Fab: An Intimate Life of Paul McCartney (21 page)

When the boys entered Elvis’s home on North Perugia Way, the King was watching a mute TV, simultaneously playing electric bass to a record on the jukebox. The Memphis Mafia were gathered around him, the Beatles bringing their own gang of cronies. On this occasion the gang included Neil, Mal, Tony Barrow and
NME
journalist Chris Hutchins, who’d helped arrange the meeting. Brian and the Colonel were also present, ‘watching over their stars like parents’, as Hutchins observed. After some desultory conversation, the boys picked up instruments and played along with Presley, Paul sitting on the sofa next to his hero. He wasn’t overwhelmed. Indeed, he joked that Brian might be able to find El a job playing bass in one of his Mersey Beat bands. They also talked of cars and touring, exchanging horror stories. ‘We’ve had some crazy experiences,’ Paul told Presley. ‘One fellow rushed on stage and pulled the leads out of the amplifiers and said to me, “One move and you’re dead.”’ The King concurred that it could be real scary out there. As they left the house after what was a relatively short and stilted meeting, John Lennon quoted from the movie
Whistle Down the Wind
, in which Alan Bates’s fugitive character is mistaken briefly for Jesus Christ by a gang of children. ‘That wasn’t Jesus,’ he told the lads, ‘that was just a fella.’ In later years Paul put the best perspective on the summit, saying: ‘It was one of the great meetings of my life.’ It was Elvis after all, the man who had inspired them, his career in decline as theirs was ascendant. ‘I only met him that once, and then I think the success of our career started to push him out a little; which we were very sad about … He was our greatest idol, but the styles were changing in favour of us.’

Elvis’s highest-placed single in the
Billboard
chart that year was ‘Crying in the Chapel’, which reached number three in May 1965. The Beatles scored five US number ones in the same year, the fourth of which was Paul’s ‘Yesterday’. Never released in Britain as a single, but put out by Capitol in the USA, ‘Yesterday’ spent four weeks at the top of the chart that autumn. Over the years it would become the most successful Beatles song of all, the first to receive five million airplays in America and counting.

8

FIRST FINALE

SUMMONED TO THE PALACE

In a few short years Paul McCartney had become one of the most famous people in the Western World, the Beatles as recognisable as the President of the United States, the Queen of England, and the biggest stars of sport and film. The Beatles were moreover a living cartoon, followed daily by the public as avidly as they read the comic strips in the newspapers. The lads were a source of entertainment not only to people in Britain and North America, but throughout Western Europe, in Asia, South America, even behind the Iron Curtain, where Beatles records were banned, along with other forms of degenerate Western culture, but traded avidly on the black market. The Beatles were not the first global pop icons, Elvis had that honour, but even Elvis hadn’t been fêted so lavishly so far and so wide. It had all happened in the blink of an eye.

At home perhaps only the Queen was more famous, and in 1965 the boys became the first pop stars to be honoured by Her Majesty as Members of the Order of the British Empire, another way in which the Beatles broke new ground. In the future Her Majesty would bestow chivalric awards on numerous rock and pop stars, in recognition of the export income they earned, for their charitable works and to mark their popularity. When the fab four received their MBEs on 26 October 1965, they were the first pop stars to be invited into Buckingham Palace in this way and, just as it is hard now to comprehend how famous the Beatles were all those years ago, it is difficult to comprehend the fuss caused by the Queen’s decision to bestow the award upon the band, albeit that it was the lowest class available in the circumstances, a lesser honour than the humble OBE and a full five ranks below a knighthood. Some old soldiers sent their hard-won military medals back in disgust (even though the military system is separate), while a large crowd of over-excited schoolgirls gathered outside the Palace to shriek the Beatles through the iron gates, the clash of pop and pageantry broadcast on TV as national news.

