Wrong guy!~

Taken from Beatlefan magazine Sept/Oct 1996 issue:
George Harrison showed up at Ravi Shankar's 78th birthday concert July 2 (1996) at London's Barbican, Simon Rogers reports. Harrison arrived on foot just after 7 p.m. casually dressed and still sporting a beard and ponytail. At first he denied to fans who he was, saying, "You got the wrong guy!" However, he did sign two autographs. He sat in the front row and left only briefly for the interval. HE greeted members of the Shankar family with the traditional Indian greeting and appeared to enjoy the night, apart from fans hassling him for autographs after the show (he departed via a side entrance). Shanker spent the summer in London working on his upcoming album that Harrison is producing. Angel Records says the album is due out next spring.

Canada John meeting '69

This story comes again from Beatlefan magazine (because I have a large collection of Beatlefans magazines!). This time it is from the April/May 1985 issue and was written by Robert Davis.

I remember standing on the balcony of my house looking up at a clear blue sky. A plane was skywriting a message. AF er a half hour, the cloudy letters collectively read: "War is over if you want it." It was December 17, 1969. John Lennon and Yoko Ono were in Toronto with their Bed-in for Peace.

At this time, my mother was the secretary to the Toronto correspondent for the New York Times.

Later that day, the Lennons were holding a press conference at the Ontario Science Centre. Like any 13 year old Beatlefan, I wanted to be there. But upon arriving with my mother, we - and the 500 other non-press fans - were not allowed inside. My mother instinctively pulled out her press card and flashed it at the security guard. New York Times? No problem. And in she went. Not me, thought. So I left my mother with these instructions: "Get an autograph."

Anyone who knows my mother will attest that one of her strongest attributes is she's fearless. No circling photographers, journalists or talking heads were going to stop her from fulfilling y request. She approached the main podium. She was stopped. She flashed her New York Times card. No problem. She ended up sitting less than two feet behind and directly in between Lennon and Ono. I've affectionately called my om the Fifth Beatle ever since.

Now, at these moments in life it pays to be fearless. She approached Ono, handed her a sheet of paper.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Lennon, but would you mind signing this for my son?" She signed it Yoko Ono Lennon, then passed another sheet to Lennon, who just scribbled "John" on it.

The sheets used were the mini posters of their peace campaign message, "War is Over if you want it -- Happy Christmas from John and Yoko." They immediately because priceless treasures, the envy of all my friends and soon after, wrapped in plastic and stored away in my attic.

Mid-December 1980, for obvious reasons at this tragic moment in our lives, I started thinking about what had happened to my autographed posters. Eventually, after searching through a decade of accumulated stuff, I found them. Someone had ripped them both in half. Even more horrid, the monster had taped then back together, placing the scotch tape used, now quite yellow and brittle, over the autographs!

They are still treasures though, even more so in 1985. They say so much. Once just pieces of paper thrown into a crowd of fans back in 1969, today, autographed by Lennon and Ono, their meaning is even more powerful and the event still stands tall in my memory.

War was eventually over, just as we always wanted it to be. And the only happy Christmas we didn't have since then was Christmas 1980.

Meeting John in 1980

John meeting a fan outside of the Dakota in 1980.

Here is John in November 0f 1979 (4 months before this story takes place). John had the full beard that is mentioned in the story. However, I cannot find any photos of him clean shaved in early 1980 as the author of this story says....

I think any story of someone meeting John in 1980 is amazing. This one comes from a fan named Ann Lawer of Louisville, KY. It was originally published in the June/July 1980 issue of Beatlefan magazine. At the time, Ms. Lawer said that her meeting with John Lennon was, "the most exciting moment of my life." I bet she thought so even more after what happened 6 months after her story was published.

My dream ever since 1964 had been to meet one or all of the objects of my affection. With a little encouragement from having heard of the success of some "Dakota-watchers", I decided that I, too, would attempt to make my dream come true.

