday.” I can’t recall why I was in the dog house, but I know this was not a punishment my parents took lightly or dealt out frequently. Nevertheless, they would not give in - No TV. No “Yesterday.” No Beatles. Period.

The magical mystery called Paul McCartney captured my heart with his music and poetic lyrics in the early sixties. Unfortunately, his upcoming concert is probably the last big arena concert I could attend. After a lifetime of concert-going, I am happy that he was the last. But when I hear the song “Yesterday,” what stands out in my memory is that night in my room spent crying because I would not be allowed to see him on “The Ed Sullivan Show” to witness what was the most significant event on the planet short of a space shot. If you experienced Beatlemania firsthand, I don’t have to explain it. It is something not easily put into words. It was all-consuming, unimaginable, and looking back on it now, just plain crazy.

Was it the hair, or was it the music?

Stuck in my bedroom fuming, I resigned myself that I would miss seeing McCartney sing my favorite song, and at the top of the hour, I buried my head in my pillow, mad at the world. Thirty seconds before McCartney was up to perform, my father knocked twice on my bedroom door and released me to watch our small portable television in my room, advising me I could watch Paul and only Paul and not a minute more of the broadcast. Since our television in the living room was considered “the big screen,” allowing me to watch Paul on the small portable was still punishment because if you touched the volume knob, the set would crackle and sometimes never calm down. There were also sensitive horizontal and vertical issues with this TV besides being black and white. I lingered on every word of ‘Yesterday’ as the perspiring Paul McCartney sang by himself, looking as if he was singing to me and only me having no clue millions of girls were holding on to every note. I did not sing along for fear of missing his voice.

I would spend endless hours listening to the record album “Meet the Beatles” and studying the album cover, fixated on the faces of the four gorgeous boys in black turtle necks. In contrast, when the”!HELP!” cover containing “Yesterday” was released, the album cover revealed the Fab Four doing semaphores sporting longer hair and still not winning any points with my Dad. He called it “looking grubby.”

It was the hair.

My First Beatles Album

45 rpm Record Player

My record player only played 45 records. Its cover had a small speaker built into it, and that record player was as good as it got as far as teenagers were concerned. On the other end of the quality spectrum, my father’s prized turntable and its trendy HI-FI components, purchased separately and assembled by him, entrusted to me under the condition that I did not manually move the needle but rather let the mechanical mechanism that lowered and lifted the needle be allowed to do its thing. My father loved good music and introduced me to the great vocalists, jazz musicians, and band leaders of his time. He loved Ella Fitzgerald, Duke Ellington, George Shearing, and Sarah Vaughn. My father disliked the Beatles and was never one to carry on a conversation about them. His car radio homed in on WKTZ Jones College Radio, and I don’t recall ever having the nerve to change the station. Dad once commented, “I like that song,” not realizing it was a Beatles song he was listening to. Andy Williams was tricky that way, and I never let on it was a song penned by Lennon and McCartney. John Lennon was the only Beatle Dad ever talked about, and you can only imagine what he had to say about him.

I mostly listened to The Beatles on AM radio. It was a challenge changing the station on my beloved transistor radio due to the beach sand inside the dial. Also, since there was (this is hard to comprehend) NO FM RADIO at that time, the delicate nuances of “The Magical Mystery Tour” were lost on my transistor radio.

The months before Paul McCartney was to come to Jacksonville, I fantasized that Paul and I would surely have plans together after his Jacksonville concert, and I planned our big date for several months. I would meet Paul at Pete’s Bar, and we’d take a limo south to Vilano, where we would hold hands and walk on the beach under a full moon. He would tell me all about his divorce from the girl missing her leg and how he met his latest wife. Next, I would get him to explain why he had to have his beautiful eyes done and let him know he doesn’t need to color his hair. Next, Paul would reminisce about the Cavern Club and explain why the Beatles couldn’t play one song together before John and George died. After that, he would probably want to unload on me and complain about Yoko hounding him day and night for more royalties, and I would tell him how happy I was that he got the music rights back from the Jackson family. Paul would then explain to me the British Honours System and who gets to wear a medal and who gets to wear a ribbon. Afterward, Paul would go his way, and I would go mine, and then when he finally got back home, he would send me a “friend” request on Facebook. Paul also promised to keep my Paul McCartney Special Issue Starbucks card loaded since his picture was on it.

When I hear ‘Yesterday.’ I think of Ed Sullivan’s really, really good ‘shew’ (show). I think of The Beatles and Paul’s performance that night in my room. But mostly, I am reminded of my father knocking on my door, his moment of weakness, and his concession to his crazy daughter who loved The Beatles so much.

It was the music.