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| Paul fans at the San Francisco concert |
How I met Paul (part 2)
By Rich Friedland
The Inner Light (March April 1977 Issue 10)
We carefully watched each plane fly in from the south, but
none of them bared the words, “Wings Over America” printed on the side as we
had seen in pictures. It was nearly three o’clock when Mr. Casey came outside
and told us the bad news: Paul’s flight
had just been delayed two and a half hours due to air traffic. This did not bother me, I had waited years
for this moment, so what’s a couple more hours?
Since we didn’t know what time the doors of the Cow Palace we going to
be opened to start letting the people in, Laurie started to worry that we would
lose all hopes of getting near the stage if we didn’t get back soon. Since I would have any way of getting back
to the concert if I waited around for Paul myself, I went back with them and
just decided to come back in my own car after the show. This way I would be sure to see Paul boarding the plane before
flying back to Los Angeles for the night.
When we got back to our places in line, Quanah and I made
plans to meet Paul after the concert. We
planned to leave the concert just before the last song, “Soily” to beat Paul’s
limousine to the airport. By the time he got there, we’d be past the
gate waiting for him.
As 6:30 the doors finally opened and we ran like children
coming home on the last day of school.
We were choicely situated just fifteen feet from the stage. The set-up on the stage was hardly a surprise
after watching most of it being set up piece by piece earlier that day. The only part that was new to us was the
organization of the amplifiers and guitars.
It looked as though everything was set up strictly to Paul’s
satisfaction.
Suddenly the moment came, “the lights went down, he was back
in town –oh yeah!” for a moment
everything was dark until the silhouette of Wings took the stage. I’m still unsure whether it was flashbulbs,
strobe lights or a combination of both that caused the brilliant sparkles on
the stage, but the atmosphere was magical.
For split seconds, quick-bright images of a Beatle teased our eyes. There was no mistake about it, only a few feet
ahead of me was the living legend, musical genius, god to millions: Paul McCartney!!!
The smile on his face brought a cheer that could not be
matched by a World Series homer. At
first I was too stunned to move. I just
stared at the stage in amazement. There
was nothing going to stop me from meeting him now, I was more determined than
ever!
People around me might have gotten the feeling that I wasn’t
enjoying the show for the first couple of songs, but quite to the contrary, I
was feeling weak in the knees.
On the same stage just a year and a half before, I
remembered seeing George. I couldn’t
help inserting him in the spot where Denny stood. Joe English became Ringo and just for that
moment, Jimmy was John Lennon. Even
though it wasn’t really The Beatles standing in front of me, seeing Paul was
plenty good enough. In fact, I don’t
think I could’ve taken seeing the other three!
When I got my strength back, people all around me noticed
it. My screaming and jumping stopped
other people from being able to enjoy the show.
If you’re like me in that way, you know why. If you are the quieter type who goes to
concerts to see the show only, you probably hate my type.
Between a couple of songs while Paul was talking to the
crowd, I screamed Paul’s name loud enough so I could hardly talk for the next
three days. I knew Paul heard me. He turned his head and looked right down at
me!! So far this thrill was second only
to meeting George in 1974.
Before the concert ended Linda returned a “Wings” hand sign
to me and Joe pointed a drum stick at me when I cued him for a drum fill. I never really cared much for the other
members of Wings until this night when I found myself having to watch them when
Paul was up at the piano which was out of my view.
Just before “Soily”, Quanah and I ran for the exits through
the tight crowd of people who wouldn’t budge.
Gary, who was supposed to be with us disappeared. We were worried that he was going to pass up
another chance to meet Paul, but hoped he might somehow be waiting for us down
at the car. The run to the car was even
more exhausting because of all the energy I had used watching the concert. When we got to the car Gary wasn’t there and
we had no time to wait. Quanah did the
driving and got us to the airport fast.
When we got to the airport we could see Paul’s “Wings Over
America” jet just about one hundred yards on the other side of the cyclone
fence with the engines running and the inside lights brightly lit. Now we were more excited than ever! Nothing was going to stop us from meeting
Paul now! I picked up the receiver of
the security telephone just as I had seen Laurie do earlier that day. When a voice asked me who I was, I knew I had to act like I had some authority
to pass. All I could think of was the
name of Laurie’s father.