I was terribly excited just to see the Dakota, as I had never seen it before. The first thing I did when I arrived was to head there to ask the doorman if he knew John's current whereabouts. The doorman on duty was a very nice, helpful young guy (I found many of the doormen to be the same). He said, "Yes, I believe he is here now." I told him I had heard John was in Florida, and he said, "No, he's come back form there, I believe." I couldn't believe my luck! Then I had it confirmed when several hours after this, I saw Sean! He and his nanny came out of the building and got into a limo. Sean had on jeans with turned-up cuffs and cowboy boots! Over the next few days, I would see him several times, and he usually was riding a scooter and occasionally had on a gray cowboy hat! I knew that if Sean was there, John and Yoko HAD to be!

For three days, I stood by the entrance to the Dakota, from early in the day until dark. The best I could gather from the doormen was John had not been out since returning from Florida. The doormen were not encouraging to me. So, as much as I adore John, I had not gotten the best reports on encounters with fans and was rather apprehensive about what would happen if and when I saw him.

I got my chance to find out on March 6, 1980. It was a cloudy, cold, windy Thursday. The Dakota's main entrance has an archway over it. Usually, when one or more Lennons go out, a limo will pull up some time before they leave, so at least you have some warning that maybe something is about to happen.

I had NO WARNING! I was standing talking to the doorman, with the entrance just to my right, about 15 feet. I saw some movement out of the corner of my eye and glanced over at it. It took me about two seconds to realize it was JOHN.

He was walking along with a guy who was somewhat taller than he, and they were talking. They walked out onto the sidewalk and began to walk west on 72nd street (away from the park, if you are familiar with the building). As he walked, he passed without about two feet of me. He glanced briefly at me and nodded to Heinz, the doorman, and me saying "G'mornin', how are ya?" rather politely.

John and this other guy (who I later found out is one of John's secretaries) walked off down the sidewalk, still talking. After he had walked about 15 steps, John glanced over his right shoulder. This was probably to see if I had either fainted or was following him. I'm certain my eyes looks like saucers and my mouth must have been wide open! I watched him walk for as long as I could and debated about whether I should follow him, then decided against it, as I believe John deserves his privacy. The way he was walking, though it was one of the most difficult decision I ever made! He does bounce when he walks, just the way he did in all the movies!

The thing that was most amazing to me was that John looked just like JOHN! I have seen so many pictures of him that I had to look twice at to make certain it was him, that I fully expected to have to do the same in person. He reminded me somewhat of the way he looked during "Let it Be" except neater. He had on rather light blue jeans that were so faded they were almost white. He was wearing a pair of beat up white tennis shoes. His bright blue windbreaker was zipped up and he walked with his hands in both pockets. His hair was parted in the middle. It was about 1 to 2 inches below his ears. It was quite thick, as though it had just been washed and blown-dry, and it was behind the ears. It was a reddish brown color, like maybe he had been out in the Florida sun (I didn't notice any tan thought). The beard pictured in People magazine was gone - he was clean shaven. He had on glasses that looked like the ones Paul wore on the White Album poster, when he was doing his Billy Shears impression. The frames were a coral-white opaque color and the lenses were a light gray. They were light enough to see his eyes though, fortunately. He looked more gorgeous than I had ever imagined.

As John walked down the block, I felt my eyes fill with tears. When he was finally out of my sight, I had to sit down on the step to the Dakota to recover. Heinz was laughing at me. I decided if I had to sit there 'til New York froze over, I'd stay 'til John came back. Fortunately, it wasn't that long. After about 30 minutes of my nervously watching off down the sidewalk, and Heinz coaching me on what I should and should not do when John came back, I saw John's blue jacket coming towards me.

The minute 'til he was in front of me was the longest of my life. Finally, there he was. His secretary was walking close to me, with John on the outside, next to the street. I learned across the secretary's path and said in a very tiny voice, "Excuse me, John?" He slowed down, looked at me and said, "yeah?"

This was where I almost could not continue. But somehow I found the courage to say, "I'm here from Kentucky, and I've been standing here for three days to see you." He said, "Shouldn't do that, ya know ---it's too cold." HE didn't smile, but he didn't say it as if to be rude, either. He said it as though he was giving advice; rather matter of factly. He was looking at me, but he was still moving slightly toward the door to the Dakota.

