The amazing crate of technology my dad brought home in ’63 arrived just in time for two hugely historic events. I remember staying home from school in late November of that same year, and watching JFK’s funeral on TV − so somber and slow − blanketed in whispered reverence. I remember my mom crying, and the strange empathy I felt for her and the mourners I saw on the small black and white screen. An image, very similar to the one below, is still within my reach.
And then, just a few months later, after dinner on a Sunday evening, my entire family sat down and watched the Beatles in their first televised US appearance. I don’t believe I even knew who the Beatles were at the time. We were watching The Ed Sullivan Show because this is what we did on Sunday evenings. Maybe it was Ed’s hype, prior to their performance, or the reaction of the audience every time they were mentioned or hinted at, but I recall having the impression that something really really big was happening. I was in the third grade then. The next day at school, all my classmates were asking:
“Did you see the Beatles?”
I believe everyone immediately understood the impact JFK’s assassination would have on the world. And everyone had a sense for their part in this history, like 9/11. But the second event was a birth rather than a death. A lot of people recognized that this was something new, and a lot of people connected with it instantly. It may seem irreverent to compare the arrival of The Beatles with the death of an iconic leader, but try to imagine what the world might be like without either of these. I suspect the world would be a better place today if the Kennedy brothers were allowed to complete their missions, and the world would be a less hopeful place had The Beatles not happened.
The Swiss Army TV-set was moved to New Castle, Indiana, in 1965. Then, in the late summer of the following year, my mom stunned her offspring by bringing home the album, Yesterday and Today. She loved Paul McCartney’s song, Yesterday, and bought the record specifically for it. But really, what was she thinking? I mean, did she expect us kids to keep our paws off her Beatles album. It didn’t last long. LPs were not designed to withstand the kind of abuse we heathen Jones kids believed was normal.
Baby you can drive my car… Beep beep’m beep beep, yeah!
Soooooo… what was the first record I spent my hard-earned cash on?
I paid 35 cents for the 45.
And my first LP purchase? This was the fall of ’66, as I recall. I could have bought, Rubber Soul, or The Stones’ Aftermath, Dylan’s Highway 61, Blonde on Blonde, Pet Sounds, or any number of great albums, but I held out for Herman’s Hermits on Tour, a little know masterpiece.
I’m Henry the Eighth I am, Henry the Eighth I am I am. Whatever…
Notice the mystical message hidden within the lyrics? “I am I am.” Right, it slipped by me too, but I think it still managed to imbed itself into my psyche. That album woke something up inside of me… just for a fleeting moment, then fell back to sleep. But, hell, I feel like I completely redeemed myself with my next album purchase. You are going to say, “No way!”
But, way! It’s true. Ask my brother.
I was in Kreske’s Dime Store (they had a cool, old soda bar there), on Broad Street, in downtown New Castle, where I saw this on their tiny record display:
Kreske’s probably had no more than a dozen rock albums in their store. I bought Freak Out having no idea who The Mothers of Invention were. I thought the cover was the coolest thing ever, and of course I liked the title. This album really did wake something up within me. A couple of weeks after buying it (perhaps a hundred listens later) I threw away my Herman’s Hermits record.