It was a Saturday, just like today. George came down sick, so he was back at the hotel recuperating, hoping to get better in time for that crucial Ed Sullivan Show appearance the next day. A hell of a thing, your band’s second day in a major market it needs to crack—the USA!—and you come down sick.
So John, Paul, and Ringo went out for a photo shoot in Central Park, somehow evading the crowds that had swarmed them since landing the day before. Look across the pond at the building in the near background on the right, nearly obscured behind the bare limbs of the trees. Sixteen years later the man on the far left, John Lennon, would be shot dead in the courtyard of that apartment building known as the Dakota.
Of course, they couldn’t know that. Just as they couldn’t know 50 years ago to this day that they stood on the eve of making history. Here, their lead guitarist is sick. they’re making the most of it enjoying the sights of New York, they’re hoping he gets better in time for the big show tomorrow night. History has all the time in the world to catch up to them.
So John, Paul, and Ringo went out for a photo shoot in Central Park, somehow evading the crowds that had swarmed them since landing the day before. Look across the pond at the building in the near background on the right, nearly obscured behind the bare limbs of the trees. Sixteen years later the man on the far left, John Lennon, would be shot dead in the courtyard of that apartment building known as the Dakota.
Of course, they couldn’t know that. Just as they couldn’t know 50 years ago to this day that they stood on the eve of making history. Here, their lead guitarist is sick. they’re making the most of it enjoying the sights of New York, they’re hoping he gets better in time for the big show tomorrow night. History has all the time in the world to catch up to them.
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da. La-la how the life goes on....
No comments:
Post a Comment