New York Night Life

 

That Sweater in France

 

Mull of Kintyre #3

 

In December of 1977, Wings made what is known as the Mull of Kintyre promo #3.  While it has only been seen by some collectors, these photos/stills have been shared.  We see that it features the McCartney family's mini horse (who was supposedly called 'Jet', but that was also the name of a dog they owned).   It also had a strange Santa mannequin and a Christmas tree in the background.  I hope one day to see this promo. 

Starr Trek (1980)

Photo from this trip (Nancy Andrews collection)

 

Starr Trek

By Susin Shipiro

Sunday News Magazine

September 7, 1980

    Ringo Starr has finished a movie in Mexico called Caveman. He has been there before in Blindman, a spaghetti western. "In every scene, I went from hello to madness. I raped a girl, stabbed her father, shot people left and right," he says of Blindman. In Caveman, he grunts a lot. His cave lady turns out to be Barbara Bach, whom he is marrying.

     I can't say I'm overly thrilled about the match, since my introduction to him was via his former fiancée, an Alabamian named Nancy Andrews, alias my oldest friend. 

    Four months after I met Ringo, I rendezvoused with him and Nancy in Mexico, where he neither grunted nor killed anybody, but he did save my life---kind of. We were puttering around Cozumel when news of a solar eclipse came over the radio. Ringo decided to see the Mayan ruins that lay on the other side of the Yucatan, and four of us climbed into a rented Jeep with maracas and wonky drums with balls attached to strings that bonk against the hollow skins when you shake your wrists. Ringo was playing the things while driving. He is a better drummer than driver. He had already been banned in Monte Carlo for his "daring do" behind the wheel. 

    The paved road gave out 30 miles from the hotel. The Solar Eclipse was warming up. The sky was fuchsia as we chugged along the bumps. "A long way from Liverpool", said Ringo, with his usual firm grasp on the obvious. We passed two men setting up a tripod on the roadside to shoot the Eclipse. "Pardon me", said Ringo, "Are you the Mayan ruins?" The men stare into the Jeep, see this guy wearing racing shades and a lady's tank top on his head, secured with a button that reads, "Watch out for the booga rooga." some caveman.

     A few minutes later, we pass a cow and a bull by a sharp curve. "Are you the Mayan ruins?" Ringo asks which way to Itza. Then the Jeep stalls. After a little coddling, it starts up, then it rolls over and dies. 

    We inspect the beach and the solar descent. Ringo finds a cracked doll's head, a tin can, shells, and seaweed. The night is filled with strange noises far away, grunts. We start to walk back to the main road. The path is strewn with branches and unidentified objects. Bat circle, we hear the steady pound of cows' hoofs in the brush. "Let's sing," Ringo suggests, "or else, cry, whatever."

     After about four hours, we spy a flicker of light. It is the two men with their tripod! They have set up a candlelit plank across two tree stumps, swiping a fresh coconut off a nearby palm, hacked it open with a mini machete, and placed a bottle of tequila at our disposal. They joined us on the star trek, but it was Ringo on automatic pilot who got us through the underbrush and prickly overheads. Eventually, we find the main road. Ringo, doing a knock-me-down tango with inexhaustible energy, fetches a cab, which takes us back to the hotel gratis. 

    A famous face is a famous face. "I knew we'd make it," Ringo says the following afternoon. "I'm going to live till I'm 87." I heard a flash at that moment, a flash of lightning, a rumble of thunder, Mexico's first rain in three months. We pile into a new Jeep, pockets packed with pesos to celebrate our emergence from the jungle intact. There are survivors and survivors, but there is only one Ringo Starr and once upon a time in Mexico, he saved my life --kind of.

The Saturday Interview: Ringo Starr (from 1977)

A Day In the Life: "I'm said to have good legs," says Nancy Andrews, Ringo's love of the past two years.

 

The Saturday Interview:  Ringo Starr

By Jim Jerome

Evening Herald

January 29, 1977

    "My six-year-old daughter asked me once, 'Daddy, you used to play in Paul McCartney's backup band, didn't you?'"  Little Lee Starr may simply have heard it wrong. Back then, Daddy was into rings, not Wings.  Of course, Lee is not the first generation of Beatles maniacs to patronize pop. 

    Ringo Starr, 36, was often considered a journeyman among geniuses. He recalls being expected to do his funny fills on the tom-toms while Lennon and McCartney caught their breath between those infallible wizard cadenzas.

     Even if Ringo was the most vulnerable, cuddly, and righteously deadpan Beatle to his fans, he was to critics a fab fourth and a musician whose musicianship was always underrated. 

    He grumbles today, but admits that "I was embarrassed by my little songs. I'd write tunes that were already written and just change the lyrics, and the other three would have hysterics telling me what I'd rewrite."

     Ringo inadvertently summed up the post-parting depression of his early solo career in the title of his own 1971 hit, "It Don't Come Easy". Of late, things are getting better with a little help from his friends like Eric Clapton, Peter Frampton, and old partners George Harrison and John Lennon, who all joined Ringo in the studio for his latest and most accomplished solo LP. Ringo Rotogravure .

    For the first time, Ringo is also considering a personal tour this year. "I'm lazy, but I'd like to try it three days a week for a month." Simultaneously, he'll awaken his dormant film career with a cameo role in May West's Sextette. 

    The other departure in Starr's life is to leave England forever, fleeing an 83% tax stranglehold by shuttling between two sunny tax shelters. As a resident of income tax free Monte Carlo, he lives in a 30th floor two bedroom apartment high over the Mediterranean and as a legal non resident in the US, he can spend as much as half a year in his rented cottage nestled in the Hollywood Hills, without obligation to the IRS for his international earnings.

     Ringo's self-exile was complicated by his 1975 divorce from Maureen, his ex-hairdresser, wife of 10 years, and mother of their three children, sons Zak, 11, and Jason, nine, plus Lee, who all stayed in England. The anguish of the breakup has been greatly soothed by Ringo's love of the past two years. Nancy Andrews, 29, a striking Alabama-born former Vogue, Mademoiselle, and TV commercial model. "She flashed her eyes once", he says, recalling their first date when he invited her to a studio session, "and I've been in love with her ever since."

     There was a time, Ringo remembers, when he and the boys joked that you couldn't rock after 30, "but then you get there and you stop laughing."

     For now, he and Nancy stay young by indulging Ringo's fancy at the blackjack tables in Monte Carlo. "Am I living a leisurely flow of days into nights and back into days in California? LA shuts down at 2am," he says, "and this place opens up."  It's like an open house at Ringo's on any given night. Clapton and his lady, Harrison's estranged wife, Pattie, might show up, and the men will sing pub ditties until 9am.

