The Colonel Remembers: The Beatles at JFK in South Philly

It was forty-five years ago today, that The Colonel went to see them play. Now they've never gone out of style, and on that summer night they truly raised a smile. So let me introduce you to, the act you've known for all these years, the one and only Beatles live at JFK in South Philly.

Back in 1963, anyone who was alive at the time, knew exactly where they were, and what they were doing on November 22nd of that year, because that was the dreadful day that our beloved president was assassinated. Eleven weeks later, if you were an aficionado of popular music, or a cynosure of contemporary culture, you also knew precisely what is was you were up to on the evening of February 9, 1964. For it was on that particular Sunday night, that the Fab Four from Liverpool, England made their American debut via the Ed Sullivan Show on the CBS television network.

It can be said, that American political life was never the same after the death of JFK. The aftermath of such horror produced a breach of trust the American people felt towards their government and it also produced a fissure in the faith they once held in their leaders. The American illusion began to dissipate and this was most deeply felt among the nation's youth. With the British invasion which was led by The Beatles, music was forever changed for the better when a foray of musicians from the former mother country captivated, fascinated, and enthralled us, and if for just a short amount of time, gave us a new and much needed illusion to once again immerse ourselves in.

The Ticket

I grew up in a predominately Irish-Catholic working class neighborhood, where everyone's dad provided the family with the fruits of hard labor achieved by using his hands. However, there was this small pocket of homes populated by what we called, "the rich kids." Their fathers wore ties to an "office"; they drove new cars and they worked with their brains. The issue of class dominated social life as I was growing up. If you were working class, the rich kids wouldn't even acknowledge your existence. However, I was able to negotiate between both classes, because I had knowledge. Dennis Casey was one of the rich kids. He went to private school, but like many kids in the rich neighborhood, he sought me out, because of my extensive musical knowledge and my infamous record collection.

One night, Dennis called me up and said he heard I had the new Stone single, and asked would I mind stopping over his house so he could hear it. I had the hook up. I had an English pen pal who hooked me up with the Heanor Record Club in England, so I was able to send away for new singles and albums before they came out in the States.

As I went to Dennis' house, he told me his parents were not home which meant we could blast their "Hi-Fi" down in the family room to our hearts content. A Hi-Fi console set was something only the rich kids had, and records never sounded better than when they were turned up full blast on one of those very expensive systems. However, something went wrong that night. Dennis' father came home early from the Country Club, and he started to yell down the stairs. We assumed he was pissed about the volume we were playing the Hi-Fi at. But what he wanted was something else entirely. He called us upstairs to the living room, and said to us, "Do you boys want to see that group The Beatles?" I answered instantly for both of us as I said to him:

"Yes sir, we do." As Mr. Casey handed each of us a ticket, my eyes were immediately drawn to the center of the paper. I was somewhat perplexed by what I saw, so I made an inquiry. "Mr. Casey sir?" I said, "this ticket has a hole in it. Why is that sir?" Mr. Casey looked at me with a certain sense of antipathy and said, "Tommy, these tickets are comps." With that answer, I felt even more befuddled, so I initiated a follow up question. I then asked the gentleman, "What are comps sir?" He then told me: "They are complimentary tickets. They are free to us." Dennis' dad was a big time Democratic Committee man, so he had access to everything. He went on to tell us that the group, The Beatles gives us (the City) a bunch of these tickets for free, and we in turn give them to our people that we have to do business with. Needless to say, I was quite excited to not only have the chance to see The Beatles, but I was completely mesmerized by this concept of the "comp." I made a mental note of this, and in years to come, the comp ticket became one of my best friends.

The Stadium

It was only appropriate that The Beatles return date to Philadelphia was at the newly re-named Philadelphia Municipal Stadium, which was then known as John F. Kennedy Stadium or JFK which was its colloquial reference. That venue was the only structure where both President Kennedy and The Beatles made storied public appearances. Kennedy, a Navy man, would come up to Philly from the Capitol for the annual Army-Navy game. He began a tradition where the Commander-In-Chief would walk across the field at half time, to sit on the opposing team's side of field. The Beatles would take a similar walk across JFK the night they performed at the venue. JFK was the largest outdoor stadium on the East coast of the United States. The capacity of the venue for concerts was 104,000. Allegedly, that was the reason the late Bill Graham chose it for the US leg of Live Aid in 1985. However, when The Beatles were booked there, Promoter George Hamid Jr. who also promoted shows at his Steel Pier in Atlantic City, utilized only about one-fifth of the stadium, which gave him a capacity for 20,000. Tickets were $5.00 for reserved and $3.00 for general admission. Tickets didn't sell as quickly as anticipated. In fact, Hamid was forced to take out a print advertisement in the Philadelphia Inquirer, which stated in very bold print: SEATS AVAILABLE NOW. This situation was not limited to Philly alone; most of the four-teen dates on the tour had slower than expected ticket sales because of a certain embroilment which exploded during the first week of August.

