The Screamers, The Dreamers and Me

When I was sixteen my Aunt Mary took her daughter Judy and me to Seattle to see the Beatles. Judy was a huge Beatle fan. She had posters and scrapbooks, and piles of magazines with Beatle pictures and stories. I liked the group well enough. I understood their importance and was mildly attracted to Paul in the most casual and far removed way. It never occured to me to think in terms of the Beatles and me. After all, they were British and old beyond the boys my mom allowed me to date.

The night of the concert, August 27, 1966, Judy and another cousin Bobby, who lived in Seattle and I found ourselves in the Seattle Colliseum with 15,997 other people. Two thirds of my home town could have fit in there and I was in awe of the crowd. Bobby was a Seattle kid and I was glad for his big town confidence.

Bobby Hebb was the opening act. You remember him. "Sunny, Yesterday my life was cold and gray.........You gave to me your all and all and now I feel ten feet tall. Sunny, one so true, I love you." He was really good but I was distracted by how many men in white dinner jackest were standing in the aisles. They were big guys with serious expressions.

When the big moment came and John, Paul, George and Ringo came onstage the noise level in the room increased by at least a thousand. Girls all around us were screaming so hard that the three of us just looked at each other in amazement. We knew the fab four were playing music but we could barely hear it.

After about five minutes we realized why there were so many guys in white dinner jackets. It was their job to carry out the girls who had fainted or were about to. In our section alone five girls just lost consciousness. Since I couldn't hear the Beatles anyway, I let myself be distracted by the blue glow of white jacketed ushers scurrying around the place rescuing over-excited females.

The Beatles were onstage for about thirty minutes. I thought the screaming would decrease after a while but the noise prevailed. Judy had her hands over her ears but she was smiling. At least she could see the Beatles. Bobby just sat with his mouth open for the entire thirty minutes.

Judy and I went to the restroom immediately after the boys left the stage. I learned something about myself in that bathroom that night. Girls were standing at the sinks sobbing and we could hear others vomiting into the toilets. I thought I was an over-emotional person until that night. I was from a small eastern Washington town and I knew nothing about the culture of celebrity. It never occurred to me to cry or make myself sick over people I would never meet. In that moment I knew I wasn't a sophisticated city kid. I was a small town girl who had common sense and realistic reactions.

I don't think I even told my freinds at home that I'd seen the Beatles in concert. It didn't seem like a big deal. My kids are slightly impressed. Judy still has her program. And her scrapbook.