     Most nights, Starr stays at home with Nancy as the cook of the house. "I'm easy to please," Ringo explains, "fish, meat, nothing fancy. I don't need your curries and chop sueys."

     Their LA home and most furnishings are rented, except for the stereo and video gear and two Gene Autry posters. Ringo laughs off reports that he's broke and therefore pumping for the overhyped, $50 million Beatles resurrection. "I'm no billionaire. Rockefeller--he's really loaded, but if you think the Beatles didn't save any money, you're insane. Broke is relative. I'm just the biggest spender. I'm 30 companies, you know, multinational. We're in everything from dentist chairs to vending machines, but I don't talk about it."

     His business managers confiscated all his credit cards, but one, "because I use them like water, I used to spend them on jewelry, cars and my toys."

"And me,!" Nancy added.

     "My divorce has been happening for years," he says. "It can break your brain. I overreacted to the responsibility of marriage and kids for a long time, but now I've adjusted. I'd like to have children with Nancy."

     As to Ringo's appeal, she exclaims, "I'm so attracted to his mind. He's fast, sharp, physically, that he just takes my heart. The most aware man I've ever met."  Nancy, who had herself been married for four years, says when they first met, "he'd just sit in his hotel room with the remote control TV. Even now", she adds, "he's moody and super sensitive, like last July, when feeling vaguely insane and drinking some new drink, he shaved his head bald."

     Ringo grew up a lonely, sickly only child. He has always had a deep personal stake in successful fathering. "My father, a house painter, left when I was three. My mom, a barmaid, worked, and my grandma looked after me. I've always had that 'I'll be the father' thing, and the main brain damage of divorce has been the kids. He frets. They freaked out at first." He goes on, "but they got over it quicker than I did. Maureen and I are still friendly, and I see the kids whenever I want."

     Ringo bought them all a home minutes away from his 80-acre Tittenhurst Park mansion, picks them up from school, and has them over the weekends. Now they can visit on weekends only when he's in Monte Carlo. All three children spent last summer in LA with Ringo and Nancy, and they returned for the Christmas holidays in Lake Tahoe.

     "Nancy is great with them", says Ringo, "and they think the world of her. Maureen", he cheerfully reports, "is involved with someone."

     On parenting, Ringo sounds like Rock's Dr. Spock, dispensing theories but no advice. Like Paul McCartney, he's firm about discipline. "I've beaten my kids and made them learn to say, 'Excuse me, '" he says.

     Ringo scrupulously avoids dictating musical tastes at home. As a result, eldest son, Zak, likes some Beatles tracks he's heard," sighs his father, "but he prefers Alice Cooper and Kiss instead."

     Daddy resists any temptation to reminisce about the Beatles and be engulfed by the memories of his glorious, prolific younger days, even when the McCartneys visited last June during the Wings tour and when Harrison and The Lennons were in town for the Rotogravure recording session. Says Ringo, "only 2% of our time was spent in nostalgia. We don't back off from it, but it's not like those were the only days of our lives."

     He does have a Ringo-esque theory of it, "although I always thought we were five, us four, and we weren't the greatest players, something else:  magic!"

     As for a second coming. "We did talk about it," Ringo levels, "but there's no interest now. If anything, we'll do an album first, then prepare for a tour for six months. And we don't have that kind of time, and we wouldn't do it for the money. We were never into that."

     What were they into? "We never wanted to be dictators, presidents, or kings, " Ringo said, "but we did what we wanted to do, we revolutionized the world of music."

Ringo in Sextette

 

The little glasses thief

 

Patric Gange that she stole Ringo's glasses as a baby and still has them.   I don't quite understand how a baby can steal glasses.   They take my glasses off me all the time, but I always get them back.  But here is her story as she tells it in her book and is told in People magazine. 

In her book, Gagne writes that from an early age she didn’t experience “common social emotions like shame and empathy” the way other children did. “For the most part, I felt nothing. And I didn’t like the way that ‘nothing’ felt. So I did things to replace the nothingness with… something.”

According to Gagne, that “something” occasionally took the form of stealing.

“I started stealing before I could talk,” she writes. “At least, I think I did. I don’t remember the first time I took something, just that by the time I was six or seven I had an entire box full of things I’d stolen in my closet.”

Among those pilfered items, she writes, were Ringo’s specs — which she claims to still have today.

“Somewhere in the archives of People magazine there is a photo of Ringo Starr holding me as a toddler,” she explains. “We’re standing in his backyard — not far from my birthplace in Los Angeles, where my father was an executive in the music business — and I am literally stealing the glasses off his face.”

Gnomes at the Fountain

May 23rd 1977 - Friar Park

Kumar Shankar, Zak, Maureen, Lee, and a few gnomes.  Photo by Deborah Chester.

 

The Prisoner

 The Prisoner

By Stuart While

New of the World

October 23, 1977

 

In the fifteen shattering years since the Beatles first burst upon us, John Lennon’s sad sometimes tragic face has not been much of an advertisement for success.  It isn’t only love that money can’t buy.

“I enjoy the security of knowing I’ve got it,” he says. “But I’ve still got that lower-class fear. Wealth in itself doesn’t make me happy, but it’s like my Auntie Mimi always said – I’d sooner be miserable in luxury.

“That for me is a bed, a carpet and some food.”  A pause. Then the old jokey Lennon:  “If they took the TV away, I’d certainly call that suffering.  

Life is almost that simple for millionaire John. For he is, if anything, the Beatles who was trapped by success.  He has become a prisoner of 72^nd Street, New York where he lives in a vast apartment in a Colditz-like mansion block.

He rarely goes out. He rarely entertains. His circle is close. He almost never gives interviews. It is Auntie Mimi who can tell us most about the most secret of the ex-Beatles.

It is 3a.m. and the telephone rings in the seaside home of 65 year old widow Mimi Smith. A world famous voice booms down the line from New York, 3,440 miles away.

“’Allo Mimi, ‘ow are yer?”

The accent in unmistakably Scouse. But there is more than a hint of what years of Manhattan living have etched into the nasal Merseyside tones of ex-Beatle John Winston Lennon. Aunt Mimi, who brought John up from childhood scolds him gently: “Do you know what time it is here?  Well do you?”  He laughs off the five hour time difference that makes it only 10pm in New York and says, “Never mind that Mimi.  How are you?  How are things? How are you going?”  She props herself on her pillows and for up to an hour, the man once known as the Cruel Beatle, the matter of the acid remark, the stinging cutting aside, shows a side to his character few people believe exist. Tenderness.

