Lindsay De Paul talks about Ringo

 

Ringo Angled For Me With a Fishing Rod

By Lindsey De Paul 

Sunday Mirror

April 25, 1982

    James Coburn was the love of my life. But I had enjoyed one or two light-hearted romances before I met him, and although none of them meant very much, at least they were fun. One of my nicest involvements was with former Beatle Ringo Starr.

    I first met him in 1976 at a New Year's Eve party. He had been divorced from his wife, Maureen, for some time. I was wearing a black silk jersey top and a skirt covered in feathers. Ringo came up to me, took my hand, and said, "Did you fly here all on your own?"

     After I stopped laughing, he told me he had been following my career for two years. As you can imagine, I was terribly flattered and found myself spending the rest of the evening in earnest conversation with him. As I was going through a hectic phase in my career with my hit records. I promptly forgot about the whole thing.

     A few months later, I ran into Ringo again at a Paul McCartney concert. As we sat talking, he asked me for my phone number. I agreed to give it to him and asked him where I should write it. Then Ringo did a most unusual thing. He opened his jacket and told me, "Write your number on the label."

     I did what I was told. A few weeks later, I was sitting in the bath one morning when the phone went off. Ringo said, "I was going through my suits, and I came across your number. What are you doing tonight?"

     I said, "You don't exactly give a girl a lot of warning. Do you?" 

     I was waiting for some furniture to be delivered that evening, but to give Ringo his due, he was persistent. He came around and waited with me for the furniture to arrive. Then he took me out to dinner at London's exclusive nightclub, Tramp.

     As usual, he was tremendous company, and he made me laugh a lot. So I invited him back to my house for coffee when the evening ended. We were standing in the kitchen, and in front of me was a dish of dried figs and dates. I turned to Ringo and asked politely if he wanted a date. "Yes," he said, quick as a flash, "tomorrow night, please."

     As it happened, I was free the next evening, but I wasn't going to let Ringo know that.  I wasn't sure how I felt about him, and I wanted to put the reins on my emotions until I was.

     We ended up going out a few nights later, and when Ringo turned up to collect me, he arrived with a gift-wrapped package. When I unwrapped it, I discovered, to my surprise, it was a fishing rod.

    "But I don't fish". I told him.

    "Oh yes, you do," said, Ringo, "You fish the whole time for compliments."

     I decided to have a relationship with Ringo for two reasons. Firstly, he was attentive, funny, and delightful. Secondly, he was more successful than I was. That might sound odd, but at the time, I had a lot of hit songs on the charts, and most of the men I went out with felt threatened by my success. Ringo was far better known than me, and it made a good balance. 

    We spent about five months together, and during the period I was at my most prolific musically, Ringo just loved my songs, and he would sit with the brandy and listen to me playing and singing for hours.

     We had a very relaxed companionship, and we respected each other, both as professionals and as people.

     I always believe you should never demand things from a man which he cannot give. Ringo couldn't give me his Sundays. He was a wonderful father, and every Sunday he would spend the whole day with his children from his first marriage. 

    This didn't bother me at all. I was in the habit of spending every weekend at his house and Ascot, and after he left me at around 11 in the morning, I was completely happy to be on my own. 

    In a way, my relationship with Ringo was doomed from the start because five months after we started going around together, he had to go and live abroad for tax reasons. He told me this at the very beginning of our romance, but I wasn't prepared to sacrifice my career to travel the world with him or anyone else. Perhaps if I had been older, things might have turned out differently. You see, Ringo is the kind of man who likes just one woman in his life. He is not the Casanova type at all. And when I met him I knew he was ready to settle down and get married.

Lindsey and Ringo

December 19, 1975 -   

Ringo and Lindsey De Paul had a "fling" (according to an interview with De Paul) in 1975.   Nancy Andrews had broken up with Ringo a few months earlier and for a very short time, Ringo was seeing Lindsey.    At that time, Lindsey was a well-known songwriter/singer in the U.K.   She had several top 10 hits there but never seemed to become popular in America.   In the photos here, the two are going to see the film "The Man who would be King."  This movie starred Sean Connery, who De Paul had  regratable affair with later in her life.     Lindsey claimed that the relationships she had were sexual in nature and not very serious.     Perhaps that is why things didn't last between her and Ringo.   Their fling ended after 4 months. 
 

The awkard time Ringo was on the same flight as his ex

With a former fling

Ringo didn't date Lindsey De Paul for very long.  I am not even sure if they even "dated" in the sense that they were in a relationship or if they just went out a couple of times in the 1970's.   I guess Ringo and Nancy were on a break during this time?  

