The Adventures of Nancy in Maccaland (1984)

Nancy was standing right behind the cameraman in this photo. 

 

The Adventures of Nancy in Maccaland

By Nancy Hefka

With a Little Help From My Friends

April 1984

    We had initially intended our vacation to NYC on the 18th of October (1984) when I got a hysterical phone call from Diane Carroll. Paul was definitely coming to town and had been there, popping in and out. Okay, change of plans. We decided to go the 26th through 28th of October. Plane tickets bought and reservations made. Then another hysterical phone call. The premier's the 25th. He's driving me nuts! Okay, call the airport. Change departure date. 

    Detroit at 6 a.m. on the 25th of October was not the best place to be. Cold, foggy, and frosty. Seemed we'd never make it to the airport, and when we did, we were the only ones not in gray business suits. What would the day bring? After landing and getting to Diane's place via a taxi driver who remarkably resembled Idi Amin, we made our way over to the Carlyle Hotel. There, we all were: myself, Kristen, and Bruce from Detroit, Lizzie Bravo and Diane, Vinny, and Linda from NYC plus several others were hanging around waiting for the man. He'd better be worth it. 

    Finally, around 1:15 (over an hour late), he shows up. He looks thin, very pale, with grey peppered hair, but he had an electricity that affected everyone around him. The first person he saw out of the limo was Bruce, so he wished Bruce a good morning. Bruce looked at his watch and wished Paul a good afternoon. Paul gave him a funny look and pointed-- a clear gotcha. Then havoc began. Everyone started pushing and shoving, but Paul looked as if he would have stayed if it hadn't been for some jerk who started screaming and lunging, ruining a well-behaved crowd. 

    I was pushed into Paul. I hate crowds, and even though I was delighted at my proximity to the man, I was nervous with all the pushing and the guards trying to pull at him. I was losing balance and grabbed at the only thing offering support-Paul's shoulder. Then, to my horror, another realization came into effect: my camera, with the extra-long shoulder strap I borrowed, was hitting him on the butt!! Any second, I expected him to turn around and scream.

     More pushing, and I was beginning to lose it. In Paul's ear came my immortal words: "What is all this bullshit? How can you stand it?" The entire escapade may have lasted three minutes. Finally, the guards pulled him into the door, and Paul finally turned around and saw me. I expected him to give me the finger. What I got was a huge grin, a thumbs up, and much laughter. Thank God, he had understood. I was told later that the camera goosing was probably his biggest thrill for the day. 

    We moved on to the Hard Rock Cafe. We saw a very sick-looking Elton John, who was wearing a zebra-striped suit, hat, and matching glasses, but no Julian Lennon. We headed back to the Carlyle by bus, only to be informed that we had missed both Paul and Julian. Now what? Over to the A Club, where we heard the press party would be. We were first there and watched the crowd grow. Finally, after such notables as Lee Eastman, Martha Quinn, Nina Blackwood, Ian Hunter, Marian Faithfull, Jane Curtin, Susan St. James, Treat Williams, and many more came, Paul arrived (late as usual.) He got out of the limo, smiled a bigger smile than he had to, and winked at me. He posed for photos, both he and Linda looking very nice but strained, and vanished into the building. We ran down the street to grab a Coke. We ran back and waited. He was out again in a little over an hour. I was standing next to two cops who couldn't have been nicer. Paul came out, looked straight at me, waved, and gave me the famous Macca head nod and thumb up of his, and off in the limo he went. 

    We ran for the Gotham Theater just a few blocks away. It was packed, and the cops were on horses; they were only going out of their way to try and incite a riot, so they could hurt people. One girl got clubbed just for trying to cross the street. We took that scene in from the second-floor McDonald's. It was pandemonium.  Out stepped King Paul the First, bowing, throwing kisses, accepting flowers, and God did we laugh!

     Soon the people from the canceled Elton John show came over, and the crowd grew as we waited for him to come out. He was whisked away in his limo, and the cops whisked out their clubs, and we took off the other way. We walked down to the Plaza, reflecting on the day. We never did see Julian, but we saw Paul five times, and he recognized me both times at the A Club. I was thrilled to have been noticed positively. We ended the day taking a carriage ride to the Dakota and back. What a nice way to relax and let sanity return.