Following up on my posting yesterday, as I have now been in euphoria for more than three months, I wondered if I had ever been similarly in this mental state, and the closest I got was in the summer of 1962, and perhaps for the rest of the year. Something like my recent colonoscopy had to trigger this feeling, and that time it was graduating from Stanford. Yes, you can equate Stanford with a colonoscopy.
While the colonoscopy encounter only lasted one week, from drinking a gallon of fluid the night before, to the event itself, then the wait of several days to get the results, my Stanford experience extended to a little more than 3.5 years. While everything was dreadful about the colonoscopy, save for the results, I mostly enjoyed my time on campus. I was certainly out of my element, financially, intellectually, socially and so forth, but I never felt out of place, grades were not a problem and I only made friends. There were fabulous memories and little downsides.
So I graduated, and a week later, after a short trip to the Seattle Expo, found myself in Naalehu on the Big Island, the southernmost point of the USA. During my absence, Hawaii became the 50th State. I should have been depressed in this town where you couldn't even get radio in the daytime (the volcanoes and distance blocked the stations), and, of course, there was also no television. My dozen or so classmates who joined the Peace Corps probably were sent to more civilized spots like the Ivory Coast, Philippines and Cameroon. However, they were paid only $99 month, while I had a generous $500/month, with free housing.
The engineer at the Hutchinson Sugar Company factory sold me his Triumph-TR3, my first car, which was a dream. I remember driving more than 100 MPH at times to Hilo, which was 65 miles away. The other way to Kailua, Kona was 60 miles, but the roads were winding. I was taught to clean the carburetor, change spark plugs and even brake linings.
Even though I'm living with 200 others at 15 Craigside, I'm sort of back to the solitude of 1962, for I feel free and happy. The euphoria I remember is similar.
So back to 1962, my job in a sugar factory was a learning experience with no responsibilities. Across the street was a bar that only served Budweiser beer and Thunderbird wine. I lived in the trainee cottage, and outside was this giant papaya tree with giant papayas, much bigger than pineapples, and tasted great.
What I remember most about this period was the popular music of the day. The list began early in 1962 with The Twist, by Chubby Checker. Unusual, in that this same song was #1 also in 1960, but returned because of the dance.
Then in the Spring of '62, Shelley Fabares hit #1 with Johnny Angel. She sang this song as a regular on The Donna Reed Show, and, never having sung much before, said she was intimidated by the backup singers, including Darlene Love (who also had a #1 hit that year, He's a Rebel--it's her voice, but another group, the Crystals, was given credit for it--and here is their later version) and musicians, like Glen Campbell.
In May, Mr. Acker Bilk released Stranger on the Shore, which became the top song of 1962 and the first British song to hit #1 on Billboard. A British clarinettist, he wrote the song for his daughter.
The summer of '62 was when Little Eva reached #1 with The Locomotion. Much of her story is exaggerated, but it's true that she was a babysitter for Carol King and Gerry Goffin, sung the song as a demo for later use by Dee Dee Sharp, never got paid much with no royalties, was the subject of He Hit Me (another King/Goffin song on boyfriend abuse) by the Crystals, and became penniless with three children in 1971, and mostly lived a life of obscurity thereafter.
Then in September of '62 I met Pearl, introduced to me by the plantation manager, Bill Baldwin. At that time I was living in my trainee cottage with someone name Joe from Sudan. I'm joking, but he might have been a cannibal, for we alternated nights for cooking, and he specialized in brains and other body organs. He was an agriculture trainee, and most liked the song Johnny Get Angry by Joanie Summers. Shelley Fabares also included this song on her 1962 album. For some reason I can't really explain, Johnny Get Angry is stuck in my head as my most memorable song of this unusually long euphoric period.
In October of '62, Bobby 'Boris' Picket and the Crypt-Kickers had a #1 hit, Monster Mash. This remains my most memorable Halloween song, and was a parody of Dee Dee Sharpe's Mashed Potato Time, which ended up as the 3 song of 1962. It wasn't till the following year, but another novelty song, Surfing Bird by The Trashmen, was possibly the worst song ever recorded. So terrible, that here is the dance version.
Just around this time, as mentioned above, He's a Rebel (Darlene Love ten years ago--with a dancing Frankie Avalon--this photo includes Chubby Checkers) became #1. Then in December, Pearl and I got married. I don't want to say that my euphoria ended, for we were together for 47 years until she passed away a decade ago, so I'll just say that 1962 was my most memorable year.
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Hurricanes Humberto in the Atlantic and Kiko in the Pacific will form and dissipate before making landfall.
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