“Oh John can be very tender,” says Aunt Mimi as we speak at the luxury home he bought for her in Poole. “I know he has this reputation for being cynical and sharp, but I know him better.  I know that beneath all that he can be very warm. He asks how I am how my health is, what the weather is like. You know, all the little things that people seem to want to know what they’re living abroad.

“Then we’ll stat to talk about the old days.  The last time he was on, we started talking about his schooldays and the time he came home on the last day of term with his school report. He just rode up to the kitchen window on his bike, threw the report in and shouted ‘I’m off and out.’

“I knew it must be a bad report, so I chased after him shouting, ‘You come back this minute John Lennon.’ But he was off.

“We had a good laugh about that over the phone. I think in a way he’s a little bit lonely.  I’ve not seen him for over five years and though we talk regularly on the phone, it isn’t quite the same.”

She smiles as she recalls another late night call. “Sometimes he’ll stay on for ages and ages and it costs a pound a minute or something.  The last time he called he was on for over an hour, and I said, “John, this is costing you a fortune. You put the phone down this minute.’

“he sounded just like a little boy again. He said “Oh Mimi I haven’t finished yet. Besides, I can afford it.’

“I give him a good telling off sometimes.  Well, I can, can’t I? He’s not famous to me and he knows it.”

Lennon’s ex-wife Cynthia told me “Mimi is right about John. He’s an extremely tender person – or rather he’s capable of tenderness. This tough, bitter side he has is a kind of protection. I feel sad for him because a lot of people seem to get satisfaction out of hurting him.

“When I wrote about our marriage breaking up in a women’s magazine, I had no intention of hurting him.   I’m only sorry that with all his wealth and with all his fame, he doesn’t appear to be happy. One thing I really wish for him is happiness.”

Mimi proudly showed me postcards John has sent her from Japan where he is holidaying with Yoko and their song Sean Ono Lennon, now nearly two.

The first is straight Margate style “wish you were here” “Mimi: Are up in mountains really very nice. Love John, Yoko and Sean.”

Mimi says “You’d think he could have written a bit more than that, wouldn’t you?”

The next: “Mimi, Still up in the mountains. Here is the number in case you wanna give us a call. Love Da-da, mom-ma and Sean-chan.”

Mimi says: “I think ‘chan,’ means son.  That really is typical of him,” she added with mock exasperation. “He gives me some telephone number in the middle of the Japanese mountains.  I don’t know where, and expects me to call him.  I don’t know what time it will be there, whether he’ll be in or anything. IF he wants to talk, he can jolly well call me.”

 

John decided in Japan to let his professional career take second place to baby Sean.  “We’ve basically decided to be with our baby as much as we can until we feel we can take time off to indulge ourselves in creating things outside the family,” he said.  “Maybe when he’s three, four, or five, then we’ll think about creating something else other than the child.

 

There are weakspots in the Lennon armour. Each October 9 is his Achilles heel. This year on that date John Lennon, born during a Liverpool air raid in 1940 was 37.

Mimi told me, “He’s like a child about his birthday. He likes cards and presents, and he’s particularly keen that he gets one from me.  But John is so absent-minded he always forgets mine. So last year I thought, “OK If you can forget mine, I can forget yours and I didn’t send him a card.  It was unforgivable really.

 “Well about a week later. I got a letter from New York.  It just said ‘Mimi you forgot my birthday. John.’

“He didn’t phone for weeks. I’ll never do it again. I know just how much his birthday means to him. “

John didn’t let Aunt Mimi forget it this month. He sent her a present. “The postman knocked on the door and there was this small parcel from Japan,” said Aunt Mimi.

“It was a beautiful set of Japanese pearls.  They must have cost the earth.  It was his birthday and he sent ME a present.  That’s typical of the real John.”

A young New York couple discovered the sharp edge of the Lennon tongue when they walked into the Sensuous Bean a tiny coffee and tea store on Columbus Avenue, Manhattan.

John and Yoko had just bought 1 pound of Columbian and 1 pound of Haitian coffee at a total cost of 4 pounds. They were discussing whether to buy a coffee post costing 9 pounds when this couple spotted them through the window.

Shop partner Joe Pumphrey, aged 28, told me “They obviously recognized John and Yoko, walked on, walked back and then came into the shop.  They made this big pretense that they were looking for some herb tea and kept speaking very loudly about the relative merits of the various teas. I knew they had no intention of buying anything.  All the time they kept edging closer to John, almost begging him to join in the discussion.

“I saw John’s face and I could see he realized what was going on this couple and he had a sort of strange look on his face. It was a smile, but not a nice sort of smile.

“Herb tea? He said. “You want herb tea? Well in my opinion you’ll want this.”

“Then he picked up the most expensive brand of herb tea in the largest container we’d got, it must have been about 10 pounds.  ‘But this,’ he said.   This couple looked terrified.  It sounds when you repeat it as though it was a recommendation, but it wasn’t.  It was an order. 

The couple took the tea, paid for it, and hurried out of the shop. “

Rarely do John and Yoko venture out of the Dakota Mansions on Manhattan’s West Side, home of film actress Lauren Bacall, and husband and wife pop stars Carly Simon and James Taylor.

And no one gets in unless the security guard in his sentry box has written instructions. Black cast-iron gates electronically locked, seal off the giant inner courtyard.  The security guard on duty is former Panzer crewman, Heinz, who was born in Berlin.

He told me, “That John, you know, you hardly see him.  Even now there are girls, teenage girls, they wait on the corner for him.  It’s hard for him to go out getting pestered all the time for autographs.  “He’s a strange chap, John.  When he comes out and passes me, he always says, ‘Morning.’   It doesn’t matter whether it’s afternoon or evening, always the same. I suppose that is an English sense of humour.”

But when the Lennons do come out they push Sean in their English made baby carriage through Central Park, braving photographers, autograph hunters and well-wishers.

Almost all their needs can be met in less than a 400 yard walk from their home. And they go no further.  Inside the flat, the Lennons listen to records – many by Elvis Presley.  “I basically became a musician because of Elvis,” says John. “Elvis was for me and my generation what the Beatles were to the Sixties.”  There are several Japanese restaurants on Columbus Avenue, and John and Yoko are frequent guests.

Their favourite is the Lenge where they take a favourite corner table in the dimly lit bamboo walled dining area. Their bill rarely exceeds 11 pounds. A waiter said, “Yoko orders in Japanese and I think it’s a pleasure for her to speak.  Sometimes we chat about things in our language.  John just sits there and smiles politely. I think he only knows a few words of the language like “thank you” and “please.” He is a very polite man.  Mr. Lennon, not like Americans.  He is very considerate.”

