The Best Guilt Trip Ever. Or How I Saw The Beatles at the Hollywood Bowl and Learned to Forgive My Dad

“I guess I put away my Beatle records one day and never really knew why. I wonder if it was because I was afraid to feel so strongly about anything?”

That’s what I wrote when George Harrison died in 2001. I took out the old records and listened for hours while I cried. I was taken aback by the support and hugs from my daughters. I didn’t know they understood. 

I was pregnant with Amelia when John Lennon died in 1980. We lived in California where Mike was in grad school working on his dissertation research. He was at the lab, as usual. When he finally came home, he found me sitting in the rocking chair. I think I was in shock. In my memory, I was sitting there rocking 18 month old Jennifer, waiting for him to come home and help me make sense of it.

Fifteen years before that, on August 30, 1965, I experienced The Beatles at the Hollywood Bowl with my best friends Kathy and Nancy. I was 12. They were 14.  In my Beatles scrapbook, I wrote that it was the “Happiest Day in My Life. (so far)” 

For fifty years now, I’ve bragged about that concert as a “claim to fame” whenever someone would mention some concert they attended, or famous person they met. When my girls were young, it was a way to show them how cool I was. They could never top that crowning achievement of my life. No one could.

It still is a highlight of my life. Just a moment in time, really. But the truth is, it was the culmination of a long hot summer, in a year filled with events that changed the world, not just my corner of it. So many of the events of 1965 changed our country and our lives — just search for  “1965” on the internet and you’ll see a long list of important events. A look at the events of August is like looking at a snapshot of the types of things that happened all year.

• August 6. President Johnson signed the Voting Rights Act of 1965 into law. 

• August 10. The Housing and Urban Development Act of 1965 became law. 

• August 11 - 17. The so-called “Watts Riots” took place in South Central Los Angeles, about 10 miles from my driveway where I stood and watched the smoke from the fires as several hundred buildings burned. On the 11th, police stopped and arrested a Black man for drunk driving and then proceeded to arrest people, including family members, who had gathered to find out what happened. 14,000 National Guard joined the local police to “restore order” and enforce a curfew which was finally lifted on August 17. 600 buildings were damaged by burning and looting and another 200 destroyed. As a 12-year-old, I wasn’t sure how far away we were. It looked like a couple blocks from my perspective. I wasn’t personally scared, but I felt like I should be because all the adults I knew were concerned and the nightly news was full of pretty scary reports.

• August 18. 5,500 U.S. Marines destroyed a Viet Cong stronghold in “Operation Starlite.” American involvement in Vietnam escalated throughout the year with 125,000 American military present in July. Monthly draft calls had increased to 35,000. Draft card burning had also increased as anti-war protests increased and on August 31 Johnson signed a law criminalizing draft card burning. Entire books have been written about American involvement in Vietnam so I won’t try to give that history here.

• August 21. Gemini 5 launched for a record 8-day space flight.

• August 23-30. The Beatles, on a U.S. tour starting the 14th, spent a week getting some R&R in a rented Beverly Hills home before their two Hollywood Bowl concerts on August 29 and 30.

• August 30. The California Angels lost to the New York Yankees at Dodger Stadium. (Not everyone in Los Angeles cared about the Beatles on August 30!)

1965 was my last summer in my childhood home. My Dad was transferred to San Diego to open a new regional office of Union Bank. This came with a new title, Regional Vice-President. There was no discussion. He informed us sometime at the end of the 64-65 school year. I remember telling my school friends that we were moving, and they didn’t believe me! Westchester was a very small town and after school ended, my world shrank even further to just the places I could walk to within a few blocks, such as the local playground and public swimming pool.

Kathy lived across the street. Nancy lived on the next block, but her house backed up to our next-door neighbor and we always climbed that fence rather than walk all the way ‘round. Dede, also older than me, lived across the street next to Kathy, and was a member of our informal Beatles fan club. But she had polio as a child and had only recently become strong enough to sit up in a wheelchair. We spent hours over at Dede’s house after school, talking about the Beatles, listening to them on the radio, looking at Beatles fan magazines, trading Beatles trading cards, and discussing which Beatle was our favorite and which one we would marry!

Then we heard the announcement that the Beatles were coming to the Hollywood Bowl, with information about how to send off for tickets. No internet. No Ticketmaster. The organizers were trying to avoid the previous year’s problems with tickets by having people send in requests for tickets with their money, instead of lining up for hours at the Hollywood Bowl. 

Ticket order form. From the KRLA Beat May 12, 1965. (http://krlabeat.sakionline.net/issue/12may65.pdf)

But first, we had to convince our parents. I don’t know what tactic Kathy and Nancy used, but I went straight for the guilt trip with my Dad — because of course Mom said “Ask your Dad.” My argument was something like this: 

You’re making me move away from the only home I’ve ever known and the only friends I’ll ever have and this will be my only chance to ever see the Beatles.

I have a mental image of cornering him in the living room and giving what I thought was a well prepared speech. I felt like I couldn’t shut up and I went on and on. I had answers to his every question. What a performance! I think I wore him out and he finally relented. I wrote in my scrapbook 

“Dad finally agreed to let me go see the Beatles in August. Nancy Anderson, Kathy Kuhl and I are going together if we get the tickets. We had to send to the Hollywood Bowl. We’re hoping for seven dollar tickets.”

