David Bowie was still 17-year-old David Jones from Brixton, England, when he first appeared on the BBC's Tonight show in 1964. He was invited on to discuss the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Long-Haired Men, an organization, cheeky in purpose and spirit, that he had formed after a music producer gave him flak for his shaggy haircut. "I think we all like long hair and we don't see why other people should persecute us because of it," Bowie proclaimed to host Cliff Michelmore in the grainy black-and-white program. Looking back at it now, that earnest proclamation challenging the then-public's sense of normalcy feels like the first hint of the square-peg vibe the world would experience in the years to follow. Bowie in the 1960s, when he was just emerging onto the music scene. I can't remember whether it was during a frantic preteen album rifling session at Boston's Newbury Comics or at a sleepover viewing of Labyrinth that I first caught a glimpse of David Bowie. What I do remember is feeling immediately awe-struck by this amazing creature; his sound, his appearance, it was unlike anything my young self had ever experienced. Generations of teenagers have felt similarly