84 posts
in the Phone. straight up "procrastinating it". and by "it" haha well. lets justr say. My assignments
part 1
On September 19, 1964, Paul McCartney, along with his fellow Beatles, found themselves on a much-needed respite from the whirlwind of Beatlemania in Alton, Missouri. In the midst of their first American tour, the group spent a rare moment of downtime, taking in the country life and seeking solace in the tranquil setting of rural Missouri. McCartney, ever the charming and approachable star, was seen indulging in a bit of fishing—a simple pleasure far removed from the screams of adoring fans and the hectic tour schedule. This moment of calm in Alton stood in stark contrast to the intense public scrutiny and pressure that had followed The Beatles across the globe. The experience of living through such a frenzy made these fleeting moments of peace all the more valuable. It is often said that the chaos of the early years was a driving force behind McCartney’s continued creativity, inspiring some of the most iconic music of his career. As The Beatles' legacy continues to resonate across generations, the image of a young McCartney, quietly fishing in a Missouri stream, offers a rare glimpse into the life of one of the most influential musicians of all time, outside the glitzy stage lights. His personal connection to moments like these, though rarely spotlighted, showcases a more grounded, human side of a legendary figure who still holds a place in music history.
Naughty boy face.
John Lennon's letter to Paul McCartney | 24 November 1971
the look
John, because of his upbringing and his unstable family life, had to be hard, witty, always ready for the cover-up, ready for the riposte, ready with the sharp little witticism. Whereas with my rather comfortable upbringing, a lot of family, lot of people, very northern, ‘Cup of tea, love?’, my surface grew to be easy-going. Put people at their ease. Chat to people, be nice, it’s nice to be nice.
— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).
Paul grew up in the warm embrace of a loving family. There was hardship, certainly: they were definitely working-class, and the war had been unkind to the cotton exchange business, so it fell on mother Mary to be the main bread-winner of the family, as a domiciliary housewife. Her nursing job also made it so they were always on the move, from one new outskirt council estate to the next, “always on the edge of the world” that was the rebuilding of a war-torn Liverpool. But despite this surrounding instability, the core of the family itself was a safe harbour of reliably loving parents.
I got my compassion for people from my mother. She was a midwife. I think that would probably be the most important quality. Again, respect and caring for others.
— Paul McCartney, interview w/ Jonathan Wingate for Record Collector: Paul McCartney gets back to work (July 2007).
[My mum] was very kind, very loving. There was a lot of sitting on laps and cuddling. She was very cuddly. I think I was very close to her. My brother thinks he was a little closer, being littler. I would just be trying to be a bit more butch, being the older one. She liked to joke and had a good sense of humour and she was very warm. There was more warmth than I now realise there was in most families. […] They aspired to a better life. That idea that we had to get out of here, we had to do better than this. This was okay for everyone else in the street but we could do better than this. She was always moving to what she saw as a better place to bring her kids up.
— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).
Not only had this notion of rising out of their current situation been instilled in Paul and his brother Michael from an early age by his mother – by encouraging them to speak “the Queen’s English” and insist on their education, for example – his father, Jim McCartney, also did his best to pass down his values of “Toleration and Moderation”, a good education and a special emphasis on an honest and responsible work ethic.
I think I got my respect and tolerance for people from my dad, which is a pretty cool quality to inherit. He was very big on tolerance, my dad. It was a word he used to use all the time. I think I grew up with that attitude. You know, you’d say, ‘Bloody hell, I hate that guy.’ and then you’d stop and go, ‘Alright, wait a minute, maybe he’s got a point,’ and you’d try and consider it from his or her point of view. I think that was a great lesson.
— Paul McCartney, interview w/ Jonathan Wingate for Record Collector: Paul McCartney gets back to work (July 2007).
He had us out aged about nine. I was virtually a door-to-door salesman by the time I was twelve. […] I was certainly not shy with people, I think because of all these activities my dad encouraged us into. I think it’s probably very good for your confidence with people. It was all right. That was my upbringing.
[…]
My parents aspired for us, very much indeed. That is one of the great things you can find in ordinary people. My mum wanted me to be a doctor. ‘My son the doctor’ - and her being a nurse, too. No problem there. And my dad, who left school at fourteen, would have loved me to be a great scientist, a great university graduate. I always feel grateful for that. I mean, God, I certainly fulfilled their aspirations, talk about overachieving! That was all bred into me, that.
