Fame That Doesn't Fade

Some of you might have missed an important generational milestone this past week. Friday was the fortieth anniversary of the last time the Beatles played a concert. On January 30, 1969, they went up to the rooftop of their Apple Corporation headquarters in Savile Row and played five songs. Billy Preston joined them on keyboards. It was the last time the Beatles played together in public.

It seems that fame can be a very dangerous intoxicant.

The Beatles stormed onto the U.S. stage when they appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show on February 9, 1964. I remember the night well because I had volunteered to stay home from Sunday evening service to look after my sister, Janet. I am not sure if Janet was faking it, but I can assure you my interest in her well-being only extended as far as seeing the beginning of the British invasion.

The Beatles opened and closed the show. In between there were a variety of other acts. Right before the Beatles came on for their final two songs, a husband/wife comedy team known as "Mitzi McCall and Charlie Brill" were on. Can you imagine? The Ed Sullivan Theater was filled with fourteen and fifteen year-old girls. The Beatles manager had made sure of that. Those young ladies were there for one reason and one reason alone.

Needless to say, Mitzi and Charlie bombed.

In fact, in a later Washington Post interview McCall said, "It was a nightmare. We just about wanted to kill ourselves." Both of them think of it as the worst night of their lives. It was only recently that either of them were capable of sitting down and seeing a DVD of the performance of their only appearance on Sullivan's show. (For the record, they did receive a few laughs.)

Still, it is worth noting that the Beatles lasted only seven years as a band. Mitzi and Charlie are about ready to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary. They have one daughter whom they adore. In a recent radio interview I heard, it sounded for all the world as if they were still in love.

I wonder almost forty-five years later, who is happier - the elderly couple who are still in love, or, the surviving Beatles with the wreckage that their lives became?

As I thought about these long-ago events during the past few days, a verse from Ecclesiastes came to my mind. "A good reputation at the time of death is better than loving care at the time of birth." (Ecclesiastes 7:1, CEV)

I have to admit it: Coming of age in the late sixties and early seventies, I dreamed of hitting it big playing my guitar. What young man who could play six chords and had long hair didn't? Still, as a semi-mature man heading down the far slope of middle age, I am more thankful for what I have now than what I hoped to have back then.

May the Lord help all of us to end better than we began. May our reputation at the end be better than any transient fame we have along the way.