Monday, June 14, 2010

Marc Horton on how wrong columnists can be

How wrong columnists can be
Edmonton Journal
Sun Nov 2 2003
Page: 45
Section: A Journal Century
Byline: Marc Horton
Dateline: EDMONTON
Source: The Edmonton Journal

EDMONTON - Journal columnist Barry Westgate, movie reviewer, man-about-town and social commentator, knew a bad thing when he saw it.

And the Beatles were bad indeed.

"Who are these talentless upstarts calling themselves the Beatles?" he asked in a Feb. 14, 1964 column, just as Beatlemania was sweeping the Western World.

"And why should I use space here to discuss their dubious worth? Why?"

But Westgate wasn't finished. The Beatles would get more than a brief dismissal.

"Because idiocy of present society demands that I notice them," he said, answering his own question.

"Not through any remarkable talent has this occurred, but rather because teenagers everywhere have become hysterical about these mop-headed showoffs and the impact has reached the supposed adult levels of society."

Enough you say?

Not at all. When Westgate hit his stride, there would be no stopping him.

"Let us hope," he continued, "that the fame that has spread so hysterically, fanned most recently by Ed Sullivan, will just as quickly die. These four from England have no music that distinguishes them from any other mediocre teen band.

"It is my regret that the current world of popular music is dominated by rubbishy songs and a type of mass teenage hysteria," he said, reaching a hysterical level of his own.

"The Beatles, by their obvious musical ineptitude, are a sad, sad commentary on just this.

"May someone step on them quickly."

Whew.

Mind you, Westgate was not alone.

Art Evans, The Journal's page one columnist, agreed.

"The Beatles have to make the loot now," he wrote the same day as Westgate's attack.

"They never know when their popularity will fade as quickly as it rose. Even now, at this very moment, four bald-headed young lads -- lonely, poor, obscure -- may be faithfully rehearsing their act in the dingy back room of some squalid dance hall."

Like Westgate, Evans didn't know when to stop.

"The Beatles will soon be done, but if they have wisely banked their earnings they will be able to laugh all the way to the barbershop. If they have always wanted to take music lessons and voice training, they'll have the money to do it. So good luck to them."

Publisher Basil Dean took the larger, longer view in his editorial page column, although he found the Beatles to be more wholesome than Elvis Presley and his "orbiting midsection."

"I do not willingly watch or listen to the Beatles," he wrote, "but occasionally I am unable to escape from the sound of a radio or television set on which they are performing. They do not appear to sing; they bellow. But what is so new about that?"

Whenever a columnist poses a question, you know an answer will follow almost immediately.

"Some time ago, probably no later than the Edwardian era, popular songs were sung by people with good voices," Dean answered.

"They then stopped being sung; they were crooned.

"Then the crooners went out of style and we came to boogie-woogie and jive.

"And now the bellow.

"It has all been an orderly and logical progression, steadily downward. Perhaps, mercifully, the next phase will be songs which are rendered in absolute silence."

No one listened to the newspaper's advice.

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