Ringo is awesome!

This meeting with Ringo Starr happened to Andrew Matheson in the mid 1970's in London. I think it is a really neat story and the ending is just awesome. It was originally published in the August/September 1985 issue of Beatlefan magazine. In the story, Andrew speaks of how Ringo's date for the evening was Lynsey DePaul. Ringo only dated Ms. DePaul for a very short time and the story has it that Ringo gave her a fishing rod as a gift because she was always "fishing for compliments." Ouch! So I has posted the few photos of her with Ringo that I could locate in my files. Maybe the photos here were taken at the party in this story! You never know!

A few years ago I happened to be visiting London and was staying at the apartment of a journalist friend of mine. While I was there, he received an invitation for two from the rock group Queen to attend a reception in their honor. It was to celebrate the final performance of their European tour and was to be held after the gig at the newly finished Cunard Hotel in West London.

We took a taxi and arrived at about 9:30pm at the Cunard, where our engraved invitations served as the only passport through the tight security and into a lavishly appointed ballroom where the action was well underway.

The wine and the good food were in abundance as were the toast of the British rock scene. Roxy’s Bryan Ferry, Rod Steward as well as members of the Clash and Generation X were there and ever David Bowie put in a brief appearance.

At 11:00pm I was in fine spirits indeed and sitting at a table with a group of people when someone came through the door the sight of whom almost made me fall out of my chair. It was none other than Ringo Starr.

The magical effect that the Fab Four had on people obviously was still intact even in this rather exalted company, for as soon as Starr entered, a veritable buzz went through the room and the 300 or so guests – many of whom were major personalities in their right – became just 300 or so Beatlefans.

He was instantly surrounded by a crowd and for a good 10 minutes most conversations ceased and most necks were craned (some discreetly so, so less so) trying to get a glimpse of him.
I was amazed by this turn of events and spend the next half hour alternately watching Starr and the reaction he was causing.

Anyway, my friend, journalists that he was decided this was an opportunity not be missed, so he said some on, let’s go meet him. No way. I said. I found the prospect of meeting Starr a bit nerve wracking. And besides, although I wasn’t immune to the sudden resurgence of Beatlemania that was going on around us, it seemed like there were too many people button holing him already. Indeed, his date for the evening, Lynsey De Paul (immediately before Barbara Bach won his heart) was finding herself all but ignored.

Thankfully (as it turned out) my friend was insistent and persuasive and almost before I knew it we were across the room, formalities were whisked through, and I was shaking Starr’s hand.
It was all a bit of a mad blur. I mean this was RINGO STARR, one of the four guys that had played the soundtrack to my entire youth. I didn’t count on saying anything brilliant. I was hoping for intelligible at best.

Starr, on the other hand, was chatty, funny and very natural. He was intent on putting everyone at ease and he succeeded marvelously.

We spoke for about five minutes and, of course, I attempted the impossible and tried to tell him in a sentence or two what his music had meant to me over the years. Despite the fact that he must have heard variations on this stammering testimonial a million times, he thanked me in turn with graciousness and sincerity as though it were the first time anyone had mentioned it to him.

We shook hands and as we were parting he tipped his glass of champagne to me. Cheers! I noticed he wore three rings.

We left the party shortly after that and stood in front of the hotel to attempt the near impossible task of finding a taxi in London at that late hour.

And half an hour later we were still there when who should could through the doors behind us but Ringo Starr. He recognized us, waved and called out, “No taxis?” WE said not yet. “Well, best of luck,” he said. Then he and De Paul climbed into the back seat of a limo that was parked off to the right of the hotel’s entrance. The chauffeur closed the door after them and they drove off into the night.

We were surprised and pleased that he had recognized us and stood there laughing and keeping our eyes peeled for a taxi.

Another 20 minutes went by. The cab we had telephoned for didn’t appear to be coming and there was no sign of one on the London streets.

Then something incredible occurred to top off what had already been a most incredible night. A limo pulled up directly in front of us, which we assumed was for one of the illustrious guests still partying up in the ballroom. But out stepped Starr’s chauffeur to inform us that he had taken Starr home and that he had then been instructed by him to drive back to the Cunard, see if we were still there and if so take us wherever we needed to go.

Well, we were quite simply dumbfounded but we got in and all the way home kept shaking our heads in disbelief.

On arrival, the chauffeur, who obviously was amused at our shock, politely opened our car door, bade us good night and drove off.

We stood there on the pavement looking at one another and then burst into hysterical laughter which continued off and on for the next couple of hours. And so ended a most amazing evening which I’ll never forget.

Ringo, thanks for the memories!