The Beatles, Ancient Rock Music and Tennis at the Forest Hills Tennis Stadium in the 1960s

Being a child of the 60s, I saw a lot. My father Of Blessed Memory was a food vendor and connected with many venues, including Madison Square Garden, Goshen New York Harness Racetrack, large concerts in Central Park, and in this instance Forest Hills Tennis Stadium and the West Side Tennis Club in Queens, NY.

As the little boy I was, I started tagging along and helping him move the boxes and his tasks the best I could. I have many, many vivid memories of Forest Hills Tennis Stadium. As I grew older, more and more of these started happening, and I eventually found myself doing my own food operations. There was the day Elton John challenged Billy Jean King to a tennis match in the Grandstand, which was located right near my food court.

Have you ever seen a mini-riot? I'd never seen anything like it in my life, then or since. It was a riot, but no one was saying anything. It was stupendous silence except for foot clatter.

Forest Hills was a small, intimate setting. I believe the capacity for concerts was in the neighborhood of 14,000, and for tennis it was 10,000. Everyone there knew each other; we saw each other day in and day out in the small arena. Chrissy Evert fell in love with me and wanted to marry me. For some strange reason Dustin Hoffman wanted to beat me up at the parking lot gate. Jim Bouton was happy to oblige a performance for my Super 8 camera, despite me and my co-worker Steven interrupting him during his danish for breakfast.
Mr. Peanut is front of house on the Super 8s. Ron Delsener shook my hand and proffered, "we need the business." Howard Cosell bought a hot dog from me and boomed, "there goes all my (bleeping) money.

Tennis and celebrity always go together.

CBS covered the event for the entire world. It wasn't like today with varied media coverage from every angle and every country on earth. They had the most massive media trailer in the world parked out front of the Stadium. To this day I have never seen a truck that big, and I've seen a lot of trucks.

I had a love affair with one of their television cameras which covered the Grandstand. If I were a television camera I would've married him. It was the most astounding, massive piece of 1970s engineering bewilderment I had ever seen.

Every morning it was just me and this camera. No one else was around. Not another soul for time immortal. I used to just stand there and gaze in awe of it. It was the only camera covering the scene for the entire Grandstand at Forest Hills. There was no other. Some tournament days someone had thrown some thick, clear heavy tarpaulin over it to protect it from the occasional rain showers that dot the tournament from time to time.

There was no widespread cable and worldwide media which converge on every major sporting event in the world today. There was just CBS and that giant trailer parked out front with massive cables attached leading to and fro the stadium.

Aside from lots and lots of tennis and 60s and 70s tennis buffs there were also lots of post-Woodstock ancient rock groups who performed at the Forest Hills Tennis Stadium. There were so many I can't remember them all. Ones who stick out in my mind imparticular are Janis Joplin (on my thirteenth birthday which was August 2, 1970), that fateful night with Jimi Hendrix and The Monkees (what the heck is THAT I hear?), The Momas & The Popas, The Who, and of course most of all, pre-Woodstock The Beatles on August 28, 1964.

I was just seven at the time, but my mind is in good shape and I can recall it quite vividly. I had heard so much of the Beatles, imparticular my parents who told me, "there is this big thing coming at it's called The Beatles." We had even watched them on the Ed Sullivan Show together.

So the night neared for The Beatles concert. I was in the second grade in grammar school. My mother didn't go the concert, it was just Dad and me. Dad set up his food stand as usual. The Beatles start playing. I've since heard they were flown in by helicopter to the Stadium that night. I really don't remember that aspect of it.

Bob Dylan was there also, and it's said he introduced them to marijuana for the first time on that night. I don't know if that was such a great part of it.

Admission to the concert was a blanket $5.00 for all seats. I didn't pay to get in; remember my father was connected with the house. Getting close. As I was walking around the stadium, I asked an usher if I could go inside to where the people were. I was uncertain if he would let me in or not. Without hesitation, he smiled a huge smile and just waved the 7 year old me in.

When I got through the short portal I noticed a couple of things right away. Hysteria, and the bizarre speaker cabinet set-up The Beatles used at that time. There was also a gate that separated the front floor seats from the rear. I was in the rear.

Then looking at the relatively tiny stage, there they were. The Beatles. The four moptops being led by John Lennon. They all looked so much alike their separate personas almost didn't even matter. One was on drums, of course. He was Ringo Starr.

The din of the crowd practically drowned out the music itself. But with guitars in hand The Beatles were broadly smiling and trying to make the best of it. They were dressed all alike; in black suits with grey collars and piping I believe.

I was too young to remember exactly what songs they were playing at that particular moment. I wasn't taking notes or anything like that. I stayed inside the arena proper for a bit, then walked back outside the portal to where my father was. It was a bit overwhelming for a seven year old.

I think I was the youngest one in the house, except for a baby I seen being carried by its' parents. Other than that I didn't see anyone as young as me.

In those days of freedom and without audience searches and metal detectors, I could've driven a sound truck in there and no one would've been the wiser. They were so wrapped up in The Beatles they wouldn't of given me a second notice. In retrospect I really should have brought in a Regular 8 camera. My uncle Charlie had one; there are films of me from 1960-61 which I have.

Dad looked at someone carrying an empty black felt-covered board and commented, "look Scott-all the souvenir buttons are sold out."

If anyone wants to contact me with your recollections of the concert or want to hear more about it, feel free to do so.