RAVER: How 1966 Perceived Beatlemania in 1999
As 2014 draws to a close, we reflect on the year’s milestones. In the music world, there was perhaps none bigger than the 50th anniversary of the Beatles’ arrival in the US, which was celebrated throughout the year at Fests for Beatles Fans and other conferences and festivals, along with television specials, concerts, and memorabilia. For those who also banded together with fellow Beatles fans, the energy and excitement of the Fab Four was especially powerful over the past 12 months. Personally, I felt my love of the Beatles reignited after a few years of stagnation (or, more accurately, total burnout), which I wrote about for Popdose in February. I met dozens of new friends through the Fab Four and was reminded, yet again, how potent, pervasive, and passion-instilling the Beatles are and forever will be.
So, when I stumbled up on this short story in the February 1966 issue of Teen Screen, I thought it particularly fitting to add to the many discussions of the Beatles’ legacy. In the story, which takes place “in the future,” a.k.a. October 9, 1999 (John Lennon’s birthday, ironically), a high school girl named Kendall falls in love with a long-haired trumpet player named Jerico, who her mother rejects because of his appearance and silly name. When a time capsule is unearthed at school, however, Kendall discovers her mother was once obsessed with some guy called Ringo Starr — who also had long hair and a dumb name. She broaches her mother with this information and the two of them sit down to listen to Beatles records and all is seemingly right with the world, as they realize they’re not so different after all.
It’s a simple tale, but the subtext is fascinating. In this futuristic world, the author, Barbara Newman ascertains that 45 RPM singles are gone and only vinyl record albums are produced, kids ride to school in buscopters and homes have “copter ports” instead of garages, and that 1999 is still part of the “Space Age.” Teachers are replaced with robots and giant TV screens, friends use rings to flash each other messages in class in lieu of passing notes, and science has developed an “anti-cavity” pill that’s made toothpaste all but obsolete.
The biggest conclusion Newman draws, however, is that the Beatles are virtually unknown. It took opening a time capsule to even bring them back onto anyone’s radar. Again, this was written probably in late 1965, so the Fab Four hadn’t even released Revolver, and Sgt. Pepper was still virtually eons away. Did she think their material up until that point was disposable and temporary, or, as she writes, “something ridiculous called rock ‘n’ roll”? (Though apparently jazz still survives and is, in fact, what the cool kids at school are listening to.)
What’s interesting, though, is once the old records are dragged out, Kendall is completely enchanted by the music, and even adopts some of the Beatles’ early vernacular (“grotty”). Even if Newman believed that folks in 1999 wouldn’t know who the Beatles were, she must have been sure that once they heard the music, they’d understand Beatlemania. Therefore, there had to be an inkling that John, Paul, George, and Ringo would leave some sort of a legacy… even if 1966 couldn’t really understand what it might look like in 1999 and beyond.
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James Ryan