While many onlookers didn’t think the Beatles deserved to be honoured for essentially having fun and getting rich, others saw the pragmatic sense in what was at root a political gesture orchestrated by the nation’s publicity-conscious Prime Minister. Harold Wilson saw correctly that the Beatles were good for Britain. As McCartney himself says, ‘most people seemed to feel that we were a great export and ambassadors for Britain. At least people were taking notice of Britain; cars like Minis and Jaguars, and British clothes were selling … in some ways we’d become super salesmen for Britain.’ George expressed this same thought more cynically, as was his way: ‘After all we did for Great Britain, selling all that corduroy and making it swing, they gave us that bloody old [medal].’ John sent his MBE back in 1969, ‘in protest against Britain’s involvement in the Nigeria-Biafra thing
¹⁹
… and against “Cold Turkey” slipping down the charts’. Ritchie also became disenchanted with the Royal Family, stating in 2004, after Paul had got his knighthood but he had been passed over: ‘I’m really not into Her Majesty any more, I’m afraid.’

After smoking a cigarette in the toilets of Buckingham Palace (not a joint as Lennon later claimed) the Beatles were presented to the Queen in pairs to receive their MBEs. Paul and Ritchie went up together. ‘How long have you been together as a band?’ Her Majesty asked politely, as an equerry handed her the presentation cases. In reply the boys sang a snatch of the music hall song, ‘My Old Dutch’:

We’ve been together now for 40 years
An’ it don’t seem a day too muchl

The Queen looked at the young men with amusement, the beginning of a long and surprisingly warm relationship between Paul and his Queen.

RUBBER SOUL

The Buckingham Palace investiture took place during the making of an important new album with George Martin, whose situation at EMI had changed significantly. After a long-running dispute over pay, Martin had quit as head of Parlophone that summer to start his own company, Associated Independent Recording (AIR), striking a deal with EMI whereby he would continue to produce the Beatles on a freelance basis for a producer’s royalty. It may or may not be coincidental that, with his enhanced financial stake in the band (though not an overly generous one), Martin became more involved in the creative process from this point, increasingly adding the orchestral touches that are a hallmark of the Beatles’ mature work and that do so much to raise the band above the pop herd. Indeed, their next album together was the breakthrough.

Working with George, the boys had got into the habit of delivering two LPs a year to EMI, and at the end of 1965 the company wanted a Christmas release. So it was that they went into Studio Two at EMI Abbey Road on 12 October, with few songs prepared, and worked like the devil to crash out a new record against deadline. Bearing in mind the circumstances in which it was made, the LP
Rubber Soul
is hugely impressive, the best work they had yet done, musically and lyrically rich, inventive, fun and exciting to listen to, a true turning point. The album title was a twist on a self-deprecating remark Paul had made after recording his song ‘I’m Down’ that summer. ‘Plastic soul, man. Plastic soul,’ he said at the end of a take, meaning his performance wasn’t soulful enough. A rubber soul would have more bounce, and
Rubber Soul
explodes with energy. Placed together with the album that followed it,
Revolver
, and the singles made at the same time, the Beatles closed the first half of their career, when they had essentially been a good little dance band, recording up-tempo love songs with adolescent lyrics, and became a far more ambitious creative unit. As has often been observed, with
Rubber Soul
and
Revolver
it was as if the Beatles stepped out of the black and white world of the early 1960s and began broadcasting in colour, with a concomitant new exuberance in their appearance and interests.

An Indian theme first insinuated itself into the Beatles sound at this stage. While shooting
Help!
George Harrison had taken time out to chat with the musicians hired to play in the movie’s Indian Restaurant scene. Subsequently, he had taken up the sitar, which he now played inexpertly but effectively on John’s song ‘Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)’.

