Barb at Cavendish revisited

One of the first "fan stories" posted on Meet the Beatles for Real was one of my top 5 favorites.  It was when Barb Fenick and her friends Becki and Wayne were invited into Paul's London home in 1973.    I put up a story from Beatlefan that Barb wrote way back in 2009.    There is a lot of stuff on silly blog now and you might have missed it.    Besides, I found a much more detailed account of Barb's time (again written by Barb) inside #7 Cavendish Avenue in the February 1974 issue of a Fanzine called "The Mess." 

Original Version #2

From “The Mess” February 1974

By Barb Fenick

When I left London on August 12, 1969, I confidently expected to return in a year.  Hard as it was to leave at that time, with Paul still going to EMI every day, it would have been unbearable if I wouldn’t have already been planning to see him again in 1970.    Instead it was August 29, 1973 when I saw him next.  Only fateful circumstances, plus Becki’s intervention, and very rare luck made it possible.  It certainly was not preplanned on my part.

Besides my well-known obsession with Paul, I am also stricken with the Wanderlust.  I must travel or go insane.  I chose the former (no comments now) and therefore went to Europe in 1971 and 1972.  Seeing Paul was always in the back of my mind, but watching him unlock his gate rom a half a block away was as close as I came.  By then I’d been to London three times, and my main purpose in going to Europe in 1973 was to see those parts of southern Germany and Austria that have always fascinated my imagination.  It looked as if London would not be on my route this time.  Five weeks later in Vienna, Becki wrote to me from London that Paul and family would probably be home by the end of the month and that I should really think about coming.  There was a student charter leaving in two days and I decided to take it.  I wasn’t able to reach Becki and Wayne from Austria, so my arrival was a surprise to them.  Circumstances were working for them too; my sudden appearance kept them from leaving London on the 29^th as they’d planned.

That afternoon (August 28^th), the three of us discussed going to Paul’s house and actually ringing the bell (as opposed to merely loitering on his sidewalk).  The hard part was in thinking of some intelligent opening.  “Hi, we’re your fans, let us in,” just wouldn’t wash.  The right words always flee just when you need them.  Then I remembered how in ’69 at Rich’s house, Richie and I had begun our conversation with him by wishing Mo a happy birthday, and we’d brought a card, so that led right into other things.  Speaking of birthdays reminded Becki that this was Mary McCartney’s birthday (Paul’s little one was 4!).  Becki even had presents she’d brought from America for the kids and we collected some of the things and set off, not knowing what to expect.  We didn’t even know if they were back in London yet. 

 It was at least 8pm, when we rounded the corner onto Cavendish Avenue.  We told ourselves that if his light was on then we’d assume he was home; while in the pit of my stomach, I wished that we wouldn’t see the light, and be spared the confrontation.  But by the most incredible luck it was to turn out that the McCartney’s would be at their London home only 2 days in all of three months!  And we showed up on exactly those two days!

Half way down his block we could see that the lights were shining in #7.  Alone, I never, never would have had the guts to ring his bell, but Wayne was with us, and he was unanimously chosen to have the honour of disturbing the peaceful serenity of the McC household. He ran the bell; 2 or 3 long seconds past and then a woman’s voice came over the intercom.  It was Linda’ Wayne told her we’d come to celebrate Mary’s birthday.  She laughed over that, “Mary’s birthday, huh?” but even thought she could guess at our real motives, she seemed amused enough by our explanation to pleasantly accept it.  Wayne added that we had birthday presents and things to give her, and she said, Mary’s asleep, but she’d come to the gate.  In a minute she was holding the gate open and smiling, and looking as happy and friendly as I’ve ever seen her. 

Heather stood beside her in a nightgown.  Linda was in a cheerful mood, and said conversationally, “We’ve just been stuffing ourselves with birthday cake.”  She remembered (with a few hints) meeting Becki and her Mom back in 1969, when she had coveted Becki’s scrapbook and autographed it (Becki had since painstakingly enlivened it with her own art work and was now making it a gift to them).  She didn’t remember me from 1969, saying how hard it was to remember all the fans they’ve met.  Heather chimed in, “We remember the BAD ones,” and her mom added, “And the good ones.”  She also told us that they had just come back from Liverpool the night before, and that they were really tired, but that they had to leave again on Thursday for Lagos, Nigeria to record.  Wayne asked if there was any chance that we could talk to Paul.  About this point, she mentioned that she would have to get back in or the kids would get out of bed and a minute or two later little Mary and baby Stella (2 years) were running around the yard behind their mom, giggling and squealing.  I wonder what Paul was doing during this time, with his whole family out by the gate.

Fortunately for us, Linda didn’t just brush us off with a curt thanks for the presents, good-bye, don’t come back; instead she suggested that we come back the next day and maybe we’d get to talk to Paul.  She played it down a bit, by adding that it might only be a quick hello-goodbye type thing, but we could come back.  With the kids finally clambering around her legs we made our goodbyes, with our thoughts already turned towards the morrow.

