My Date with Paul

Patty Michaels in the middle next to Murrary the K.  Can't you see why Paul was attracted to her after seeing her on TV?

Paul backstage right before the Shea Stadium show.  Patty was back there somewhere too!

I am not sure where this article originally appeared.  It was in some teen magazine from the 1960's but I found a re-print of it in a magazine called "Welcome Back Beatles" from the summer of 1978.  Patty Michael was a child actress and was in the  musical, the Sound of Music on Broadway as a little girl.  In 1965, she was a dancer for the Murray the K's television special, It's What's Happening Baby!   In the years that followed during the 1960's Patty made some records and continued to sing and dance.   She had a few minor hits, but her career as a recording artist never really took off and in 1967 she found herself having a popular show performing in Las Vegas.   

When the Beatles in New York City for the Shea Stadium show, Paul was watching It's What's Happening Baby on the telly in his hotel room.   Patty caught his eye and he contacted Murray the K to invite her backstage.    This is the teen magazine story.   We all know that these teen magazines are pretty tame and often exaggerated accounts of what really happened.    
 

My Date with Paul

By Patty Michaels

I was sitting at home watching TV when the phone rang on Saturday, August 14, at about 10 p.m.  It was deejay Murray the K calling to tell me that the Beatles had just seen me on his TV special and Paul had asked if I would like to be his guest at the concert the following evening.  Being a normal, red-blooded young girl, I said I certainly would.  Murray said, “There’ll be special tickets waiting for you at the press gate.”  Now, as a dancer and actress, I have had occasion to meet many stars and quite a few groups, but I must admit – my heart was beating quite a bit faster that night as I went to bed.

The next evening, Sunday, August 15 at 7:30p.m., my sister Dale and I arrived at the press gate of Shea Stadium to find two box seat tickets waiting for us.  We were escorted to our seats by a guard and already the screams were deafening.  About five minutes later, a guard came over to me and said, “Are you Patty Michaels?”  When I nodded he said, “Come with me please.”  With absolutely no idea where I was going, I followed the guard down the steps into the dug-out, and then down a narrow plank and through a long stretch of corridor until we reached a door marked – private – keep out – Beatles dressing room.  There were perhaps two dozen photographers and fifty policemen stationed outside.  The guard knocked twice and very pleasant looking fellow with ruddy cheeks and blonde hair opened the door.  I learned later that this was Tony Barrow, the Beatles’ press agent.  He ushered us in, and as I entered my only prayer was that the whole room couldn’t hear my heart pounding.

The Beatles were getting ready to go onstage and the first thing I noticed was that they were wearing their bronze medals saying M.B.E. on their jackets.  They all looked so handsome in their beige suede jackets and black pants.  The first one to speak was George, who told me how much he had enjoyed watching me dance on TV.  Soon John and Ringo came up and they seemed to be looking me over very critically.  I smiled and tried to act as calmly as I could, and in a minute it was over.  I guess I passed their “test” because John patted my shoulder and smiled and Ringo offered me a can of “Veep” soda.  Paul, who had been combing his hair when I arrived, came over to me and simply said, “Hi.” His eyes and smile held so much warmth that I was immediately attracted to this sincere, direct manner of his.  We spoke of many things – the crowd of 59,600 outside, the songs they would sing, and Ringo gave me another can of “Veep.”  Then it was time for them to go on.

In the dug-out, the screams were almost totally deafening.  Brian Epstein, Tony Barrow, and scores of press agents and photographers ran about shouting last minute orders, but the Beatles stood by calmly.  Paul held my hand during these few minutes and just before they ran on to the field, he whispered, “you’re beautiful Patty.”  I didn’t see Paul again until much later, after the concert.  A man escorted us to a limousine and drove us to the Warwick Hotel where the boys were throwing a party.  When we entered the room, everything was bedlam.  The TV, tape recorder, radio and record player were all going at full blast.  People were shouting and screaming to be heard.  I felt like leaving.  But then Paul came bouncing over and took my arm.  “Glad to see you,” he said.  He steered me over to the sofa and we sat there all night, talking and holding hands.

John, George and Ringo were sitting on the floor opening presents from Malcolm Evans, their road manager.  You see, every night Mal must go out and buy each boy a present.  It’s a sort of tradition with them.  They played with things like a magic slate and wind-up toys when they got tired of them, they’d just toss them away.  John was taking pictures all night.  Ringo kept laughing all night, although I don’t know why.  Paul and I spoke of many things for those four hours.  He told me about life in England, running from the fans and his loneliness when he can’t see his Dad or family.  His father remarried recently and Paul is crazy about his little six year old step-sister.  Among other things, he expressed his annoyance at being hounded by the press on the subject of his relationship with Jane Asher.  “I’m getting sick and tired of it.”

When I said goodbye that night, I knew I had acquired a lasting and deep friendship, and when Paul gently kissed me and told me he’d miss me, I wasn’t sad because I know we will meet again next time and it will be the same with us.  Absence does not kill the bonds of friendship.