6/1/67 (Apple #5)

Ray slept on the sidewalk at midnight and he had our money. When the doors of Goulds’ Music opened at 7AM, Ray had to move. An endless line of people behind him got very excited but Ray was the first person in Flushing to purchase Sargent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Ordinarily, Gould’s Music opened its doors at 10 AM.

There were four of us and we had three copies of the album. We also had six joints. We were in Martha’s basement. She was a student at St. Helena’s High School.

Ray, Terry, and I attended Bishop Reilly. The date was June 1, 1967.

Upstairs, Martha’s mother was cooking a pot roast. Her father was in the family hardware store on Northern Boulevard. Her younger sister was doing whatever younger sisters do as long as we can’t see them. Anna Kluzewski, Martha’s mother, would be receiving a phone call that evening from my mother, who in turn fielded a phone call of grave concern from Katherine Dugan. Her son, Terry, was about to graduate high school. Katherine’s phone call basically echoed Mrs. Peterssen’s phone call. Ray Peterssen’s mother said the Z word first and it was to be repeated often by our mothers. All of us would be high school graduates before the month was out. College loomed on the horizon. We were doomed to deal with heavier textbooks but the marajuana would be much more abundant.

Through massive stereo speakers, installed by the owner of Kluzewski’s Hardware store in the walls of the finished basement, we were told that twenty years ago today–today being June 1, 1967–Sargent Pepper taught the band to play.

A pot roast was in the oven directly above us. On the upper level of the family triplex, Grandma Kluzewski was asleep. Everyone called her Grandma Klu. Meanwhile, in Martha’s basement, something special was happening. We burned a lot of incense and talked about the space between us all.

From the kitchen, Mrs. Kluzewski shouted down to lower the volume at the point where She’s Leaving Home filled the air. We turned down the sound but played the album over and over a-gain. Each time felt like the first time. One of us would bogart the joint while the others held sacramental cardboard in their hands.

The album cover was a 12" square. It folded open to reveal a two-foot yellow backgrounded picture of the Beatles wearing satin circus military outfits. They were photographed from the chest up. Not life-size of course but this album was much bigger than life. Describing the front cover of Sargent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band would be like describing Michaelangelo’s Last Supper but instead of Jesus being seated and surrounded by disciples, the Beatles are standing and they are surrounded by artists, authors, actors, scientists, mystics, and four waxen likenesses of themselves. The vividly colored and detailed cardboard packaging felt like manna from heaven, where all the angels danced on the tip of a stylus needle.

The music was the communion wafer in Martha’s basement church where the fourteen Catholic stations of the cross were replaced by thirteen tracks of song. The sermon was delivered by a turntable and salvation never sounded so good. In this congregation a splendid time was guaranteed for all. Instead of a church missal, we had all the lyrics on the back cover!

“It felt as if Jesus had a quadrectomy and the second coming of the Lord gave birth to JohnPaulGeorgeRingo,” said Martha. Then she led us in prayer.

Our Fathers, who art in heaven within you without you. Hallowed be thy name because it’s getting better all the time. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done. And I read the news today. Give us this day our daily bread when I get high with a little help from my friends. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us while I’m fixing a hole where the rain gets in.
Amen

“Katherine, it’s Lydia Peterssen, what the hell is going on? Raymond looked like a zombie when he got home today, singing ‘Cellophane flowers of yellow and green.’ My son has become a zombie.”

“Grace, it’s Kathy Dugan, something is wrong with Terry. He refused to eat any dinner, saying ‘Man I was mean and I’m changing my scene and doing the best that I can.’ You’d think he was a freakin’ zombie.”

“Kluze, it’s Grace Oliverio, Paul is neighing and braying all over the house. He said, ‘I’m not Paul, I’m Harry the horse and I’m dancing the waltz.’ Then he asked me to do ten somersaults. The boy is acting as if he’s in a zombie movie.”

“And so is my daughter. Martha’s eyes look like they belonged to a different head and the basement smells like the pope just said midnight mass.”

Were we zombies? Yes

Were we proud of it? Yes

Why?

Because she loves you. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

And will continue to do so when we’re sixty-four.

You may now click on some red ink and link to over one million Sargent Pepper images

(Apple #6) is here.