Beatles lasted only a moment — but WHAT a moment

Some entertainment groups seem to go on forever.

The Hackberry Ramblers, a Cajun music ensemble, began in 1933 in Louisiana, and had continuity and were still playing until the early 2000s, when the last two original members died, IN their 90s. Guy Lombardo’s Royal Canadians are still playing, somewhere. The Rolling Stones celebrated their 50th anniversary last year. So did the Beach Boys.

And then, there were the Beatles. Compared to the above, and a number of other musical groups, they were here and gone in a flash. Formed in 1958, broken up with much mutual recrimination in 1970. In their teens when they first came together; none yet as old as 30 when they went their separate ways.

But there’s an old saying: “The brightest comets, burn out the most quickly.” It’s doubtful there will ever be another musical group like the Fab Four: John, Paul, George and Ringo.

Four lads born during World War II in Liverpool, a rough port city on England’s northwest coast, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr (real name: Richard Starkey) came together starting in their teens. John was first, starting his own teen-age band; Paul was permitted to join when John learned that he could not only play a guitar better than John could, and sing well, but also tune that guitar. George, Paul’s younger friend, came in with Paul’s help based on his skilled lead guitar playing. Four years later, the group had performed during two different periods in Hamburg, West Germany, with a bass guitarist with little talent named Stuart Sutcliffe (he was John’s good friend, and thus gained entrance); and a handsome but moody and distant drummer, Pete Best. Sutcliffe left the band to pursue his real talent, art, and a beautiful German girl named Astrid Kerchherr. John, Paul and George got their manager, Brian Epstein, to dump Best unceremoniously because he wasn’t that good a drummer and, more importantly, his personality did not mesh well with that of the others.

Enter Ringo Starr, the oldest Beatle by three months, but the final one to join. His droll humor matched that of his three new mates, and his rock-steady, distinctive drumming was just what the band needed to catapult it from being one of many Liverpool rock groups, with considerable promise; to world fame. All through 1963 their standing went up like a skyrocket in Britain, and then with their first appearance in America, on the Ed Sullivan Show, Feb. 9, 1964, the sky became their only limit.

I was privileged to watch that historic show, by the way. I was a U.S. Army private at Fort Riley, Kansas, and my two best friends, twin brothers from Massachusetts, were in charge of the service club, where enlisted GIs could go in their off-duty hours to watch TV (we had none in the barracks), shoot pool, listen to service club records, and the like. The brothers, Dick and Bob Rose, had discovered the Beatles’ first American album at a store downtown, and they excitedly showed it to me, saying, “Engs, you gotta hear these guys!” The Beatles were, indeed, unique; that was our unanimous opinion after I had listened to the album, too. On Sunday, Feb. 9, there was quite a crowd of us GIs in front of that TV set, watching and all ears while the Beatles sang and the girls screamed. No, we kept pretty quiet, in case you’re wondering. But we were impressed.

Of course the Beatles’ career at the top, which lasted for the following six years, has been heavily documented. They made two movies (four, counting “Magical Mystery Tour” and “Yellow Submarine,”), 13 record albums, and a bunch of singles. They played countless live performances around the world — until the screaming of the fans and the hassle of being trapped in hotel rooms between shows caused them all to sour on personal appearances and concentrate on recordings alone. All got married during the Beatles’ period of fame, and John, Paul and Ringo all fathered children. George had one son, years after.

The Beatles took rock music to places it had never gone before, with their unorthodox chord changes, their highly imaginative lyrics, their movement from the standard “love”-oriented songs of rock ‘n’ roll (“She Loves You,” “I Want to Hold Your Hand”) to obsessively self-centered songs by John (“Help!” “I’m A Loser”), and Paul (“Fixing A Hole”); to dreamy, drug-oriented songs (“Strawberry Fields Forever,” “Got to Get You Into My Life”). John and Paul, the songwriters, joined gradually but then brilliantly by George, explored new avenues, new worlds, new ways of LOOKING at those worlds. They were not musically trained; they couldn’t read a note of music. So they didn’t know what they were “not supposed” to do. They just wrote music the way it felt right to them. And millions all over the world agreed, enthusiastically.

But why did they implode in 1970, while still at the top in the opinion of many fans and critics?  Well, I suppose you could say “creative and personal differences,” which are the reasons given for every group’s break-up, when and if it comes.

John Lennon was an only child raised by his aunt and uncle after his father went off to sea and his mother showed little interest in being a “full-time mom.” This bright, talented child grew up with many inner hurts as a result. He grew a porcupine-like exterior, with his ascerbic wit and his tendency to snarl at people to “Fuck off!” and the like, to protect his wounded, more tender inward self.

Paul McCartney grew up in an intact, musical family, upper working-class, with a younger brother. His childhood was a happy, normal one, but his mother died of cancer when he was just 14, sending his world into a tailspin and causing him to acquire a guitar and spend many hours learning to play it, as had Lennon.

George Harrison’s family also was intact — bus driver father, stay-at-home mom, two older brothers, one older sister. But George was a more quiet, serious-minded boy who also took up the guitar and learned to play it by exercising infinite patience.

And Ringo’s father left home when he was very small, as did John’s. Ringo’s single mother — relatively rare in those days — raised him and had to earn a living for them, too, and they suffered real poverty all through his childhood. Several serious illnesses in his childhood caused him to have long stays “in hospital,” as the British say, where he learned to get along well with people and became a first-rate card player.

There was talent to burn in this foursome — or they would not have achieved what they did, writing all their own songs during the middle and later years, achieving marvels of musical sound and effects in their albums because they were willing to work extremely hard on them, and the like. But the Beatles’ four personalities began to veer off in different directions starting in 1967. All of them took drugs, as so many young people did then (and still do, for that matter). But John became horribly besotted by them for a time, and then met a Japanese “artist” named Yoko Ono, who became his next obsession. George became fascinated by the Indian stringed instrument called the sitar, and then by the Hindu religion. Paul wanted to keep playing live concerts but John and George and, to a lesser extent, Ringo, absolutely refused after their Aug. 29, 1966 appearance at Candlestick Park in San Francisco.

By early 1969, when they were recording “Let It Be,” their last album to be released, the Beatles were bickering about their music, their business affairs, and Yoko Ono’s constant attendance at John’s side (wives and girlfriends had never been allowed at Beatles’ recording sessions before). At different times both George and Ringo stormed out of the sessions, only to return later. Finally, at a meeting of the group with their recording executives, John announced that he was leaving the Beatles. He was persuaded to keep quiet about it until they could record one more album — their last: “Abbey Road.” The final cut on Side Two of that album was called, simply, “The End.”

And the cover of that album has become one of the best-known of all time. John, Ringo, Paul and George, in that order, walk in single file across the road for which their recording studio — and the album — were named.

They are going in the same direction — but they might as well have been walking toward the four points of the compass. It had been a brief, but breathtaking, unique and unforgettable ride, this Beatles era. But the magic had gone. It wasn’t fun any more. They all had other things they wanted to do. And it was time to go.

The four Beatles never appeared or played together again, although as many as three of the four did appear in tandem a few times. After John’s death, that long-rumored reunion became impossible, this side of heaven.

But millions of people in this world — MY age group — were there when the magic began and waxed its brightest. We saw them on Ed Sullivan. We laughed at the droll antics in “A Hard Day’s Night.” We played “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” over and over. We sang along with the group and the audience brought in from the street for that music video of “Hey, Jude.”

They were “The Beatles.” And as long as any of us are alive, they will always be, “OUR Beatles.”