The Controversy

On August 4, 1966, a United Press International wire story ran in the Philadelphia Inquirer. The headline was: "Beatles Manager Rushes to U.S. To Quell Furor." Indeed, Brian Epstein did cut short his European vacation to try and get a hold on the press frenzy that was creating severe damage to the reputation of his prize act, The Beatles.

In his book The Beatles - 365 Days, Simon Wells explains very succinctly what happened and why.

An old quote which John Lennon gave to journalist Maureen Cleave was taken out of context and recycled in an American Teen magazine called Datebook. Just as the tour was ready to hit, The Beatles got wind of the firestorm that was spreading across the USA. What Lennon said was, "The Beatles are more popular than Jesus." He said this in the context, that in England, and certain parts of Europe, religion was waning. This was also true in America, and in Philadelphia, and in my life as well. I was an Alter Boy in the Roman Catholic Church. Once a month, we had a special service for the woman of the Parrish called: The Sodality of the Blessed Virgin. I served that event every month along with my classmate Raymond Harrison. This particular Sunday night service was scheduled for February 9, 1964. The same night that The Beatles were going to appear live on the Ed Sullivan Program. I was thirteen years old at the time, and I came from a very religious family. I had the biggest decision of my young life to make: God? or The Beatles? I will be forever grateful that my intuition guided me to the correct conclusion: I chose The Beatles. I called in sick to the rectory, and little did I know, my friend Raymond Harrison squealed on me. The next morning, I was summoned to the office of the Pastor. He sat me down in front of his desk, and from his huge chair behind his desk, he bent over and said to me: "Son, are these degenerates your God?" Consequently, I was suspended from the Altar Boys and castigated by the nuns and other priests at my Parrish. When I first heard about John Lennon and the Beatles are bigger than Jesus" dissention, I said to myself, YES they are bigger than Jesus !!!!

Promoter George Hamid Jr. knew he had a potential catastrophe on his hand, because the Ku Klux Klan paraded in front of the venue the lads played at in Washington, D.C., and in Pennsylvania, four State Senators introduced a measure in Harrisburg urging a boycott of the concert here in Philadelphia.

The Philadelphia press did not help matters with the kind of in house and wire stories they chose to run in all of their editions. On the Sunday August 14, two days before the show, The Inquirer ran a story titled "Embattled Beatles in Return." Inquirer staff writer Samuel L. Singer reminded his readers about the noise levels generated by the screaming fans when The Beatles first performed in Philadelphia in 1964. However, Singer suggested that on this visit, "that most of the noise this time is by protesters of all ages who would like The Beatles not to be heard at all, even on the radio." Other stories which the Inky ran, seemed to placate the populace, and assure them that Philadelphia was prepared for all eventualities. One such story with a Rose DeWolf byline was headlined, "It Looks Like a Battlefield: Stadium Braces for Beatles. This piece was designed to put the readers at ease. It gave the readership the sense that the Philadelphia decision makers had all the bases covered, and that they were prepared for all eventualities both in and outside of the venue should any of the national concerns spill over into the City of Brotherly Love. Another story called: "Beatles' Visit Provides Profit For Phila., Too." The story reeked as a plant by the city. The reader was not only assured that this concert would not cost taxpayers a dime, but it suggested that the city stood to make a few bucks off of this bunch of heathens.

Yes, there were ban the Beatles radio scams designed to get ratings all around the country, not unlike the "Disco Sucks" shenanigans that occurred ten years later in the 1970s. But these types of "promotions" took place mainly in the South. Fortunately for Mr. Epstein, the 1966 tour of America played no dates below the Mason-Dixon line. But still for The Beatles, it was a new headache which was not of their choosing, and added to recent tour problems in Japan, The Philippines, this "Bigger than Jesus" ruckus actually and sadly, impacted attendance in the United States.

The Show

As we arrived at JFK on the night of the show, Mr. Casey told us to ask for a particular gentleman, who ended up being the head of security for the city at the stadium. This man not only escorted us to our seats, which were awesome, but he gave each of us a Beatles program, which of course was "comped."

This concert was billed as an, "An All Star Show" which it truly was. Bobby Hebb open the show. He was an R&B singer from Nashville, who had a huge hit single on the Pop Charts that summer called, "Sunny." The sound was wonderful, and Bobby Hebb was a perfect choice to open the show.

