I remember the evening with surprising clarity. I – five years old – was seated on my grandmother (“Maw”) Boudreaux’s lap in the living room of her and my grandfather’s home on Elysian Fields Avenue in New Orleans. The Beatles began to sing. I’d heard some of their songs before, but was especially fascinated to see them perform live on t.v., with their astonishingly long and moppy hair flopping all about. My grandmother and her sister, my great aunt Celia, were astonished that any young men would allow themselves to be seen in public with such long hair. My grandmother and aunt also could not understand why this “music” is so popular.
Yet we watched the entire show. My grandmother – who doted on me – bought for me each new Beatles album as it came out. She did so for as long as she could before cancer felled her at the age of 62 in 1967.
A few years ago, on Paul McCartney’s 64th birthday, I did here at the Cafe a little income calculation that might be of interest.