I said, "John, would you please autograph something for me?" He hesitated a moment, and I thought for a second he was gonna say no. Then he said, "Sure, but let's make it quick." I pulled my paperback copy of "In His Own Write" and "A Spaniar in the Works" out of my coat pocket and handed it to him with a pen. He looked at the cover, opened the book, turned it sideways and wrote, "John Lennon '80" on the title page for "In His Own Write." Then he closed the book and looked again at the cover. He said, "I didn't know they still printed this!" I said, "They don't..I've had that copy since 1965." He said, "Oh...bye."

And he started into the building. I called "Thanks, John!" as he walked into the entrance, he called, "You really should go back to Kentucky, it's too cold here." Again, he said it in a polite manner, like he was giving advice. Then he was gone. I stood there for about five minutes, looking at the door he had just gone in. I was desperately trying to remember everything about him, for some reason I was so afraid that I would forget how he sounded and looked. But I now know I never will.

Meeting Paul in 1977

Here is an account of a fan, Roger Ellis, who met Paul McCartney on January 24, 1977 at his home in London. This article first appeared in the March/April 1980 issue of Beatlefan magazine as part of the "Meeting the Beatles" section

I'd always known where Paul McCartney lived in London, so one cold winter's day when I happened to be working in a nearby district, I decided to grab some spare time and drive over to his house in my company's Ford truck. But when you arrive at a lifelong idol's house, it's a completely different matter altogether!

So, after a discussion with my work-mate (a non-Beatlesfan), I jumped out of the truck and walked up to Paul's front gate. His house is situated in "St. John's Wood" an area no more than two or three miles form the "West End" of London. It's a fine old Victorian building, similar in appearance to the Apple building of 3 Saville Row London W.1. and stands in an ordinary sideroad only a few yards from the Lords Cricket Ground and a short walk from the famous EMI Abbey Road Studios where The Beatles cut nearly all their finest works.

Linda McCartney had recently painted parts of the front of the house in bright colours, after a recent holiday in Jamaica.

So there I was, standing in front of the two eight-foot high gates that keep unwanted outsiders form continually pestering the McCartney's from autographs, etc. when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and a guy was standing in front of me with tools in his hand.

"Er--is Paul in today?" I blurted.

"Yes--do you want an autograph or something?" the fellow replied.

Not much to show for my journey, but better than nothing, I suppose. The guy, who said he was Paul's electrician (but whom I later found out with Joe English, Wings' former stixman) disappeared through the gates and into the house.

I waited and waited and waited. But there was no one to be seen -- no autographed photos, nothing! What a "con" I thought. So I was just about to get into the truck and drive home, when what should happen? The gates slowly opened and out came a stocky-shortish looking guy, wearing a thick Old Gold coloured overcoat. He was followed by a small child.

It was none other than James Paul McCartney taking his young offspring out for an afternoon stroll in the crisp winter's air! He walked off down the road, occasionally chatting to the child in the manner all fathers do to small toddlers, and after some quick thinking, I followed in hot pursuit. It's now or never I thought, and I leapt out in front of Paul.

I couldn't believe it -- he looked just like in the millions of photos I've seen of him (although may more of a "rugged" face than I expected) and then he spoke to me.

"I hear you're working around here." he said.

"Yes" I replied with a blank mind, forgetting all the thousands of questions I'd always thought I'd like to ask a Beatle if I met one! And that was that. There's not really much you can say to someone you've never met before in your life, although, after all these years, you imagine you known them like brothers.

But my meeting was not over yet. As I was driving home, I passed a small park, which is just across the road from Paul's house and who should be sitting on an ordinary park bench while his youngster played on the swings and roundabouts -- you guessed it!

I wasn't going to blow it this time. I grabbed a pencil -- didn't have a pen on me-- and paper---no paper, so I took the newspaper I 'd previously been reading and sort of slowly rushed along the path leading to where Paul was sitting quietly and contentedly taking in the air.

He saw me and must have remembered me from the earlier meeting. Drawing his finger up to his lips, he beckoned me to "be quiet" and I guest not to draw a big crowd around him. But amazingly enough, no one else playing, walking or passing by the park had noticed him!

