There was some banter this week on Twitter and other social media related specifically to my favorite Beatle. Kanye West and Paul McCartney, at 72, have collaborated on a hit single and apparently will be working together on other projects in the future. Kanye fans have praised the rap star for helping to launch Mr. McCartney’s career. Kanye followers have also begged the question, “Who is Paul McCartney?” We can make up our own jokes about generational musical tastes, a complete cultural disconnect, and our real sense of amazement that some kids don’t know who our Paul is. The question posed on Twitter automatically triggers a nerve for anyone over 30. “Who is Paul McCartney?”
Hook Street is the typical neighborhood cul-de-sac that we all recognize from our childhood or from a T.V. series like the Wonder Years. On an average day in 1965, preteens ran in packs, mothers pushed baby strollers, the noise from a ballgame could be heard in a backyard, older folk sat in their front yards of their ranch houses in lawn chairs. In the mid 1960s, kids moved around the streets independently without today’s pragmatic concerns of never letting children out of visual proximity. The world was a different place in so many ways.
At age five, that translated to me finding my way across the street to the home of Mary and Ray Lyke. They were a larger than life couple in their mid 40’s, who when you’re five, appeared to be in their 70’s. Their house was my secret hideaway. Mary made the best iced tea and Ray was a big, gregarious man who was hard on the outside with a marshmallow interior. The Lykes had one child, 16 year old Doreen, who when she wasn’t in school or chasing boys, doubled as my, and my brother’s, babysitter.
The door to Doreen’s bedroom was typical hollow wood and whenever you entered the Lyke’s house the music blared through as if no door existed. At the time I had no idea that what I was hearing would turn out to be a soundtrack to my life. Nobody could have imagined that these reverberations entering my little ears would echo for centuries. As our neighbor and babysitter, Doreen would allow my eight year old brother, Gary, and me into her inner sanctum, a place that not even her parents could tread. Covering Doreen’s walls were photographs of four young men that I didn’t recognize. Doreen informed us that it was their voices we were listening to as the 45’s spun on the record player. John, Paul, George, and Ringo, four chaps from across the pond, had already begun to impact people worldwide. Thanks to Doreen, they had made it all the way to Hook Street in Hurley, New York.
From the first day I walked into Doreen’s room, I was hooked into the wonderment, the magic, and the mania that was the Beatles. The faces that went along with the music were alluring in a cult-like way. Smooth, handsome mugs, hair flopping over their ears, and enticing, mischievous smiles. I wanted to know them, I wanted to be like them, I admired them, I envied them, and later on learned to appreciate them. When we were introduced, the foursome was already well on their way to becoming the biggest music sensation ever. This fabulous four influenced the last few generations in a more powerful way than any other political, religious, or social source. At only five, I knew the lyrics to” I Want to Hold Your Hand”, “She Loves You”, and “Please, Please Me.”
When Doreen turned 17, she was allowed to take Gary and me to the movie “Help” at the old Sunset Drive Inn. In the front seat, looking into the summer night at the huge screen, I was in a hypnotized trance. The Beatles appeared on the huge canvas and for that moment it felt like nothing else in the world would ever matter. It felt like I was at the center of the universe.
It is getting easier for me these days to get nostalgic and fall back to days gone by. My introduction to The Beatles was a time of pure innocence. Life and all that lay ahead appeared magical and pain free. On the surface, day to day living was simpler, less complex, and definitely not as dangerous as today. I rode my bicycle to Myer Elementary School down the road, played hardball with Glenn Littlefield and the big boys in our backyard, and investigated the woods by myself. All of this with my parents showing little concern as to where I was. I spent a lot of time in a 16-year-old girl’s bedroom listening to music. For a tot like myself, The Beatles were bigger than Santa Claus. They were young and full of life, plus you could actually see them, and listen to their amazing melodies. They initiated my long love affair with all types of music and lyrics. As time moved on, I became interested in song writing and none were better than Lennon and McCartney. Ever since those days, most all of my inspiration and motivation comes from song lyrics. I hear the first few chords of a tune and it triggers a time, a place, and ideas for me to write about. Everyone had a favorite Beatle and mine was Paul. I think if I had been older when I met The Beatles, it probably would have been John, but in my early adolescence I possessed no edge or skepticism and no political agenda. Paul gave off the appearance of a youthful wholesomeness, and at the time, did not allow his cutting sarcastic wit to surface.
In 1968, my family moved away room Hook Street to the nearby village of New Paltz. It was just about the time The Beatles were growing their hair from shaggy to super long. As a group they were experimenting with many things and at the same time looking to find their individual voices away from the group mentality. In the short span of time they were bonded brothers, they left an indelible mark, a tattoo on my soul, and an appreciation for music and artists of every variety. Paul is the most successful recording artist of all time. A man who has sold over 100 million albums as a member of The Beatles, another 100 million combined as a member of Wings and his solo career. He has been an altruistic philanthropist, who happened to be Michael Jackson’s idol, and a man who through his music lifted people to be their better selves.
On New Year’s Eve I watched “A Hard Days’ Night” for the 100th time. There is a scene when The Beatles are rehearsing for a performance and singing “If I Fell.” It was 1964, and as I watched it became obvious to me why I fell so hard for them. They were so cool, engaging, and spellbinding, their hair was perfect, and beyond the beautiful melodies and sappy lyrics, I could see a glitter in their eyes. As they sang one set of lyrics, I could tell that underneath they had so much more they wanted to say, and in time, they would. In the present I can still see Paul McCartney staring back at me from the wall on Doreen Lyke’s bedroom. He and his three mates changed the world for me and many others. They were a starting point for my recognition of talent, creativity, growth, exploration, change, and brotherhood. Never again would the world be that uncontaminated and charming. Paul McCartney and John Lennon were arguably the best singer/song writer combination ever. Paul helped to form the most famous rock band the world has ever seen. Besides his group, Paul was inducted as an individual performer into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He has been knighted by the Queen of his home country. More importantly, a long time ago, he was a mystical God to a young boy discovering life. Throughout my life, every time I heard the music echoing from Doreen Lyke’s bedroom, I was taken back to a time of innocence, a time when anything seemed possible. That’s who Paul McCartney is.
Here are some more photos that Doreen has sent me since I published this article:
