The Inner Light meets George Harrison

I already posted how Rich from the fanzine "The Inner Light" met Paul McCartney but before he met Macca, Rich met George Harrison.    I still think Rich had a lot more guts than I ever would!  Also times were a lot different in 1974.   His story was first published in his fanzine "The Inner Light."  I found it in the special issue that is "the best of" the Inner Light called "All together now volume 1"  It was published in 1976.


No pictures to go with story, so I just pulled some photos of George Harrison at the Cow Palace in 1974 to go along with the story.  

How I met George!

By Rich Friedland

Having never seen a Beatle in person, it’s not hard to imagine how excited I was when I learned that one was going to do a tour of the U.S. of A.  As quick as I could, I told everybody I could think of.  Whether they were interested or not, everyone heard me swear I’d meet George no matter what lengths I’d have to go to.

One friend of mine told me he had connections, and could get me a uniform exactly like the ones the maintenance men at the Cow Palace in San Francisco wear.  By wearing this, I would have a great opportunity to go backstage and meet George.  But unfortunately, the day before the first concert in the Bay Area, the plans fell through. 

Other ideas, like the guy I met who worked at the Cow Palace, who was going to let me in early; and then trying to sneak in the Cow Palace by hopping on the back of the equipment trucks at 2:30 the night before the concert, also failed for one reason or another.  

After being interviewed on local television about my eighteen hour wait in line, before opening night, the gates finally opened which meant there were only two more hours of waiting to see the Beatle.

Trying to be clever, I made sure not to be too close to the front of the stage so that my vision would not be blocked by the edge of the floor being right above my head.  Before I knew it people were crowding in front and around us from all angels, and eventually pushed us far enough back that we no longer had any real hope of George really noticing us. 

The minutes melted into seconds, and the light dimmed to almost blackness.  There not too far in front of me I could clearly make out the silhouette of the side view of George’s face.  It was from that moment my constant applause started.  Before I knew it, the lights flashed on and there he was, in front of us.  This time it was not just a picture or an image from a reel of film, it was the real thing.  Looking more like a Beatle now than he has in the past four years!  As I watched him, my heart pounding, my skin perspiring, my balance becoming weak, I thought I was going to pass out.  I couldn’t quite convince myself that the only thing between George and I was thin air and nothing else.  It wasn’t until I thought I saw this god look right into my eyes that I realized we were in the same room at the same exact time.

The next night at the concert, I found myself more hoarse than George from yelling and screaming so much the night before.  This was the night that I had made up my mind to meet him.  During the ten minute intermission, when the band takes its break, Dave and I found a wooden wall which separated the lobby from backstage.  The poorly constructed mass boards left a small opening which allowed us to see what was going on back there.  We noticed only inches in front of us was the back of the long black limousine that George was going to ride in shortly. 

We also noticed that some of the people from Ravi Shankar’s band were fathered around the front of the car.  While I was looking around for the Beatle, I noticed there was a van parked in there with a lot of people walking around and inside it.  There were Indian-type rugs hanging from the walls, and a few policemen on guard.  Before I could take notice of anything else, I noticed Billy Preston walk right alongside of the wall we were standing behind.  I yelled to him, but he ignored us.  I may not have attracted his attention, but George’s accompanying guitarist, Robben Ford, was altered by my voice.  I then yelled to him and asked if he would give an envelope to George for me.  Without saying a word, he sort of signaled a man to come over and take the dinner invitation from me.  I am confident George saw it one time or another because the next hands the little white envelope entered were those of George’s new girlfriend, Olivia Arias. 

It was only seconds later, when I noticed standing right next to Robben was George!  I didn’t quite know what to do first.  I remember reading in “Apple to the Core” that George does not like the type of fans that are loud and wild.  Keeping this in mind, but unable to control myself, I went crazy and starting yelling his name through the fence.   I could barely detect that I had caught George’s attention, and that he was straining his eyes to see me through a small hole in the fence.  I was so excited; I dropped my ice cream cone and told Dave to boost me up.  Above his shoulders I stood with my neck barely clearing the top of the wall.

It didn’t take but a second before the police were warning me to get down.  I told them I wasn’t going to jump over and wasn’t going to get off until I talked to George.  I then looked down and felt a bit strange when I realized that Robben Ford, part of Ravi Shankar’s band, Billy Preston, Olivia, three angry cops and George were all eagerly waiting to see what foolish stunt I was going to pull next.  I guess I satisfied their curiosity when I gave George a short lecture about how he’s the greatest guy who ever lived, and how long I’d been waiting to tell him so.  I asked George to say something to me—anything.  He then looked up at me and smiled and said, “Hi man, how are ya?”  I was so excited after being talked to by a Beatle that I lost my balance, and fell to the floor.

The next night at the concert, George spotted me in the front row right away and smiled.  It was obvious to everyone around me that we had met before.  Not only did he smile at me a lot, but at one time, for some wonderful, unknown reason, he pointed at me, and told me to sing along with Ravi Shankar’s “I am Missing You.”  By the time the concert and “My Sweet Lord” ended, I found myself in front of the long wide crowd of excited Harrison freaks looking right up at George, and once again, he at me.

Until I meet john, Paul, and Ringo I will remember November sixth, seventh and eighth as the three best days “In my life.”

How the Innner Light met Paul (part 2)

When we left our story, Rich and his friends had been scheming their way to make it to their goal of meeting Paul McCartney during the San Francisco stop of the Wings Over America tour in 1976.   Here is part two of the story along with the (not very good) photos that were included.   This story was originally published in the March- April 1977 issue of The Inner Light. 

Paul fans at the San Francisco concert

How I met Paul (part 2)

By Rich Friedland

The Inner Light  (March April 1977 Issue 10)

We carefully watched each plane fly in from the south, but none of them bared the words, “Wings Over America” printed on the side as we had seen in pictures. It was nearly three o’clock when Mr. Casey came outside and told us the bad news:  Paul’s flight had just been delayed two and a half hours due to air traffic.   This did not bother me, I had waited years for this moment, so what’s a couple more hours?  Since we didn’t know what time the doors of the Cow Palace we going to be opened to start letting the people in, Laurie started to worry that we would lose all hopes of getting near the stage if we didn’t get back soon.   Since I would have any way of getting back to the concert if I waited around for Paul myself, I went back with them and just decided to come back in my own car after the show.   This way I would  be sure to see Paul boarding the plane before flying back to Los Angeles for the night.

When we got back to our places in line, Quanah and I made plans to meet Paul after the concert.  We planned to leave the concert just before the last song, “Soily” to beat Paul’s limousine to the airport.   By the time he got there, we’d be past the gate waiting for him.

As 6:30 the doors finally opened and we ran like children coming home on the last day of school.  We were choicely situated just fifteen feet from the stage.  The set-up on the stage was hardly a surprise after watching most of it being set up piece by piece earlier that day.  The only part that was new to us was the organization of the amplifiers and guitars.  It looked as though everything was set up strictly to Paul’s satisfaction.  

Suddenly the moment came, “the lights went down, he was back in town –oh yeah!”  for a moment everything was dark until the silhouette of Wings took the stage.  I’m still unsure whether it was flashbulbs, strobe lights or a combination of both that caused the brilliant sparkles on the stage, but the atmosphere was magical.  For split seconds, quick-bright images of a Beatle teased our eyes.  There was no mistake about it, only a few feet ahead of me was the living legend, musical genius, god to millions:  Paul McCartney!!!

The smile on his face brought a cheer that could not be matched by a World Series homer.  At first I was too stunned to move.  I just stared at the stage in amazement.  There was nothing going to stop me from meeting him now, I was more determined than ever!

People around me might have gotten the feeling that I wasn’t enjoying the show for the first couple of songs, but quite to the contrary, I was feeling weak in the knees.

On the same stage just a year and a half before, I remembered seeing George.  I couldn’t help inserting him in the spot where Denny stood.  Joe English became Ringo and just for that moment, Jimmy was John Lennon.  Even though it wasn’t really The Beatles standing in front of me, seeing Paul was plenty good enough.  In fact, I don’t think I could’ve taken seeing the other three!

When I got my strength back, people all around me noticed it.  My screaming and jumping stopped other people from being able to enjoy the show.  If you’re like me in that way, you know why.  If you are the quieter type who goes to concerts to see the show only, you probably hate my type.

Between a couple of songs while Paul was talking to the crowd, I screamed Paul’s name loud enough so I could hardly talk for the next three days.  I knew Paul heard me.  He turned his head and looked right down at me!!  So far this thrill was second only to meeting George in 1974.

