The Inner Light meets Paul McCartney (part 1)

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!