The Greek Street Gang (part 3)

After he shoots the little boy.  March 15

Jimmy hamming it up for my movie camera.  March 16.  Photo by Silvia Purbs

Jo poses with Joe English

More of the continuing story of Barb, Jo, Silvia, Shelia and Cathy.   This time we get to find out why Barb titled the story, "The Greek Street Gang."  

 

On Tuesday we asked him if he’d had a nice anniversary and he thanked me for the card and flowers (We’d left them at his house on Sunday and didn’t disturb him on this one day off).  He was in a very relaxed and comfortable mood.  It seemed kind of funny to me that all of us fans were standing in front of him almost in a line and all taking pictures and he didn’t mind at all.  He and Linda just stood there and posed and talked and kidded around.  One of the girls had her baby son along dressed in a cowboy outfit and Paul said, “I like your suit, I’m going to get one like that!”  The little boy took out his toy gun and “shot” Paul.  Straight-faced Paul pointed his finger at him and shot him back saying “Too late.  I shot you first.”  Then he laughed.

We seemed to be waiting longer than usual for him to come on Wednesday, probably because it was freezing cold and even four layers of clothing and two pairs of socks and boots didn’t seem to help.  I was keeping my eyes peeled this time.  We used to joke about everyone coming down the street; little old ladies with grey hair, nuns, Indians in turbans, anything exotic.  “We know it’s you Paul, can’t fool us in that disguise.”  “Very effective, Paul, the grey beard and the cane are a nice touch.”  You become increasingly odd as the hours go by.

I had rented a movie camera for this day.  Paul had always been so friendly and stayed out for so long I thought we could easily use up a three min. film of his arrival.  I wanted to catch him coming down the block this time so I could film that too.  Then we spotted the by now familiar pink Mini and I was all ready for him this time.  But when the car got up to the gate just Linda was in it.  Dave Simpson, a London fan, asked her where Paul was.  “I’m not going to tell you, ha ha”, she laughed.  We thought that was a little uncalled for.  So I took film of her.  And then when Denny came I filmed him and got some interesting footage of him giving Jo a beautiful double-take.  When Jimmy came I filmed him trying to park his car and managing to scrape someone else’s car trying to park into the crowded lot.  He looked very embarrassed and sheepish and put his finger to his lips mimicking that none of us should say anything to anyone.  A few days earlier I had asked him if I could take his picture, adding that he looked so nice in his red jacket, and he had just said, “No” very abruptly.  So I thought, O.K. I’m not going to ask again, I just won’t have any pictures of him.

So here he was coming up to me all smiles.  I probably had a very leery look on my face.  (We always joke that fans are extreme masochists and expect to get treated like shit, and don’t really know how to handle friendliness.  There’s an element of truth in that joke.)

Jimmy really surprised me by patting me on the shoulder and saying, “You can take all the pictures you want,” And he proceeded to strike several cute poses, did a little dance and made motions at the movie camera.  I filmed it all but I had a hard time believing it all.  (I found out later that he’d had a run-in with the police about speeding that day he’d been so grouchy and his license had been taken away for a few days).

Back at the gate, still waiting for Paul to show up, I saw Trevor come out and I tried to look harmless.  I think ‘ole jolly Trev eats fans for snacks and I didn’t want to be his dessert.  He was motioning for someone to come up to him.  I looked around, please, lord, say it’s not me.  I was sure he didn’t want to talk to me.  He has as much affection for me as I have for him.  But there wasn’t anyone else behind me so I finally got the message and went up to him.  Everyone else held their breath for me.  (I thought for sure he wants to smash my movie camera).  Instead he asked me if I wanted Jimmy’s watchband.  He looked just as mean and nasty as ever.  I said, no, not really, but I’ll ask if any of the others want it.  Trevor growled and jabbed a finger and me, “He wants YOU to have it.”  Ok Ok.  I didn’t argue this was Trevor being friendly; I wasn’t going to push my luck.  Jimmy had broken his old watchband and decided to make a present of it to me probably to make up for that one moment of grouchiness.  Pretty nice guy.  I’d see that it got a good home.

When I went back to my friends they all wanted to know what Trevor was hollering at me about.  They’d heard the YOU part come across loud and clear.

Later the woman who works in the canteen there came out and told us, “If you’re waiting for Paul, he’s in there already.”  Oh, good we’ve waited for three hours in the cold and Linda couldn’t even tell us that simple fact and save us from ourselves.  We told the lady that, and she said it figures.  There was no love lost between her and Linda, she says that when Paul stops to talk to her Linda acts jealous and pulls him away every time.  (And this woman looks like someone’s friendly grandmom!)  We found out that Paul had been inside since noon.

