Paul in London '72

Paul in London ‘72

By Rita Hansen

The first time I caught a glimpse of Mr. Mac’s house was on a Sunday morning, September 10, 1972, from a passing car.   There was no number, but it wasn’t hard to recognize.  My first thought was “That’s it?”  Everything was quite, like a typical London home in the St. John’s Wood district.

It wasn’t long after that I moved to Chelsea near a couple of friends form Minneapolis.  Jean S., Carole K. and I were bound and determined to find Mac and family at home.   Carole had already seen him, reliving each fraction of memory every time we asked her to repeat the details.  They were home from their continental tour, hopefully to stay awhile.  September 22^nd, Carole, Jean and I left for N.W.8 on the tube –quite a ride.  We hardly spoke, just instant grins and knowing minds.  If any of the passengers on the Bakerloo Line only knew…..then we were there.  Everything looked deserted as we walked to Paul’s street and found his house.  It was 5:30 p.m. and we continued to walk past the house.  The house next to Paul’s was vacant and the yard was open, so we parked ourselves there for a short while, catching our breath.  At about 6:00 we were in front of Paul’s gate, hearing a lot of racket going on from within.  Voices!  Bicycles!   And suddenly the gate whips open and the Great Mac appears on his trusty old bike with Linda behind on hers.  Paul wore the boots he commonly wore in Scotland, with dark green trousers, tucked in and a gray suit jacket.  He was clean shaven with his hair wisped back.  Linda had on a pair of nice tall boots, a long skirt and bright yellow jacket, looking dressed up and like she’d lost quite a bit of weight; quite slim.   Since it was only two days from Linda’s birthday, we’d brought gifts along in case we’d see her.  This is when Carole zipped past us toward them with her dozen yellow roses and started with “I’m sorry to bother you…” (we were afraid from rumors of Linda that she’d snap at us) when Linda no sooner answered, “oh, that’s alright…you’re not bothering us,” and Carole finished with “but I just wanted to give you these.”  Linda looked really pleased when Carole handed her the flowers and surprised.  She took the, saying “Oh thank you!” her face lighting up with a smile and put them behind her in a bike pack.  By this time, Jean and I had slowly approached them.  I’d been watched Paul all this while and he seemed to be quite patiently waiting.  When I got closer he nodded a hello.  It was Paul McCartney in the flesh, living, and breathing.  He suddenly turned to Linda and said, “Should we be off then?”  Linda answers, “Okay,” and they were off down the street.  We were all shouting “Bye-bye!” back and forth while Paul was swerving his bike back and forth in the street, his legs kicking at his sides and then they were gone. 

We were snapping pictures of them biking down the street, but it was getting dark and none of the pictures turned out well.  We felt refreshed and numb at the same time, but it had all happened so fast.  A girl (who turned out to be from N.J.) joined us from the corner asking us “did you see who just went by?” and we started talking in front of the house.

Carole and I went to sit on the steps of the vacant house next door.  We would wait until they came back.  As it darkened I focused on Carole with my camera so it wouldn’t be so hard to focus when they came back (the reason why only one photo turned out that night).  Gradually lights appeared through the windows and every once in awhile you’d hear the kids making noise.  Carole and I went our separate way along the wall that separates Paul’s house form the neighbors to see if we could look over it.  I detoured through the bushes, toward the wall, getting threatened, jabbed and pierced by an unruly mass of thorns.  Then I fell into a huge hole; one leg twisted above ground and the other rooted into the earth.  I pulled myself up with the help of a long plank propped against the wall.  It slid off and fell, and as Carole stood laughing at me, I was scared still that the neighborhood would think there was a pack of wild animals.