Linda is not the type who tells everyone to come back, believe me! She has met enough Beatle fans to know that it would have taken an earthquake, a flood and a holocaust combined to keep as away after almost assuring us that we would see Paul.

We talked over our good fortune and our plans for the next day at an 11pm dinner near Piccadilly.  We were so confident about the next day, our optimism was sky high and we literally skipped down the streets that night.

August 29^th was certainly the most hectic day of our lives, what with changing hotels, buying presents for the kids, wrapping them, then stopping again to buy flowers and a bottle of wine.  We were carrying about as much as humanly possible so we had to refrain from bringing a cake, a three-course dinner, or the Taj Mahal!  It was 4 o’clock before we made it to Cavendish again. 

Three girls were waiting directly across the street.  So we put on a brave front and looked only straight ahead.  Don’t hesitate; just push the bell as if we were expected.  The little pin that busted our bubble was that no one answered.  What should we do?  We didn’t want to be found just standing, loitering in their driveway upon their return.  We decided to come back later, until a young neighbor girl came up to us with Paul’s golden retriever in tow and informed us that they had all gone to get their vaccination shots, but would be home any minute.  No sooner said, than we looked up and there was that bright red Lamborghini sports car of his racing down the quiet street, and us in his driveway yet!

The whole family was in the car, the three girls wiggling in the back seat.  Paul bounced out of the car with a cheery hello, looking handsome, fair, and clean shaven.  It was such a shock, I can’t even remember what he said as he unlocked the front gate and let Linda drive the car inside.  Before he could say goodbye and close the gate, Wayne made some fast introductions, and told him how we’d been there the night before and had some things to give them.

He looked at me with those big penetrating eyes of his and asked me if I was Becki, and I just dumbly shook my head and pointed to Becki, so I’m sure he was wondering, “then who the hell are you?”  When he motioned us to come inside, I thought I might be left on the sidewalk, but the three of us slipped in as he closed the gate on the three girls (German) who were now calling his name.  What a weird feeling to be on the inside.

We grouped around their car, very near to the front steps.  The two little ones were chasing each other around, and Paul was waiting to see what we had to show them what was so important.  Wayne called Heather and Mary over to the other side of the car and privately showed them the painting Becki had worked late in to the night to finish.  They giggled and oohed and awed, and said, “It’s mommy and daddy!”  Paul was muttering under his breath, (but I was standing right next to him) “really playing it up” and then gave into the inevitable and invited us into the house, for the official unveiling of the painting, saying “this better be good!”  Becki mentioned that I’d brought wine and Linda seemed enthused and just as friendly as she’d been the night before.

All my sense were foggy and fuddled by now, here we were walking up their front steps into their home with Paul and Linda leading the way, trying to make polite conversation with us, and who knew what was going to happen next?

Down the red-carpeted hallway into the dining room, where Wayne put up the painting against a vase on a table.  Paul and Linda stood back and admired it and commented that it was a good likeness.  Then he turned to Wayne and asked him how long he’d been married and added, “Still love her?”  We seemed to drift into the kitchen to put down all our packages and distributed them to the kids.  It was such a small kitchen and we were all in there so close together.  With tiny blond Stella plopped in the middle of the floor unsuccessfully trying to unwrap her package, and Mary sitting on top of the side counter excited and busy with hers.  Paul and Heather were by the refrigerator talking quietly and then he came over next to Mary, and less than a yard away from me.  As we watched the kids unwrap, I made small talk about the books I’d bought for them to read on the plane, one was a pop-up book of African animals, and they thought that was appropriate.  I demonstrated how the animals unfolded with Paul looking over my shoulder and both exclaiming over it.  Paul and Linda were smiling at us all the time, trying to put us at ease.  Heather was happy that she hadn’t been forgotten, and I helped put the necklace with her initial on her, then I bent down to help Stella get her package unwrapped.  Mary had unwrapped the coveralls that Becki had bought for Stella, but Linda held them up to Mary and said, “They’ll fit Mary now, and Stella in two years.”  Paul, leaning against the counter, asked Wayne where they were from and chatted with us very comfortably.  He turned towards me and asked, “and who are you?”  I was numb and dumbstruck, but I blurted out, “I’m their neighbor!”  as if that had anything to do with the tea in China.  Oh, for the chance to say something more meaningful!  I can only guess that I was trying to communicate in a roundabout way that I was not just some stranger Becki and Wayne had never seen before.  It’s easy now to think of intelligent replies, but at the time it was difficult just to retain reason enough to remain standing on two feet.