Next door to Dakota Mansions is an underground car park open to the public – if the public can afford their prices, which are up to 55 pounds a month.   That is where Lennon leaves his old-style Rolls Royce, where it stands in an inch-deep pool of oily water while the couple visit Japan.

The Rolls rarely leaves the garage. The Puerto Rican garage attendant told me “It’s always there. I bet the battery is flat. If there was a fire here, we’d never get it out.  That Beatle, he never comes out of that apartment. I’m a poor man, but I bet I’m happier than he is. At least I can walk down the street in peace.”

The number of Lennon’s apartment is top secret.  But one stranger at least has got in.

Nelson Segal make furniture and sells wood products from a sawdust covered store at the corner.  One day last year a young woman walked into the shop and ordered 250 pounds worth of cupboards for the Lennon apartment.

Says Nelson aged 61:  “I gather she was the nanny and I think the cupboard were for her quarters.  But Lennon is paying.  OK. I established that from the beginning. In this business you got to know who is paying.  And that they can. I figured Lennon has got to be OK for a few bucks, right? 

“So I finish these cupboards and I ring the Lennon household.  They gave me a number I should call.  Some woman maybe it’s Yoko, maybe it’s the nanny; I dunno, says: “We don’t want them yet.”  “So I says, ‘Lady you may not want them yet, but , I want the money yet’ So I take them round, with an assistant, and they let us in and we are fitting these cupboards.   Next day, I get a cheque signed by Lennon.  That’s the sort of customer I like.  Good payers.”

Recently, John claimed he had given up drinking saying he used the tragedies of the poets Brendan Behan and Dylan Thomas as a warning to himself.  “Those two poets are legendary,” he said.  “They came to America, did the college lecture circuit, and ultimately drank themselves to death probably with an audience around them.  When I’ve been drunk or disembowelled in one way or another, there are always friends and hangers on who sit around applauding as they hand me more and more stuff to kill myself with.

John has turned his back on the hangers-on. He feels safer with Aunt Mimi.

 

Paul St. John's Wood , Sept '77

 

Paul St. John's Wood, Sept. '77

Written by Pat Deese

With a Little Hep From my Friends

October 1977

We're going to see him September 23rd, I thought and we don't have to be there til noon. Crazy confidence of a McCartney Maniac or physic powers from beyond, I'll never know, but it happened.  For many weeks, seeing Paul in London on the 23rd was on my mind -- it was the 4th anniversary of the last time I met him, but I was sure it'd be a repeat, dejavu.  

We left for Paul's just before noon, as I had confidently told my friend Linda that we didn't have to be there before noon as we would see him after that, so to arrive there at 10 minutes to noon was plenty early. 

Around 12:10 a green car was coming down Cavendish. It had a blinking light, and I knew it was Paul.  "Here he comes," I informed Linda, who thought I was kidding. The rest of what happened is a daze as it was so sudden, so fast, and he was in a hurry.  He was out of the car in seconds.  We were about 30 feet from the gate, and he headed for us. 

Looking at my pictures now, I see he wore a print shirt, light blue jacket, and dark blue pants. He said right away that he was in a rush. I asked if we could have an autograph and he said "sure." He told us he didn't like us hanging around the house and we said sorry, but this was the first time (well, this year anyway...) He said it was all right this time. I reached into my purse to pull out my celebrity picture postcard of him, forgetting I had put my glasses in the side pouch so that I would be able to take a picture of him - can't with the glasses on.  Out fell my glasses and a pack of sugar. In a flash Paul bent down and retreived them.  "Your glasses....your sweet."  Highly embarrassed, I took them from him.  He sure is on the lookout for us fans. 

"Did you do this picture?" he asks as he examines the card I give him.  Linda informs him I got it in a store in Buffalo.  "Oh..." he says.  I ask if I can take pictures and he says "sure" so I snap a few, also looking him over.   He was really slim and he looked gorgeous! He could pass for a young lad again despite the patches of gray on the side of his hair.  

I finally realized that Linda is sitting patiently in the car and occasionally looking our way and she is holding James.  My God, that's the baby, I say to myself.  We both congratulate Paul on the baby and I comment on the lovely picture of him and his son in the paper the night before. He smiles at this and says "thanks." It strikes me that we must be the first fans to see the baby; then I feel guilty for interrupting him when he was bring his son home for the first time.  A few more words, and it's time to go.

I start off, having to round the car. Pau has gone around to the other side and gives us a final wave and goodbye.  His car is slightly in the street, so I have to step out to pass it. I kind of notice a car heading towards me. Next thing I know, Paul is yelling at me to mind the car and waving his arms about!  I jump back, thoroughly embarrassed for the second time in a few minutes -- one of those days.  I guess Paul is used to people losing their senses when he's around. It's amazing how he's always on the lookout for his fans, but then again, he's not meeting the most fascinating person in the world as he's that himself!

We watched the car pull in and we heard the children run down to greet him.  Mommy, daddy, baby and we see him go up the stairs.  WE take off, thanking our lucky stars that we had those few minutes with him.  As I look back on those hectic minutes, I realize he probably wondered how we happened to be there at that time.  He seemed anxious to get that child into the house before some swarm of people came down on him.  Yet despite his hurry, he had a few minutes for us.  He is the greatest - thank you, Paul!

Double Date

 

Trouser Press interview with Paul McCartney

Paul McCartney

Interview by Ray Bonici (Published February 1978)

Trouser Press

Down at Abbey Road Studios, Paul McCartney and Wings are finishing their new album.  That's only part of their current activity, though they've been involved in numerous other projects. Of course, they recently released the Double-A single recorded on a mobile studio at Paul's farm in Scotland; they're also busy editing film material shot during their American tour last year for eventual use on TV. To learn more about these so-called projects and also about the band's present situation now that two of its members, Jimmy McCulloch and English, have left Wings. I interviewed McCartney at Abbey Road. 

Inside one of the studios, the very same where the first Beatles album was cut. Paul greeted me warmly. On this occasion, the studio was packed with hundreds of gas lanterns scattered around the place, creating an oriental atmosphere. 

"Powercuts, you see; we've got to be prepared," Paul explained rather calmly. Despite the minor political upsets affecting this country right now, Paul is still as cheerful as ever, and he's got every reason to be because only recently the McCartneys have added baby James Louis to their clan. Somehow, Paul manages to still look very young, and he is still as talkative and humorous as ever. 

As an opening subject, Paul explained why 1977 was merely a recording year for Wings. 

