Beatles, Barricades, and Beans - A Delirious American Welcome For The Boys

Liverpool, Hamburg, London, Paris, and Stockholm had been through it before. Not it was our turn. The Beatles were coming.

Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

They were scheduled to arrive at New York's John F. Kennedy International Airport at 1:40 p.m. on Friday, February 7th. The airport was under heavy security guard, and the security guard was under even heavier pressure from 5,000 straining teenagers who had begun gathering at the airport as many as fifteen hours before The Beatles' plane was scheduled to touch down.

All night long, the crowd kept mounting as well armed well-wishers began t arrive, stocked with jelly beans and candy kisses bought for the purpose of aiming them at the boys as soon as they stepped off the transcontinental jetliner.

"We want beatniks," went the anguished chant, "we want beatniks." As the chant gained intensity, so did the crowd which pushed against the barriers which had been set up all around the terminal at which the boys were expected. One policeman had to be hospitalized.

Some of the crowd had come from as far away as Arkansas. "I drove down," said an Arkansas college student, "just to be able to go home and tell everybody about it." Another girl had induced her father to make a several hundred mile round trip. But, at the terminal, there was no sign of her father. And there were thousands of hooky-playing kids from the New York City area.

A couple of anti-Beatle factions could also be spotted. These diehards - who are probably against all sorts of things - carried signs reading: "Beatles Go Home," "I Like Beethoven," and "Stomp Out The Beatles."

Then the moment approached. The huge airliner carrying the group emerged from the sky, rolled along International Airport's long runways and pulled up to the terminal building.

As the boys stepped onto the ramp, they didn't seem to believe what they saw. They'd been through loud welcomes before but this one seemed to outdo them all.

After they recovered, Paul said, "This is marvelous, this is healthy. We've never had or seen anything like this before. It's the best ever!"

But as they climbed down the ramp, as the crowd eagerly surged forward, threatening to break through the straining barriers, The Beatles were back in form. They waved to the crowd, bringing tears to many in the crowd. Then they danced a little jig, bringing more tears. And then they mugged for the benefit of the cameramen, the crowd, and themselves.

"I see it," an airport employee, who has seen many celebrities come and go, said. "But I don't believe it."

Jelly beans and candy kisses were flying from every corner of the terminal, pelting the boys, who didn't seem to mind. As a bean would nearly hit them, the squeals of anticipation and disbelief grew louder.

Finally, they made it safely into the areas in which a short press briefing was to be held.

When a reporter tried to compare them to Elvis Presley, The Beatles, as one, answered: "Not true."

When asked about their trip to the States, Paul answered: "We are a bit nervous, but we're not worried about the crowds. We just hope that we will go well over here."

One of the crowd yelled, "Sing for us!"

John looked up and said, "We need money first."

And everybody, including hardened reporters who weren't prepared to give The Beatles any sympathy, had to laugh.

One of the reporters informed them that a "Stamp Out The Beatles" movement had been started in Detroit.

"We're going to start a campaign to stamp out Detroit," they answered.

Outside of the press area, four Cadillacs were waiting to speed them to Manhattan and the old-fashioned Plaza Hotel, which usually accommodates long-haired celebrities who lead international symphonic orchestras, not ones who play and sing with a jackhammer beat.

As they ran to the waiting limousines - one for each of them - a girl managed to crash the heavily secured police lines and run up to John. He froze in his tracks, shocked, as two fast-moving policemen rushed over to return the girl to the foot of the crowd. Then he raced for his limousine.

In Manhattan, in front of the hotel where the fictional Eloise always created such a fuss, another huge crowd was waiting. Again, mounted police, unafraid to use their well-trained horses to best advantage, had to keep the surging crowd in check.

Somehow, the boys made it into the lobby in one piece, shaken but undamaged by the glorious welcome.

Upstairs, in their suite, they joked with reporters and photographers, unruffled by the experience they had just had.

"I guess we've got a good press agent," they answered, when asked why they were such a hit around the world.

THey couldn't comment on American girls ... yet. "We'll tell you tonight," one of them said, winking broadly.

The hotel even announced what they were going to eat for dinner: Spaghetti, steaks, soft drinks, apple pie, ice cream, and candy. A balanced diet.

As all this was happening on Manhattan's Central Park South, the announcers at Kennedy International Airport kept repeating: "All persons waiting for the arrival of The Beatles please be advised that they have left the airport."

Even though many of those still waiting had seen The Beatles jump into their separate cars and race away, they reamined, unable to believe that they wouldn't see the boys that day any more.

As they cleared out, an airlines receptionist muttered, "Thank God."

The day American flipped its (Beatle) wig was over.

But the madness was just beginning.