He smiled politely. I handed him my scrap of newspaper and pencil and asked him for his autograph. I stupidly spoke, "I've followed you since 1963." Funny the things you come out with in these situations. "Oh! I can't remember back that far!" he replied.

He signed for me on the back Sporting page of the newspaper, which on this day had printed an article and photo of the golfer Tony Jacklin. In the shot, Jacklin looks similar to Paul a la 1967 -- with a "Pepper" moustache and short hair. Paul commented on this saying, "that;s me!"

I nodded and smiled in agreement, although I was still trying to take in that this was the man I'd seen so many times on film, TV, photos and heard playing songs like "Yesterday" and that The Beatles really are four living, breathing human beings and not gods from outer space after all!

I'll probably never forget this unexpected meeting, which although short, let the famous McCartney charm, politeness and wit shine through!

Meeting the Beatles during Help

This article first appeared in the August / September 1982 issue of Beatlefan magazine. It was written by Richard Evans after he interviewed Mark Vidalis and was featured in the "Meeting the Beatles" section of the magazine (which runs to this day every so often depending on if people send in stories). The photographs that I included did not accompany the article originally, but I believe they might be the photos Richard Evans was talking about taking, or they are at least ones that were taken at the same time. I found this to be a very interesting story.

Most 18 year olds in 1965 would have given anything to meet the Beatles.

Mark Vidalis of Fairfield, CA not only met all of the Fab Four, but also made his mark in history by appearing as an extra in their second movie,"Help!"

At the time, Vidalis was visiting his mother in Nassau, the Bahamas, taking a vacation after graduating from high school in West Palm Beach, FL. Unknown to Vidalis, however, the attorney his mother worked for was handing legal affairs for the production company filming the Beatles movie on location there.

"One day the lawyer asked me what I was doing," Vidalis explained. "I told him, "nothing" and he said, "Good, we're looking for bums." Then he told me to be at a local hotel that night, but wouldn't tell me why.

Not having much else to do and curious as well, Vidalis showed up and found himself in an interview with director Richard Lester for a $14-a day part as an extra in the movie.

Lester was looking for people who weren't too tall because "They didn't want anybody in the movie so big they overshadowed the Beatles," Vidalis said. "He also asked if I'd been involved in contact sports in high school because the part included some very physical work." Vidalis qualified on both counts and got the part.

The first day he was called for shooting was for a scene in the old prison camp. "The Beatles weren't even there and I was extremely disappointed," he said.

The next day, though, he got a call to report to a house to be made up for the day's work. While standing on the balcony of the house talking with other extras, the four immortals from Liverpool joined them.


"For a couple of minutes I was in awe," Vidalis said. "Here were guys who had people screaming and fighting to get close to them and I had a chance to shoot the breeze with them." Soon they were making small talk, however, and Vidalis's thoughts changed to "I bet nobody will believe this when I get back to Florida."


Ringo Starr was the most laid-back member of the group. Vidalis recalls, while George Harrison was the most "tense." Once he asked Harrison for his autograph and Harrison refused. "He was a little short-tempered that day," Vidalis said.


He recalls that Paul McCartney and John Lennon were together often and were both witty and personable. Overall, he remembers, The Beatles were outgoing, fun and easy to talk to.

"In between scenes we'd sit around talking as if they weren't the most famous people in the world," Vidalis said. On one occasion he even worked up the nerve to ask Lennon if he could have his picture taken with him, knowing that some people would never believe him without such concrete evidence. Lennon readily agreed.

In that photograph, Lennon was wearing a rumpled, striped jacket -- the same jacket he wears on the back of the "Help!" album cover. Vidalis later pilfered the jacket as a souvenir, figuring the wealthy Beatle would never miss it. He returned it when the distraught Lennon turned the Beatles' quarters upside-down hunting for it. It was Lennon's favorite jacket at the time.

In the movie, Vidalis portrays one of the high priest's troops who attempts to capture Starr and retrieve the sacred ring. In one scene shot in the ocean, he was called on to put Starr underwater. After he did, Starr pulled him under and came up yelling, "I can't swim." He really couldn't either, Vidalis said.