Before the concert ended Linda returned a “Wings” hand sign to me and Joe pointed a drum stick at me when I cued him for a drum fill.  I never really cared much for the other members of Wings until this night when I found myself having to watch them when Paul was up at the piano which was out of my view.

Just before “Soily”, Quanah and I ran for the exits through the tight crowd of people who wouldn’t budge.  Gary, who was supposed to be with us disappeared.  We were worried that he was going to pass up another chance to meet Paul, but hoped he might somehow be waiting for us down at the car.  The run to the car was even more exhausting because of all the energy I had used watching the concert.  When we got to the car Gary wasn’t there and we had no time to wait.  Quanah did the driving and got us to the airport fast. 

When we got to the airport we could see Paul’s “Wings Over America” jet just about one hundred yards on the other side of the cyclone fence with the engines running and the inside lights brightly lit.  Now we were more excited than ever!   Nothing was going to stop us from meeting Paul now!  I picked up the receiver of the security telephone just as I had seen Laurie do earlier that day.  When a voice asked me who I was,  I knew I had to act like I had some authority to pass.  All I could think of was the name of Laurie’s father.

“We’re coming in, we’re with Mr. Casey,” I confidently told them.  Magically the gate sprung open and we walked right through!  Naturally we didn’t waste any time about running over to Paul’s jet.  I wasn’t exactly sure about how to greet whoever was inside without looking like typical fans who would quickly get thrown out. 

We stepped to the bottom of the stairs and looked up into the jet that Paul had flown in so many times.  There stood a smiling man in a pilot’s uniform who waved at me!  I cheerfully asked him if it would be okay if we took a quick look inside the jet before Paul got there.  He could not have been more friendly.  He not only invited us inside, but he introduced us to the rest of the crew.  There was his co-pilot John Tapley, the two beautiful stewardesses, Marsha Pierce and Vickie White and himself Dan MacLen.  

As we walked around and took pictures, a catering service brought the following food on board:  crackers, butter, corn chips, cheeses, bread, milk, cupcakes, sandwiches, grapes, strawberries, tacos, apples, oranges, corn beard, donuts, olives, peppers, celery, pickles, onions and more.  The total price of the food and service was one hundred nineteen dollars and sixty-five cents which they charged to “Butler.”

The jet was a rare English called a Bac III.  Inside its three rooms we noticed there was wood paneling and white carpeting.  There were many pictures on the wall including an abstract colorful painting of Paul himself.

The stewardesses told us that Paul was staying in Los Angeles and chose to fly to and from there for many of his concerts to avoid moving the children around a lot.  All three of his kids, who Vickie said were very nice, waiting down in Los Angeles for mom and dad under the supervision of a sitter.  She also told us that as long as Paul had been on tour, he had not been doing much eating and never had any tea or coffee aboard the jet. 

Among his favorite things to drink these days there is his favorite of all, grape juice with a pinch of lime.  His latest eating discovery is macadamia nuts which he will never refuse.  Linda, who was also said by the stewardesses to be very nice, was quoted by Marsha as telling Paul to get up and make his own taco rather than bothering the stewardesses.  Vickie told us that Paul is very nice and that stardom hasn’t gone to his head at all!

A few other things I noticed aboard the jet, were a recent copy of National Geographic Magazine, a color TV and a “No Smoking” sign.

After staying on the jet for a little over an hour we were told that Paul would be arriving shortly, so Quanah and I stepped out of the jet, and waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs.

We stood around in the cold air for another 45 minutes and began to wonder if Paul was really going to show up.  With a jet engine running by our side and the words, “Wings over America” above us, there wasn’t much room for doubt.  As each pair of headlights drove near the entrance gate, we felt more and more sure that these were going to be Paul’s. 

Finally the gate opened and in drove four shiny black limousines!  We waved.  They all pulled up just a few feet away from where Quanah and I were standing.  We were so startled; we did not know what to do.  The first limousine’s front passenger’s door opened and out stepped the football-player sized body guard we had read about.  The courtesy light inside the car went on and we could clearly see Paul and Linda hop out of the back seat.

Rather than take any chances of getting separated from Paul before he boarded the jet, we stayed right where we were at the bottom of the plane’s stairs.  Before Paul got over to the where we were, the body guard walked over to us.

