The following is a personal story taken from Reminisce Magazine, March, 2017.

'Holding On Through Shakes, Rattles & Rolls,' by Joe Mele, Moraga, Ca.

The last card I opened on my 16th birthday in 1957 was from my boyfriend, Joe. It contained two tickets to Alan Freed's Rock 'n' Roll Show at the Paramount Theater in Brooklyn, New York.

At Flatbush and DeKalb avenues in Brooklyn, a huge line of teenagers wound around the block, waiting to buy tickets, while another, shorter line
was for those with tickets. Joe & I felt a little overdressed standing with the denim-and-bobby-sox throng. He had on a suit and tie, and I wore a black-and-white polka-dot dress, with crinolines, stockings and patent heels.

Inside, we climbed four flights of stairs to the balcony and then made our way carefully down to our seats. Talk about nose-bleed seats. With the pushing crowd, I pictured myself missing a step and landing flat on my face.

There were about twenty acts. Everyone who'd made a hit record that year seemed to be on the program. We saw the Platters, Buddy Holly and many other groups that night. The glitter from all the rhinestones and sequins on stage was dazzling. My favorite was Fats Domino, who belted out 'Blueberry Hill' and 'Ain't That A Shame.' Fats mush have soaked a dozen handkerchiefs during that performance.

Bill Haley and the Comets played 'Shake, Rattle 'n' Roll' and 'Rock Around the Clock.' When the balding Haley slid down on his knees to play a solo, girls fainted.

The foot stomping shook the balcony. Kids danced in the aisles and sang along. No one stayed seated. The house went silent only while Chuck Berry played 'Maybelline,' and when he was done, near hysteria ensued. Girls pulled their hair as if possessed, and bawled. I held on to Joe. He seemed to be the only thing that wasn't shaking.

The music was truly American--loud, energetic and wild. It was new, and it was ours.

The following is a personal story taken from Reminisce Magazine, March, 2017.

'Holding On Through Shakes, Rattles & Rolls,' by Joe Mele, Moraga, Ca.

The last card I opened on my 16th birthday in 1957 was from my boyfriend, Joe. It contained two tickets to Alan Freed's Rock 'n' Roll Show at the Paramount Theater in Brooklyn, New York.

At Flatbush and DeKalb avenues in Brooklyn, a huge line of teenagers wound around the block, waiting to buy tickets, while another, shorter line
was for those with tickets. Joe & I felt a little overdressed standing with the denim-and-bobby-sox throng. He had on a suit and tie, and I wore a black-and-white polka-dot dress, with crinolines, stockings and patent heels.

Inside, we climbed four flights of stairs to the balcony and then made our way carefully down to our seats. Talk about nose-bleed seats. With the pushing crowd, I pictured myself missing a step and landing flat on my face.

There were about twenty acts. Everyone who'd made a hit record that year seemed to be on the program. We saw the Platters, Buddy Holly and many other groups that night. The glitter from all the rhinestones and sequins on stage was dazzling. My favorite was Fats Domino, who belted out 'Blueberry Hill' and 'Ain't That A Shame.' Fats mush have soaked a dozen handkerchiefs during that performance.

Bill Haley and the Comets played 'Shake, Rattle 'n' Roll' and 'Rock Around the Clock.' When the balding Haley slid down on his knees to play a solo, girls fainted.

The foot stomping shook the balcony. Kids danced in the aisles and sang along. No one stayed seated. The house went silent only while Chuck Berry played 'Maybelline,' and when he was done, near hysteria ensued. Girls pulled their hair as if possessed, and bawled. I held on to Joe. He seemed to be the only thing that wasn't shaking.

The music was truly American--loud, energetic and wild. It was new, and it was ours.