The First Time

This photograph SEEMS to fit with this story, but I am not certain that it was taken at that time. 

 This story is from the February / March 1972 issue of McCartney Ltd  (which happens to be the very first issues -- I have discovered that McCartney Ltd took over the Official Paul McCartney Fan Club once the Official Fan Club ended, but that is a totally different story).

The First Time

Remember the very first time you set eyes upon Mr. Paul McCartney?  It seems to be very common for people who happen to love the man to literally crack up that first time.  You always tell yourself "I'm going to do this and I'm going to say that..."   Well, when the time comes, you're so shocked you don't' know what you're doing.   Remember???

Well, Shar has convinced me into writing a story about the first time I saw Paul.  It was a typical cold, windy day in New York.   Ann and I were getting the first taste of "how to freeze for ten hours while waiting for a Beatles."   It was March 30, 1969, a Sunday, 18 days since "Black Wednesday."  Paul's usually luxury yellow limo (namely a cab) pulled up and the excitement across our cold little bodies suddenly became hot.  HE WAS COMING OUT!  Everyone nervously gasped every time the elevator door opened, expecting him to emerge.  He surprised us all and came from the door leading from a flight of stairs.  There was the usual screams and squeals, and as he came out, he said, "I love you all."  He was tan and beautiful.  All I could say was, "Oh my God...Paul...."   and followed like a puppy after his footsteps.  I didn't know what I was doing.  As he was going toward the taxi he turned and looked straight at me.  The only reason I know he did this is because I took a photo.  I don't remember it happening  

Someone had given him cards and books and hew as looking over them in the taxi.  We all scurried down the street and followed the taxi.  I got right at his window and studied that beautiful face -- his lips are always so cherry red, his face so perfectly shaped with that five o'clock shadow. I even noticed the little hairs in his nose, and those eyes and eyelashes.  His hand was one inch from me, resting on the ledge, and I wanted to put my hand through the window to reach out to his.  For some unknown reason, I started saying "I love you" to him.  He looked up at me and smiled with that sexy "look of love" expression.  Then the car pulled away and he left us.   So many times we wish we could relive those days when Paul would say his most prized possession was his fans:  and he meant it.