I still had the movie camera with me on Thursday determined to try again.  That must have been a jinx because he didn’t come at all on this day.

Chuck it all in then.  We’d spend Friday taking care of other business matters.  One of our errands was to personally pick up tons of copies of all the books and magazines the club was selling through the Feb. newsletter.

We didn’t have to worry about being presentable, since there would be no one to present ourselves to.  We didn’t even mind when we got rained on.  One of our business deals was with Sue of the Wings Fun Club.  Fortunately for un- as the case may be her headquarters is in the McCartney Production office on Greek Street.  I’ve been there many times and Paul has never been around, so Jo and I felt safe in showing up in our wretchedly messy state.  Sue and I talked about the new “Club Sandwich” and how Paul planned the new layout and wanted to be the editor of it.  He picked out which drawings to use from the fans’ art section and Sue couldn’t figure out why he vetoed certain really brilliant painting of himself in favor of the rather crude drawings he actually selected (for those of you who receive the Fun Club’s newsletters you may also be wondering who Paul thinks is represented by the fan’s drawing of a horse’s ass with a head stuck on and a Wings sign on its back.  We have our theories!)

Anyway I paid her for 50 copies of “Linda’s Pix for ‘76” and said we’d pick them up before cloing time and she could bundle them up for us.

After a whole day of tramping around in the rain we returned at about quarter to six.  We were totally wrinkled and disheveled by this time, but this was just going to be a quick pick-up.  They’d tied the books together in 2 packages of 25 each.  Sue seemed in a hurry to have us leave with them.  So we struggled down the stairs and plopped them on the floor, gasping.  They were the most unkindly, things a ninety-pound weakling ever tried to pick up.  As we stood there dazed and wondering how we were going to get them even a step further we were suddenly joined by Jimmy McCulloch.  He wanted to know if he could help us with the books.  I said yes, and started to drag half of them outside to the sidewalk, expecting him to follow with the others.  He must have thought we were arriving and not departing, because he started up the stairs.  That left Jo and I standing there conspicuously in the doorway without a clue how we were going to get any farther.  We tried to haul the books to the nearest busy street so we could catch a cab back to our hotel, but we made it only as far as across the street.  We decided the only thing to do was go back up to the office and tell Sue they were too heavy for us to manage and pay her extra to mail them back to the States.  Just as we were going to go back upstairs Brian Brolly passed us and gave us a very suspicious glare as if we were just loitering in the McCartney Productions doorway expecting someone to show up.  We felt very stupid, we were just trying to take care of business in a mature adult manner and we still ended up lurking around like the typical fans we were every other day at EMI!  Can’t even manage to pass as a real person once a week.  To top it all off, because we get ourselves any further in one direction or the other who should come driving by the street looking for a parking place but Denny and Joe English in one car and Paul and Linda in their Mini!!

And we were in his doorway!  He’d think we’d been waiting there for him to show up, trailing him on his one day off.  Besides that we looked a mess, and besides that how would be explain the 50 copies of “Linda’s Pix.”  Jo didn’t want Denny to know she worked for a fan club of all things.  Only one sensible thing to do in a situation like that – hide!  The only place was the Mexican Restaurant next door, La Cucaracha.  We could watch everything behind the giant menu in the window.  We knew we were probably being ridiculous but there didn’t seem to be any other choice at the moment.  I called Silvia to help us carry the books somewhere and by the time she came the meeting must have been over because Denny and Joe were across the street in the pub.

Stowing our books with the kind restaurant people (who surely wrote us off as typical eccentric Americano gringos), we spent the rest of the evening in the pub too.  If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.  And finally did get all 50 of the books to our hotel by taxi.

Thinking about it later we realized we had had several clues of Paul’s impending arrival and should have taken advantage of them.  While we were still up in his office there’d been two phone calls.  The first was from Mike McGear and the second was from George Harrison.  His secretary didn’t seem to believe that it was THE George Harrison so we thought it was a prank too.  But they must have both called his house and found out he was due in his office and here they were tipping us off and we were too thick to catch on. 

The Greek Street Gang (part 2)

When we left last Barb, Sheila, Jo, Silvia, and Cathy they were a bit addicted to waiting outside of EMI studios waiting for Paul McCartney.  It was March 1977 and the Wings that included Paul and Linda along with Denny Laine, Joe English and Jimmy McCullough were recording their album, London Town.  But in 1977 the fans didn't know what was being recorded or that Joe and Jimmy would leave the band before the album would even be released the next year.   And I do not think they cared much about that.   They just wanted to see Paul coming into the studio and have brief conversations with him.   Here is the 2nd (of many) installment. 