PM: We've been doing mainly recordings and other studio stuff this year because we had the baby, as you know. And we didn't wanna go out doing live stuff because that is very hectic. If you got to leap off stage and say, "Sorry folks, we just got to have our baby, excuse us for a minute, you know." So I didn't want Linda to be in the middle of all that craziness while she was having a baby because it's hard enough for a woman. Also, we spent that time recording so that when we go out live, hopefully in early spring, we'll have a new bunch of stuff to play, and you need that anyway. By keeping things like that under our control, we can concentrate more on these new tracks we've got. So far, these tracks sound great. They're coming along very nicely. 

TP:  How did you get the idea to record your new album on a boat off the Virgin Islands?

PM: Well, we originally started the recordings here at Abbey Road Studios in London, coming in for the usual album sessions, and it was pouring rain as usual, and things were becoming a bit boring. Geoff Emerick, our engineer, had just returned from Hawaii, where he'd been working on America's latest album, and he was telling us how beautiful and sunny it had been around those parts. So we got a bit jealous about the weather, and I thought maybe we could fix a little excursion and record in a foreign place. We like recording abroad because it brings in all new influences and makes you less bored about the whole thing. So Denny, who earlier this year had visited a floating studio in the States owned by the Record Plant, thought that maybe we should try and record on a boat somewhere. At first I didn't quite like the idea because I'm not that keen on boats and I somehow also thought that the whoel thing might not work out. But when we started talking bout it every day, it was becoming more exciting, and so I thought "Well, we need a break." So we fixed up to go on a boat, and we chartered it just like any other ordinary boat in the Virgin Islands. In all, we chartered three boats. One for the crew, one as the studio and one for ourselves. Then the Record Plant brought over tons of equipment from the States, and they lashed it all up on the boat. 

TP: Did you record less tracks than you expected?

PM:  No, not really. I mean, we didn't go out there with the idea of just lying about in the sun all day. Just because it was raining in London. We didn't go crazy about it. We recorded nine tracks during our month's stay out there, and that's not really fast because the first Beatles album was made in this very studio in a day: in fourteen hours, we made the whole album. But that was a different kettle of fish anyway because we were mainly putting down our live act, so that was a lot easier. Nowadays, to record nine tracks in a month isn't bad at all. We wrote most of the stuff before we took off on our journey, so that made it easier still. We wrote one number one there while we were banging around one night, and that came out well. 

TP: Do these songs from the Virgin Islands have a live feel to them?

PM: I don't know, really. I suppose you'll have to tell me after you've heard the album. A few people working on the album say it's got an upbeat feel about it, that there is a different feel than the one you get in a normal studio. It did give us a lift going out there, though, and it's good that it did. Some people will say, "What the hell did they do that for? Just so they could have a holiday?" But that's the point, really. If you're doing something creative, you've got to really be into it, and the more you're into it, the better result you can get in the end. So we decided to go out there, and I think it has helped. We're back in England now, and I suppose we are going to ruin it and dull it all down, now that the rain is back. I hope not (laughs). We'll finish it by the end of the month and then think about mixing it somewhere after that. I think that if things keep going this way, we should be able to release the album by February. 

TP:  What about the Wings Over America film you're working on?

PM: We're working on it with Chris Thomas. During our American tour last year, they shot a lot of film. That was good, but the sound wasn't that excellent. And one can't re-record a soundtrack; it's not like recording an ordinary record. I heard Jimmy Page say that their soundtrack was from the same show they captured on film, so they had to go with the sound that was recorded during that particular performance. You see, if you try and re-record the sound again, you'll lose the whole atmosphere. So now we're working with various electronic equipment, trying to better the sound quality. It will be put out as a documentary film on TV. If the stuff looks good, then we shall put down more material for a possible concert film. 

TP: One side of the new single is "Mull of Kintyre," which you and Denny wrote. What inspired you to write a new Scottish traditional-type song?

PM: I don't know, really. I started off with the basic idea because I thought that most Scottish songs you hear these days are either old tunes that people redo, or comedy songs about football, or something like "Up Your Kilt." So we decided that we'd get something together that was a new song with a modern feel to it, and see if we could make it sound as traditional and Scottish as possible. I wrote the melody in the summer of '76 and added a few words. I sat with Denny for an afternoon, and we finished it all up, and then we got the local pipe band in for an evening. 

TP: The Campletown Pipe Band. Was it difficult to get them together?

PM:  No, they were brilliant, actually. I just gave them a little tape with a rough recording of the song. It is difficult with bagpipes because they can't always play any note you want. They've got their own scale, so you've got ot write the whole thing in certain keys that they can play in. But they did it really quickly and got the whole thing together in no time at all. 

TP: The tune, as all other traditional songs, is very catchy. Do you think it will become a standard, as many of your songs have in the past?

PM: I don't know, really. I've given up trying to work out which ones are gonna because standards next. We just did the song and we liked it and then we thought that it would make a great single. We thought we would do something a bit different for a single, you know, rather than come out with something that was very much like everything else being put out. But I suppose there will be a few people who will choose to sing it. 

I would like to hear the football crowd at Hampden Park sing it. That would be good. 

TP: "Mull of Kintyre" is a very non-Wings sound. Were you hoping to surprise some fans?

PM: I hope that they will be a bit surprised because that's the whole idea, really. I mean, I heard a fellow on the radio the other day saying, while he played it, "There you go. Paul, you keep them guessing." And I think that's great. 

TP: On the other side of the double-A single, you have "Girls' School," which is totally different than "Mull of Kintyre."  Was that the reason for a double-A?

PM: The idea there is that if people buy the record and wanna dance and leap around, they can just flip it over, and they've got something completely different, rather than two of the same kind of thing. There might be a few people who will prefer the more rocking side, "Girls' School." So for those people, we made it a double-A, just in case. You see, B-sides get swallowed. You do a B-side, but they never get played on the radio. So you've got to say that it's a double-A even if you think it's an A and B. That always gets everyone crazy in the record world because they say, "Oh, you split your plays, you know." You've heard all that talk before. We thought it didn't matter. 

TP: Is that why you've also edited both songs on this single?

PM: The record you have at the moment and the ones the radio people have are edited, but the ones that people buy in the shops are the full versions, which are just over one minute longer. You see, the radio people won't like it because the programmers will always go mad and say, "It's too long for us; we can't handle it." I mean, "Hey Jude" was seven minutes long, but we never thought about it in those days. These days, it's different. The programmers have a bigger hold on the radio stations, and they can kill you if they don't like the amount of time you're making them give to you. We thought that by editing the two sides, we would make it more comfortable for them, and people listening to it will still get a good enough idea of it. When they buy it, it will almost be as long as an album track. 

