How the Innner Light met Paul (part 2)

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.”