We had George Newnes Encyclopedias. I can still remember the smell of them. If you didn’t know what a word meant or how it was spelled, my dad would say ‘Look it up.’ I think that’s a great attitude to take with kids. It steers you in the right direction. It was part of a game where he was improving us without having had an awful lot of experience of improvement himself. But I always liked that, and I knew I would outstrip him. By going to grammar school I knew I’d fairly soon have Latin phrases or know about Shakespeare which he wouldn’t know about.
— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).
Just from these passages alone, we can spot the origins of Paul’s tolerant and caring nature, social skills, self-reliance, and tireless drive for self-improvement (with its nuances of social climbing and fierce competitiveness).
All in all, it was a good solid childhood: exploring the woods outside of his house – “Mother Nature’s Son” through and through – playing and running from Speke teds with his friend George Harrison, going to school and working the occasional odd job, helping his family and making them proud.
And then, Paul McCartney’s secure existence was shattered.
On the 31st of October 1956, Mary McCartney abruptly dies from complications following her mastectomy. She’d been admitted at a far too advanced state of breast cancer after she’d kept working – while in pain – for several weeks, choosing not to divulge this symptom or the fact that she had a lump in her breast to her colleagues.
The whole family is caught unawares, but the boys especially are mostly kept in the dark.
I remember one horrible day me and my brother going to the hospital. They must have known she was dying. It turned out to be our last visit and it was terrible because there was blood on the sheets somewhere and seeing that, and your mother, it was like “Holy cow!’ And of course she was very brave, and would cry after we’d gone, though I think she cried on that visit. But we didn’t really know what was happening. We were shielded from it all by our aunties and by our dad and everything.
— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).
The boys are sent away to stay with relatives, noticing that something was wrong but unaware of what was going on, unable to actually say goodbye.
Two days later, it’s too late.
Paul is 14.
As Jim comes to break the news, and his brother Michael breaks down in tears, Paul has an unexpected response.
Mum was a working nurse. There wasn’t a lot of money around – and she was half the family pay packet. My reaction was: ‘How are we going to get by without her money?’ When I think back on it, I think, ‘Oh God, what? Did I really say that?’ It was a terrible logical thought which was preceded by the normal feelings of grief. It was very tough to take.
— Paul McCartney, in Ray Coleman’s McCartney: Yesterday & Today (1996).
It would not be the last time that Paul McCartney’s initial shock response to grief is considered “flippant” or “callous” by the people around him; a fact that has haunted him throughout his life.
I’m very funny when people die. I don’t handle it at all well, because I’m so brought down that I try to bring myself up. So I don’t show grief very well. It actually leads some people to think I don’t care, and I do. I’m not good at it like some people. […] But I’ve always been kind of inward about those things. So I just deal with it myself.
— Paul McCartney, in Ray Coleman’s McCartney: Yesterday & Today (1996).
By virtue of nature or nurture, Paul exhibits from early on an extreme difficulty or unwillingness to deal with his less pleasant emotions.
His response to the alarm that is pain is to deny that it is ringing altogether.
And this manifested not only in inadequate optimism for some situations, it most often took the shape of what appeared to be too hard and cold pragmatism. Some people, unfortunately, saw his defence-mechanism of turning completely rational in the face of crisis and mistook it for him not caring; when, in fact, he cared so much that his only solution was to try and shut it off.
He carried with him a great burden of guilt and regret; not concerning his reaction to his mother’s death but also due to other misdemeanours and minor hurts he’d caused her when she was alive.
There’s one moment that I’ve regretted all my life which is a strange little awkwardness for me. There was one time when she said 'ask’ and she pronounced it posh. And I made fun of her and it slightly embarrassed her. Years later I’ve never forgiven myself. It’s a terrible little thing. I wish I could go back and say, ‘I was only kidding, Mum.’ I’m sure she knew. I’m sure she didn’t take it too seriously.
— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).
In retrospect, he even theorized that the lyrics to his acclaimed ‘Yesterday’ were related to his mother’s sudden departure.
With ‘Yesterday’, singing it now, I think without realising it I was singing about my mum who died five or six years previously, or whatever the timing was. Because I think now, “Why she had to go, I don’t know, she wouldn’t say, I said something wrong…”
— Paul McCartney, interview w/ Pat Gilbert for MOJO: Don’t look back in anger (November 2013).
So in the aftermath of life completely pulling the rug from under his feet, Paul was not only struggling to deal with his own emotions, trying to bury them far from sight as best as he could, he was being consumed by terrible guilt for doing exactly that.