TP: "Girls' School" made me wonder all about those innocent schoolgirls in uniforms. Were you referring to a particular girls' school or something?

PM: No, actually, I wasn't referring to any school. That song came about when we finished the tour of Australia, and we were coming back via Hawaii for a holiday after the tour. You see, we were supposed to play in Japan, but the Japanese Minister of Justice decided we couldn't go in because we had been a bit naughty. So we went to Hawaii for a holiday instead, and while I was there, I looked through these American newspapers. In the back pages they have an entertainment section with all of these porno films advertised. I basically took the titles and made a song, "Girls' School," out of them. So it's supposed to be like a pornographic St. Trinian's.

TP: Now that we're on the subject of singles, what was the whole idea behind the other Wings single, which came out under the name of Suzi and the Red Stripes.

PM: Well, you see, Linda never liked the idea of coming out front and really doing tracks. I mean, she did "Cook of the House" on Speed of Sound, but she didn't like the idea of saying, "Hello, here I am; I am a lead vocalist," because she was getting well criticized at that time. She doesn't think of herself as a lead vocalist, anyway. The idea was to have her do something and not publicize it so that she could have a go at it. We did it and brought it out in the States as Suzi and the Red Stripes.

TP: Looking back at your albums, nearly all of them were subject to heavy criticism, especially Wildlife. How do you cope with being a target for critics?

PM: I suppose you're right. But the funny thing, when looking back on albums like that, is that whereas at the time I didn't seem to sell much or get a good critical reaction. I quite like having a couple of albums that didn't do that well. The thing that made Wildlife okay for me was one time when we just happened to be driving around Sunset Strip in LA, and there were a couple of guys in a camper heading for the hills. We pulled up to them, and one of them just happened to be holding a copy of Wildlife in his hands. That's great, really, if just one person appreciates it like that. I heard it a couple of years later because I can never really tell right at the time, and I found it interesting. When Wildlife came out, all the critics said that it was rubbish, so I started thinking like them that it was rubbish. But when I heard it later, I really liked it, and I still think it's quite good. Okay, I didn't make the biggest blockbuster of all time, but  I don't think you need that all the time. We did Wildlife very quickly. you see, Wildlife was inspired by Dylan because we heard that he'd just been in the studios, and he just took one week to do an album. So we came in and thought, "Great, we'll do it a bit like that, and we'll try to get just the spontaneous stuff down and not be too careful with this one." So it came out like that, and a few people thought that we could have tried a bit harder, but I'd like to see them do it. 

TP:  Is Band on the Run still your best seller?

PM: Yes, it still is. 

TP: Do you think Wings Over America could have done better had it been a double album instead of a triple?

PM: It did very well, you know. It sold about four million copies, and with three albums, that is something like twelve million copies. I wouldn't wish for any better than that. 

TP: What about the criticism of your other albums? Do you think some critics were unfair?

PM: Everyone has their ups and downs, and people have certain favorite albums, but you know that for each thing you'll do, there will always be lots of pros and cons.  There's always one little thing, though, that makes you think, "Well, that was worth it." We got this letter from a therapist saying that he worked with handicapped children and that Wings Over America was the one record that really lifted the children, and for that, only, he wanted to thank us. So, someone somewhere liked it. That's the funny position you're in, really, because you never know who likes your stuff. Let's face it, critics never liked all the big stuff in history. They never liked Van Gogh's pictures ever, and he only sold one picture to some old woman, didn't he?  And has he got a name?

You can't get involved with criticism. You've got to think that somebody likes it somewhere. Unfortunately, you don't meet all those people all the time because you can't just walk down  the street asking, "Do you like my record?" It's got to come in little dribbles and drabbles. I heard Venus and Mars at a party one night, and everyone was leaping around. Believe me, I never liked that record more than I did at that party. I remember after my first album, McCartney, came out, there was a lot of criticism about it, and very few people said they liked it. At that time, the Faces were about to begin working with Rod, and they told me, "We were up in our little hideaway and we played that album all week." That made it okay for me and gave a whole other side to it, which made me think, "Great, if they got into it, there's no way one can tell who is into it." I remember somebody else telling me that when they were traveling through Russia, they played the McCartney tape, and that sort of got them through. Things like that are just great. I generally try and pick up on all the positive stuff like that and forget all the negative stuff. Bloody critics. 

TP: Mentioning Russia, you were interested at one time in playing there?

PM: I still am. Not that interested, but it would be nice to go out and do it because no major rock band's ever done it. It's the same with China. There are these big places in the East that have no idea what's happening in the West. 

TP:  Just imagine if everybody in China buys your next album?

PM: Yeah, that would do well, wouldn't it? Mind you, if a record of mine is released there, it will have to be all acoustic and all about farms and communes and living together in harmony under the Great Chairman Mac.

TP: Okay, Chairman Mac, you must have been tired after the World Tour last year. Would you do that type of thing again?

PM: Oh yes, I'll do it again. It wasn't that tiring, really, and it was a good tour for us. All tours are a bit tiring because you're playing nearly every night, and you're traveling the rest of the time. But we all enjoyed it, and we all thought we were playing well. There's always that thing at the end of the tour where you're very well oiled and you can use that to compensate for feeling a bit tired. 

TP: Jimmy McCulloch seemed as though he was gonna stick after tour years with Wings. His departure came a bit of a surprsie. 

PM: Jimmy's a long story, you know. It was just one of those things. When you think about it, it's really difficult to set up something like a stable group because, in my position, you get all sorts of weird little problems that you can't really do much about. Say, I decided to do it one way, and a guitar player wants to do it another way. It becomes very difficult then, unless he comes up to me and tells me, "Look, I wanna do it this way." What was happening was that tension was just building up a bit, and we didn't really feel like we were quite fitting. It was just getting to the point where we were either gonna do another album that was gonna be really hard to do and keep on arguing, or else we were just gonna decide that we didn't need all that stuff and get on with the music. That's exactly what happened. Jimmy decided to leave and go with the Small Faces. Luckily, he'd done all the required stuff on the album that he wanted to do, so it worked out quite well for us. 

TP: What about Joe English's departure?

PM: Joe's thing was completely different. He just wanted to spend more time with his family in Georgia. He just wanted to go back home, really.  He had had enough of England after four years. Even Joe had done all the required stuff on the new album. 

TP: So now you're back to square one again, like you were on Band on the Run. Are you looking for a new guitarist and drummer?