Heather wanted to leave, and she wanted us to leave too, but we weren’t leaving til Paul and Linda said we had to.  We followed them back into the dining room, with Linda saying how tired they were from the vaccination shots.  Then Wayne spoke up and asked if we could take some pictures before we went.  “Pictures?”  Paul questioned nervously (did he think we wanted the ones on the walls?).  Photographs of us together we explained.  Paul mumbled, “No rest for the wicked,” but led us thru the back of the house out onto the back steps.  Six big dogs jumped all over us until Paul appeared and then they all disappeared, I know not where.  Paul was still muttering, and Wayne said, yes he realized that it can be a hassle, but we really didn’t want to be a nuisance to them.  Paul said, yes you do.  Wayne said again, no really, we don’t want to seem a bother to them.  Becki looked up at him and very freely told him, “It means a lot to us.”  That seemed to change his perspective and he immediately softened, “yeah, it means a lot to you,” he said very sweetly.  He relaxed and started telling us about some group he used to wait around backstage to meet when he was a teenager in Liverpool and he reminded Linda of some similar experiences of hers.  It was as if he had put himself in our position and remembered being a fan himself once and now he wanted to make up for any peevishness on his part.  As Wayne adjusted his camera, Paul began to joke with Becki.  He asked her if Wayne was a good husband.  I said, “Just so he’s a good photographer!”  Paul laughed, “yeah, who cares if he’s a good husband right now…”

Linda had him by the arm, with Stella on her hip, with Becki next to him and me next to her.  For the third picture Paul moved down a step and put his arm around Becki’s shoulder.  He has a silly, fool-on-the –hill type expression on his face.  Then I moved down to take some pictures, nervously trying to adjust all the settings on the camera.  It was such a dark overcast day, I was afraid none of them would turn out.  I told Paul that, and he said, they’d better, or you’ll be kicked out of the neighborhood!  Luckily I got three very nice slides of them, worth a thousand words each.  The first one was blurry, with Paul and Becki laughing so hard they moved.  When we first got the pictures back from the shop, and were able to hold reality in our hands, we saw for the first time what they were really wearing that day.

After the photo session we went back thru the house, noticing little things (framed photos of Heather and Mary on the wall, children’s crayon drawings and newspaper clippings of Paul also on the wall, a fireplace with greeting cards on top of it), impressions just flitting across our consciousness.

In their front hallway we stood saying our goodbyes, the hardest part of all.  I thanks Linda for being so nice and having us in, and then Becki emotionally hugged her.  Paul was standing by the door, waiting, and I could only shake his hand.  Shaking hands is so neutral, and I really wanted to show more feeling than that, but again I was paralyzed into inactions, and the brief moment was lost.  He had such a Mona Lisa smile on his face that seemed to say, I know what you really want to do.  I’ll bet he did!  Becki had to follow my example and shake Paul’s outstretched hand as well.  We both wanted to hug him or kiss him, but you have to be able to grasp opportunity in the split second it is offered, but we hesitated and then Linda was holding his arm again and it was too late.

They followed us out the door, and thanked us again for all the gifts, and then waved to us from the steps as we let ourselves out the gate.  Once outside we didn’t know whether to cry or jump for joy.  It was a strange happy-sad feeling.

The parts of that day that I have been able to put into words are as real as the memories themselves, but they are of a different substance and the photographs lend a tangible reality to what otherwise could fade into a dream.

Wings Over America

Here is another story from The Write Thing.   It is written again by Barb Fenick and tells the exciting story of her, George Tebbins and two other girls during Wings 1976 "Over America" tour.   This first part was really neat because it is about how they got into and were able to watch (for over 3 hours) Wings rehearsals for the tour.  This story is from the July/August 1976 issue of the fanzine.   Included in a photo I scanned from a book of Paul's daughters during the rehearsal.   

 

When we got to Dallas/Ft. Worth, after driving almost non-stop for over 20 hours, it was already Thursday. April 29^th.  On the British tour last fall I had learned that Showco, which is based in Dallas would be making all the stage and sound equipment up especially for this tour, and the band would thus logically want to rehearse where all this would be the handiest.  So we made Showco’s main office our very first stop.  After the front desk receptionist feigned complete ignorance of anyone’s whereabouts, we realized slightly sneakier tactics were required.  Going around to the side of the building, George Tebbens, our intrepid driver and cohort, asked one of the workers there where we might find Trevor Jones (Wings tour manager).  In Forth Worth “at the hall” was the answer.  So we thought we had it cinched then and drove anxiously the 30-odd miles between these twin cities and headed straight for the Tarrant County Convention Center where Wings would be appearing in just a couple days.  Once there though Joanna Rakowski (of Long Island fame!) and I had second thoughts about actually coming face to face with Paul McCartney at that very moment.  Having just driven all day and al night we looked like two terminal jaundice cases – slightly green, not to mention sweaty, dirty, wrinkled, etc.  But try to tell a guy you can’t go see Paul at this moment because you haven’t any makeup on and see if they care.  So we just “hid” behind our sunglasses.  But all our worries were for nothing, the place was teeming with teenage girls, but they all turned out to be “Future homemakers of America” (one good look at them and I knew damn well they were too clean, straight and homogenized to be Beatle fans!  No offense intended but we fans do seem to have that wild look in our eyes that gives us away, you know.)

Couldn’t find a trace of anyone even remotely resembling a member of the Wings crew, so we tried phoning hotels in Ft. Worth, using up over five dollars worth of change with absolutely no luck in locating them.  So we called it a night, finally, and prepared to start afresh in the morning.