Show off his present March 14th  Photo by Silvia Purbs

He drove up in the Mini again on Friday, leaning over to check out who was waiting at the gates.  Probably thought we’d call in more troops and there’d be two dozen waiting for him this time.  Secretly I think he’d probably enjoy that more than he lets on.  But there was just six of us there that day (It surprised me that more English fans didn’t show up.  Record Mirror had printed an interview with Joe English that week and mentioned that Wings were at the EMI recording studios, so despite the way Paul had acted that first day, I got the impression that Paul thinks the studio guards are telling fans what the schedule is and he wants to have it out with them if that’s true.  On the basis of that then, one of the guards should get a promotion – he told us one day that Paul and Linda went to the Sea Shell Islands for a month’s vacation.  A few minutes later Paul and Linda drove up same as ever.  Short month!

But on this Friday he was once again pleasant, patient, and accommodating.  He got out of the car to open the gate and let Linda slid over and park it in the lot, while he stayed to talk with us.  Jo and I each had a copy of “Linda’s Pictures”, one for ourselves and one for the club auction.  Paul held out his hands to take it from Jo and sign it, but she shook her head and said, “I want Linda to sign it.”  He was completely taken aback by that.  He must have thought she was a prime insanity case.  Jo, noticing his astonished look and open mouth explained, “Well, it’s her book.”  Paul nodded, still a little hurt I thought, “Yeah it’s her book,” as if to agree that they made perfect sense, but without putting much conviction into it.  (I think he felt a bit snubbed).

I had him sign the book I had and then a Wings handout card form the ’75 tour.  This last for me personally, telling him I had one form that tour, but someone stole it form my house.  “Some friends, “he said to me in a nice moment of responsiveness.

Silvia in her quiet voice asked him about the science fiction movie the press keeps saying they are going to make.  Paul only heard the part about the films, so he started telling us about the “Wings over America” film.  We all thought that idea had been canned since it didn’t come out with the live LP did.  But Paul said, no, he still was trying to get it ready, that he’d been very busy looking at all the footage and that it’s looking good so far and he hopes it will be out soon.

As he left he good-naturally teased us.  “Clear this lot out,” he said in a stage whisper to the guard in a parting jibe.  He also smiled and said goodbye, and he told us he’d probably be back next week.

Standing there patiently on Monday (March 14) reading license plates to pass the time, Jo and I both noticed Denny drive by in a blue Mercedes Benz.  He gave Jo the kind of meaningful look that you couldn’t misinterpret and then went around the corner to the pub.  She looked at me, “Should I go over there?”  She didn’t have to be told yes twice!

I waited for Paul with Silvia and Cathy.  I told them, this time be sure and let me know when you see him coming so I can get myself prepared for that eventuality.  I hate to be caught foolishly looking for him in all the wrong directions.  But it happened again –”Here he comes” they called out.  I couldn’t see the Rolls, the pink Mini or a man walking.  But everyone was milling into the studio parking lot.  “Where are you all going?”  I asked rather peevishly.  Someone nudged me; I was standing right next to Paul saying that.  He had just pulled up on his Honda motorcycle wearing a red helmet with a blue visor and looking very attractive in tight blue jeans and a short jean jacket.  He thought he was really clever this time!  (I told Silvia later, next time give me a break, be specific, say, “Look Barb, here he comes from the right (left) in his A) Rolls, B) Mini, C) Motorcycle D) on foot or E) None of the above.  Perhaps then I could see him arriving before I am standing there next to him idiotically saying, “Where where?”

He went to park the bike by the studio garages and I talked to Linda for a minute.  She had also come on his bike wearing a helmet.  I asked her something about how it was all going so far, and how long they’d be using the studio.  She said they’d keep coming “off and on for a few more weeks” and then by the end of the month perhaps they’d take off for “Someplace warmer in the sun.”  Joe English had already spilled that fact too in his R.M. interview.  Since Jo and I were staying in England until April 8^th we hoped they’d keep coming for the next three weeks.  Our insatiable addiction needed still more fixes.  We also had a job to do for the club.  And to get a good story and lots of pictures we needed more time.

When Paul came back up to us, his helmet visor pushed up and chin strap undone.  Cathy had a button to give him.  It was from a rally and march that had taken place on Sunday.  Cathy managed to blurt out, “Save the Seals!” as she thrust the button at him.  Paul studied the picture on it of a baby seal and said, “Anything that stops them from killing the animals.”  She told him about the demonstration and he said, “oh yeah the one with Spike Milligan, we heard all about it.” Then he said goodbye and told us kiddingly to watch his bike, “see that no one takes anything off it!”