"In another scene, I had to climb up into a coconut tree and drop a coconut onto John Lennon's head, then jump out of the tree, making it look like I fell out." When he tried to make the jump, the board supporting him gave away and he really fell. "Fortunately, they only had to do the one take. I made it clear I wasn't climbing into that coconut tree again anyway."

In one of the last scenes of the movie, Vidalis and the other bad guys are walking in the ankle deep surf, having given up their pursuit of the Beatles. "There's only one extra with his face towards the camera, " Vidalis said, "That's me."

By the time the two weeks of filming ended, Vidalis had decided the movie business wasn't for him. He wanted only to return to Florida and see how many people he could impress with what he had done. He was even offered a part in the James Bond movie, "thunderball" but he turned it down because "after the Beatles, James Bond was nothing."

Vidalis admits he was an even bigger Beatle fan after the movie than before."It's something I'll never forget. The Beatles were such a big part of the life of anyone who grew up in the '60's. To have met them and even been involved in part of their recorded history makes me feel like I contributed somehow to that history."

An Encounter at Abbey Road Turns out just as Hoped for

This fan story first appeared in the Jan-Feb 2002 issue of Beatlefan magazine (this was the George Harrison tribute issue). It was written by Ken Sharp. The photos go with the story, but were not from the magazine.

They say you should never meet your heroes because they are destined
ultimately to let you down. Having had the treasured opportunity to meet George
Harrison, I can safely say that he proved to be anything but a
letdown.


Let me share a story...

My personal encounter with George happened in September 1993 inside studio
Two at the famed Abbey Road Studios. I was part of an international gathering of
journalists attending the press launch of the Red and Blue Albums. Tipped off
the day prior by George Martin that "the quiet Beatle" might make a surprise
appearance, I kept my eyes open for a sign of L'Angelo Mysterioso. Believe me,
just to be spending time inside Studio Two where the Fab Four recorded such
legendary tracks as "Help", "While my Guitar Gently Weeps" and "Here, there and
everywhere" was a real treat, but the chance to encounter a Beatle on his own
home turf was immensely exciting.



The event kicked off with a 30-minute video show comprising various Beatles
promotional films. The lights quickly dimmed and the videos began to roll. Early
into the proceedings, I noticed a security guard briskly walk down the aisle
towards the entrance of the studio. Eminently curious, I followed his
trail.


Immediately, I noticed Neil Aspinall and Derek Taylor languishing in the
studio's hallway. Looking around, I caught a glimpse of George speaking to
someone. Having waited for this opportunity my entire life, I decided to open my
conversation with George with a question he certainly had not been asked over
and over again. After shaking hands with me, George asked where I was
from.


"Philadelphia," I told him. Then I said, "George I know that you have
been asked this time and time again but do you think The Rutles will ever get
back together?" I knew that George was a major Rutles fan, too. The real "Stig"
let out a hearty chuckle and the ice was broken. For the next 10 minutes, I
talked with George about everything form The Rutles to electric guitars, Bob
Dylan to Badfinger.


Relaxed and smiling, George couldn't have been friendlier. He freely spoke
to me like a friend, devoid of any pretense or artifice. I also distinctly
recall that throughout our conversation George held a burning stick of incense,
its exotic smell wafting through the hallowed halls of Studio Two. George
graciously signed the Red and Blue album press kit for me, too. Later, before
George was introduced as a surprise guest by George Martin, I grabbed my trusty
tape recorder to ask him a few questions about his guitar playing more to
crystallize my chance encounter with the reclusive star than anything
else.



Now that George is sadly gone from this mortal coil, I feel eternally
blessed to have shared a few small moments in time with such a gracious and kind
soul. Long may this dark horse run....

Finally Getting to Meet McCartney...

This is the story of Barb Fenick (Hello Barb if you are out there!) who was the the fan responsible for the Beatles fanzine, The Write Thing in the 1970's-1980's (which joined forced with Beatlefan magazine in 1986). Barb's story of meeting Paul and Lind McCartney was published in the July/August 1998 issue of Beatlefan. I typed it up exactly as it was printed. In the photo, Barb is on the left and her friend Becky is next to her. I have never seen any other other photos from this day surface...