More than that, he was under the care of his uncle and aunt for several more days, trying to rally his brother so that they wouldn’t appear ‘softies’ in their cousins’ eyes, while friends and family tried to hold together a shattered Jim McCartney, “whose first thought was to join his wife”.
Seeing his father break down like that had a huge impact on Paul.
My mother’s death broke my dad up. That was the worst thing for me, hearing my dad cry. I’d never heard him cry before. It was a terrible blow to the family. You grow up real quick, because you never expect to hear your parents crying. You expect to see women crying, or kids in the playground, or even yourself crying – and you can explain all that. But when it’s your dad, then you know something’s really wrong and it shakes your faith in everything. But I was determined not to let it affect me. I carried on. I learnt to put a shell around me at that age.
— Paul McCartney, in The Anthology (1995).
This is very important.
Not only had the only reality he’d ever known been destroyed by his mother’s sudden death, his own father – who was supposed to be this strong, unshakable pillar in his life – couldn’t be relied on to hold it together.
Paul had been let down. He was on his own.
Fear steems from a feeling of powerlessness. You feel painfully vulnerable to whatever life might throw at you, at constant risk of being hurt again, and the only solution is to be on the lookout. Be prepared.
Paul was caught unawares because the people he’d counted on to always be there suddenly weren’t. And with his compassionate and reasonable nature, he probably didn’t even blame them at all. But the facts were that Paul had been left hanging, not once but twice, when he needed them the most. So he kind of lost his faith in everything.
Life is chaotic and unpredictable; and people, through no fault of their own, are just as inconstant.
And so, in order not to risk being let down again, Paul took matters into his own hands. He tried to escape the pain and dread of being powerless by seizing control of whatever he could. And that was mostly himself.
And so begins Paul McCartney’s saga of isolating independence and other control-issues.
As Paul said above, he’s “always been kind of inward” about grief and other “negative” emotions. He’d rather be alone at this stage because he doesn’t want to expose his vulnerabilities. Not to others and much less to himself. So he needs a distraction. Something to devote himself to that’ll take his mind off the pain.
The saving grace, as usual, was music.
— Paul McCartney, The Q Interview (2007).
His brother Michael, probably the closest observer we could have of this period, recounts how Paul was like in the aftermath.
Paul was far more affected by Mum’s death than any of us imagined. His very character seemed to change and for a while he behaved like a hermit. He wasn’t very nice to live with at this period, I remember. He became completely wrapped up in himself and didn’t seem to care about anything or anybody outside himself.
He seemed interested only in his guitar, and his music. He would play that guitar in his bedroom, in the lavatory, even when he was taking a bath. It was never out of his hands except when he was at school or when he had to do his homework. Even in school, he and George Harrison used to seize the opportunity every break to sit and strum.
When we left our auntie’s house and returned home, it was agreed that Dad, Paul and I would take it in turns to do the housework.
“We’re a family on our own now,” Dad said. “We’ll all have to help.”
But time after time when I came home from school, I would find that Paul hadn’t done his bit. I would go looking for him and sometimes I would find him, up in his bedroom, perhaps, sitting in the dark, just strumming away on his guitar. Nothing, it seemed, mattered to him any more. He seldom went out anywhere – even with girls. He didn’t bother much with any of his friends except his schoolmate George Harrison and John Lennon, who was at the art school next door. Work and work alone – his school books and his guitar – appeared to be the only thing that could help him to forget.
— Mike McCartney, Woman: Portrait of Paul (21 August 1965).
So Paul takes to complete dedication to work and music to help him ignore his pain. And he’d rather go through this process of burying it on his own. We see him isolate himself from his family and friends, according to Mike socializing mostly with George, also in the context of playing music. John is also mentioned; this could be a smudging of the timeline in Mike’s recollections, as Paul would only meet John the following year. That or Paul’s mourning lasted until the autumn of 1957, when John was enrolled in art college.
We also have a clue about how guarded Paul was with his “negative” emotions – how resilient he always wanted to be – that no one imagined he would be so affected by his mother’s death as he was.
This will also be a repeating theme through Paul’s life: his wish to always be strong, positive and reliable will make others and himself overestimate his imperviousness to trauma. People will then feel free to burden him with their own pain or unload their frustrations on him, without feeling that there would be consequences; because Paul is so tough as to be unaffected by all that. This proved, time and again, not to be true.
His true strength arises, in my opinion, not in the fact that he is unshakable but in his determination to quietly pick himself up again and again.