While we were still buzzing excitedly about what a high it was to see him looking so cute on his motorcycle with his helmet on, we noticed he was coming out again.  Someone else who works there took him out into the lot to show him his own motorcycle parked there.  We kept our distance a little bit so he could have some peach and privacy to talk without being surrounded again.  But one of the more over-zealous guards (pain in the ass is probably a more appropriate adjective) tried to clear us out of the lot altogether.  Sheila told him, “Paul doesn’t mind if we’re here.”  Paul just looked over and didn’t commit himself one way or the other.  But he didn’t look unfriendly either.

The Greek Street Gang (part 1)

signing book for the Write thing contest.  Jo looks on laughing.  March 10th.  Photo by Silvia Purbs

Denny accepts roses from Jo March 10 at EMI.  Photo by Shelia Holder

Putting on the charm March 10th at EMI photos by Silvia Purbs

Somebody tells a bad joke.  photo by Silvia Purbs

Denny poses with Sheila March 9th

In March of 1977, a group of Paul McCartney fans went to London to wait around EMI studios while Paul was recording with Wings.   In true Beatle-fan tradition they hung around and greet Paul as he arrived for the day.   Cameras in hand, they snapped plenty of photos and shared the story and photos with the Write Thing Magazine in the May/June  1977 issue of the fanzine.   I have split the story up into two parts.   The first part covers March 8-10 and was written by Barb Fenick

On March 8^th we went back to work and made our way to St. John’s Wood once again.  It’s been eight years since I spent the summer of ’69 loitering daily on the sidewalk in front of #3 Abbey Road, EMI recording studios.  I can’t say the place hadn’t changed, because it certainly had.  The sidewalk that used to be so crammed with over a hundred expectant fans was bare and silent.  There used to be such an air of nervous excitement about the place, without the mob it didn’t seem half as consequential.  There wasn’t much left to keep the studios form fading into the obscurity of the neighborhood; even the “abbey Road” street signs were no longer there, they’d been stolen so many times by overly-eager fans that the city had finally quit replacing them.  But despite its low profile these days, Abbey Road still draws its fair share of pilgrims.  Almost every day some one appeared to gawk at the street and photograph for themselves the zebra crossing at the corner that the Beatles “immortalized” on the album cover.

But Jo and I had a larger purpose in mind and a bigger objective than just photographing the empty street.  With a little more patience than that we could confront face-to-face at least one-fourth of the famous foursome who had made such a mecca out of this street.

Silvia and Sheila met up with us there and casually mentioned that Jimmy and Denny were imbibing just around the corner in the nearest pub.  Jo had thought she’d seen Denny whiz past the studios in that direction, but wrote it off as a hallucination.  Seems they all check the place out to see if El Boss has arrived yet, if not the mice can play.  We got into the same habit, if Paul’s car wasn’t in the lot when we first went by then there was probably time to sit down, keep warm and relax.  And a little dutch courage couldn’t hurt at a time like this.

But this first time we came in and nearly bumped right into Jimmy and Denny who were standing by the entrance, engrossed in their own conversation.  Waiting patiently for a lull in this tête-à-tête, in order to ask them a few questions, I went up to the bar for a drink and when I turned around they were both gone already.

There was only one reason they’d leave mid-swallow like that and we guessed what it was.  Predictably, we’d only been back at EMI a few minutes when a silver Rolls Royce came bearing down on us.

Paul was driving and when he saw all of us waiting there so expectantly, he raised his eyebrows and grinned.  He got out to open the parking lot gates and Linda slid over to drive the car in, but Paul stayed to “greet” us.  Frist he looked over at Linda with an expression of “well they except it don’t they, and what else can I do?”  He wasn’t exactly ill at ease, but acting as if he felt he owed her an explanation for stopping to talk.  He kept throwing Linda these wide-eyed innocent looks but she stayed at the other end of the lot.

He looked at the five of us girls and pretending casualness asked, “How did you know we were going ot be here?”  Big silence, no one was going to answer him.  So finally trying to sound nonchalant I said, “Oh, the grapevine.”  “And which grapevine is this?” he pressed, a hard edge creeping into his voice.  Tired of the inquisition I tried to lighten the atmosphere, “What are you going to do if I tell you, beat someone up?”  (That was getting a little too close to old raw spots for comfort), but Paul took the cue and made an effort to joke back, “Oh, no, I wouldn’t do that!” in a real pseudo-innocent voice.