The summer of ’69 left us with wonderful memories. We got to see close-up, if not meet all The Beatles at EMI and Apple. And we did get to talk to Ringo and Maureen at their home in the country. Certainly it was all an unforgettable experience.

Afterwards, my fan club, Beatles Rule, took on new life – due to an infusion of enthusiasm, and new contacts all of England, Europe and the world even. We met fans from Germany, Brazil, London, California, Georgia and even made friends with a fan from my own hometown. All were eager to share their stories, fan encounters, photos and memories with us through the pages of our newsletter.

So despite The Beatles’ own troubles with Eastman vs. Klein and Yoko vs. everybody, the fan club scene was stronger than ever. Or maybe it was that we needed it more than ever. As news and information dried up from the “official” sources like Beatles Ltd., which folded soon after the Beatles broke up, the fans turned to the “independents” as their alternative.

The fans that were still interested by 1969-1970 were more hard-core and serious. They were not jus teeny-boppers waiting for the next concert tour, but fans of both sexes, knowledgeable about The Beatles careers and music as well as their personal lives.

Beatles Rule only lasted another year until January 1971, but by then had developed an extensive international fan base. And maybe it wasn’t totally dead, just turned down to simmer for awhile.

My main goal in life had not been forgotten, either, but was cooking on the back-burner. I hadn’t yet met Paul McCartney. Seeing him close-up was not good enough. I wanted to talk to him; I wanted to ask him questions. I wanted, really, to get to know him. But that would have to wait.

The opportunities to go back to England were elusive. I had to work. I started college. I traveled a bit. But without the fan club contacts, I was out of the information loop, not plugged into the Beatles fan network. I didn’t know when Paul was in England or in New York or on tour until it was too late. I missed his ’72 inaugural Wings tour of Europe.

But sometimes things come around for you. While traveling through Germany, Austria and Switzerland in August of 1973, my Beatles buddy form back home (the one I met at Abbey Road in 1969) sent a letter to Vienna that caught up with me finally and said, “Hurry, Paul is in town. Come quick!” Or something like that. I caught the urgency anyway. Suddenly six weeks of speaking German seemed like enough and I fancied some fish and chips and English accents instead. I was on a plane faster than you can say B-O-A-C.

My friend Becky, her husband Wayne and I hit the streets of St. John’s Wood, London N.W. 8, the next day ready to reconnaissance the area. We certainly didn’t expect success immediately. Becky had a painting of Paul she’d done that she wanted to give him. I only had my camera and my wits – the latter soon to desert me.

We were nervous as we rounded the corner of Cavendish Avenue. Last time we had been here, Bobbies had been patrolling his block, escorting fans away; Linda had been yelling, “…and don’t come back!” So what could we expect four year later?

We rang the doorbell with some trepidation, tensed and ready to take rejection. No answer, but the shock of a lifetime was right behind us. His car was pulling up to the gate! We were shocked, speechless! Well some of us. As Paul got out to open his driveway’s gates, with his whole family in the car waiting, our only brave soul in the bunch, Becky’s husband, Wayne, approached him. I was numb and dumb. I could only stare.

Wayne rattled on incomprehensibly (to me at least) about the painting that Becky had, how Paul just had to admire it from inside the house. What was he going on about? Did he think Paul would just invite us in? Yeah right! I was so stunned that Paul had arrived with such great timing that my mind was literally gone (It’s a terrible thing to waste). Paul was getting antsy; a few fans down the block had spotted his arrival, too. They were approaching fast.

He obviously did not want a mob scene in front of his family at his own front gate, so he opened the gate and waved our little three-some inside his yard. First, he looked at me and asked who I was. My moment of truth. Honest to God, I blanked, forgetting my name. I said, “I’m their neighbor.” I swear, that is what I said.

I must have figured I needed to assert that I was with the fast-talking Wayne and his artist wife, or otherwise be left behind closed gates with the other fans closing in on us. Becky and I were good friends, but I lived in St. Paul and she lived in Minneapolis. Oh well, close enough.

