It was an incredible night, and no tale you'll be told about it will do it justice.
It was Beatles night in Cincinnati Gardens with the 13,300 fans setting up a screaming clamor, whose physical force assaulted the ears as if it were a blow.
There has never been anything like the Beatles before. Not in antiquity, not in vaudeville, not in all the years of rock-and-roll.
And the difference wasn't so much in the group, which is better than most, as in the audience. The customers, largely girls from 10 to 16, worked itself into virtual hysteria and shock, the reactions varying from simple tears to fainting.
The show had been relatively calm until the Beatles hit the stage. Bill Black's combo was routine, the Exciters were excellent rhythm-and-blues, the Righteous Brothers were gimicky but effective, blond Jackie DeShannon was active mostly in her physical movements.
Then came the phenomenon.
Once the crowd realized the Beatles were on the verge of coming through the curtain, it was bedlam to a remarkable, unbelievable degree.
First there was the intense vibration of the sound waves from the screaming. Then, when the Beatles came romping out, came an incessant flash from the cameras, which set up an electronic flickering as violent to the eyes as the screams were to the ears.
Together, it was if you were in the vortex of a storm from another world.
You couldn't really hear the Beatles, of course. But that didn't stop John, Paul, George and Ringo.
It might have looked as though they were pantomiming pandemonium but the grins were there, the massive heads of Beatle hair jiggled and bounced, and the more the girls yelled, the harder Ringo whapped his drums.
I was faintly aware, as if it were a faraway voice, asking for help, of the songs of the Beatles, from "She Loves You, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah" to "A Hard Day's Night."
Later, young girls were to tell me they heard the Beatles music quite clearly.
I wandered about the huge Gardens examining the Beatles from above, from far in the back, from right in front of the stage.
Their humor was there, their valiant effort to be the Beatles and send their music forth no matter what returned on the echoing tide, the laughing glances they shared among themselves.
Girls clung to each other in a restless, wrestling sort of way, pummeling each other in their effort to be released from this vaguely unrequited adolescent love.
Usually, the younger the customer, the more wrenching the movements, the more uncontrolled the tears and fearful screams.
Those of us who were bemused studied row upon row. Now and then a friendly subtle chuckle made the return trip. This was the audience, thousands of pounds of thunder and lightning clothed in skinny, sweaty little frames balanced lightly -- but balanced -- by the breeze of humor.
Maybe you figure this is just another writer seeking to be poetically sensational. If so, then you've never had your fingers kissed by hordes of girls who know your hand touched the hand of a Beatle.
You've never seen a pretty little growing child sink to the floor with hands clasped begging, "Oh, God, please don't let them leave. Make them stay."
You haven't watched girls sorting through trash to find something that maybe a Beatle had discarded, or roll on the ground where the Beatles had passed -- in an automobile.
When the show was over and the Beatles had quickly ducked out through the curtain, into a waiting limousine and back to the airport for their New York-bound plane, youngsters jumped alongside the stage to touch its floor, where the Beatles trod.
This wasn't just a once-in-a-lifetime wonder. It was the culmination of the times we live in, the way we teach or fail to teach our children, the way radio and TV entertainment can hypnotize the conformity-minded youngsters, the way those same often gentle youngsters can turn it all into the ability to rule the grown-ups where building musical idols is concerned.
Despite the garish description of the way in which the children behaved, it must be admitted that they were good about staying in their seats, and that the Cincinnati police force did a beautiful job of maintaining command without being overly tough about it.
The show was sponsored by WSAI's Good Guys -- disc jockeys Paul Purtan, Dusty Rhodes, Mark Edwards, Bob Harper, Steve Kirk -- who also did most of the emceeing, with the proper blend of enthusiasm, humor and restraint.
It is said the Beatles will return next spring. If they do, go see them, no matter what your age. They are good, entertaining performers and always bring customers into the hall.
It's something to remember for a lifetime.
http://www.cincypost.com/2004/08/27/beatl082704.html