PM: No, not really. We've had some nice offers from people, some really interesting ones, but I can't mention any names. But we don't want to go out live anyway, yet, because it's pointless going out on the road without new material. So we are just gonna finish the new album and see what happens. I mean for recordings, Denny and I both play guitar, and we can do a bit of lead. And also I can play drums as I did on McCartney and Band on the Run. I am not an excellent drummer, but I can keep a steady beat, and I think that's what drumming is all about. But anyway, when the gigs start coming up, we just call a drummer and a guitarist. No panic. 

TP: So, do you now see the permanent basis of Wings now become just you, Linda, Denny, and the others will just fit loosely in the band?

PM: At the moment, the basis is that, and that is how it has been in the past, like on Band on the Run. At that time, one member left and the other just didn't turn up. So we're getting a bit used to all that now. Whereas it used to throw us in the old days. We used to say, "Oh, God, what are we gonna do?" We just thought, well, we'll finish the album and if we ever need somebody, we just call them in. But there has been no panic, and it has worked out well this way -- with just the three of us -- because we sit around and talk about it, and we all know each other well by now. On the rother hand, Denny could just be a sideman, if he looked upon himself as that. It is really up to the people who join. It is a very difficult thing because you join some established group, and you've just got to fit in and feel like you're one of them. Anyway, as we are now, things are working out just great, and we've got some plans for the future. 

TP: During Wings' live gigs, you tend to play a few Beatles numbers. Do you think it's because of this that so many journalists insist on asking you about a Beatles reunion?

PM: Well, I'll tell you this. I was reading one of the books written about us that comes out occasionally. A couple of fans brought on 'round for us to sign and stuff, and I had never seen the book before, so I asked them to have a peek through it.  In it, you've got quotes from the Beatles over various periods of time, when each one of us was feeling good. And there is like a quote from 'em saying, "I don't see why we shouldn't record together." And then there is a quote from John saying, "We might easily record together." And then the book goes on to say, "Well, it never really happened." So now I think that the main basis for Beatles reunion rumors is that at any given time, one of us will say, "Yeah, I wouldn't mind doing it," and that will start the rumor rolling again. I don't think it will ever happen, really, and we always come back to that. 

TP: You might say, "With a  band like Wings, who needs the Beatles?"

PM: Well, it is not so much that for me. It's not that we have to get on with Wings. It's just that the Beatles situation did go full circle, and it did come to an end. It is like trying to revive a dead person, and it is weird trying to spend all your lifetime trying to do that -- it's boring. Then you just think, "Let's get on with the new stuff."  The Apple thing is very complicated, and it has been like that for years. Ringo came to see me when we had the new baby, and we were just chatting around and having a great time, polishing off a bottle of wine that he'd brought 'round. We were having a great time until we started talking about Apple, and the minute we started talking about it, it was like UUUGGGHH! and the atmosphere went, and we thought, "Christ, we better stop talking about this right away." So we just got back to chatting about the light stuff, and all was all right again. But we find that the dispute anyone brings up the word Apple with the four of us, there are these incredible sort of rows, and it's like some kind of divorce or something. "Well, I'm not letting you have that unless you give me this..." and it just gets so daft that you end up thinking, "Who needs it. Pointless." I want really nothing to do with what it was ever to do with.

TP: Let's talk about the light stuff then. We are obviously going through very hard times here in England...

PM: With what? Power cuts? Unions? Yeah, that's pretty hard. 

TP: No, no. Musically, I mean. 

PM: I don't think so. I think it's great at the moment. It seems very healthy to me. Just a few years ago, it was just the older established groups, while now we are getting a whole younger wave of people coming up, and I think that's good. Don't you think so?

TP: Yeah, I think so, but I thought perhaps it might not appeal to you.

PM: Oh, I like punk. I think it is very healthy, though I'm not that into it. We learn mostly via Heather, our daughter, because she's into it and plays it all the time. I regard it as another style with a good fashion and a good attitude. Yeah, I like their attitude.

TP: I heard that you have a reputation for writing stuff very quickly.

PM: Well, sometimes. But they're not always easy. Every song is different. You may think that you have a formula down, and then you might get fed up with it and the way you're writing it, so obviously, you then try something different. But I suppose we were just playing around here the other night, doing one of those Virgin Islands songs, and while we were waiting for Geoff to get ready, we started writing a lot of things. Denny and I were just jamming. So then Geoff just switched the tape on, and we got that one down. I suppose that was a song written really quickly, but by the time a song gets finished, it will have taken a fair amount of time. 

TP: Are you still influenced by Motown bassists and singers?

PM: Not so much now because you don't hear as much about Motown as you used to.

TP: Do you play any other basses at the moment?

PM: No, I just stick to my Rickenbacker. I'm not really interested in achieving different styles or anything. My attitude to bass playing is a bit like Ringo's attitude to drumming always was. People would come up to Ringo and say, 'You can't do a roll; therefore, you're not a good drummer'. My thing is that I enjoy playing bass and I know how to do it up to a point, but I can't do a lot of the stuff that somebody like Stanley Clarke, who is totally technically trained, does. I think he's best on a stand-up bass. I've heard him play a four-string electric bass, and I didn't think it was that amazing. I think he goes on a little bit too far on it, myself, but that's for my taste, you know. No doubt he is technically brilliant, and I definitely know he is by far a better bass player than me, but I don't think that is what makes a bass player incredible because, often, in bands, they just want you to come out too far in front, because a lead guitarist or a vocalist wants to come out there. I like Willie Weeks a lot, and I think he's great. I like that type of bass playing, though it is not exactly my style. I wouldn't really try and change my style to be like them. I let them just be the best at that, and they can win all of the polls, etc. I'm quite happy with that. 

TP:  Talking about the polls, were you at all surprised that you didn't get any mention in any recent polls?

PM: No, not really. I didn't buy enough copies of the papers (laughs). Our office didn't buy enough copies. It's funny, all that, you know. I mean, I've been in and out of polls for years now. I keep winning things like Playboy Bass Player of the Year, and I keep writing back to them telling them, "No, I'm not the bass player of the year, lads. You've got it wrong, and I'm just the person you know plays bass, and when you see a form, you just put my name down."  But I'm not necessarily the best by a long shot. I don't bother about that, really. I tell you what I'm bothered about, and that is, do I like the stuff I put down on record? Then I'm happy. 

TP: What do you think when people hail you as a legend at such a young age?