Losing my mum when I was fourteen was a major tragic event in my life. But, when I think about myself, I am, overall, pretty optimistic, pretty enthusiastic, pretty much into getting on. One of the reasons being, she would want that. I know for certain she would want that. I know Linda would want that. I know John would want that, and George would want that. My dad would want that. They were very, very positive people. And the idea that their deaths would plunge me into some sort of morose depression would bother them. I know that for a fact. So that helps me to not go there.
— Paul McCartney, interviewed by John Colapinto for the New Yorker: When I’m sixty-four (4 June 2007).
But as a 14-year-old Northern lad, his tactic of picking himself up didn’t involve dressing the wounds, which would continue to bleed silently in the recesses of his mind.
I certainly didn’t grieve enough for my mother. There was no such thing as a psychiatrist when I lost her. You kidding? I was a 14-year-old Liverpool boy. I wouldn’t have had access to one and I do now.
— Paul McCartney, interviewed by Nigel Farndale for The Telegraph: Love me do (17 May 2002).
But soon, Paul would find an even greater outlet for his love of music, almost magical in its specialness:
Someone to perform with.
54 years ago…It was Mad fucking Day Out for The Beatles
Summary: It’s August 1966, and The Beatles are flying to America for what would be the final tour. When the plane instead goes down over the Atlantic, the group has to struggle to survive.
hi all! kind of a quick turnaround from last chapter to this (less than a month! new record?), buttttt i was excited so i wrote it. this one’s about half the size of the last, but i’m excited to hear thoughts / feedback on it. thanks (as always) so much for sticking with it!
and, (as always), i hope you enjoy. if you do, leave a comment or a message to let me know. cheers <3
Hey why not? Whatever works.
“Paul used the fact that Brian was gay to get his own way. He’d come in and put on his bedroom eyes. He’d use his own sex appeal to manipulate Brian into doing what he wanted the band to do.”
- Tony Barrow
Gorgeous
PAUL MCCARTNEY being interviewed after the Beatles received their MBEs from the Queen; October 26th, 1965.
OK, but is 'The Long and Winding Road' for John? I don't know any story about the song, I only have lyrics that brings me a lot of mcln-feelings and tears. It was 1969 so I think lyrics match perfectly. It sounds for me like 'You broke my heart on Abbey road, you left me for her, I tried so hard to return to you and I don't know what to do now 'cuz I still love you'. Don't you tell me you've never cried over this song!
I’ll tell you a story about this song. I never actually loved it, it was never my favourite beatles song. When I went to Paul’s concert 4 years ago it was the song that hit me the most, I cried like a baby, it was so emotional.
All the songs in the Let it Be and Abbey Road album written by Paul are about loss, separation and broken hearts. Paul was engaged with Linda in 1969 and seemed quite happy too, so WHY WOULD HE WRITE SUCH A SAD COMPILATION OF SONGS?
Because he was breaking up with John, he was losing him, and tried his best to have him back. He knew it was over and he could do nothing but sing his desperation away. ‘let it be’ is about dreaming his mother telling him that that’s life, that he had to let it happen, no matter if it hurted. ‘Oh!darling’ was a desperate scream of love. ‘The long and winding road’ is his resignation, he gave up, singing how much he tried to come back to him, to put the pieces together and start again.
Many times I’ve been aloneAnd many times I’ve criedAny way you’ll never knowThe many ways I’ve tried
He’s completely lost and desperate, still begging forgiveness from John, waiting for him to come back
Don’t leave me standing hereLead me to your door
We all know that it will never happen.
I so love this night.
Paul McCartney and John Lennon in Obertauern, Austria, 18th March 1965.
The Beatles were filming Help! in Austria in March 1965. On the evening, Paul McCartney and John Lennon took part in a jam session at the Marietta Hotel in Obertauern.
Based on “Love Me Do: The Beatles’ Progress” by Michael Braun for The Observer (5 July 1964).
Scotch and music:
“Uh, I need another drink, baby,’ says John.
Paul goes to the phone. ‘Hello? Yeah, send us six single Scotches - No, make it doubles, yeah, doubles.”
Such a good writer!!
Have I been checking regularly since yesterday whether you updated ATM? Nope, not me ... *whistles* :D
Ha! It’s happening! I’ve uploaded it to AO3, I just need to check the formatting and hit post. Also, signal is somewhat patchy where I am, so when all those things align, it’ll be live. Thank you for showing you’re interested. Made me smile a lot.
I rewrote an old fic cause before I was presenting Ringo as straight and I'm tired of doing that.
Pretty proud of this.
