22.12.24

PAUL

How are we to measure the magnitude of Paul? In the number of wonderful songs he’s written, alone or with John; in the number of hits he’s had, with and without The Beatles; in the number of shows he’s performed, with and without The Beatles; in the number of fans who’ve attended those shows; by somehow quantifying the pleasure he’s given to all those fans all over the world over all those years; in the glorious reviews I’ve read of last week’s shows at London’s O2, three hours of nonstop winners, from The Quarrymen to last year’s ‘Now And Then’ no less; for not flaunting his massive wealth, thereby instilling the meaning of integrity in his children; in the dignity he’s shown during 61 years (1963-2024) as a celebrity, perhaps the most celebrated, most enduring, most endearing celebrity on earth; or all of these things put together? 

        I first clapped eyes on him in 1963, on stage in Bradford, playing his violin bass alongside George and John with Ringo at the back, screaming to be heard above 2,000 screamers. The last time was about 15 years ago, on the street just south of Soho Square, close to where I worked in those days. I didn’t recognise him because he wore sunglasses, even though it was almost dark, and he had his collar up, a rudimentary disguise. No one else was around. Paul spotted me first. “Hello Chris,” he said, recognising me from times past, well past in fact. 

        “Paul?” I replied.

        “Yes, it’s me. We can’t talk here. Come to the office.”

        I followed him into the reception area of MPL, his offices on the west side of Soho Square, and we talked for about five minutes, mainly about Mary, his daughter, who once worked for me as a photo researcher, and about my family, of which he knew very little but seemed interested. “How many kids have you got?”

        “Two.”

        “That’s great.” 

        It’s difficult to sustain a casual conversation with the biggest rock star on the planet, even though we were on Christian name terms back in the day and still appeared to be. I met him for the first time in November 1971, at a party to launch Wings, and interviewed him and Linda at length for Melody Maker at Abbey Road the following week. I encountered a few more times in the seventies, on two occasions backstage after Wings shows, and we had a couple of close encounters when Mary worked for me. Nevertheless, it was astonishing to me that, on the street, he initiated this brief chat. It didn’t last long and within five minutes I was on my way. 

        “Nice to see you again Chris,” he said, or words to that effect as I turned my back on him and left the MPL building. 

        Very few rock and pop performers are recognisable by one name alone and then largely because their names are uncommon: Elvis, Elton, Madonna, Prince and Sting come to mind. Paul is a common name, but how are we to measure his uncommonness? 

        And how do I measure the magnitude of Paul? By that brief conversation and henceforth referring to him only by his Christian name. 

        Happy Christmas Paul. 


2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I encountered him when he slipped into the stall next to me in the gents at Wings launch - asked if I was enjoying myself and then did the business "in hand" - typical Paul!

Anonymous said...

Long before was in Soho Square I was at 37 (now CArlisle Street). I bumped into him going into a club Scotch of St James with my then girlfriend Daisy Mae Williams. "JK do you have a piano"? In my office yes Paul. "Can we go round there now - urgent". We took a tax. I'd forgotten I didn't have the front door key. "Can we break in?". OK. We did. Up to the office. Daisy and I sat in reception. He was an hour in my partner Joe's office. Never found out what the song was. One of these days I'll ask him. JK