Now we’re standing in his front yard. Linda and all three kids are getting out of the car and quickly going into the house. Wayne was still hyping up the painting, saying the light would be much better for viewing in the house. I’m thinking, yeah, right. But who am I to be such a cynic? Paul invited us in!
I could hardly believe this was happening. When was the last time Paul had invited any fans into his home? Maybe 1967? ’68? And there we were walking up his steps. It was a good thing Wayne was doing all the babbling, ‘cause Becky and I were just two pathetic mutes.

If only the eye were a camera. I wanted so desperately to remember every single thing I saw there, to be able to tell about it later. But walking down his hallway, past the living room, into the kitchen at the back of the house, I could hardly focus on much. It was just a blur of dark rooms and dark furniture on a dark London afternoon.

On the walls of the hallway were framed photos of the kids: Heather, Mary and little Stella. Just as we were passing these, Wayne asked Paul if we could take some photos. Paul glanced over at his kids’ pictures and seemed confused. “Pictures?” he asked nervously. Wayne meant of us together because no one in a million years was ever going to believe this without them. Paul relaxed and said we could do that.

First we stood around the kitchen. Paul and Linda, the kids running around under foot, going in and out of the room. Linda was holding Stella. Wayne was showing Paul Becky’s painting. I was leaning on Paul’s kitchen counters still in a daze. I think I was talking to Linda. I have no idea what I said. They told us they’d all been out for the vaccination shots as they were leaving the country the next morning for Lagos, Nigeria (where as we all know, he recorded “Band on the Run”). Again, we marveled at our incredible luck in picking that day to ring his doorbell.

Paul was wearing a black and white patterned shirt with an unmatching brown and white stripped scarf around his neck underneath it and blue pants. He clashed. But who was I to talk? My purple and pink polyester ensemble, which I took to be the height of fashion at the time, was probably too garish for words.

I have no idea (what a surprise!) how long we talked in his kitchen. I got to stare at him close-up for a little without him running in or out of a building, dodging fans or the press and without any roads growling at me. It was heaven!

Paul suggested we take the pictures out on the back step. I lined up Paul and Linda still holding Stella and got Wayne and Becky in there. I was nervously fiddling with the camera because didn’t have flash and was worried that it was too dark even outside. Also, I could barely see to focus. Did I mention yet that I was a wreck? Mute and nearly blind as well. I mutter, “I hope these turn out,” Paul joked, “They’d better or you’ll be kicked out of the neighborhood!”
Then I got in the picture and Wayne took a few shots with his camera. Fortunately, they all turned out and we have our much needed proof!

I’m sure we thanked Paul and Linda for their graciousness in inviting us in and giving us some of their time out of their busy schedule. I don’t remember. Thank God we have those photos. It reminds me of one of my greatest days, when a dream came true – that otherwise would have seemed like just a dream.

It has been almost 25 years since that day (August 29, 1973) and now I’m married with a family of my own, a photographer husband and a golden-haired dimpled teenaged son who is a second-generation Beatlefan. And with a dark-haired, dark-eyed daughter who loved Leonardo DiCaprio (along with all the other pre-teens in America!). If I met Paul now, would I be able to talk to him person-to-person? Could I finally ask him all the questions I’ve wanted the answer to all these years (the ones even his new bio doesn’t address?) Or would I stutter and stare and forget my own name? Some things probably never change!

Beatlefan magazine scans

1976: Strolling in New York City

Photo: Geroge Tebbins




An intimate photo of Paul McCartney taken by Fred Walters of Oklahoma City, OK



London '67 McCartney and Jane Asher

Photo: Mark Gunter Collection




Harrison at home in '68

Photo: Fred Walters

(although this looks a lot like a photo taken by someone else in 1967 that I haven't blogged about yet)






November 1970: McCartney and Mary in New York

Photo by Linda S. Woods


I have a large collection of Beatlefan magazines. I LOVE Beatlefan. I have subscribed every issue since 1994 and have bought many back issues plus to the 2 hardback books. I often referr back to them. Anyhow, I scanned some of the fan photos that have been submitted over the years. Beatlefan magazine doesn't always scan well, but I think for the most part, these turned out ok. I am thinking of typing up some of the stories of when fans met the Beatles for future installments of this blog.