“We’re coming in, we’re with Mr. Casey,” I confidently told
them. Magically the gate sprung open and
we walked right through! Naturally we
didn’t waste any time about running over to Paul’s jet. I wasn’t exactly sure about how to greet
whoever was inside without looking like typical fans who would quickly get
thrown out.
We stepped to the bottom of the stairs and looked up into
the jet that Paul had flown in so many times.
There stood a smiling man in a pilot’s uniform who waved at me! I cheerfully asked him if it would be okay if
we took a quick look inside the jet before Paul got there. He could not have been more friendly. He not only invited us inside, but he
introduced us to the rest of the crew.
There was his co-pilot John Tapley, the two beautiful stewardesses,
Marsha Pierce and Vickie White and himself Dan MacLen.
As we walked around and took pictures, a catering service
brought the following food on board:
crackers, butter, corn chips, cheeses, bread, milk, cupcakes,
sandwiches, grapes, strawberries, tacos, apples, oranges, corn beard, donuts,
olives, peppers, celery, pickles, onions and more. The total price of the food and service was
one hundred nineteen dollars and sixty-five cents which they charged to
“Butler.”
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The jet was a rare English called a Bac III. Inside its three rooms we noticed there was
wood paneling and white carpeting. There
were many pictures on the wall including an abstract colorful painting of Paul
himself.
The stewardesses told us that Paul was staying in Los
Angeles and chose to fly to and from there for many of his concerts to avoid
moving the children around a lot. All
three of his kids, who Vickie said were very nice, waiting down in Los Angeles
for mom and dad under the supervision of a sitter. She also told us that as long as Paul had
been on tour, he had not been doing much eating and never had any tea or coffee
aboard the jet.
Among his favorite things to drink these days there is his
favorite of all, grape juice with a pinch of lime. His latest eating discovery is macadamia nuts
which he will never refuse. Linda, who
was also said by the stewardesses to be very nice, was quoted by Marsha as
telling Paul to get up and make his own taco rather than bothering the
stewardesses. Vickie told us that Paul
is very nice and that stardom hasn’t gone to his head at all!
A few other things I noticed aboard the jet, were a recent
copy of National Geographic Magazine, a color TV and a “No Smoking” sign.
After staying on the jet for a little over an hour we were
told that Paul would be arriving shortly, so Quanah and I stepped out of the
jet, and waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs.
We stood around in the cold air for another 45 minutes and
began to wonder if Paul was really going to show up. With a jet engine running by our side and the
words, “Wings over America” above us, there wasn’t much room for doubt. As each pair of headlights drove near the
entrance gate, we felt more and more sure that these were going to be Paul’s.
Finally the gate opened and in drove four shiny black
limousines! We waved. They all pulled up just a few feet away from
where Quanah and I were standing. We
were so startled; we did not know what to do.
The first limousine’s front passenger’s door opened and out stepped the
football-player sized body guard we had read about. The courtesy light inside the car went on and
we could clearly see Paul and Linda hop out of the back seat.
Rather than take any chances of getting separated from Paul
before he boarded the jet, we stayed right where we were at the bottom of the
plane’s stairs. Before Paul got over to
the where we were, the body guard walked over to us.
“can I help you?” he asked without meaning it.
When we told him we just wanted to talk to Paul for a
moment, he told us we could not. I
didn’t go through all this hassle for nothing.
There was no way I was going to pass up meeting Paul now!
As the body guard held us back, he also pushed us further
from the jet. There was no way around
him, so we began yelling out to Paul who was on his way to the plane’s
steps. He heard us and came right
over! I stuck my hand out to shake hands
with him as the body guard stepped aside.
As he shook my right hand, I slapped him on the right shoulder with my
left hand just to make sure he knew I was there.
“Hi Paul, you don’t know how much I like ya,” I told him.
I couldn’t believe I was shaking hands with a Beatle! It was without a doubt the greatest moment of
my life! As he began to hurry towards
the jet he pointed to me and said, “Hey I remember you from the concert!” I was shocked needless to say!
Quanah, who still had a grip on himself, was able to ask his
favorite Beatle if we could get our picture taken with him. Looking over his left shoulder as he began to
climb the stairs, Paul yelled, “Tomorrow night!”
With an invitation like this, we were going to make sure we
were back at this same place before the concert ended again.