“can I help you?” he asked without meaning it.

When we told him we just wanted to talk to Paul for a moment, he told us we could not.  I didn’t go through all this hassle for nothing.  There was no way I was going to pass up meeting Paul now!

As the body guard held us back, he also pushed us further from the jet.  There was no way around him, so we began yelling out to Paul who was on his way to the plane’s steps.  He heard us and came right over!  I stuck my hand out to shake hands with him as the body guard stepped aside.  As he shook my right hand, I slapped him on the right shoulder with my left hand just to make sure he knew I was there. 

“Hi Paul, you don’t know how much I like ya,” I told him.

I couldn’t believe I was shaking hands with a Beatle!  It was without a doubt the greatest moment of my life!  As he began to hurry towards the jet he pointed to me and said, “Hey I remember you from the concert!”  I was shocked needless to say!

Quanah, who still had a grip on himself, was able to ask his favorite Beatle if we could get our picture taken with him.  Looking over his left shoulder as he began to climb the stairs, Paul yelled, “Tomorrow night!”

With an invitation like this, we were going to make sure we were back at this same place before the concert ended again.

The next morning, I called Gary to find out why he was not with us at the car to leave to meet Paul the night before.   He told me that the crowd was so big that he lost us and had to end up taking the bus home. Feeling sorry that he had to miss out on meeting his favorite Beatle, I asked him to join Quanah and I that night when we went back again.

The three of us decided that since there was only four more days before Paul’s birthday, we should get him a cake with macadamia nuts on it.  We gave the bakery short notice, but were able to talk them into having a creamy white cake ready for us.  At just ten minutes before closing time, we picked it up.  It was beautiful:  “Happy 34^th Paul, from The Inner Light” was printed on the frosting surrounded by Paul’s favorite, macadamia nuts.

We rushed home to meet Gary which we were late for.  During one of my sharp turns on the way home, our beautiful cake did a 180 degree somersault, flew across the car and fell to the floor up-side-down.

I stopped the car.  I couldn’t bear to open the pink box to see what was left of Paul’s birthday cake.  Quanah slowly opened the box and took a quick peek inside.  “It’s pretty bad,” he chuckled.

“Then what’s so funny? I demanded, “Can it be fixed?”

Without answering, he opened up the box wide enough for me to see inside.  It was a hopeless mess of wall to wall lemon filling and white frosting.  No doubt about it, this cake just wasn’t up to Paul’s standards.

When we got back to my house, Gary was there and eager to see the birthday cake and leave for the concert.  Instead of showing him the cake, I called the bakery and hoped they hadn’t closed yet.  When the woman answered the phone, I begged her to do a rush job on a duplicate cake.  She said she’d do her best and would stay open until we got there.  As the three of us left for the bakery, Gary just remembered he left his concert ticket at home!

By the time we got the new cake (which was just as nice as the first one) and Gary got his ticket, we had just a few minutes to make it down to the Cow Palace.  When we got there we had to stand near the back which we had planned on doing anyway.  This way we would be able to see the parts of the concert that Paul played the piano during, from a better view.

Quanah, Gary and I left shortly before the concert ended for the airport just as we had done the night before.  When we got past the walk-in security gate, we noticed an airplane nearby was being loaded by a few people that looked like they might have the authority to kick us out if they so desired. 

So we tried to look as though we worked for Wings and spoke with English accents.

A man who looked like he might be in charge of the area came over to us and began asking us questions about who we were.  When he heard our fake English accents he was immediately fooled and became fascinated with meeting people who worked for Paul McCartney.  Before he left, he told us some stories about how rare and dependable the jet Paul was using was.  He also invited us to have a ride on his own personal jet next time we were back in town.

It was a relief not to have any competition in meeting Paul.   A few minutes later two girls stepped up to the bottom of the jet’s stairs with a bottle of champagne in their hands.  I explained to them that it was our job to keep people away from the jet and that they would have to leave.  They looked so sad by this that I just couldn’t do this to them.  I told them that I was only kidding and admitted that I was there for the same reason they were. 

Then the gate swung open and the four limousines pulled in single file followed by several other McCartney fans.  We were no longer alone, but since we were the closest people to the jet, we didn’t worry much about the others getting in our way.

