Wings at Close Range (Wings Australia 1975)

 

Ian Walker proudly displays his autographs 

Photo taken November 2, 1975, in Perth -- shortly after Ian met Wings

Wings at Close Range

By Ian Walker

Hamersley News

November 20, 1975

The following article was written by Ian Walker of Hammersley Iron's mail room in the Dampier Administration block, and describes an incident which pop music fans the world over would hope for only in their wildest dreams.

 He flew down to Perth to see Wings perform, and begins a story after the concert:

     Content to have having seen Paul McCartney and Wings at their concert from a distance of no more than 10 or 15 feet. I never expected to see more of them at such close quarters. When I went for a walk the next day, I had heard the rumors that they were renting the top floor of the Sheraton Hotel. As it was a nice, sunny Sunday, I decided to go for a walk that way from my hotel and see if there was any truth in the matter. 

    Maybe I'd get a peek at them opening the curtains or something. I stood on the corner opposite of the Sheraton for several minutes looking up at the top-floor windows.

    Well, after deciding that I wouldn't recognize any elephant from that distance, and feeling unnerved by the stress of passing motorists. I was about to head back to my hotel, but I noticed several roadies in Venus and Mars T shirts talking to the drivers of several large black cars outside the hotel. 

    "It couldn't be", I thought, but wandered across anyway to find several other young people there with autograph books. I found that they were waiting for Wings, so I waited with them for about 20 minutes. 

We were  looking into the Sheridan lounge through its large glass doors when two large Negroes dressed in mauve woolen suits with Wings badges on the lapels sat down on one of the plush sofas in the center of the lounge. They were two of Wings accompanying brass quartet.

     A group of four boys, about 12 or 13, split from the rest of us waiting outside and went in to get their autographs. The rest of us followed. They were drinking Bloody Marys and talking Jive talk —"Hey, man, playing with Paul is cool, like, far out." We hung on to every word, crouching behind the thick marble pillars and the huge lounge, all too afraid, except for the young boys, to strike up a conversation.

     I waited and listened as the Negroes talked about the tour while the other brass players joined them. The place began filling with the Wings entourage. Suddenly, I noticed someone I hadn't spotted before sitting on a sofa at the right angle to the Negroes. It was Denny Laine, ex-Moody Blues, now Paul's right-hand man. His face looked the same, but he was very small and had on a black velvet suit.

    Having come unprepared for a chance to meet the band, I wondered what my chances were of finding a pen and paper for autographs. With no news agents in sight, I walked over to the reception desk and borrowed a Brio and paper. Stealing my courage together, I quietly approached Denny Laine from behind the large, plush sofa and, crouching at his side, mumbled, "Excuse me, Denny." "Yeah?" "I've come over 1000 miles from the northwest to see the concert, and I wondered if you'd mind an autograph?"  "Oh yeah, sure," putting down his drink and taking the pen and paper. "I really liked the concert,"I said a bit nervously. "You did?"  he said, with humorous mock surprise. "What part of the North did you come from?" I told him, Dampier, and gave a brief outline of what the place is like. And we exchanged a bit of small talk. "Is Paul still here?" I asked. "Oh yeah, he won't be long. Just putting his pants on,, hang around, you'll catch him." "Thank you very much. Denny, his girlfriend, nodded and smiled. So I nodded and smiled back.

     Head guitar. Jimmy McCullough joined them, the youngest member of the group, and was surrounded by a group of girls winning autographs (whose names he seemed to have trouble remembering).

     Young Englishman, Paul Dainty, millionaire promoter, entered the scene, and as he walked by me, I asked for an autograph. He said he couldn't, as he didn't sign, but told me Paul would be down in a minute. "It's just that I came over 1000 miles to see the concert, and I thought it was great," I said. Paul Dainty was very interested in the fact that I had come from the northwest to see the show and asked me questions about where I sat at the concert. Was the lighting good, and was the sound coming over? "Well, tell him you've come over 1000 miles, and I'm sure Paul will give you an autograph," he said.

     Half an hour more passed with everyone but Paul and Linda assembled. Paul Dainty entered the lift and came out again every few minutes to say Paul McCartney wouldn't be long.

    Eventually, they did arrive. The group of waiting fans, no more than 15 in all, moved toward Paul as he, half bouncing, walked toward Paul. Dainty. A heavily built man, accompanied by friends and family, stepped forward. He slapped Paul on the shoulders with open arms and asked if he remembered him from Liverpool. He didn't. But they talked about Liverpool. The rest of us stood humbly around like a king's subjects for a chance to get a word or an autograph. 

    Linda, who looks much better off camera than on, joined Paul with Heather (McCartney's daughter). Paul looked around 10 years younger than 33, but didn't seem altogether happy that we found him. I managed to say, "Excuse me, Paul, I've come 1000 miles to catch the concert," between everyone else's efforts to get words with him, and handed him my pen and paper. "1000 miles?" he said, looking up from the paper. "That's a long way, almost as far as this fellow," pointing to the man from Liverpool.

     People started taking photos. "There you are,"he said, handing me the autograph. "Thanks very much," I said in my most grateful voice. I felt a bit of a twit in the company of a superstar, sort of pestering him for an autograph, and equally humbly, I asked Linda during the cross conversation if she minded signing. "Sure thing. No trouble," she said about autographing. She put on a little drawing underneath her signature.

     I stood back as Paul and Linda politely explained they had to go, and headed for the door with the small group keeping out of their way. Outside, the black cars were waiting. Denny, Jimmy, Joe, and the brass players got into them, but Paul and Linda kept walking. The group of us followed, and Paul hopped into a green Toyota Land Cruiser in front of the black cars. He tried several times to maneuver out of the drive. "Watch out for the curb!"a young lad shouted.  "Shut up, you're putting me off," joked Paul. Eventually, they were away to a press conference, though we didn't know that at the time, with press from all over the world, and the one at which Norman Gunson was present.