Back to point A, Showco in Dallas and this time George asks where is Trevor staying and is given the name of the hotel.  It’s the Le Baron, Dallas’s “finest hotel”, and it’s just a few blocks away.  Wings t-shirted roadies are hanging out in the lobby and the first really familiar face we see is Alan Crowder’s.  Remember the reception Mr. Warmth gave us all through the British tour, I wanted to run the other way when I saw him.  But he is Paul’s assistant manager so he cannot be avoided for long.  Biggest shock tho was he came up with us with a smile and an outstretched hand even.  He welcomed us and said, “Come over and see Jimmy” and was about to pull us over to where Jimmy was sitted but was interrupted.

I spotted Thaddeus Richard across the room and went over to say hello.  Unlike some of the others who have been carried away on a superstar trip, Thad always remained natural and approachable.  He seemed happy to see a familiar face. He told us the band would be rehearsing at 2 in Ft. Worth at “Will Rogers’ Hall” (Crowder had told us he didn’t remember the name of the hall they were using ---cough).

Before we did anything else we went up to the front desk and made a room reservation.  Our next priority was to hit Neiman-Marcus in downtown Dallas to buy Paul and Linda the present we had in mind for them.  We had a nice bar set gift wrapped there and then bought some yellow daisies and red roses from a corner vendor.  By then it was already almost 2 and we still had the 30 miles between cities to drive, plus had to locate this “Will Rogers” place.

The truth is that when we’d started out in the morning we really hadn’t verbalized what might happen to us that day.  At first we were absorbed with the immediate problem of finding the hotel they were staying in.  I thought we might spend the entire day just driving from one place to another, and when we did find them we had so little time left to get our errands accomplished and get out to the rehearsal hall that there just wasn’t time for organizing our thoughts or being adequately prepared for the eventuality ahead.

But there we wer eat Will Rogers and knew by the guard at the stage door and the two fans chatting him up that we were in the right place.  We tried a different door off to the side to see if it might lead right inside, but that was locked at the end of the hall and as we came back and passed a window we saw none other than Mr. Mac C and family trotting right in that stage door.  My intentions had been to give him the present and the flowers at the door when he arrived, but that was out.  But to our advantage the two fans left, so we composed ourselves and made a straight line for that door.  With all of us looking straight ahead and George in his Wings shirt, the guard just naturally assumed we were with the tour and opened the door for us, smiling and nodding “good afternoon.” And that door opened up right onto the stage, but still allowed us some shadows to observe without being observed for at least a minute.  The very first sight I had was of Paul dancing in center stage, he seemed joyous and uninhibited; the place was dark and only he was lit up.  He kept shouting, “All you rocking hep cats!” over and over!  Then other people came into focus and Linda was coming toward us smiling as we held out flowers and the present (peace offerings?)  and I saw Paul look up and notice us just as Trevor came striding purposely towards us keenly intent on tossing us out but fast.  Paul, looking us all in the eye, put out an arm to stop Trevor and said, “It’s alright, I know them.”  And he made some comment about George being superfan, and being everywhere.

Linda was by our side, accepting the present and flowers graciously, all excited that she had been included, “for me too?” she asked.  We all moved closer to Paul, still in the center of the stage.  George reminded Paul about how he’d followed the British tour, and Paul nodded and shook his hand.  Then George said, “Remember Barb, she was there too.”  And Paul looked over at me and said, “Yeah, I remember you too,” in his breezy, lilting manner and put out his hand for me to shake too.  Then I said, “You remember Joanna.” “No,” he said, “I don’t think I’ve met her.”  So I reminded him about her visit on Christmas day out on Long Island.   And he smiled, “Oh yeah, the Long Islander!”  He shook her hand too.  What a cutie!

George showed him the present he had for him, a bird whose eye lit up which he could wear as a pin.  He had one for Linda too, and when she put it on the kids asked her why it was lighting up, and she replied, “I’m electric!”

I had brought along some enlargements to give them and took them out to show Linda.  On top were the ones of Paul with Joanna and her sister form last December.  “Oh yeah,” said Linda, “you got him up from his Christmas dinner, my poor husband, that was pretty nice of him, huh?” She looked up and was smiling.  The next picture was an 8x10 of Paul in concert from the British tour.  It was a very dramatic pose and she seemed quite impressed with it, asked me who took it and when I said George she replied, “He’s better than Bob Ellis.”  That was partly to take the mickey out of Ellis who was lurking behind her, coyly trying to see the photos.  Ellis tried to keep it light and joked, “Well I guess I’m out of a job.”  Her remark had  definitely not endeared him to us.