Paul and Linda stepped out of the first car together and rushed up the stairs.  I was only able to say “hi” to Paul this time, but at  least Gary got to shake his hand.

Once Paul was inside the jet I settled for saying “Hello” to Linda, who was very friendly.

“Linda, give this birthday cake to Paul.”  Because her arms were so full of other things, she turned down the gift to her husband.

“It’s got macadamia nuts on it,” I hollered with a smile.

Her eyes lit up and she suddenly found room in her arms for one more thing.  She thanked me and rushed up the stairs.  Next in line was Denny who I shook hands with and congratulated.

As the last person boarded the jet, I suddenly remembered I forgot to give Paul a copy of “The Inner Light”!  I was able to give it to a man who assured me Paul would get it. 

As I watched Paul’s jet fade away into the night for the final time, I felt a feeling of accomplishment.  So far I have met George and Paul – just two more to go!

Until I meet John and Ringo, I will remember November 6, 7, and 8 1974 (when I saw and met George) and June 13 and 14, 1976 (meeting Paul) as the very best days “in my life.”

The Inner Light meets Paul McCartney (part 1)

There was a fanzine in the 1970's called "the Inner Light."   It was one of the few fanzines that I have encountered from this time that was ran by a guy.   I have recently gotten 3 issues and it appears to be more news orientated than the other fanzines from the 1970's that I have.   

In one of the issues, Volume 2 number 9 from 1976 the editor of the fanzine, Rich Friedland, writes part one of how he meets Paul McCartney during the San Francisco stop of the Wings Over America tour.   I am expecting a typical story.   He meets him at his hotel, outside the exit, backstage, etc.   No, no no...not Rich!   This guy came up with some of the craziest schemes!   The sneaking around, the lies...oh my the lies!    And his poor buddy Gary....Gary must be the guy that the saying "you snooze you lose" came from.    I think that to meet Paul McCartney I would be willing to do some crazy things, but I can say that I would never have the guts to do the things that Rich and his friends did.   I think he was lucky that he didn't land in jail!   

One thing that is good to point out is how important it is within the Beatle fan community to network and be willing to work together.    You will see that they meet a girl who can help them meet Paul but she needs a ride and they have a car.     This actually made me think about what can we do as a fan community to work together in the upcoming year. 

Anyhow the second part of this story is in the next issue of the magazine and I will type it up tomorrow.

I love that I found this photo in my files.   It is Paul with the REAL sound guy at the Cow Palace in 1976

Is Paul giving that thumbs up to Rich and his friends?   San Francisco 1976

How I met Paul

By Rich Friedland

The Inner Light volume 2 number 9(1976)

Since the greatest moment of my life (when I met George Harrison in November 1974), I have wanted more than ever to meet the other three Beatles.

Paul was coming to San Francisco to do two concerts in his first American tour in ten years.  This was going to be a chance to meet Paul I would not pass up.

My plan to meet Paul was to go to the hotel he would be staying at when he came to town.  In order to find out which one, I called every major hotel in San Francisco.

In an English accent, I told the reservations desk of each hotel, that I was booking agent for the “Wings Over America” tour.  I explained that I was calling to add two days to the reservations that had previously been made.

Each hotel carefully checked their records, but assured me that I must be mistake; no reservations for Wings had been made!  From this information, I assumed that the band had booked themselves under a different name to avoid nosey people like me.  Back to the drawing board.

The next scheme I tried, was to get some friends to go to the Cow Palace (the concert hall where the concerts were going to be held at) and check out all the exits that Paul could possibly use after his concerts.  If we parked at just the right place, and were ready at just the right time, we would have a good chance of following his limousine to wherever he was staying.  

So one evening, Quanah, Mike and I went to the Cow Palace and began investigating.  We checked every inch of the outside of the building, but couldn’t be at all sure about where performers make their exits. 

As we walked around to the other side of the building, we found a main door which led us to all of the main offices.  We walked past some small rooms and found an end to the big hall.

“May I help you?” came a woman’s voice form behind us.

“Yes, we are the main equipment managers for the ‘Wings over America’ tour,” Quanah explained in his fake English accent, “and we would like to take a look at the floor plan of the concert hall.”

Before we knew what was happening, we found ourselves shaking hands with John Root, the manager of the Cow Palace.  Quanah and I used English accents while Mike suddenly became the American electronics technician.  Now, Mike doesn’t know a transistor from a light bulb; much less know how to set up a light show, or a rock sound system.

