September 1977 - James is born!

 

Since today is James McCartney's 45th birthday (Happy Birthday to James!), I thought I'd share this story of some fans that met Paul at the time of James' birth and gave Paul some flowers to congratulate him on the birth of his first boy. 

Paul in London September 1977

By Sil Perrone

With a Little Help From My Friends

January 1978

 

We all went to England in September of 1977, hoping to be able to get in on being there first to see “the birth.”  Everyone in England wanted Paul and Linda to have another girl.  I guess it’s self-explanatory.  We kept checking out the house and ran into Paul and the family often.  Heather dressed as a punk all the time, tried to ignore us but approached us one day to tell us to leave.  She seemed to try to impress us with her new fad, but we just moseyed off.  Paul had agreed to come out one afternoon, and we waited at “THE GATES.”  He paused briefly for pictures with arms around pregnant Linda.  Then he tried to get her purple Mini started.  Linda stood holding the gates open as we chatted.  She wanted to know where we were from and if we had visited England since our stay.  We said we wanted to go to Paris.  Linda was really concerned and said we must go, so we asked for the cheapest way possible.  She told us all about going on the Hovercraft or flyover.  As we chatted, I kept looking at Paul, and he was having a terrible time starting that car.  Finally, he backed out, and again he posed for photos while sitting in the car.  He charmed us up by asking where we lived and then proceeded to introduce us to a fellow in the back seat.  I hadn’t noticed him before.   Paul said, “I wanted to introduce you to Malcolm Brown.”  We all said hello and asked who he was.  Paul’s reply – “Who’s Malcolm Brown??  Everyone knows Malcolm Brown!”  (Does anyone know who Malcolm Brown is?  We never could figure it out.  I think Paul was just teasing).  Then they took off.

We came around a little more after that but didn’t want to bother him too much.  But one night in particular, we came around at about 12 midnight, and all his lights were on.  It was very strange to see his house like that – his lights are never on at night.  I mean, it was lit up like a Christmas tree.  We had a funny feeling that the baby came.  So the next morning, we met two English boys from Manchester who came with a guitar.  We asked the obvious question, and we all became well acquainted.  They wanted to audition for Paul since Jimmy had left and Paul needed a guitarist.  David White was one of them, and he was very nice.

 

All of a sudden, the gates swung open, and we shut up quickly.  Two men came out who seemed to be repairing something in the house.   Out of the blue, they asked if we knew about the baby.  Shocked, we asked where it was born, what it was, and what they’d name it.  All in a row, he said, “Last night, it was a boy, and his name was….”  The man couldn’t think of it.  He kept trying to remember.  It was like playing charades.  Finally, he blurted out, “James Louie!”  Not Louis, but Louie.  They pronounce Louis as Louie in England, like the French.  We couldn’t help but laugh because Louie sounded so funny to us.  Especially after the name James.  It just didn’t seem to fit.

 

The man left, and the next thing we thought of was, “Where?!” We all ran in a panic to call friends and hospitals.  No luck.  We didn’t have any idea where they could have been.  We called where Mary and Stella had been born, and they didn’t seem to have them there.  So, we walked back to the house, very depressed.  At the gate, a telegram boy came, and we wondered if maybe John or someone hot like that had sent a telegram of congratulations.  The kid said no, it wasn’t from Lennon, and out of the blue told us where Paul and Linda were.  Everything seemed to have laid right in our lap that day.  They were around the corner at the Avenue Clinic.  He even gave us directions.  So off we went out to see Paul’s first son.  We waited at a very small house like a hospital.  After about an hour we decided to go get flowers.  Dagmar (our German friend) went all over High Street looking for flowers while we worried that he wouldn’t be back in time and would miss Paul.  Finally, he came bouncing out, and we again took pictures.  Dagmar was back in time.

 

He was very nice, and we congratulated him, giving him the flowers.  He was grateful, and I asked him what they named the baby.   I know I knew already, but I wanted to hear it from Paul.  He seemed sort of shy or embarrassed and said, “James…. James Louie.”  We, of course, didn’t laugh this time but just repeated, “Oh, James Louie.”  Then I asked how Linda was.  He was glad to hear someone was actually concerned enough to ask.  He smiled at me and said, “She’s fine.”  He asked us how old we were at one point, and we said, “How old do you think we are?”  (We’re all about 25).  He kiddingly (I hope) said 15.  Then one of my friends blurted out, “What are ya, crazy?!”  It was funny to hear someone say a remark like that to Paul McCartney, but I’m sure he wasn’t offended.  He gradually worked his way to the purple Mini parked neatly in the parking lot.  He was holding our flowers and fumbling for his keys as we clicked away and talked.
 There were two photographers from the “Daily Mirror” there too, but they didn’t say much.  Paul then did the cutest thing.  As he got in his car, he didn’t seem to be as happy as I had expected him to be, but as soon as he pulled out of the driveway, he honked his horn and stuck his thumbs up through his sunroof as if to let all his excrement out at once.  We all cheered!   We never did get to see James Louis, but seeing Paul was a delight.