Linda’s exclaiming over that picture attracted Paul’s attention back again too.  Slightly strange sensation to watch him examining his own picture.  The next one was of both him and Linda and Lyndsey and I in the lobby of the Glasgow hotel, and when Paul saw that one he looked up at me wide-eyed and serious said, “Oh, you cut your hair.” Like the recognition that was vague before was crystal clear now and he could finally place me and that made him feel more comfortable.  That slightly unnerved me, his intent look, so I turned to Linda and said something daft about how I’d just wanted a trim, but they took too much off.  Paul was still looking at me and he nodded when Linda said, “You can’t trust hairdressers.”  (I thought to myself, this is extremely weird this is Paul McCartney and I’m talking about hairdressers?!? What happens to all those vital things I’m dying to say to him?  I suppose for him it beats getting asked one more time about the Beatles reunion).  Paul had taken the whole pile of pictures along, “I said, “This is your famous looking up in the sky pose.”  He looked up surprised, with a touch of something else in his face, wariness or admiration it was hard to say, but he said, “Yeah, that’s my special pose.”  I guess he just didn’t expect  me to be on to the fact that he does that kind of pose for fans often, but then he doesn’t know about the grapevine we fans have going!

He gave back all the photos to Linda and I told her she could keep them which she seemed to appreciate.  Then Paul asked George where he got his Wings shirt (it was a “Speed of Sound” shirt, yellow with the guy climbing the ladder on the back) and George said from Capitol, and Paul asked him to turn around and model it and told him that they didn’t even have any of those yet.

Since Paul was otherwise occupied and Linda had moved off, I went over to talk to Steve Howard.  He said, “you cut your hair!” I’d been sending him the newsletters so we talked about that and also their European tour, and then I asked if we could stay and watch their rehearsal.  He said sure, take a seat.  I looked around the stage and everyone seemed preoccupied with their own tasks to complete, no one seemed ruffled or anxious about our presence so we moved down to the seats and quietly chose seats in the 3^rd row on the left.

At first we were so conscious about somebody minding us there that we kept as still as the proverbial church mice.  But nobody paid us any mind so we relaxed and by the time they had all tuned up, turned down the lights and launched into “Venus & Mars” we were leaning forward in our seats totally amazed to be the sole witnesses to this last informal pre-tour rehearsal and trying desperately to drink in every sight and sound. It wasn’t anything like being at the actual concert because without that crowd excitement and tension building up to a busting point something very potent seems missing.  Without the screaming, cheering, bustling, applauding and picture-snapping crowd, seeing them do the show was an entirely different experience.  Of course the band too was a lot more laid back and low key without that very same audience feedback to get high from.  We felt rather odd seeing him do the show without giving him back anything, but three people clapping in n otherwise empty hall would have seemed like an intrusion on their privacy, so we contented ourselves with just smiling a lot at him and each other.  Joanna had never seen him perform live yet, so when he bobbed up to the piano and burst out with a very deep and lusty “Maybe I’m Amazed” she gave in to tears and let out some of the pen-up emotions we all had to conceal.

He changed a few words in that song and one line came out, “baby help me to give it to you.”  Linda looked around form her organ and smiled at him conspiratorially.  Then still on an up-swing he launched into a spirited  version of “Mean woman blues” putting himself in an Elvis mood.  This was really a surprise because up to this point every song had been straight from the British tours and suddenly there he was breaking up the routine.  Then he did a slow song which was unfamiliar to me, but was so pure and sensitive that I was holding my breath throughout it.  At first I thought it was an original composition of his that he was trying out, but later I realized it had to be some old classic that was a favorite of his.  When it hit me that I’d never hear him do that again I really began to regret not having a tape recorder secrected away in my purse preserving all this.

Eventually there was a break and everyone went scurrying around in different directions.  We moved up to the front row center. I don’t remember what everyone else was doing because my eyes were glued to Paul.  And he was putting on quite a show whether he knew it or not, and I suspect he did the flirt.  Thad was at the piano and Paul was leaning over it to talk to him with his back to us and in his tight blue jeans he swayed back and forth.  Quite effective, ah yes…bad for the heart, but quite effective.  He also had on a loose fitting red print silk shirt and black slippers with ducks on them.  Linda was also wearing jeans and painted t-shirt and Heather, who’s grown into your all-American teenager, was also wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. 

Stella and Mary were running back and forth trying for everyone’s attention and getting it too.  They received countless glasses of Coke, lots of hugs from Robert Ellis and even some chewing gum from Joe English.  Joe asked Paul if it was alright to give them the gum, and Paul replied, “Just one or you’ll get me in trouble!”  And when the horn section was practicing and the kids were climbing up their legs, Paul remarked, “the horn section has its first fans.”  Stella even crawled inside Joe big drum and had a bit of a tantrum about coming out of there until Paul put his foot down.  Then they amused themselves by coloring on paper plates, which they brought over to Paul repeatedly for his approval.  They’d wait five minutes holding up one of their masterpieces til they’d get a nod from him and move off satisfied.

When they started up again the moved into the acoustic set and did all of those number, but when they got to “Yesterday” and Paul messed up some of the verses the whole thing broke up.  Paul didn’t say anything about it at all, but just started singing old rock n roll songs almost to himself at first.  Then everyone joined in and it became a jam session, Paul still sitting with his acoustic guitar, Denny standing next to him on rhythm, Jimmy playing the drums, Linda at the organ and Thad on piano, and the other horn players drifting on and off the stage.  I took a couple pictures of all this and it shows how Paul’s in the center of it all, comfortable in his chair with legs crossed while Ellis photographs him and Humphrey Ocean sketches, and Heather watches it all. (I’d print them but they wouldn’t reproduce in black and white very well).

