What JFK, the Beatles and Ali had in common

Baby boomers between the ages of 60 and 70 remember the names and deeds of President Kennedy, the Beatles and Muhammad Ali. I’m 67 and I ought to know. I was 15 when JFK was killed. Then, weeks and months later, the Fab Four and a young Cassius Clay exploded on the scene. For my generation, the world never was the same afterward.

{mosads}Kennedy didn’t look like Presidents Herbert Hoover, Franklin Roosevelt, Harry Truman or Dwight Eisenhower. He was young and energetic. With his full head of hair and beautiful wife, he (and they) took the world by storm. Camelot wasn’t imaginary to me. It was real. Maybe that’s because I actually shook Kennedy’s hand two months before he was elected president. When he died in November 1963, the nation fell into a state of depression. That is, until February of ’64.

That’s when the Beatles invaded America and changed our lives forever. They didn’t just look or sound different from other rock ‘n’ rollers; they redefined what it meant to be young and full of promise. The day after the lads from Liverpool appeared on “The Ed Sullivan Show,” every boy in my high school combed his hair down on his forehead. Some even adopted a British accent. One of my musical friends went on to play with Santana, Journey and, yes, Ringo Starr.

And then there was Clay (er, Ali). My friends and I played football, baseball and basketball when we were kids, so our heroes were the likes of Y.A. Tittle, Johnny Unitas, Willie Mays, Mickey Mantle, Wilt Chamberlain and Bill Russell. They all were great, but none of them were The Greatest. The day after Clay (at the time) stopped heavyweight Sonny Liston the first time, you could hear “float like a butterfly, sting like a bee” being shouted in our nearly all-white high school gym.

When he changed his name, converted to Islam and refused induction during the Vietnam War, many of those early shouts I heard in 1964 became ugly taunts a few years later. Ali was among the very first celebrities to break with the administration over that terrible war. Despite being stripped of his title and banned from boxing, both of which ultimately were reversed, Ali pressed on. He traveled from coast to coast and around the world. Some claim he became the most recognizable public figure on the planet.

It’s been said that Kennedy planned to wind down the war in Vietnam during his second term; unfortunately, he didn’t live long enough to see that happen. The Beatles, led by John Lennon and Yoko Ono, staged peace rallies and “bed-ins” against the war. And Ali? He never wavered. He proved to millions of his fans, and even to his detractors, that a principled stand truly is to be admired and remembered.

It’s too bad the athlete-poet and remarkable fighter ended up trapped in a deteriorating body. So much so, that he couldn’t talk or hardly walk in the end. But between the time he first became a heavyweight boxing champ and then American icon, he graced us with his athleticism, wit, religion and character.

I think it’s safe to say that when people talk about Gandhi, Mandela, Kennedy and the Beatles in the future, they also will mention Ali. After all, they were great, but he really was The Greatest.

Freidenrich writes from Laguna Beach, Calif. His letters and commentaries have run in the New York Times, Washington Post, Washington Times, Christian Science Monitor, Sacramento Bee, San Francisco Chronicle, San Jose Mercury News, Los Angeles Times, Orange County Register and many other newspapers. He can be reached on Twitter @freidomreport.