Because the staff was just beginning to close up the building for the evening, it was a little difficult to get Mr. Root to show us around.  But since we had to meet Paul in Los Angeles early the next morning, he gladly turned all the electricity back on and gave us a grand tour.

In the hour and a half we were there, we not only found out which exit Paul’s limousine would be taking, but we were told a lot of inside information about how the show was going to be run.

While Quanah and I were getting a lot f other questions answered, Mike was having fun pretending to know about the technical equipment he was being shown.

We were treated like guests of honor, and were introduced to other important people having to do with the “Great rock Show”.  As we thanked them and said goodbye, we couldn’t help laughing inside about pulling this whole act over on them.

On our way home we realized that the one thing we forgot to ask at the Cow Palace was how we were supposed to prove that we were stagehands to get through the door the evening before the concert.  If we had some kind of passes, we felt we’d be able to meet Paul or sure.

Early the next morning, Quanah and Mike were back down at the Cow Palace, trying to get some kind of written credentials or passes to insure us of getting in.  

Unfortunately Mr. Root was not there, so they had to settle for talking to a different man who didn’t know as much.  He was able to explain to them that the equipment crew would have all their names on a list which would be sent to the Cow Palace.  This way, no one would get in who didn’t belong.  Back to the drawing board again.

Before leaving, Quanah and Mike were able to look at a few other things that weren’t shown to us the day before.  After being shown Paul’s dressing room, the man showing them around figured Mike should know where the main power box for the building was.  Mike, posing as the electrician, made a fool of himself when he was unable to open the typical power box.

Although we were still uncertain about exactly how we were going to meet Paul, we still had a lot more ideas, and an enormous amount of determination.

One method we thought we could try would be to climb up the wall that separates backstage from the main corridor where people enter the Cow Palace inside the building. If Paul was on the other side of the wall at just the right time, we would be able to talk to him then (This is “How I met George” during his cow Palace concert back in 1974).

The only reason why I couldn’t rely on this working with Paul as it did for George was that he wasn’t going to take any breaks during his concert so I would never have the opportunity to see him backstage.  Before and after the concerts, the wall would definitely be too heavily guarded.

A few weeks went by, and the night before the concert finally came around.  Quanah, myself and Gary Sandvand were all packed and ready to go to the Cow Palace.  Since the concert was going to have festival seating, sleeping outside the building to get a good place in line was absolutely necessary. 

We parked my car right next to the gate five exit which John Root had told us Paul’s limousine would be using after the show.  Our plans were to dash down to the car right after “Hi hi Hi” which was scheduled to be the second to the last song.  If we were able to follow Paul, and find out which hotel he would be staying it, it would be well worth sacrificing one song for.

As we stepped out of my Mustang, a young man standing on the corner watched us unload my trunk.

“Are you guys early birds to see Paul McCartney?” he asked cheerfully.

“We’re not only going to see him,” I answered, “we’re going to meet him!”

Surprised to hear this, he asked us how we planned on meeting the man who was to be one of the most heavily guarded people in San Francisco the next day.

When we told him that we would be following the limousine that would be pulling out of the garage he was leaning against, he told us what he know about this.

He said the exit pans for the limousine, were to use any one of the back exits which were located behind the parking lot.  With the tight security, and unpredictable time they would leave, and not knowing with exit they were going to use, we had almost no chance at all of meeting Paul.  Before we could ask him how he knew so much, he showed us his credentials.  He worked for Mr. Concert himself, Bill Graham.  He even told us that he himself who wanted very much to meet Paul had no hopes of doing so.

Although these words were discouraging, we lost no hope of meeting our idol.  We just dreamed up another scheme.

Spending the night in line with Quanah, Gary and I were John and Cindy.  John the bartender brought enough of every kind of drink for all.  I walked around and said hello to the other seventy-give McCartney freaks as I passed out flyer to “The Innner Light”

The people were more than friendly, just as they were for the Harrison concert.  We drank tequila sunrises and had everyone joining in signing while Quanah played Beatles songs on the guitar.  Before we knew it, John, Gary and I were so drunk that we wandered into the Cow Palace through an unlocked door.

