Beatles ’64, thoughtfully produced by Martin Scorsese for Disney+, is an evocative documentary that makes several brief and dutiful references to John F. Kennedy’s murder. This “historical context” cliché is often repeated because it’s true.
Less than three months after the presidential assassination of Nov. 22, 1963, gloomy Americans craved a jolt of joy. The Beatles brought it from England in February with three appearances on The Ed Sullivan Show, one concert in Washington, and two more in New York City at Carnegie Hall.
“America had been in mourning,” Paul McCartney says in the film. “Maybe America needed something like the Beatles.”
Wisely, the JFK framing device expands to a much larger scope of the era to explain the Big Bang explosion of cultural energy brought about by the Beatles. Musically, the whole of the group was even greater than the sum of their enormous, individual talents. That alchemy is obvious on film.
But the Beatles also enjoyed something historians (including Scorsese) rarely recognize: Generationally, they hit the demographic sweet spot.
The Baby Boom began in 1946 and lasted until 1964 as the “Greatest Generation” — grateful to have survived the Great Depression and World War II — settled down, married, and raised families,
So when the Beatles arrived, the oldest Boomers were turning 18 years old, and the youngest were just being born. In that decade, America’s middle class prospered and kids could find a way to come up with 49 cents or 59 cents or 69 cents to buy a vinyl 45 rpm record with one song on each side.
They were perfectly priced for those with loose change from paper routes or babysitting. Scorsese and director David Tedeschi use interviews of some of the same fans — then and now — thanks to black-and-white film from the Maysles brothers, documentarians who accompanied the Beatles on that first tour.
With this, they mix in retrospective comments from recent interviews with artists like Smokey Robinson, Ronnie Spector, and Little Richard. Robinson tells Scorsese he was thrilled when the Beatles recorded his hit “You Really Got a Hold on Me,” happy to inspire white artists with Detroit’s Black Motown sound.
“They were between rock and pop, rhythm and blues, all together,” Robinson says of the Beatles. “Music is the international language. It’s the barrier breaker.” Then we see and hear Robinson singing a version of McCartney’s creation “Yesterday.”
A chilling moment comes from an elderly photographer named Harry Benson, who traveled with the Beatles down the East Coast that winter. He says John Lennon spoke often then with deep concern about Americans like Lee Harvey Oswald, who murdered Kennedy. Sixteen years later, Lennon would be assassinated in New York.
Another touching scene shows a group identified only as “The Gonzalez Family” watching the first Beatles appearance as it happened. As they perform, two sisters draw closer to the TV set and seem to melt into it as they enjoy the songs. A man sitting behind them seems to frown.
As for the Beatles and their music, the old footage shows them — while sheltering in New York’s Plaza hotel — listening to their records on transistor radios, watching themselves on NBC’s Huntley-Brinkley Report, and singing an impromptu version of “White Christmas.”
More serious singing includes McCartney belting out “Long Tall Sally” at the Washington show and McCartney harmonizing gorgeously with Lennon and George Harrison for the soft ballad “This Boy” in Miami. Ringo Starr’s goofy humor steals several scenes and keeps his mates loose.
Concert footage has been cleaned up visually and sonically enhanced by modern technology. Thanks to productions like this, historians in future centuries will see these scenes and hear these sounds and say to one another, “Oh, OK, yes, we see — we kind of get it now.”
Sore winners
When two local football teams beat two regional rivals in their annual showdowns on a holiday weekend, it’s usually time for their fans to enjoy the sweet smell of success.
But two unpleasant odors lingered locally after Michigan upset Ohio State, 13-10, on Saturday, and the Lions survived the Chicago Bears, 23-20, on Thanksgiving Day.
After their historic victory over the Buckeyes in Columbus, Wolverines players arrogantly tried to plant the Michigan “Block M” flag in the center of the field. That started a lengthy clash between both sides that included at least one police officer getting knocked over.
Cops then squirted players on both sides with pepper spray after a Buckeye tore down the maize-and-blue banner and threw it on the ground. Fox TV cameras and amateur videographers showed large athletes fighting tears in their eyes. That scene will long mar the memory of this day.
Two days before, on Thursday at Ford Field, when the favored Lions barely beat the underdog Bears, the undisciplined wide receiver Jameson Williams again displayed his chronic immaturity by throwing a football in the face of a Chicago player who was watching without a helmet from the sidelines.
