February 9, 1964
“Hurry, Ellie. It’s about to start,” Al called out.
“I’m just putting the popcorn in the bowl, Al. Keep your shirt on,” Ellie yelled back. The jaunty theme song to “My Favorite Martian” played in the background as it capped off the adventures of everyone’s favorite Uncle Martin.
“You’re not even married yet,” Ben said, “and you already sound like an old married couple.”
“Yeah, well,” Al said as Ellie squeezed in next to him, reaching for a handful of popcorn. “I don’t have to report to prison until June.” He gave us a smile, cheeks bulging with popcorn. “Isn’t that right, sweetie?” He looked like a mischievous squirrel.
Ellie gave him a sour grin and then playfully hit his shoulder. “You’re the luckiest man in the world.” She lowered her nose slightly, giving Al a piercing, no-nonsense gaze. “Go on and admit it.”
“Yes, dear,” Al responded automatically. I loved the way they bantered back and forth. You could tell they loved each other dearly.
Ben reached out and took my hand on the crowded couch, and I lay my head on his shoulder. What we had was different, but that was because we hadn’t been dating as long as Al and Ellie had. I tried to keep that in mind. Meanwhile, Ed Sullivan appeared in front of the gray-toned curtains. When they panned the audience, it was filled with women. Young women, and they all looked like they were about to witness the second coming. There were so many expectant looks to the stage. One girl had her fists clenched and held to her chin. I had seen the Ed Sullivan show for years, but never had I witnessed such awe-filled excitement.
“Just look at them all.” Ellie squinted at the television. “Do you see any men?”
Instead of answering her question, Al added, “Do you see anyone over thirty?”
Ed Sullivan looked somewhere between excited and terrified. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Beatles,” Ed Sullivan yelled, and the screams rose to a feverish pitch.
I had never witnessed mass hysteria, but was sure I was seeing it on Ellie’s new Phillips television set. “This is unbelievable. Those girls are going insane.” The camera went from the audience to John, Paul, and George. Ringo was set up on a raised platform with his drums. They knocked out “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” and with each measure the crowd screamed even more.
“I can barely hear the song for the caterwauling going on in the background,” Al said.
“I wonder if they can hear each other.” Ellie popped a handful of popcorn into her mouth.
“I told you the Beatles were big news.” Ben was the room’s professional reporter.
I couldn’t get over how excited the fans were. I considered myself a bit of an expert in popular music since I landed my job at KDUD, The Smile on Your Dial. I wasn’t spinning records, but I was answering the request line. We were getting more and more requests for the Beatles. Unfortunately, my boss chose Perry Como over John Lennon and Montavoni over Paul McCartney. Sometimes it felt like I was spending my days in a department store, listening to never-ending soulless melodies. Sales were down, and our listenership was too. If my boss would only switch to the popular music of the day, we’d be playing in everyone’s kitchen.
It was more than these girls’ crazy behavior in the presence of the Beatles. They bought the records. This was a big industry, and these four kids from England were taking America by storm. The rival station across town, KOOL, was playing them nonstop, and that’s who people were listening to on their radios. Ellie told me they even made jokes about our station. We were oldies for the oldies. As Charlie Brown would say, “Good grief”.
I needed to count my blessings. I had a job I enjoyed. I just hated to see how they were missing an opportunity with their choice of music.