As about a hundred janitors sat around in the seats taking a cleaning break, John and I entertained them by singing and dancing to Beatles songs.  We stood where Paul’s stage would soon be set up, while the janitors called out requests and applauded John’s magnificent drum solo using his index fingers on the floor.

It was a great party. We met lots and lots of people before we finally went to sleep about 5:30am.

Two hours later, we were awakened to move our sleeping bags over which kept me awake the rest of the day.  With my red hair standing on end, my mouth reciting something from Monty Python and my legs staggering like a three-legged dog, I wandered back into the Cow Palace where the roadies were beginning to unload the trucks and assemble the stage.

At the time I couldn’t figure out why the crew was looking at me so strangely.  I can’t recall everything I said to them, but I am pretty certain that the line that got me quickly ushered out was when I told them that I was John Root, the manager of the Cow Palace.

By the time I got back in line, my drunkenness was quickly going and my hangover was quickly coming.

Around ten o’clock that morning, I suggested to Gary and Quanah that the three of us go into the Cow Palace together and hide in a dark corner behind the seats.  This way we could wait until late in the afternoon when Paul came in to do his sound check.  At that time we would run down and meet him.

Gary and I quickly packed up and Quanah said he’d meet us there shortly.  We had no trouble sneaking past the equipment crew who were too busy to even notice us.  We quietly walked up to afar corner to where, as John Lennon would say, “the cheap seats” were.

Making sure no one was looking; Gary and I laid down behind the seats to make ourselves invisible.  Even when we occasionally popped our heads up to take a look around below, we were too far away to be seen.  As long as we didn’t walk around or sit up, we had little worry of getting caught.

We laid on the hard cement trying to kill the next seven or eight hours by sleeping.  Ever try to go to sleep with a hangover?  I was in no mood to sleep, but I stayed awake eating chocolate chip cookies which had to hold us over until concert time.

After about two hours of very uncomfortable waiting, I heard some voices and footsteps quickly coming toward us and it didn’t sound like Quanah!  I froze my head in a half-raised position and for some reason; I closed my eyes trying to look asleep.  I do not know why I did this, people don’t sleep with this head raised off the ground and even if they did, this was no place for a nap!  Too scared to open my eyes, I heard people walk to the only set of seats that were behind us and lay down.

I turned around and found out it was two guys in there for the same reason we were!  They explained that they did not want to meet Paul, but just wanted to see the concert without paying.  They told us that they had done this several times with other groups and have never been caught.

Acting as a look-out, the guy behind me kept us posted about everything that was going on down below.  From time to time I would take a look myself.  I was fascinated with watching how they set up the stage and the light show.

Around two o’clock I saw Quanah walking around on the main floor looking up at the seats for us.  Because we were so well hidden, he finally gave up.

As he started to walk out of the building, I took a chance.  Hoping the equipment crew wouldn’t see me, I ran down to get Quanah.  When I reached him, he told me to forget about hiding and to follow him.  There was someone very important for me to meet.

Quanah then introduced me to a girl he’d met named Laurie Casey.  She happened to be one of the few people in the world who knew exactly when and where Paul’s plane was going to fly in.  She explained that Paul was staying in Los Angeles.  He would be flying to and from San Francisco for both of his shows.  She told us that she’d be happy to take us down to meet him if we did the driving!  If we left right then, we would have just enough time to catch him coming in on that night’s flight.

We asked everyone around us to save our places in line and left for a private section of San Francisco international airport call Butler Aviation.

Because Gary was still sleeping inside the Cow Palace, we had to leave him behind.  A quick ride while singing Beatle songs with John’s tape deck got us there just in time for Paul’s landing which was scheduled for 2:30pm.

With the combination of just beginning to get over a hangover, and knowing that I was just minutes away from meeting Paul McCartney, I was totally unable to think straight.

Getting past the walk-in gate was the hardest part of getting in.  Laurie just picked up the telephone receiver and explained that she was Mr. Casey’s daughter, and the gate sprung right open.  When we walked in, we were amazed to see that we were the only people there to greet Paul.  Either this whole landing was more secretly organized that the Beatles flights or we were the subjects of a poor practical joke.

With a bit of doubt in our minds, we went over to where some limousines were parked and began questioning the drivers.  The first driver almost accidentally admitted that he was there to pick up Paul, but quickly changed his story.  This confirmed that we were at the right place!  We knew we were only moments away from meeting Beatle Paul McCartney!