Williams may or may not have tripped over the foot of Chicago’s Tyrique Stevenson following a three-yard gain that took him out of bounds by the Bears bench. After an exchange of words, Williams flipped the ball and took a drive-killing, 15-yard penalty for taunting.
It’s hard to overlook this sort of foolishness from Williams in that he’s already been suspended twice in three seasons — for gambling on team property and for using performance-enhancing substances. Earlier this season, he was handcuffed by Detroit cops for having a firearm in a car, but he beat the rap.
This flippant flip of the football by Williams is the sort of blunder that can dishearten a team and cost it a chance for a championship. Yes, he runs fast. Yes, he jumps over opponents. Still, it’s not too soon to wonder what sort of package the Lions might get in return by trading this guy as soon as possible.
Another interregnum, long ago
If you have a Civil War buff on your holiday gift list, you could do worse than the current book The Demon of Unrest by popular history author Erik Larson. It’s hardly the definitive tale of that four-year bloodbath between 1861 and 1865.
But part of it echoes the mood of today’s transition of the presidency between Joe Biden and Donald Trump, in that Larson reports in minute detail the troubled shift from James Buchanan to Abraham Lincoln at a time when the nation was seething with division.
Back then, the interregnum between election day and the inauguration was longer. Lincoln was sworn in on March 4, not Jan. 20, as it is now. By then, the secession of slavery states had gained momentum.
Larson focuses intently on Charleston, South Carolina, the first state to leave the Union and the one that held the U.S.’s Fort Sumter, where the war began.
In particular, Larson examines the South Carolina gentry of planters and slavers, a plantation aristocracy that maintained a pretense of “honor” and Christian self-righteousness while using, breeding, buying, and selling kidnapped human beings as if they were livestock.
In a letter to Lincoln, former Georgia congressman Alexander H. Stephens — pro-slavery and pro-union at the same time, before the war — warns the incoming president of the spirit that then gripped the Southern states.
“When men come under the influence of fanaticism,” he wrote, “there is no telling where their impulses or passions may drive them.” (Good thing we need not worry about such things today, right?)
Of course, Demon uses many lifts from Mary Chesnut, the wary Confederate diarist who contemplated the guarded thoughts of enslaved servants in those very mansions as the conflict brewed over that very institution (and not, for the record, over “states’ rights”).
“Not by one word or look can we detect any change in the demeanor of these negro servants,” Chesnut writes. “…They carry it too far. You could not tell that they hear even the awful row that is now going on in the bay … And people talk before them as if they were chairs and tables. And they make no sign. Are they solidly stupid or wiser than we are, silent and strong, biding their time?”

What to do with the RenCen?
Let’s talk about the elephant in the room, the Renaissance Center, because it is a white elephant. After dominating downtown Detroit’s skyline for almost half a century, its current owner, General Motors, is contemplating tearing some or all of it down. What a shame.
Part of the problem is the lessened demand for office space, ever since the pandemic showed companies that employees in the internet era could efficiently work from home. But the bigger problem is the basically wrongheaded, circular design of the towers and their limited access on the riverfront.
When it first opened in 1976, the RenCen reflected two cultural currents of its era: fear of urban violence in the streets and a retail obsession with shopping malls. It was projected as a vertical city within a city, set in concrete, steel, and glass, difficult to approach for uninvited visitors.
But the circularity of the interior design of the towers made the place confusing to navigate and discouraged casual pedestrians from window-shopping or impromptu dining. It turned into the kind of place you tried to avoid unless you really had to be there.
The recent restoration of the train station — built in 1914 — shows that Detroit doesn’t necessarily destroy every civic edifice. The Penobscot and Guardian buildings are almost twice as old as the RenCen, yet nobody is threatening to tear them down.
Under a proposed $1.6 billion development plan, GM at the RenCen could potentially partner with Dan Gilbert’s real estate company, Bedrock Detroit LLC. They would eliminate two of the five towers currently standing and repurpose the rest for residential living, retail, and redesigned office space.
To make this come true, the public (taxpayer) contribution will be only $250 million! Where have we heard such optimism before? Oh, yes, from “District Detroit.” With help from public subsidies a decade ago, the Ilitches were going to rebuild the Cass Corridor.
Instead, they produced their new hockey arena, acres of parking lots, and not much else. Now, GM and Bedrock want public money or the whole RenCen might have to come down. Wouldn’t that be quite the implosion?
One final note: Due to assignment, I will be away from this column for a month but will return in January. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. See you in 2025.