My apologies for being a little late in joining this discussion, but...
I was 11 in the fall of '63 when the Beatles' records started getting heavy play on the radio (I Wanna Hold Your Hand, She Loves You, and others). I absolutely loved them from the git-go.
Something that caught my attention even at my very young age was that "She Loves You" was (and remains) one of the few pop hits ever that was written from the viewpoint of someone telling someone else that he hadn't "lost his love", as he had thought, and that he (the friend) should make up with her. There was an unselfish, unconsciously spiritual quality in that (although no one spoke of it that way at the time) that I think was, in addition to the fact that they were superb band in their own right, and wrote their own songs, (which was unusual back then) a large part of Beatlemania as it quickly manifested. Girls knew Elvis wanted them to love him tender (which sounded like it might involve some risky business), but the Beatles only wanted to hold their hands, or were "happy just to dance" with them. Great songs, a great band, and (IMHO) that deeply genuine sense of goodness added up to the following:
-In the two weeks preceding their American debut, the 7" single of "I Want To Hold You Hand" sold 2.6 million copies.
-Their first appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show was watched by 74 million viewers - over 40 percent of the entire American population at the time.
-Within two months The Beatles had twelve songs on the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart, including all of the top five, a feat that has never been matched before or since.
So, on February 9th, 1964, I, along with almost half the country, saw this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JILsCPSyI0
In spite of the fact that I had two slightly older brothers, neither was a Beatle fan yet, although that would quickly change. I was the only one in the house watching it...
I was absolutely, completely electrified. As I watched them perform, right there right then, I knew my life was changed forever. It was, and still is. I remember that just after the broadcast, and with great seriousness of purpose and gravity of tone, I stopped my father as he walked by and said: "I just saw the Beatles on TV, and dad, they are the greatest band in history". He chuckled and said "Oh come on - in ten years people will say: 'The Beatles? Who are the Beatles?'"
No need to point out who was right about that...
Having had my life changed, of course I eventually pursued a career in rock 'n roll - as a recording engineer. In my early 20s I was fortunate enough to land a job at The Hit Factory in NYC, one of the foremost recording studios in the world. I started as an assistant engineer, thrilled to be working with many huge music stars, which were the daily staple there. I eventually worked my way up through the ranks, and by '78 I was promoted to recording engineer. I continued there until I left to pursue a freelance career in early 1982, which I still do now, along with running my own studio business.
Through much of the second half of 1980 John and Yoko had worked on "Double Fantasy" there, locking out the entire sixth floor studio for several months. The whole floor was strictly off limits to anyone who was not directly involved in the project. My friend Jon Smith was the assistant engineer, and the only Hit Factory staffer allowed into the 'inner circle'. I had had only one brief encounter with Lennon - a hello in the hallway as I went up there to get a mic I needed (breaking the privacy rule for a just moment, although thankfully John didn't tattle on me). He seemed very polite, almost shy even, which quite surprised me back then. In retrospect though, it shouldn't have. After all, in spite of his edginess at times, he, along with McCartney, was the one who wrote those sweet lyrics that so impressed me back in '63...
Flash forward to the evening of December 8th, 1980:
I was doing a session in the second floor studio. Lennon was a few blocks away at The Record Plant studios mixing a single - a slightly sore subject for us at The Hit Factory - we felt a little slighted by the fact that he wasn't doing it here. For those that might not know, John had done most of his post-Beatles records at The Record Plant in New York, but had been successfully wooed to The Hit Factory by its owner, Eddie Germano, who had been Record Plant's studio manager until he bought the Hit Factory (a few months after I started there). Eddie had made good friends with John in the Record Plant days, and when he came out of his five year hiatus, Eddie was ready to close the deal...
Back to that night: my assistant, Brian McGee, had gone upstairs to retrieve a piece of gear for us, and when he came back he said he'd heard that "John Lennon has been assassinated". I didn't believe him. So I continued to go on with the session as normal, thinking it was just some weird, false rumor.
As it happens, I lived, as I do now, just down the street from Lennon's building, known as "The Dakota", on west 72nd St. in Manhattan (Yoko still lives there). So as I rode home in a cab at about midnight, I asked the driver to make a small detour past the Dakota to see if there was anything to this (hopefully) nonsensical rumor. This time, sadly bookending my bold prediction to my dad as a kid, it was my turn to be massively wrong. A huge crowd had gathered outside the building, making it impossible to go past it. We slowed for a look at the spectacle, then drove on.
I know that I'll never forget where I was or what I was doing on February 9, 1964, or December 8, 1980.