From Issue 51, July 1985:
In this issue, Joy wrote an article about our journey to England in July
and August of 1968 and in particular about the Adventures at Cavendish with
partners in crime, Sandy and Nancy.
One time while waiting at Paul’s, Sandy said she had to go
to the “john” and I had a horrible thought – it made me think of Lennon, so I
asked her to say “bathroom”! (This
conversation by the way was taking place right by Paul’s gate at the
intercom). After a short while the
conversation got interesting and took a new turn toward Paul’s bedroom and
devious guesses as to what it must look like and chat along those lines (I won’t
elaborate further since this is a family newsletter, but I’m sure you get the
general idea). Anyway, while we were
deep into this little discussion, a loud “Click” emitted from the
intercom. Nancy looked at Sandy and me and
we looked at her and then we all stared at the gate. Sure enough, before too long we heard the
front door open and shut and we proceeded to back away from the gate. Lo and behold, Rose unlocked the gate. Nancy and Sandy were on one side of the
driveway and I alone was on the other.
All of a sudden Paul’s car was there and the driver’s side was facing
me. Paul had the HUGEST smile on his
face! The blood drained from my face and
returned like Niagara Falls and my eyes must’ve been a mile wide – HE HEARD
THAT WHOLE CONVERSATION OVER THE INTERCOM!
So, leaving us with the knowledge that he’d heard everything, he smugly
drove off, very pleased with himself no doubt (and probably added several dozen
marks on the “I’ve got another one” scorecard as he went). I stood in the middle of Cavendish Avenue,
pointed at the departing Paul, and groaned, “Oh, my God – he heard us! He heard us!”
(Not long after this a British fan I’d met at Paul’s told me over a
dinner that Paul does have a habit of eavesdropping on fans through that
intercom … now she tells me!)
Then there was the time an English lady and her daughter
were waiting with us at Paul’s and when he bopped up he struck up a
conversation with her about how she likes living in the States and how long she’s
been away from England, etc. Meantime,
her daughter is frozen solid. This woman
also had a movie camera and wanted to film Paul. The man clicked into action, his face a
picture of sweetness and little-boy-shyness.
The woman fell for it, hook, line and sinker, much to Paul’s absolute
glee. “Come on, Paul,” she said, very
much coaxing him, “Smile..” Paul looking
down, pouting, “I can’t smile…” “Come
on, Paul, smile, “she pleaded, encouraging him.
“I can’t…” still looking down, still down his “shy” act, every once in a
while facing up and her and melting her with the big brown eyes. This went on for some time. Torture.
God, did he milk this whole thing.
“Come on, Paul…” all of a sudden he looked up with the sweetest, most heart
melting smile pasted on his conniving little face, and needless to say it had
exactly the effect he wanted it to have.
All of us who witnessed this exchange would’ve made the Mormon
Tabernacle Choir proud as we sang in unison and 20-part harmony “Awwwww!!” It goes without saying that Paul ate this up
with a large soup ladle, not only had he done a number on this poor sweet
innocent lady, he zapped the rest of us suckers who should have known better in
the process! Of course, this made Paul
all the happier as he watched us all turn into a pile of Jell-O. Peter Brown, who was waiting patiently nearby
during Paul’s little routine, finally said, “C’mon, Paul, we’re late!”…and
Paul, no doubt in a great mood now, got into the car and off he went to go
bother someone else!
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