They did oldies but goodies for about an hour and a half, some Elvis songs and a lot of Buddy Holly.  The titles I specifically remember were, “Maybe Baby” and “that’ll be the day” by Buddy Holly, and “Slow down,”  “Crush on you,”  ‘Summertime blues,” “Train coming down the line” and “Get a Job.”  They were not the most spirited versions I’ve ever heard, they certainly weren’t doing them to get people rockin’, but to work through their own pre-tour jitters it seemed to me.  Paul seemed almost withdrawn at times, burying himself in his own music.  It seemed pretty obvious that he was filled with a lot of nerves and fears about this big production he was facing.  And he was anything but relaxed, loose or natural.  He hardly said anything at all to anybody.  Once he hugged Stella and kissed her on the lips.  One Elvis song he was doing really affected him though, he began to act the part, pretending to be Elvis, and to round off his impersonation he jumped out off his chair and tried to fling his arms out.  Completely forgetting his guitar was plugged in and the chord was too short for such gymnastics, he managed only half an Elvis-wiggle before falling back into his chair with a plop.  Everyone laughed and it had to be the lightest moment of the afternoon.

When they all weren’t involved doing a specific song, the others might be walking around talking to people, but Paul would stay in his chair and busy himself with his own guitar picking.  At one point a man and a woman came in, obviously acquaintances of Linda because she came over to talk to them when they sat down in the front row, but Paul just nodded at them and then stage whispered to Heather, “Who are they?,” and she shrugged.  The couple hugged Stella and Mary and then busied themselves taking pictures of Paul, so we figured if he didn’t mind their using flash then we could as well, and took a couple pictures ourselves.

After a while, Trevor came up behind us, tapped us on the shoulder and said, “Not now, but in a little while you’ll have to leave.  When the lights go down.” He insinuated that we’d already witnessed a lot more than any fans had the right to.  It was obvious we weren’t there with his blessings.  Well the lights never did go down so we weren’t about to get up and go, but then he came over again and insisted, saying things were going to “get serious now” with the rehearsal.  What we realized when we left is they were going to run through the new “Speed of Sound” numbers and they didn’t want any outsiders to see them do that for some reason.  We’d already been watched them for 3 ½ hours, so we certainly shouldn’t have felt bad about missing the last half hour or so they still intended to play.  But at first we thought it was arbitrary on Trevor’s part, coming from the grudge we had against us for going over his head in his view to be there at all.  And from that day on Trevor was right there blocking our access to Paul at every turn.

We thought of waiting outside for them to leave and thanking Paul for letting us watch the rehearsal and maybe get a chance to take some photos of him, but since it was raining out it seemed more logical to get back to the hotel and try to see him in the lobby when he got back. 

Missed him in the hotel lobby and just saw everybody else in the band and on the staff around down there.  This hotel had a disco of its own so we went up there for the evening and soon the whole Wings tour was up there, his manager Brian, good old Crowder and Trevor, Paul’s house keeper/nanny Rosie (who was soon up dancing vigorously with JoJo, Denny’s “wife” of sorts).  They all had their wives or girlfriends along at this point, Daryl, Joe’s wife was there, and Jimmy had a blonde girlfriend from Scotland along, Trevor had his wife and even Brian had a woman friend (wife?) along.  They all took a table right alongside of our, and Crowder in fact was sitting only inches away from me, so after awhile I asked him about that afternoon, if anyone minded us being there.  And he replied, “No, if they want you to leave they’ll tell you.”  So I asked where they’d be rehearsing next and he told us they’d be moving the rehearsal to the Convention Center and they’d be setting up around 2 or 3 the next afternoon.  I asked if it would be alright to come, and he repeated again, “If they want you to leave they’ll tell you.”  We took that was an invitation considering it was coming from Old Stone Face himself.

We spent three hours the next afternoon watching them set up, practice running the “Band on the Run” posing film clip, and then after all that time a security guard, one of Concert West’s people came up to us and told us we’d have to wait outside until Alan Crowder could give us special permission to be in there.  All the limos arrived shortly thereafter and Paul was actually driving the lead car!  He had his hand up in a salute before he even saw who was waiting there.  And we were the sole greeting committee he had.  We started to going after the cars to talk to Alan but someone must have given the guards a no signal because we were asked to leave.  It was never easy to get in again after that first day at the Will Rogers hall, once the Concerts West people came in security was rigid.  Everyone had to have a plastic badge with their picture on it or else forget it.

Before we’d gone there we’d had lunch at the hotel with Rosie and she even thought that power had gone to a lot of their heads when it came to security  She also talked about how condescending they all are towards the fans and even anyone of them that ever associates with or is nice ot the fans.   They hassled Rosie because she was nice to us, insinuated that she was slumming.  She was talking about Crowder above all the rest but Rosie is very natural, earthy person and doesn’t have to take that kind of shit so she said she told him in no uncertain terms to “Fuck off” Ten points for Rosie!