PM: The thing is, I joined this whole trip with a group for a bit of fun. I was asked one day on my bike if I'd like to be in a group. I said yes, and I never looked back, really. The Beatles split, as you know, but we did a hell of a lot with it before it broke up: we did a lot of good stuff. I suppose everything has to come to an end -- that's life. Those are just the cycles we live in. But as for the legend bit, I jsut think, "Well, I'm still me and I just get on doing what I do." I try to play it down a bit, really, because I don't want to become some great, incredible superstar. There are no big kicks in that for me. You perhaps saw Howard Hughes on TV recently; that's the thing I'm trying to avoid. It was becoming so encapsulated that you go a bit crazy with it all. If anyone says I'm the bassist or singer, or player of the year, I accept it even though I might not agree with it. I recently read that I've got my name on more hits than any living writer. I love it, of course, but I don't go wild about it and keep thinking about it all week, because you start to believe your own legend, and that's the danger. If you believe your own legend and then release an album like Wildlife that doesn't sell, it can really affect you. 

TP: Did you find that when you reached that status, people started expecting too much from you?

PM:  People, especially critics, are never satisfied. One critic came to our London concert, and he wasn't pleased with the hard seats in the auditorium. God, you can't please those guys. But the nice thing is that whereas that critic got a free seat, the kid in the street would give his right arm to be where the critic was. I remember myself that when I was in the audience and there was something I liked, I would give anything to go and see them. Our daughter Heather went to a concert and the following week she read the review, which said, "Boring, Boring, Boring..Stranglers Rubbish."  She said to me, "It wasn't like that at all; you should have been there. It was the most fantastic show ever." What I flashed on recently is that people who do these reviews are employed because they are good writers, not for their intelligence or knowledge of music. It is just that they write sentences well. I can tell you what I thought of a concert, but I couldn't write it as well as they write it. So people like me ignore them; we just have to remember that they're writers and not some God who's telling you how you are. They're not a true reflection of what's going on. 

TP: Bing Crosby once said that regardless of who appears on the scene, your music will live through the years. 

PM: Yeah, I think some of the tunes will live. Some of them have lived a few years already. I agree with you, Bing, wherever you are.

 

Waiting for the wife

 

Stopping for a fan

 

Making the round in Europe

 

Summer of 1977

 

Meeting Macca

Wings performance in Philadelphia in 1976

 

Meeting Maca In ’76 & ‘77

By Marina Sharpe

 The McCartney Observer

Summer 1977

It happened like a dream, meeting Macca for the first time on Friday, May 14, 1976!  I, along with my friend Peggy, were going crazy with anticipation of seeing Wings in concert at the Spectrum.  We met two of our friends, Karen and Darlene, in Philly, and we all got in Karen’s car and drove to the Spectrum.

The concert was so fantastic, the first of four Wings concerts I saw.  I thought for sure I’d be cool during the show, but I went wild at my first glimpse of Paul.  I screamed so much my voice was hoarse later in the evening.  I knew after seeing Paul on stage I HAD to meet him!

When the concert ended, we four – Peggy, Karen, Darlene, and I stood with the crowd waiting for Paul’s limo to leave the Spectrum.  Karen got a great idea of following the limo since the parking lot was right next to the ramp where the limo would come out.  So we all got in and sat waiting for the big moment.  When it happened, we were ready!  Paul’s limo came out, followed by three others and two police cars.  Karen was beeping at the crowd to move and managed to squeeze around the crowd and follow the limos.  What a chase it was!  We were scared the police would stop us because we were going 90 miles an hour in a 60-mile zone! We got past the police, who stopped a few cars by the small airfield. Karen parked across from the limos.  They were lined up in front of the gate where a plane was waiting in the airfield.  There were a few people looking in the window of the first limo, and we had a feeling Paul was in it.  We were right!  My heart was beating so fast as I walked towards the limo and looking in the window I saw him —Macca!  Linda was sitting next to him, Jojo next to her, and Denny in the opposite seat.  Time stood still as I looked into Paul’s eyes; even in the dark, his eyes are so bright and expressive.  We were all staring at him and smiling and he was smiling at us.  We all say “Hi” and Peggy (the bold one) said “Hi Macca” and told him how great the concert was.  When Linda asked where we were from Peggy said, “New York.”  Paul nodded and said, “Yeah,” like he knows New York!  We all shook hands with Pau, Linda, and Denny.  Paul’s hand is so soft and warm, with a strong grip.  I could’ve held his hand forever!  His bodyguard came over and told us to move and he stood in front of the window to block our view.  So I went around to the other window, and the goon came over and tried to block my view again, but Paul saw I was trying to get a picture of him, and he leaned toward the window and smiled.  What a beautiful picture it is!  Macca had on his nice leather jacket, which he wore throughout the Wings Over America tour.  The limos drove into the gate, and we looked through the gates watching Paul and the group board the plane.  It was after midnight by then when the plane took off.

We were all so “high” on meeting Macca.  We were up till 4 a.m. talking about him.  Until Wings’ last concert at the Madison Square Garden in New York, I caught glimpses of Paul going between the hotel and the Garden.

 

Practically a whole year passed before seeing him again – on Saturday, April 30, 1977!  I got to the Stanhope Hotel early in the morning – around 10 a.m. and met some of my friends from “The Harrison Alliance” who were already there.  There were about 10 people hanging around, quite a relief compared to last year’s 50 or more people hanging around the hotel during the concerts.  The doorman was very nice to us, said Paul would be out in about 15 minutes.  We all got our cameras and things we had for him to autograph ready.  I started to get those nervous butterflies in my stomach feeling.  Karen came running down the block to the hotel; she was so excited when I told her Macca is really in the hotel.  Suddenly Mary and Stella appeared then ran back into the hotel.  Then Linda, Heather, Mary, Stella, and Paul came out.  20 people appeared from nowhere.  Then the next five minutes happened so fast; some obnoxious girls pushed everyone out of the way to kiss Paul and get his autograph.  Paul had an annoyed, surprised look on his face when the girl kissed him, but he smiled and said “hi” to the other fans.  It was impossible for me to get near him.  The crowd seemed to carry him off.  Linda was standing alone, so I went to her and asked her for her autograph.  She said “Sure” and signed.  I could see she was pregnant even though she held her coat in front of her.  She pushed through the crowd to the waiting limo and got in.  Paul had to tell some eager beaver fans to let him get the kids in the car before signing for them.  They kept pushing closer to him, so he got in the limo, and I got up close to the window and waved. He waved back, and the limo took off.  I took two pictures, but unfortunately, they came out dark.  Luckily, Karen’s photos came out beautifully!  He looked gorgeous that day, with a short-waisted length jacket showing off his beautiful buns!  And those eyes – for the second time, he’s looked at me with those eyes!  I hope there will be many more times that I can look into those eyes.