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.

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!

Magical Mystery Paul

September 24, 1967 fans Barbara and Linda Bruce pose with a Magical Mystery Wizard, Paul next to John's Rolls Royce. 

Carry that guitar

I love this set of photos! It is so nice to have the top one without a watermark because I think it is in my top 5 favorite Paul McCartney fan photos.

Full frame

I previously had this photo cropped so that all you saw was Paul holding a guitar. It is now nice to see the complete photo with the fan and location. Next mission will be to find it without a watermark. (Hint Hint to Gina)

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