We found out for the first time that Paul and Linda and the kids were not staying at the hotel but were living in a plush ranch home not too far away.  They had their own swimming pool and horses to ride.  And an FBI man guarding the kids at all times.  Rosie only went over there at certain times to babysit.  She told us so far she hasn’t been able to see any of the signs in Texas and how she and the kids were extremely anxious for a glimpse of real Texas cowboys!  So we mentioned that on Sunday we were going to the Six Flags Amusement Park and would love ot take her and the kids along.  She loved the idea and said she’d bring it up with Paul, but didn’t think he’d let them go.

One member of the tour whom Rosie would only refer to as “The Tart” had asked her in a negative tone about us the night before and she had replied, “Leave them alone, they’re the fans, they’re the real fans.”  Good old Rosie.

We had run-ins or encounters with them all eventually (even found ourselves next door neighbors to Trevor!) and it certainly was an eye opener to the kind of people Paul has surrounded himself with, some so marvelous and so many donkeys.

The Greek Street Gang (part 4)

Paul and Linda posing for Barb -- March 25th

Joanna snaps them in big hurry --March 30

Paul tricked us on Monday by coming to the studio an hour earlier than usual.  Linda showed up on schedule, looking as if she’d been pulled from the shower still dripping wet, by an impatient band.  Her hair was wet and tangled; she had no stocking on, just bare legs in button-up shoes which weren’t buttoned.  We all wanted to say “what happen to you?” but thought better of it fortunately.

In order not to be disappointed again on Tuesday we got to Abbey Road about 12:30.  Naturally he didn’t bother to come early again and we had to find ways to amuse ourselves for the 2 ½ hour wait.  We were joined by my British penpals Kathy Turner and Margaret Drayton who were taking the day off work to come and help us keep the El Macco under surveillance.  He made a splashing entrance in the most colorful outfit he’d yet appear in.  He looked really splendid in a plaid jacket and a rainbow painted t-shirt, a lot more cheery than the drab blues and grays he’d been wearing for the last two weeks (it was the same jacket he wore all thru the British tour.  No one could ever accuse Paul or Linda of squandering their money on expensive new clothes).  Kathy had him sign a copy of “In His own words” and afterwards as he was signing something else, he leaned over to look at her and asked, “Is it true?” in a cute, teasing voice.

He was still in an upswing of a mood by Wednesday and came driving up to EMI all smiles and giving us all the thumbs up sign as he stopped at the gate.  I gave him the club newsletters which featured the articles of his U.S. tour, saying to him that he may get a kick out of what the fans think of the tour.   He looked very probingly at me and then started to read the first page of the newsletter.  Linda was looking over his shoulder and says, “It looks interesting.”  I found it rather annoying to have her always talking for him or interrupting in every conversation.  I wanted to hear Paul’s reaction and it seems the only time he talks for himself is when he’s on his own.  Then he can be very communicative and thoughtful and empathetic.  But when they’re together he clams up for the most part and seems to use her as a shield.  Everything bounces off her and does penetrate him.  At all times he’s a very guarded man, leery of letting anything too personally revealing out about himself.

Thursday we waited with Valerie and Linda Butcher, Cathy, Sheila and Silvia. We tried to think of original openings to greet him with.  In two hours we’d had a lot of laughs but only came up with, “You’re late, he’s already gone in.”  Not too clever.  Some of the best lines are too incriminating to repeat.  We used to joke that if the EMI gates were bugged they were sure getting some juicy conversation in there.  They’d have all the ammunition they needed ot put us away for life.

What we needed was some fresh blood to intrigue Paul.  And by sudden coincidence a mini bus load of Japanese teenagers descended on us.  They were on a “rock star tour” if you can imagine such an enterprising idea and were there to officially tour EMI studios.  They thought we were some famous part of the territory because they insisted on taking pictures of us.  Hams to end, Jo and I obliged with the Wings sign.  We were happy to have them there, imagining what a kick Paul was going to get out of being met by 20 enthusiastic young Japanese fans.  So much attention at once, he’d ham it up like mad for them and all their camera equipment.  But that shattered our visions of his impending delight and let us down by packing back into their van on the grounds that it was too cold to wait and they had a lunch date with Stretch.

After we’d waiting there hours all together we found out that Paul had cancelled the session for that day.  They’d had a late night the night before and he’d decided to sleep in.   He hadn’t even been able to get a hold of Joe who was already at the studio at this time, and Denny was probably on his way too.  Some men were there from the record company with platinum records to present the band with for “Wings over America” sales.  As they piled these records back into their car they told us Paul’d be in for sure the next day by 2 p.m.

As we were taking the Underground back home we ran into Rosie, Paul’s housekeeper on our train.  After reminding her that we knew her from Dallas during the tour, when we stayed in the same hotel and had lunch together once, I told her about the fans from Japan and how Paul had missed seeing them.  She told me that he had in fact gone in to the studio after all and must have got there 5 min. after we left.  He only stayed there a minute because she left when he came back.  She told us he’d be disappointed about missing the crowd from Japan, as he still wants very badly to play there in the near future.  She said it’s very possible they’ll be able to get a working visa and she’d go along as babysitter for the new little one.