I don’t remember who gathered the money and sent off our request, but somehow we did get tickets back in the mail. 

$6.00 tickets!! Section F, Row 15!!

Now for the logistics. We weren’t old enough to drive so one of the parents would have to drive and we would go the day before and have a practice run. A little rehearsal to make sure we knew where our seats were and where we would meet after the show. We agreed to every restriction the parents thought up. We were so afraid one of the parents would decide we couldn’t go. Parents are so unpredictable!

Finally the day arrived. We all wore dresses or skirts which was considered appropriate concert attire. I don’t remember the drive from Westchester to the Hollywood Bowl. It’s a 30-40 minute drive I guess. We got dropped off and made our way to our seats and just sat there waiting and watching the crowd. (At some point there was a buzz as five guys with long hair walked up the steps to our far left. Everyone speculated that it was “The Byrds” but I’ve never been able to confirm that. Why would they be out in the general audience instead of backstage hanging out? Maybe that didn’t happen in those days? And I suppose there wasn't much hanging out backstage because the Beatles arrived and departed in a Brinks truck. I think they did their hanging out at the Beverly Hills/Benedict Canyon mansion they had rented. Anyway, all the VIPs were seated right in front of the stage, not at the top of the amphitheater, even higher up than where we sat.)

I’ve read that there were opening and closing acts at the show, but I have no recollection about them. I do have the Beatles set list. The comment at the bottom is my handwriting. I'm not sure if Kathy or Nancy wrote the list.

When you read about Beatles concerts, it’s always said that the screaming was so loud you couldn’t hear the music. That wasn’t true for us. We heard all the music. We heard the chatter among the Beatles (not that there was much). We could even hear each other. I’m not saying it wasn’t loud. It was! We had to shout to be heard by each other. We also did our own share of screaming - enough, that we all had “party girl” voices at the end. But I’ve always felt like we were pretty subdued compared to the other 17,000++ fans surrounding us. However, maybe that was just me. I’m the one who left with a deep indent in my forearm where Nancy grabbed me during at least one song, and left the imprint of her fingernails.

And then. . .

“They were here and too soon they were gone. It was really exciting! Something I’ll never forget! They sang 12 songs. I love them! They're fab, fab!”

I’m not sure how long we sat there at the end of the show. Somehow we made our way to the pre-selected pick-up spot. We must have stopped to buy programs because this program is also in my scrapbook.

The next thing I remember, I was in San Diego (La Jolla, to be precise) starting 7th grade. My older sister stayed behind in Los Angeles to finish her senior year of high school. We made many weekend trips back and forth because it took months for our house to sell. Mom would pack up the station wagon; we’d drive north; camp out at the Westchester house; then drive back on Sunday night. I don’t even know why we did that. Maybe Mom needed to do some work on the house. Maybe she just needed to see Sue. I tried to hang out with old friends but I know I felt very alone. Kathy, Nancy and Dede were busy with high school activities and my own former classmates seemed uninterested. 

The house finally sold so we didn’t go as often but none of us had made many friends in La Jolla. Our La Jolla rental house was near the top of “Mt Soledad” and we were very isolated and dependent on rides to go anywhere. My social life consisted of babysitting, attending confirmation classes with people I didn’t know, and watching endless hours of afternoon TV with my siblings.

Even Christmas was a sad occasion because we all had the flu. What a pathetic bunch we were, sprawled around the living room, taking turns opening gifts and trying to be happy. And then, I opened a gift from my mother. This woman who never showed emotion and didn’t seem to understand a 12-year-old girl, gave me “Rubber Soul” which had recently been released. I don’t know how she knew the Beatles had a new album! (see my story about Rubber Soul here. http://honeylights.blogspot.com/2014/12/rubber-soul-49-years-ago.html) I don’t know how she found a way to deal with the needs of five struggling kids when she was struggling with her own needs!

Somehow we all survived 1965. However I think we all became different people than we would have if we had stayed in Westchester. The old neighborhood no longer exists. The streets and sidewalks can still be seen from the air, but it’s surrounded by a huge wall that was built by Los Angeles International Airport after they bought the land. We moved to another rental house in the summer of 1966 and Sue came home to attend the nearby University of California at San Diego. We all carried on our lives, going to school, joining clubs, playing sports, attending church — and listening to Dad and Sue argue about Vietnam every night around the dinner table. The “Betty Crocker Homemaker of the Year” had become “radicalized” you might say. Dad probably regretted making her stay home to attend UCSD instead of letting her go to Santa Clara with the Jesuits! 

Looking back 50 years, it seems clear that 1965 was a turning point for our family and maybe for the world. Even the Beatles were changing in 1965! I know I’m not the only person for whom personal and world events are inseparable from the music playing in the background. The music of the late 60’s and early 70’s is regularly invoked and played as background music when discussing this time period; especially when talking about Vietnam.

There were times I felt like my parents had ruined all of our lives by moving to La Jolla, but then I remember August 30, 1965. I’m not sure I would have that memory if I hadn’t been able to guilt-trip my Dad into letting me send off for tickets. He probably figured there was no way we’d get them, but we did! And so in the end, I had to forgive him for ruining my life and be grateful that he let his 12-year-old daughter have the happiest day in her life.

Me in 1965.