Early October 1969
The Beatles Abbey Road album was
released on September 26, 1969.
With my saved cash from various
entrepreneurial ventures I rode my green stingray, with white banana seat, from
my mobile home at the Cable Line Meat Market trailer park to Kmart which rested
along US33 in Dunlap, Indiana. Dunlap, as was known by the more mature
generations, was more commonly known as Concord by the younger generations of
which I, at age fourteen, inhabited.
A frequent visitor of the record section at
Kmart, I knew the route to the section of 45 RPMs and 33 and 1/3rds. I don’t
remember the sticker price of the album. But I know that it was less than five
dollars. The sticker on the “shrink wrap” surrounding the album had a sticker
which read “suggested retail price”. Kmart’s price was less than the
“suggested” price. That was an early lesson in marketing…give people the
impression that you are giving them a break on the price, and you will sell
more. As if the Beatles needed any such gimmicks!
Purchasing the album, of which I had been
looking forward most of the summer, riding my bike back to the trailer park, I
immediately set the vinyl record on the spindle, flipped the switch and watched
as the mechanical workings of the phonograph player drop the album, the
needle-arm moved over and gently sat the needle into the groove. Yes, it was
very much a ritual for me.
I played the album daily. My favorite song
being “She Came in Through the Bathroom Window”*. My least favorite being “Come
Together”. Oh, for sure, the instrumentation on the song is great. But the
Lennon-esque lyric, a la “I Am the Walrus”, discouraged my intellect. Well,
enough French for this writing. Anyway and overall, the album was, and continues
to be, great.
It was, perhaps, during the first week in
October, as I was playing the album, I noticed that my grandmother, with whom I
lived, was searching around the home with a broom and small carboard box. At
first, I thought she was looking for cobb webs lurking in corners or under
furniture. But no, she was not brooming anything into the box. Curious, I asked
“What are you doing? What are you looking for?
“Don’t you hear it?” she
responded.
Perplexed, I asked “Hear
what?”
“The cricket…there’s a
cricket in here somewhere.”
I paid attention to the
noises in the room. After a short bit, it occurred to me, and I said “The
cricket is on the recording.”
“No, this is a real
cricket. I hear it clearly” she insisted.
I went to the phonograph,
I gently lifted the needle from the vinyl, the sound of a chirping cricket
stopped.
My grandmother stopped, a
baffled look upon her face. I sat the needle upon the vinyl. The chirping
resumed. I removed the needle, the chirping stopped.
A bit of embarrassment
upon her face, she stepped over to the phonograph and looked at the spinning
record. I dropped the needle again, the chirping resumed.
“Well, I ain’t never
heard nothin’ like that on a record!” she spoke in her Campbell County
Tennessee accent pronouncing the preposition “on” such that it sounded like
“own”.
My grandmother was
impressed!
The recorded chirping
sounded “live” to my grandmother!
This vinyl-captured
chirping is found on the “b” side of the album as “You Never Give Me Your
Money” segues into “Sun King”.
I report this incident as
an accolade to George Martin and the Beatles for their precision and expert
talent in making recordings. Fooling my grandmother took some talent!
*Yes,
I acknowledge Paul could write some lyrics detached from decipherability, but
at least they were recognizable words.