The next day was beautiful, the sunniest we’d had in a long time.  Anthony Luscombe, one of our English members, came along with us this day.  Well, two o’clock came and went, and three and still no sign of Paul.  The rest of the band was already inside, the men with the Platinum discs were back and Trevor and Allen Crowder were both in the doorway of EMI looking impatient and watching the street for some sign of him.  They both wore their habitual glares and sneers.  Most of them were aimed at us.  Nothing would have delighted their fiendish hearts more than to drag Paul in the moment he arrived and see us all standing there disappointed.   It was written all over their faces.   We thought that’s it then, we don’t stand a chance in hell of having him even pause for a second.  As it got later and later we became more positive of that.  But we never say die, nothing had driven us away yet, not freezing cold, or rainstorms, or for chissakes not even blizzards.  We used to joke that the little white wagon was going to pull up any minute and take us away en masse.  So of course we preserved.  Paul and Linda finally drove up at 4 pm, Paul looked perfectly at ease and calmly content with himself.  What cares he that the others have been waiting for him for two extra hours, that the men with the discs are back again for the second time, trying to present him with an award, and least of all that Trevor and Crowder have bitten their nails down to the bone in impatience and both look like they’re going to wet their pants if he doesn’t run right in immediately. 

Paul doesn’t care one bit.  And we were so proud of him!!  He made us his first priority.  And there was only six of us.   Without seeming in the least bit hurried or put-out he stayed by his car and posed for picture after picture, signed an autograph for Anthony, answered questions and joked around.  I told him I didn’t have any decent pictures of  him yet where he’s actually looking up at the camera.  So he obliged and looked right into it.  Then I told Joanna to get in a picture with him.  She looked at Linda glued t one of his arms and asked innocently enough, “do you mind if I pose on his other arm?”  She hadn’t meant it to come out snidely and fortunately Linda didn’t seem to take it that way (but then she had a certain bond with Joanna).  So Jo took one of Paul’s arms and just as I was taking the picture, Paul leaned into the camera and made a grumpy face.  He thought he was being funny I imagine.

Anthony asked him about the science fiction movie and Paul said they were still going to be making it.  He said Roddenberry was just at Emi the day before.  He also said they’d be recording this album for the next three months!

Paul looked really sharp that day in his black leather jacket and colorful multi-striped tie.  When he finally sauntered in he wasn’t in the least perturbed that Trevor and Crowder could barely conceal their impatience and frustration.  Guess he showed them who works for whom!

It was snowing and cold and ugly on Monday but we were still hanging in there.  I had visited John’s Aunt Mimi over the weekend and she gave me a message to give to him.  I had to say it three times before I could even catch his attention and have him listen.  Sometimes he seems so into playing the part of “Rock Star Meets Humble Fans” that he isn’t even there.  Just the façade who’s going through all the poses.  Once he’d heard me, he said, “Yeah, OK sure.”  Like it still hadn’t penetrated.  He was wearing white “flood pants” (as we call them here when they’re that short) and he had them tucked (semi) into his boots.  Linda’s daughter Nicole gave him a rose, and he leaned down and said, “I’ve got something for you today” and handed her and each of us a copy of the most recent “Club Sandwich” – his own Wings Fun Club paper that he’s supposedly editing now.  We all had it already, but what the heck it was the gesture that counts.  He looked so cute handing it out to all of us so seriously.  I guess if I could give him mine, he could give me his!

For the next three days I had the rented movie camera again.  So naturally the next three days were lousy.  Everything worked against us.  Timing, weather, moods, everything.  Paul seemed in a real hurry to get inside.  The first day he saw it he hammed a little, made some waving motions into it.  Since Linda was hanging onto his arm as usual he had to forcefully yang his arm out of her grip to wave at the camera.  But then like a good boy he put it back in place.  He seemed in a bad mood the second day we had it.  Jo was trying to take his picture with the 35mm we’d also rented and she asked him if he’s pose and added that the camera cost us 5 pounds a day and Paul answered, ‘that’s not my fault.”  He really liked her a lot.

On Thursday Jo and I got to the studios about 2:10 and not finding any of our friends there went inside to ask the guard if Paul was coming in at all that day.  He said no that they weren’t booked again for any of the upcoming 3-4 weeks of the studio’s schedule.  It was raining out and we didn’t really want to wait around but we were supposed to meet our friends there.  Just as we got back out onto the sidewalk we spotted Paul’s car.  He was particularly grumpy and short with us.  He stopped for the movie camera but just for a few seconds and then waved and they both ran in.

And that we were to find out the next day, was that.  Trevor and John Hammel were both packing up all the equipment.  When Trevor drove out, he stopped long enough to say goodbye in his sarcastic manner, “have a nice wait, girls.”  John told us a few minutes later that the sessions were over for the time being, it was vacations now for them all.  It was Friday, April Fool’s Day, but it really was all over, no joke about that.