I see a Beatle!

I've lost track of whatever I was arguing before, so this is
a good time to write about the time I saw the Beatles.

Actually, I saw one Beatle -- and since it was the back of
his head, I don't know which one!

But the entire experience is indicative of the craziness
that was Beatlemania.

It was the summer of 1965. New York City was playing
host to the World's Fair, and my mother and grandfather
thought that'd be a good thing to take me and my sister
to on our vacation.

I don't know how they decided upon the date to go and
where to stay. Certainly they planned ahead months
before the summer started.

But it turned out great for me. I mean, I enjoyed the
World's Fair, but I don't remember it.

What I remember is the screaming.

Nonstop screaming.

By thousands of young girls.

Surrounding our hotel.

See, my family somehow arranged our vacation schedule
so that we arrived in New York City the same day as The
Beatles!

Wait! It gets even better -- they booked rooms in the
Hilton in Manhattan . . . THE SAME HOTEL THE BEATLES
WERE RUMORED TO BE STAYING AT!!!!

Yes, every young girl in New York City knew that The
Beatles were kicking off their second tour of America
(the record-setting sold-out concert at Shea Stadium
was that night) and were planning to stay at the
same Hilton Hotel.

Here's what really vividly impressed me with the power
of Beatlemania -- it wasn't the non-stop screaming
from the hordes of teenage girls around the hotel --
it was this . . .

This Hilton was a "modern" hotel. That is, it was
fully air-conditioned and enclosed in glass. That
doesn't sound impressive now, but in those days
even most very expensive hotels allowed you to open
the windows.

We were staying in rooms on the 29th floor. When I
looked down upon the crowds of girls, they looked
very far away.

But I could still hear them screaming.

Yes, 29 stories high, behind glass windows to hold
in the modern central air conditioning . . .

I heard those girls screaming.

Sometime later, The Beatles actually arrived in a
taxi cab. It turned out that they did NOT stay at
our Hilton Hotel, but at the Warwick Hotel just
across the street corner.

Close enough. The girls surged toward it. I found
myself a balcony somewhere to watch . . .

and through a brief opening in the crowd, as The
Beatles hustled from their cab into the Warwick,
I caught a glimpse of the back of one of their
heads -- covered with long, black hair.

I've always thought it was most likely George,
but I can't know for sure. It is funny that it's
a memory that stays with me.

We finally got to the World's Fair, staying until
fairly late at night, then took the subway home.

(That by itself is an indication of how much New
York City has changed. When I visited some friends
in Manhattan 8 years later in 1973, the subways
were so dirty and crime-infested that there's no
way I -- and certainly not my mother and grandfather --
would have taken a young boy and girl on them.

(Maybe it's better now. I have not been back since
Rudy Guiliani has supposedly cleaned it up.)

Anyway, that night the subways were packed with the
crowds going home from The Beatles concert at
Shea Stadium.

Great Highway Travel Book