Jan 26, 2015 5 min read

This is how the story goes

Listen, my children, and you will hear.

It was early 1964, and young America was still reeling from the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. A stunned nation of students could do little more than plod through their daily routine of school, black-and-white television and boring “Bobby” radio. Then, one dreary January day, a song burst through the airwaves in all of its crackling vinyl glory. It was “I Want to Hold Your Hand.” Instantly, everything changed. Teenagers were happy. Television took notice of the younger generation. And rock ‘n’ roll was saved.

No. No. And no.

Last week, I was listening to one of several radio shows mentioning the anniversary of the Beatles first impacting American music, and the disc jockey reiterated those three points. He was, I suspect, not even alive during the early British invasion, but, in all fairness, those myths have prevailed for decades.

As one who was not only alive, but actively listening to the radio at the time, I thought I’d set the record – pun intended – straight. At least from my perspective, Kennedy’s death didn’t create the Beatles frenzy. Radio did.

It’s true that America was still depressed about Kennedy’s assassination, much as it was two months after the events of September 11. But, in both instances, young America – the America that tends to live in the now – bounced back first.

By December 1963, television had bounced back, too. And, as usual, it tailored its schedule to those who spend money. When the Beatles first appeared on “The Ed Sullivan Show,” television already was cognizant of the growing spending power of the first wave of baby boomers. The huge audience for the Beatles TV appearance merely underscored plans to begin catering to a younger clientele. With or without the Beatles, TV would have shifted it focal point, just as it continues to do every few years.

The primary misconception about the Beatles’ influence, however, is that the foursome saved rock ‘n’ roll. Truth be told, there was no rock ‘n’ roll to save. The first flag-bearers of rock ‘n’ roll – Chuck Berry, Bill Haley and Jerry Lee Lewis among them – had come and gone. Radio welcomed their departure. Unlike today, when mom and daughter are likely to belt out “All About The Bass” together, parents and children in the early ’60s were deeply divided on musical tastes. They didn’t listen to the same radio stations. As a result, teen-oriented radio stations of that era were hard-pressed to attract advertisers. So when Elvis went into the Army in 1960, teen radio used it as an excuse to change its image.

It’s at that point that the real savior of rock ‘n’ roll came along. His name was Chubby Checker. His “Twist” finally brought teens and adults together on the dance floor, and radio used that dance as a specific tool to bring both teens and adults to the same radio station as well. Listeners weren’t obsessed with making “The Twist” the first song to top the charts twice; radio pushed it along because it benefited the industry. So it was that, from 1960 through 1963, Top 40 radio intertwined dance songs with inoffensive music from teen idols later known as “The Bobbys” (Darin, Rydell, Vinton, among others). To be sure, the format occasionally was spiked with “rock” music as a diversion, although it was nothing more raucous than the latest Beach Boys song. And rock songs were always offset by mature music that record companies gladly repackaged to appeal to teens as well.

For instance, the week before the Beatles hit No. 1, the top song was Vaughn Monroe’s 1945 hit, “There I’ve Said It Again” as sung by Bobby Vinton. Also on the charts were new recordings of vintage songs such as “Whispering,” “It’s All in the Game” and “That Lucky Old Sun,” among others. And you can easily visualize radio programmers trumping each teen tune (“Louie Louie” was as wild as it got) with an adult entry from artists such as Jack Jones, Andy Williams, Steve & Eydie and the Singing Nun – all of whom had big hits the week the Beatles reached our shores.

Still, this innocuous, bland blend of ballads and dance music was becoming stale in late 1963, and short of manipulating listeners into a third run of taking “The Twist,” up the charts, radio opted to tweak its presentation with a band that was doing quite well in England. Programmers no doubt saw the possibilities of a self-contained band (rare in America) that quadrupled the teen-idol quotient and played relatively harmless music with a beat. And it was clearly a mop-topped band moms and daughters could love together. Radio had the power to make the Beatles happen, and it did. For the radio industry, it made financial sense.

By the way, that verse at the top of this column is from “Rip Van Winkle” by the Devotions. It was a doo-wop song that famously almost kept the Beatles out of the No. 1 spot in Pittsburgh.

The song is indicative of the power of radio during that era. As a middle-school student then, I can assure you that my friends and I weren’t clamoring for doo-wop on the radio. We just liked whatever the disc jockeys told us we liked. In those days, teens listened to the radio for the disc jockeys as much as for the music.

And in January 1964, disc jockeys told us it was time to embrace the Beatles.

And so we did.