Lots of McStarr but most other ships are mentioned too.
it's inspired by this photo
Summary: On the cusp of their popularity, John and Paul are caught in a compromising position.
Chapter 1: look at you all see the love there that’s sleeping (George POV)
Chapter 2: all I gotta do is act naturally (Ringo POV)
Chapter 3: When I think of things we did it makes me wanna cry (Paul POV)
Chapter 4: Hey you've got to hide your love away (John POV)
I’ve uploaded a new video :)
George Martin, Art Garfunkel, May Pang and others talk about John and Paul.
This is a compilation of interviews I thought were really interesting. All of these people knew or have met with John and/or Paul at one point or another. And they all talk about how close they were and many of them talk about how much they wanted to write with each other again. Sadly, none of those plans ever became a reality.
I just love hearing Paul sing Oh Johnny Johnny over and over and over again
So I just spent the last 4 hours painstakingly updating the lyrics to I don’t know (Johnny Johnny).
I only subbed what I could confidently hear and what I thought was really accurate. Please do enjoy :)
Also I have no idea if this is gonna get removed by tumblr or something but it’s worth a shot 🤷🏻♀️
Title: Arrow Through Me
Summary: This is a look at what might have happened to the band, and especially John and Paul, if Paul had come to the conclusion before he met John that he wasn't straight. This fic tells the story of the band with that new context, and therefore it will diverge from the events as we know them.
Notes: Just so you all know, this is complete and being posted weekly.
Thank you to @merseydreams for beta reading this and being a generally wonderful human being.
Here's chapter one. Let me know what you think.
I watched docuseries about the music of Lennon and McCartney in the period 1973-1980 (I recommend it, lots of interesting information, although these "experts" are irritating) recently. The authors showed Wings performing "With a Little Luck" and I thought about this lovely song. The dynamics of John and Paul in the 1970s is very complex and complicated, but one thing is for sure: they wanted to write songs together again, but there was still something in the way. Paul said in 1974 that he has already received a Green Card so he is eager to write with John again. There's a quote from Linda: "Paul wanted desperately to write with John again". Lennon also considered reunion from at least 1974. He asked several people (May Pang, Art Grafunkel, Tony King) if he should do this. In 1975, McCartney invited him to New Orleans, where he recorded "Venus and Mars". John was going there but he didn't make it because Yoko let him go home after a "lost weekend". Why did John and Paul's urge to create songs again fail? There were certainly many factors: Lennon's insecurity and his feeling that he would turn out to be a worse songwriter than McCartney, especially since McCartney had been doing better commercially since 1973; his fear that Paul wants his humiliation; Apple-related business issues still unresolved; Yoko, who clearly limited John and Paul's contacts in the 1970s; and the fear of both guys that such a reunion would cause media pressure to get the Beatles back together, and I think they didn't want to (side note: my speculation is that the only Beatle who would want it was Ringo; John, Paul and George wanted to be seen as independent artists who could be successful in their own right). However, both John and Paul wanted to get back into their partnership (after all, John even had rented a studio in 1980 where he and Paul would work together on Ringo's album but his death stopped these plans). And Paul is an optimist. So I'm pretty sure 1979's "With a Little Luck" is a song about Lennon-McCartney reunification.
George and Paul / Hamburg. 1960
McCartney didn't give two hoots about being cool, about being a social rebel. In particular, he couldn't care less that he was not John Lennon.
We cringe to think that he can have fun making A Wonderful Christmastime with absolutely no embarrassment whatsoever.
How dare he not despise the world and not torture himself?
An almost Lennonesque arrogance, one might think, but carried out by McCartney with a sense of fun so guileless that he is hated for it.
---
Imaginative storytelling is nothing less than the basis of all art and science.
McCartney's songs tend to be blown like bubbles and have a life of their own. He watches them at play with a certain detachment. [...] Even when profound they often have a sort of tenuous, weightless quality. This I believe is part of their peculiar charm.
The meringue-light medium is the message.
It is almost physiological. Prick him, and a song wells up.
---
Truant Boy, by Martin Shough
Cute
Referring to the Liverpool Institute’s February, 1960, production of Saint Joan:
Fred Bilson (L.I. teacher): “Macca was in the jury in the trial scene. For reasons too tedious and shaming to repeat, he had to wear a 'cozzie' which was a black dressing gown covered in gold cut-out suns and moons—a magician’s outfit. He thought it was cool.”
— “Tales from the Inny” Beatlology Magazine (Vol 4 No. 1, Sept/Oct 2001)
Gorgeous