If my grandmother thought that Sarah was the perfect teenager she was greatly mistaken. In whispers, Sarah suggested we get her brother to haul her parent’s boat out on Lake Washington to the harbor. It was nothing short of a dangerous attempt to get near The Edgewater Inn, where the Beatles were staying. If I was scared to walk 200 feet across the floating bridge, there was little hope I was getting into a boat on Lake Washington.
That I-90 floating bridge just mesmerized me. Once a week I would attempt to go just a little farther on it with the waves sometimes slipping over the edge and the gentle swaying under my feet. I have been petrified of deep open water all my life. The fear began one hot summer day when I was 6. My mother Bernice Ethylene Crittenden Knight warned me over and over not to stare at the water as she prophesied that I would fall in. While everyone was enjoying their picnic lunch I immediately returned to the edge of that dock to test her theory. Like a flying duck making a fell swoop into the water I fell in head first. That was the day I nearly drowned and water and “boating” became a fearful enemy.
That summer in Washington state, it wasn’t only all about The Beatles and German Chocolate Cake. I also ran away to San Francisco for a week and lived in Buena Vista Park. Sarah and I also managed to see the Beatles in Vancouver, and I touched Paul McCartney’s hair at the Edgewater Inn in Seattle. But could I cross that bridge? No, because I was always afraid that bridge would sink with me on it. Word was the bridge had to float on pontoons because the silt at the bottom would not hold anything. So that meant if I went all the way down, I was still going to go down even farther into the abyss and never rise to the top.
Was I without merit in my thoughts? No, in 1990 after a half-century of commutes, Lake Washington’s original floating bridge sank. Fierce winds and strong rain during that Thanksgiving weekend broke the bridge apart, and sections tumbled into the water. It finally broke up and sank into the mud on the bottom of Lake Washington.
I never did go back to Seattle. Frankly I don’t think my Grandparents cared if I did, as my step- Grandmother said she had never seen the likes of someone like me. But she never understood that life is always like crossing bridges. It’s always which bridge to cross or which bridge to burn. Frankly, I’ve always waited until I came to the edge of the bridge and then tried to conquer the fear of the unknown. Some bridges I cross, some I don’t– because there will always be some troubled water under some of those bridges and trouble has always been my middle name.
The Day I Tried to Long Tall Sally Paul McCartney
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The Day I Tried to Long Tall Sally Paul McCartney
“Seriously close call tonight! Like, please don’t kill me- I’m nice.”
People seemed to think this was a tad over the top, but I did not even bat an eye when I read it. Growing up in the Beatles era, it seemed to be the norm for me and millions of other girls. If you got the chance to get near a music star, you just stood there and screamed your heart out.
In 1964 I was sent to Mercer Island, Washington for the summer, and my grandparents hoped that their best friend’s daughter, Sarah, would keep me out of trouble. When we started plotting an imaginary trip to Vancouver, Canada for a Beatles concert, they knew what a mistake it was to mix us together. The Beatles were set to perform August 12th at the Seattle Center Coliseum and we had not been able to get any tickets. The 14,300 five dollar tickets were sold out in no time and some were even scalped for $30 later on. Instead of tickets, my step- grandmother came home with a Paul McCartney “Beatle Bobbin’ Head” doll. It did not take her long to find out that the little rubber doll was not going to cut it with me. An immediate call to Sarah was placed, and we began plotting our next move.
If my grandmother thought that Sarah was the perfect teenager she was greatly mistaken. In whispers, Sarah suggested we get her brother to haul her parent’s boat out to the harbor. It was nothing short of a dangerous attempt to get near The Edgewater Inn, where the Beatles were staying. If I was scared to walk 200 feet across the floating bridge, there was little hope I was getting into a boat. Plus I had already figured out it was too dangerous to get her brother to maneuver such a feat and I insisted she come up with another plan.
In my dreams I wanted Paul to exit out of that limo and save me. Was that not what every girl wanted in those days? Instead we were hauled into a police car and my grandmother was called. My mother had died in September of 1963 and my grandparents had been told to handle my sister and me with kid gloves. The gloves were off that night and I was sent to my room without dinner. This was the second stunt I had pulled and that was it for them for the summer holiday.
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The Day I Tried to Long Tall Sally Paul McCartney
Long The Beatles’ tunes were streaming online, their early records were pressed at a Smiths Falls factory. The author of a book on the band tells us about The Beatles’ Smiths Falls connection and the official launch of Beatles book set for March 12 in Smiths Falls. (I’d post the link to the article about the announcement in the Canadian-Almonte Gazette but it does not work)
Read-
The RCA Plant –Smiths Falls –The Day the Records Stopped Spinning
Photo–www.capitol6000.com–RCA smith falls 1968 pressing plan (Google Image)
So because this brings back fond memories I am reposting this story.
Growing up in the Beatles era, being erratic seemed to be the norm for me and millions of other girls. If you got the chance to get near a music star, you just stood there and screamed your heart out.
In 1964 I was sent to Mercer Island, Washington for the summer, and my grandparents hoped that their best friend’s daughter, Sarah, would keep me out of trouble. When we started plotting an imaginary trip to Vancouver, Canada for a Beatles concert, they knew what a mistake it was to mix us together. The Beatles were set to perform August 12th at the Seattle Center Coliseum and we had not been able to get any tickets. The 14,300 five dollar tickets were sold out in no time and some were even scalped for $30 later on. Instead of tickets, my step- grandmother came home with a Paul McCartney “Beatle Bobbin’ Head” doll. It did not take her long to find out that the little rubber doll was not going to cut it with me. An immediate call to Sarah was placed, and we began plotting our next move.
If my grandmother thought that Sarah was the perfect teenager she was greatly mistaken. In whispers, Sarah suggested we get her brother to haul her parent’s boat out to the harbor. It was nothing short of a dangerous attempt to get near The Edgewater Inn, where the Beatles were staying. If I was scared to walk 200 feet across the floating bridge, there was little hope I was getting into a boat. Plus I had already figured out it was too dangerous to get her brother to maneuver such a feat and I insisted she come up with another plan.
Faster than you can say ‘She Loves Me,’ I reached my hand into that 12 inch space and grabbed some of Paul’s hair. In one split second, my arm was pulled out and grabbed by what seemed like millions of girls. They were touching it with wild abandon and trying to wrench it out of my arm socket. Security rushed in and literally saved me from what was going to be a ‘Twist and Shout’ massacre. My arm was beginning to bruise and there were lots of scratches on it, but I was okay and quite shaken.
In my dreams I wanted Paul to exit out of that limo and save me. Was that not what every girl wanted in those days? Instead we were hauled into a police car and my grandmother was called. My mother had died in September of 1963 and my grandparents had been told to handle my sister and me with kid gloves. The gloves were off that night and I was sent to my room without dinner. This was the second stunt I had pulled and that was it for them for the summer holiday.
From my book Menopausal Woman From the Corn
lindaseccaspina 