Phil Everly and the Oregon Centennial summer of 1959

Everly Brothers

Carol Forsloff---Phil Everly died on January 3,2014, but in an Oregon summer of 1959, despite his rising fame as one of two brothers who were new country rock sensations, he was just a young man wandering through a fairground at the Oregon Centennial that year.  And in retrospect he was one of the people and events that transformed a recent graduate of an all-girl high school from an impoverished blue collar family with a provincial view of the world to someone whose dreams were unlimited.

I was 18 years old that summer with the self- satisfied arrogance that came from high school successes that included being on the school's May Court, a student body officer and a scholarship winner and a winner of a number of state speaking and writing awards in a graduating class of 76 girls.  I had been hired that summer to be one of a number of young people to work at one of the booths at the Oregon Centennial fairgrounds.  The booth where I worked represented a hearing aid company whose mission for us was to get hearing aid prospects by having folks sign up for a free television set.  But the crowds early on at the exposition were far lower than expected, so entertainers were able to walk around without being mobbed by fans.  In fact it was so casual big name stars like George Liberace could be seen in casual conversations with those folks who worked as sales people, guides or represented one of a number of countries at the International Trade Fair.

And the Everly Brothers, although popular with teens at the time, did not draw the big crowds in a family oriented atmosphere and with audiences who were more fascinated with older headliners like Harry Belafonte whose calypso music was particularly popular that summer.  In fact newspapers observed one of the officials announcing that to get better crowds they were bringing in the big names of country like Ferlin Husky and Marty Robbins as opposed to teen music idols, given the fact the Everly Brothers were not drawing the hoped-for crowds.

I was not a fan of the Everly Brothers then.  They seemed to appeal to teens still in high school.  My personal music tastes remained with standards, old country, semi classical with a lingering touch of Elvis.

So I did not recognize the young man next to me in front of the Ferris wheel, where I stood chatting with the male attendant whose muscular arms and well-built frame drew a girl's attention.  I had been there almost every day at lunch time, refusing entreaties to take a ride since business was slow.  Besides that I had developed a fear of riding on Ferris wheels because a young cousin in my early childhood would ride with me on the the big wheels, then shake and swing the seat when it got to the top, which frightened me.

When asked to ride that day, again I had refused; and then the young man next to me said, "I`ll ride with you, and I promise not to rock the seat."

The ride was uneventful with none of the seductive, tantalizing details that a reader might wish to find in an article.  There was no follow-up romance, nor did I become a fan at the time; but the memory of a sweet, young man who rode a ferris wheel, with conversations confined to Portland events, and who by taking an amusement ride with a girl erased a fear that represented a barrier to change and taking chances.  That was Phil Everly in a summer of 1959, with a vision of the day returned clearly with the news of his death just two days ago.