A London Adventure

Photo from July 29, 1969

Tonight I share a fan story from the fan club newsletter called "Luv 'n' Stuff," which in 1969 was the newsletter for the Paul McCartney fan club.   The story appeared in the November 1969 issue and was continued in the December 1969 issue, but I have combined them both to make the story. 

The last paragraph of the story says some not-nice things about George Harrison and how he was acting.  I have decided not to publish that last paragraph here.  If you want to read it, you can join "Meet The Beatles...For Real 2.0" on Pateron where I will have the full story posted.   

https://www.patreon.com/meetthebeatlesforreal

 A London Adventure

By Eileen Mullaly

Luv n Stuff

November 1969 & December 1969

 

Pat and I went to England on July 13^th and stayed for three weeks.  We’d been there in ’67 traveling by rail all over the country and had a great time, but saw neither hide nor hair of The Beatles.  We DID meet Brian Jones and Eric Burdon at Kennedy Airport on their way back to the Monterey Pop Festival.  They came back on the same plane, only first class.  This year we confined our rambles to Lancashire and London, braving British traffic in a rented mini.  (I got a parking ticket in London and kept it as a souvenir).

Our first encounter came on the morning of July 29^th as Pat and I were heading south from Oxford Street toward Apple Headquarters to take pictures.  Being the more fleetfooted sibling, I was well in advance of Pat as we passed a taxi waiting outside a photography shop.  Just as she passed the taxi Pat felt a breeze on her back, and the taxi door slammed.  She heard a familiar voice say, “That’s right, luv, same place.”  She turned in time to see the golden-brown shagging hair, the brilliant white attire, the sharp nose, and spectacle glasses that confirmed the famous Mr. Lennon (formerly of Surrey).  He saw Pat looking and retreated down into the seat sheepishly as the taxi whisked him to Apple.  I, barging ahead on my merry way to Apple, was unaware of all this until Pat, white-faced, hair standing on end, caught up with me and gasped, “Guess what?”  I could have croaked.  Funny thing, though, mainly on Lennonites.  Yet when she met the man eyeball to eyeball, she ducked in embarrassment and ran the other way.  Later that evening, Mal Evans heading southbound in a station wagon.  We figured we had a pretty full day and congratulated ourselves on a good trip, unaware of what was to come.

The next evening found us in St. John’s Wood in front of Paul’s gate.  In ’67 we had hunted the entire area until we were weary in hoof and spirit, but since we didn’t know the address, we never even found the street.  (The first Datebook we opened when we returned to the U.S.A. told the tale of a Beatle fan who had gained entrance into Paul’s lair on 7 Cavendish Ave!)  You can imagine the feeling.  This time, since a parking place in London is as rare as a sunlamp in the Sahara, we decided to leave the car in the suburbs right across from Paul’s front gate (knowing that was one address we’d remember).  This particular evening, we had come to check on the car and get pics of the famous gate, and we met a girl from Wales (her grandmother was lurking in the distance) who was trying to get Linda to open the gate.  (You ring the bell and peak into a hidden mike in the gate).  And accept some things she made for the expected new arrival.  She told us Linda wanted her to drop them in the letter box in the gate, but they were too large.  She said Linda had thanked her in person earlier for a pair of booties.  “She’s not in a good mood today,” the girl informed us gravely.  “She doesn’t like people hanging around the house.  She tells them to go to the studio.”  “What’s happening at the studio?” We asked.  “The boys are recording.  They arrive at about 2 in the afternoon and leave about 10.” 

Nightfall naturally found us lurking outside the Abbey Road Studio with about 50 other fans.  It was like a small United Nations – the German, French, English, and especially the American contingents were well represented.  We found out George and Ringo had left early, but our two favorites were still inside.  We mixed readily into the happy, noisy throng – there was laughing and singing and Beatlechat flying, photo albums spilled forth treasured shots.  Then, suddenly, about 10:30, there was a general gasp, a rush to the fence, and an awed hush fell over the crowd.  Paul McCartney stood facing us casually in the courtyard.  The respectful silence continued as he and Linda climbed into their little green mini and started out the gate.  Then we all lunged for the car and a last look at the celebrated couple.  One girl put her camera right up against the window, and just as Paul was turning to check the traffic, let it flash.  Though he must have been blind as a bat, he somehow managed to pull out into Abbey Road and cut a straight line toward home, but after that first night, Mal didn’t allow any more pictures after dark.  Good thing. 

About 10 minutes later, John and Yoko appeared, he in the usual white, she hanging at his side like a timid handbag.  The fans again kept a respectful silence as the famous couple climbed into a spacious chauffer driven Rolls, but it was promptly mobbed as it started out the gate.  John’s white sneakered feet were hanging over the front seat, and he waved little acknowledgments to his admirers.  Pat, though she doesn’t know the Viet Cong from King Kong, had the presence of mind to flash him a “V” for peace, and when John returned it she was thrilled (A British lad explained to us later that if the “V” is made with the back of the hand forward, it means something quite different – the equivalent of a one finger gesture in the States.  Pat can’t remember if she gave the sign palm-forward or if he did either).

That was the first of several such encounters, and since I can’t describe them all, I’ll try to summarize the overall impressions I got over the next 3 days during those long waits and frantic, scurrying, camera-snapping arrivals and departures of the lads.

(to read the last paragraph of this story, please join "Meet The Beatles...For Real 2.0")

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