The next morning, I called Gary to find out why he was not
with us at the car to leave to meet Paul the night before. He told me that the crowd was so big that he
lost us and had to end up taking the bus home. Feeling sorry that he had to
miss out on meeting his favorite Beatle, I asked him to join Quanah and I that
night when we went back again.
The three of us decided that since there was only four more
days before Paul’s birthday, we should get him a cake with macadamia nuts on
it. We gave the bakery short notice, but
were able to talk them into having a creamy white cake ready for us. At just ten minutes before closing time, we picked
it up. It was beautiful: “Happy 34th Paul, from The Inner
Light” was printed on the frosting surrounded by Paul’s favorite, macadamia
nuts.
We rushed home to meet Gary which we were late for. During one of my sharp turns on the way home,
our beautiful cake did a 180 degree somersault, flew across the car and fell to
the floor up-side-down.
I stopped the car. I
couldn’t bear to open the pink box to see what was left of Paul’s birthday
cake. Quanah slowly opened the box and
took a quick peek inside. “It’s pretty
bad,” he chuckled.
“Then what’s so funny? I demanded, “Can it be fixed?”
Without answering, he opened up the box wide enough for me
to see inside. It was a hopeless mess of
wall to wall lemon filling and white frosting.
No doubt about it, this cake just wasn’t up to Paul’s standards.
When we got back to my house, Gary was there and eager to
see the birthday cake and leave for the concert. Instead of showing him the cake, I called the
bakery and hoped they hadn’t closed yet.
When the woman answered the phone, I begged her to do a rush job on a
duplicate cake. She said she’d do her
best and would stay open until we got there.
As the three of us left for the bakery, Gary just remembered he left his
concert ticket at home!
By the time we got the new cake (which was just as nice as
the first one) and Gary got his ticket, we had just a few minutes to make it
down to the Cow Palace. When we got
there we had to stand near the back which we had planned on doing anyway. This way we would be able to see the parts of
the concert that Paul played the piano during, from a better view.
Quanah, Gary and I left shortly before the concert ended for
the airport just as we had done the night before. When we got past the walk-in security gate,
we noticed an airplane nearby was being loaded by a few people that looked like
they might have the authority to kick us out if they so desired.
So we tried to look as though we worked for Wings and spoke
with English accents.
A man who looked like he might be in charge of the area came
over to us and began asking us questions about who we were. When he heard our fake English accents he was
immediately fooled and became fascinated with meeting people who worked for
Paul McCartney. Before he left, he told
us some stories about how rare and dependable the jet Paul was using was. He also invited us to have a ride on his own
personal jet next time we were back in town.
It was a relief not to have any competition in meeting
Paul. A few minutes later two girls
stepped up to the bottom of the jet’s stairs with a bottle of champagne in
their hands. I explained to them that it
was our job to keep people away from the jet and that they would have to
leave. They looked so sad by this that I
just couldn’t do this to them. I told
them that I was only kidding and admitted that I was there for the same reason
they were.
Then the gate swung open and the four limousines pulled in
single file followed by several other McCartney fans. We were no longer alone, but since we were
the closest people to the jet, we didn’t worry much about the others getting in
our way.
Paul and Linda stepped out of the first car together and
rushed up the stairs. I was only able to
say “hi” to Paul this time, but at least
Gary got to shake his hand.
Once Paul was inside the jet I settled for saying “Hello” to
Linda, who was very friendly.
“Linda, give this birthday cake to Paul.” Because her arms were so full of other
things, she turned down the gift to her husband.
“It’s got macadamia nuts on it,” I hollered with a smile.
Her eyes lit up and she suddenly found room in her arms for
one more thing. She thanked me and
rushed up the stairs. Next in line was
Denny who I shook hands with and congratulated.
As the last person boarded the jet, I suddenly remembered I
forgot to give Paul a copy of “The Inner Light”! I was able to give it to a man who assured me
Paul would get it.
As I watched Paul’s jet fade away into the night for the
final time, I felt a feeling of accomplishment.
So far I have met George and Paul – just two more to go!
Until I meet John and Ringo, I will remember November 6, 7,
and 8 1974 (when I saw and met George) and June 13 and 14, 1976 (meeting Paul)
as the very best days “in my life.”
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