An Irishman's Diary By Karl Whitney The Irish Times, Tuesday 18th November 2008 - - - - To Philip Larkin, 1963 was the year when sexual intercourse began, 'Between the end of the Chatterley ban / And the Beatles first LP.' In Ireland, November of that year seemed like the point at which the sixties began, between the arrival of the Beatles in Dublin and the release of the band's second LP. But, in a way, November was also the month when the sixties ended. In November 1963, Ireland witnessed the dizzying possibilities and the horrifying instabilities that were to plague the world for the rest of the decade. November saw the excitement of the Beatles' first visit to Ireland: the band arrived in Dublin on Thursday November 7th to play two concerts at the Adelphi cinema. Barely two weeks later, the Irish-American President of the United States, John F. Kennedy, was shot and killed in Dallas, Texas. What is so startling about looking back at the 1960s is how quickly things happened: seemingly earth-shattering events occurred with a frantic and feverish speed that can still convince one that the decade was subject to the most violent and mysterious of subterranean historical convulsions. Even when looking back at the events from this distance in time, what happened in the sixties still seems both exhilarating and terrifying. In Dublin, the first week of November saw excitement build in anticipation of the Beatles' visit. Barbers reported an increase in customers asking for a 'Beatle cut'. One hairdresser told a reporter from this paper that such haircuts necessitated a price increase – there was 'too much trouble involved' he informed such customers. This was often enough to put them off attempting an imitation of the Beatles' distinctive coiffures. However, the reporter also noted that, even though this was to be the band's first Irish appearance, 'they are as well known here by thousands of young enthusiasts as they are in their homeland and on the Continent.' The journalist also pointed out that, wherever they had appeared recently, 'they have been mobbed by their fans both inside and outside the theatre.' This aside seems prophetic, but actually such occurrences were a safe bet: Beatlemania had spread like wildfire, and Dublin was next. Accordingly, 50 extra guards were to be posted on Middle Abbey Street outside the Adelphi, and the theatre drafted extra ushers to cope. It seemed a mild precaution against what was to follow. The Beatles had become a huge sensation in a relatively brief time: the band's first album, 'Please Please Me', had just been released in March 1963; their second album, 'With the Beatles', was scheduled for release on November 22nd, which happened to be the same day the US President was due to visit to Dallas as part of his three-day speaking tour of Texas. On the night of Monday 4th, the Beatles played the Royal Variety Performance at the London Palladium. Before breaking into a raucous rendition of the song 'Twist and Shout', John Lennon leaned into the microphone and cheekily asked of the audience: 'will the people in the cheaper seats clap your hands? And the rest of you, if you'll just rattle your jewellery.' On Tuesday morning, English newspapers were already describing the previous evening's event as the 'Royal Beatles Show'. As far as the British public was concerned, the Beatles had just arrived. By Thursday afternoon, the Beatles had landed in Ireland. In his own particular way, RTE's Frank Hall – interviewing the band in Dublin airport – voiced the question that was on everyone's lips: 'is the haircut by accident or design?' As a tired-looking Beatles joked around on camera, a young playwright named Alun Owen was somewhere taking notes; he was accompanying the Beatles on their tour with the aim of writing a film script about the band. The film, 'A Hard Day's Night', was released in 1964; in one scene, an eager journalist asked George Harrison: 'what would you call that hairstyle you're wearing?' 'Arthur', he replied. The concerts weren't exactly peace and love: The Beatles only really attained both after they stopped touring in 1966. 'Many arrested as city crowds riot,' read the front-page headline of the following day's Irish Times. Dozens were arrested on Abbey Street on the night of the concerts (two had been scheduled: one at 6.30pm, the other at 9pm). The queue for the second concert mingled with the 3,000 people who had just seen the first one. The crowd grew aggressive; the police reacted. Windows were smashed, cars were overturned, people sustained broken bones, and a bus driver was dragged from his cab. Fire engines were sent from Tara Street to help control the crowd by ringing their bells. Police had their caps knocked off. However, the Beatles made it back safely to the Gresham Hotel. 'Later two of them went to Drumcondra to see relatives', this newspaper revealed. The next day they continued on to a concert in Belfast. The chaos enacted on Middle Abbey Street masked the innocence that still hung around the Beatles, and that clung to the sixties in general. Within two weeks, that innocence was gone, with the assassination of President Kennedy. The President had visited Ireland only a few months before, and had promised to return in the springtime, 'to come back and see old Shannon's face again.' He never did. Ireland grievously mourned his loss. When the Beatles arrived in America for the first time, it was February 1964 and they were number one in the singles charts with 'I Want to Hold Your Hand'. On its release, the single had sold a million copies. They had landed in the recently renamed John F. Kennedy International Airport, in New York: it had been renamed within a month of the President's death. Things were changing now, seemingly faster than ever. © 2008 The Irish Times To read this piece on the Irish Times site click here. -------- Journalism | Home | About