He was wearing jeans and a light spring jacket that could have passed for a Portobello Road flea-market special, his hair was brushed back off his forehead and he was pretty tan for an Englishman.  He would have looked really good if his cheeks hadn’t been so puffy, it added years to his looks.  We worried that he might be sick.  But I really didn’t notice details that much at this first meeting with him.  I haven’t yet become so blasé that I can see Paul McCartney after many months and coolly appraise his appearance.  I was so out of it I didn’t even remember to take a picture.  He stood there leaning against the gates calmly patience in dealing with “mutes” and other exotic breeds of fans has prepared him for these eventualities, but still he doesn’t offer information or start the conversation himself.  He waits to see what you’re going to say to him.  So finally we asked what they were recording, and he told us it was a new album for Wings, they’d be in and out of the studio for a few weeks, and there wouldn’t be any late night sessions.

Our brief encounter with his only had whet our appetite for more of the same.  The old junkie syndrome repeating itself.  Just as in ’69 when we became so hooked on seeing the Beatles at EMI and couldn’t bear to stay away and here again we knew we’d be back every chance we could as long as Paul was recording.

Wednesday the 9^th we were in our positions and waiting and scanning the street for the Rolls.  Suddenly, Silvia calls out, “Here he comes!” I didn’t see any car approaching form the directions of his house, so I looked up the street from the other direction.  Nothing there either.  By the time I turned back, Paul was already nearly at the gate.  He was alone, and he had caught us off-guard by walking the few blocks from his house to the studio. We were all excited about having him all to ourselves.  Eagerly we encircled him and he turned towards us ready to stop and talk.  And then Mr. Assistant-to-the-Head-Ogre, Trevor (Road Manager) Jones appeared from whatever depths he usually hides in and maliciously spirited Paul away.  Same old harassment techniques there.  I took one picture of Paul as he looked back at us rather wistfully I thought.  He hates to blow a good entrance ya know.  And a rare opportunity to have him to ourselves unhindered by Linda’s interruptions was fouled again.

Our usual little clique of five or six expanded on Thursday to a dozen or more.  Besides Sheila, Silvia, Jo and I, other regulars were there, Kathy Gethin, Valerie Prechner and Linda Butcher (one of our club members who was originally from Michigan).  This time I was keeping my eyes peeled for silver Rolls while simultaneously checking out every lone figure walking down the street.  At about 2:45 Silvia gives out her by now familiar announcement, “Here he comes!”  I didn’t see either his Rolls or any man walking that could even pass as Paul.  Turning in circles, I kept saying, “Where?  Where?”  But Silvia was already focusing her camera on the occupants of a little inconsequential pink Mini.  Tricky Man!  He was grinning.  Perhaps he thought we’d called in reinforcements! A ham to the end though, he seemed quite pleased and enjoyed the attention.  Val told him he looked good with his Jamaica tan and that brought on a smile.  He signed quite a few autographs including one for Joanna on “Facts about Pop Groups.”  He opened it up to the introduction that was supposed to be from him and pointed to his signature saying, “But you already have my autograph.”  “But that’s not the real one,” Jo told him, meaning a freshly signed personalized one is worth all the pre-printed ones in the world.  Mumbling, “that’s not the real one,” he signed his name and also wrote, “Which one is real?” and drew an arrow to the printed name.  Joanna is laughing in all the pictures, but she says she doesn’t know why, he wasn’t that amusing!  Linda wasn’t at all amusing.  I asked her if she remembered us form the U.S. tour and she replied, “How could I forget?”  Valerie congratulated her on th expected baby and said, “I bet you hope it’s a boy.”   “Everybody’s hoping that,” Linda said, “but I won’t mind if it’s a girl.  Everybody will probably feel sorry for us if it’s a girl though.”  She was patting her stomach as she said this.

Paul meanwhile was really getting off flirting with two pretty German girls who hadn’t been around before (Ahh, fresh blood!).  He was practicing his extensive German on them.  “Ya Wohl,” he kept saying.  They said something to him about Hamburg, and he replied in German that he was coming back to Hamburg someday.  Also vying for his attention was Linda Butcher’s little daughter Nicole who handed him a red rose.  Paul, ever a sucker for little kids accepted it gracefully and gave her all his best expressions (You notice such things when you’re trying to get some good pictures, and I took about a dozen).  It was one of the better days and everyone felt really up about it.  Paul and Linda said their goodbyes and started up the studio steps, arms wrapped around each other.  But that can sometimes be a health hazard as Paul proved by tripping on the stairs.  Without meaning to be malicious all of us watching, spontaneously started to laugh.  He looked so klutzy, his arm all entwined with Linda’s.  Paul got in the last word though, he raised his arm and made a fish and cheered for himself!