The Beatles, Dodger Stadium, 1966

The following is an excerpt of a much longer short story. It’s 95% true. It's autobiographical. I actually lived this moment. We were a car full of stupid 16 year old kids that just didn’t want to miss this concert. We did a 60 minute drive in Los Angeles rush hour traffic in about 20 minutes. But we got there and I lived to tell about it. We were there. The Beatles second to last live concert they ever gave in the USA.

We were late. The light changed and we moved the last 100 yards to my house right on the corner of Crescent Heights and Sawyer. I ran in and out and got what I needed. No one was home, which was good, so I didn’t have to stop and explain anything to anyone. The boys waited for me out in the car. I was back out in less than two minutes with a couple of sweatshirts, a jacket and the binoculars.

Ryer said, “Let me drive, Ingram.”

Mike obliged and moved over to the shotgun side.

“Go up here Mike, take Crescent heights. We’ll take Olympic down to the other side of town.” That seemed like the best choice at this point. It would get us as far as we could go, and then run into Sunset which would take us to the Stadium. But, anyway you slice it; we were going to be late.

“Just tell me where to turn and I will follow what you say, Larry.”

Ryer stepped on the gas and we were flying down Crescent Heights. Moving at a speed I never would have thought I would experience but here it was. He hardly slowed down for the stop signs on the Blvd. and ran a yellow light crossing Pico.

“You’re going to turn at the next light Ryer, ok?”

We all slid to one side from the centrifugal force and the screeching tires, as Ryer slinged from Crescent Heights and the jog that took you on to Olympic Blvd. moving in an easterly direction toward downtown.

He was moving so fast going around cars in the opposite lane narrowly missing oncoming traffic.

We were all yelling as Ryer flew down Olympic, weaving in out, “careful,” “no don’t do that,” “wait,” “no,” “RYER!” and of course, Manfredi’s occasional “SHIFT, god dammit!” Who knows what those people thought when we passed them. Couldn’t have been too good.

“Slow down a little!”

“Bull shit! We’re going to get there on time.”

“SHIFT!!” Manfredi yelled.

“Jesus Ryer look out” Ingram called out. He then turned around and looked at me with that slightly devilish smile he always gave when he was about to do something daring. Usually, something that would endanger his safety if not his life.

Ryer was swerving in and out sometimes on the wrong side of the road. I looked at the speedometer a couple of times and he was tipping 60mph going down Olympic Blvd. in L.A. traffic conditions coming on 8:00 in the evening. You can imagine.

“God dammit, Ryer, SHIFT!” Manfredi yelled out as the rest of us were sitting there and our stomachs began to rise in our chests. All Manfredi was concerned was that Ryer was grinding his gears.

Past La Brea. Past Western. Past Vermont.

To this day I don’t know how we made that ride without getting into a serious accident or the cops pulling us over, but miraculously none of that happened. Ryer had violated every rule of the road. He swerved to the other side facing oncoming cars on a busy street like Olympic to get around the traffic. He went right through red lights without slowing down. If a car or cars had been coming through those intersections I am not sure if I would have lived to be writing this today. But, it didn’t. It was like in the movies, during car chases. Swear to God; just imagine “Bullet” or the “French Connection.” Two I can think of that were released a little after that August night in 1966, and always reminded me of our chase down Olympic that night. We talked about it later for days and weeks afterwards almost as much as the concert itself.

Now, 50 years later I still cannot believe we actually did that and came out unscathed.

For a bunch of teenagers, I can only say it was really cool. But, kids don’t try this at home. Remember we were professionals. LOL.

After passing Hoover St. “Make a left here at Alvarado, Mike.”

The light was yellow and turning red, the car in front of us in the left turn lane had already stopped in anticipation of the red light. Ryer swerved around him at about forty miles per hour and went through the changing yellow to red to make the left.

Somebody said, I don’t remember who, “Slow down Ryer, you’re going to get us killed.” I can’t remember who said that because we all said it at one time or another during that last leg of the trip from my house to Dodger Stadium.

Ryer didn’t answer, he was clearly on a mission to get there or die tryin’. Of course, none of us really stopped him from doing that stuff, so you have to assume, telling him to slow down was only half hearted. Only Manfredi’s exclamation every once in a while, “SHIFT!” was genuinely emphatic. So, we were all to blame for Ryer’s recklessness even though he was the one behind the wheel. We wanted to get there as soon as possible no less than Ryer’s maniacal determination to get us there come hell or high water. And, we were all very lucky that we didn’t cause an accident, or get stopped and taken down to the local precinct by the police and have our parents come down to get us. Whoa! That would have really been a scene. My parents would have been bad enough, but the “Nuts n’ Bolts” rock band all coming from San Clemente, would have been a real nightmare plus we would have missed the damned concert.

We were all very lucky in so many ways, but as kids, we didn’t realize it that much at the time.

“Ryer take this to Sunset Blvd. It’s down about a half a mile, that signal up there. Turn right and that will take us to the stadium.” Sunset and Alvarado was not a full 90 degree right turn, it kind of jogged and leaned into the turn the same way Crescent Heights turned into Olympic Blvd. earlier. Now considering it kind of ol’ school L.A. driving since we had been speeding through the city from West L.A. it was definitely in our favor and Ryer took full advantage of it, with screeching tires, and the gas pedal to the floor, he took that corner, maybe 50 mph.

It was five minutes to 8:00. We didn’t know it but the concert had already begun. We were about to miss the first act. But, we made it in time, running through the parking lot to our ticket entrance, to see the Ronettes, third billing behind either “The Cyrkle” or “The Remains” I can’t remember which and then the Beatles.

We made it.