Next up was The Cyrkle. They were an American band, who were managed by Beatles manager Brian Epstein. It was John Lennon who came up with their name. They too had a big hit pop single with a record called: "Red Rubber Ball" which went to # 2 on the Billboard Hot 100 during the summer of 1966

The Ronettes took the stage next, and until the emergence of The Supremes, they were the biggest and best all female pop group. They sang all of their Phil Specter produced hits including "Walking in the Rain." But their set was designed to build up to their performance of what was arguably the greatest single of the 1960s, "Be My Baby." As they were performing that great song, all of a sudden, a spot light began to shine on the far right side of the stadium sections. What became apparent very quickly, was the sight of The Beatles walking across the field, just as John F. Kennedy once did, and with the Ronettes singing behind them, the four lads made their way back stage. The Beatles entrance from the nearby stands, prompted screams which practically drowned out the end of a stellar performance by The Ronettes, but hey, it was The Beatles' show.

The question I had going into JFK that night was, what would The Beatles perform from their brand new album, "Revolver" which was only released eleven days before the concert on August 5th. They ended up performing eleven songs in twenty-nine minutes and that was a long show by 1966 standards. The Rolling Stones performed but nine songs during their set the previous month. The show was absolutely terrific. Yes, there was ear splitting high pitched screaming, but even with that distractive non-sense, a seasoned fifteen year old concert observer such as myself, could hear that there was without question, one damn good combo playing on that stage. They opened with two songs from the "Beatles 65" album. First, a thrilling version of Chuck Berry's "Rock and Roll Music" with Lennon's vocal in very good order. That was immediately followed up by a McCartney vocal on "She's A Woman." Next was one of the two gems of the evening, "If I Needed Someone" from "the "Yesterday and Today" album, with George Harrison in splendid voice, backed up with very lush Lennon and McCartney harmonies which formed that trademark rich Beatle vocal sound. That exquisite vocal work was further enriched by the choice of "Baby's in Black from "Beatles 65." "Day Tripper" and "I Feel Fine followed and on those particular songs, one could sense how Ringo Star's drumming style really drove the band. The next selection was "Yesterday." I have to admit that I was somewhat disappointed in the arrangement of that song, for it was performed with the full backing of the band, and that treatment did not render itself as an embellishment to McCartney's masterpiece, but more of a hindrance to the performance. "I Wanna Be Your Man" was up next, and it was interesting that this was the one track chosen from their 1964 repertoire; I still like The Rolling Stones version much better.

The second gem of the night followed. It was one of my favorite Beatle singles of all time: "Nowhere Man. Not only were the warm and layered vocals spot on, but he highlight of the song, and for me the show, was George Harrison's guitar break (that is what they were called back then, not solos) which was not only true to the recording, but it seemed that the audience calmed down a bit just to listen to this song performed live.

"Paperback Writer: was the next to last song they played, and that is one song that is so good, even a less than great rendition of it would be great; on that night, the performance of that song was truly great.

The Beatles closed thier the show with a very odd choice, but actually a brilliant one with "I'm Down" which was the B-side to the single "Help." McCartney was in great screaming mode, and Lennon was hilarious as he sat in front of an electric piano, playing with both his hands and his elbows which he ran up and down the keyboard. Ol' Johnny was having a blast and it was delight to see him smiling non-stop considering the stress he was placed under by the worst of what America had to offer before and during the tour.

The Aftermath

So, seven of the eleven songs performed that night were either hit singles, or B-sides of hits. The other five selection were album tracks. Yet the elephant in the room was, how come nothing from "Rubber Soul" or the just released album "Revolver". As history now informs us, The Beatles knew that these two weeks of shows in the States were going to be their last as a live act. The security issues created by their last visit to Japan and the Philippines, and the death threats they received in America were enough to bring that aspect of their musical lives to a close. Let alone the night after night of playing to the din of screeching teenage girls. Little did we Philadelphians know, that what we witnessed that evening in South Philly was one of the final live shows this great quartet would ever play. Thirteen days later, it all ended as they performed their last concert at Candlestick Park in San Francisco.

Rose DeWolf covered the show for the Inquirer. The headline for her review was: "20,000 Greet Beatles and it's a Scream." You would never have known she was there, because she said not a word about the musical performance in her column; what she wrote was pretty much a crowd story. She backhandedly gave the show a nod, because she noted that one could actually hear the Beatles performing. DeWolf attributed this to the very loud sound system, and the fact that there were boys in the audience. She calculated that one-fifth of the audience were boys which was unheard of in previous Beatle tours, hence, less screaming and fewer squeals. I can testify to that. Me and my mate Dennis and the other lads I saw did not make a sound; we were the pensive lot you could say; we were there to hear the music. I truly loved that show, and from that day forward, I've been "comped" my entire life.