There are of course ‘John songs’ and ‘Paul songs’ on
Rubber Soul
, both men increasingly writing on their own as well as in partnership. How much help they gave one another is sometimes disputed. While ‘Norwegian Wood’ is considered very much a John song, for example, McCartney’s recollection is that they finished it together. Paul also claims a significant hand in writing ‘In My Life’, while Lennon said McCartney only helped with the bridge. By comparison, ‘Drive My Car’, a motoring metaphor for sex, was a true collaboration, based on a melody by Paul, with John writing most of the lyrics. Paul’s bass and piano are superb. The travel theme segued into drug references on ‘Day Tripper’, which would be released as a double A-side single with Paul’s ‘We Can Work it Out’, hitting number one. The words of the latter can be read as an insight into Paul’s dominant, my way or the highway personality. In the lyrical dialogue, apparently recounting a lovers’ spat, Paul repeatedly implores his girl to ‘Try to see it my way’, warning that if she doesn’t they will be finished. John Lennon wrote the middle eight, appealing counter-intuitively for reason in this fractuous relationship, life being too short to fuss and fight, making ‘We Can Work it Out’ even more interesting. Working together in this way, Lennon and McCartney were truly complementary writers.

Side One of
Rubber Soul
closed with ‘Michelle’, one of the most beautiful and commercially successful songs Paul ever wrote. It was based on a party trick of improvising a smoochy love song with cod French lyrics to a finger-picking tune
à la
Chet Atkins. Coming over all French at a party was a good way of pulling girls. When John and Paul faced the problem of filling this new album quickly, John suggested Paul develop his party trick. He turned for help to Janet Vaughan, French teacher wife of his old school friend Ivan, who was living in London and often saw Paul socially. One evening, when Ivy and Janet went round to Wimpole Street to visit Paul and Jane, Paul asked Janet to help him with a song he was writing.

I think what happened was that Paul said he’d written a song and could I think of a Christian name of a girl - I can’t remember exactly how he put it - and then an adjective that went with it, and I think I thought of ‘Michelle my belle’. We went through different French Christian names, and then we tried to find something that would rhyme and that would qualify that. Then he said, ‘I want to say after that “These are words that go together well,”’ having decided on the belle. So I just translated it: ‘Sont les mots qui vont très bien ensemble. ’ And that’s it, really.

Paul’s other ‘love songs’ on
Rubber Soul
are almost as strong, though different. As ‘Michelle’ is sweet, ‘You Won’t See Me’ and ‘I’m Looking Through You’ are bitter, the latter sang with anger:

I’m looking through you, where did you go?
I thought I knew you, what did I know?
You don’t look different, but you have changed.
I’m looking through you, you’re not the same.

Songwriters, like novelists, write from the point of view of characters that are often entirely or partly imagined, so it is rash to read a song too readily as autobiography. Yet Paul has made it clear in interviews that ‘You Won’t See Me’ and ‘I’m Looking Through You’ give a contemporaneous insight into his relationship with Jane Asher. This is intriguing because Jane is one of only a handful of the Beatles’ close associates who, apart from a handful of brief comments, has never told her story, a policy of discretion she adopted in the first flush of her romance with Paul and has stuck to, despite repeated requests by journalists and authors, myself included.
²⁰
Her silence has inhibited the normally garrulous McCartney, who has said little about his time with Jane, but he has revealed that he wrote ‘I’m Looking Through You’ at Wimpole Street at a time of tension in the relationship, essentially because Jane insisted on pursuing her acting career, which took her away from London, whereas Paul wanted her to wait at home for him.

When Paul met Jane she was only 17, a former child star living at home with her parents, not sure what direction to take in adult life. In the early days Jane allowed her older, more worldly boyfriend to take the lead. Paul decided what they did, where they holidayed, even what clothes Jane wore, and she seemed happy with this. Almost three years had passed and the girl had grown into a young woman approaching 20, with her eyes set on a career as a stage actress. Paul and Jane still seemed well suited, but Jane was no longer as biddable as she had been, or as other Beatles partners were. ‘I thought they were adorable together. She was wonderful. She was a very calm person and, in the middle of all this, you felt that she was a wonderful balance for him, and you felt that she was his equal, for sure,’ comments artist Jann Haworth, who along with her husband Peter Blake had got to know the Beatles socially in recent months.

It didn’t ever feel to me as though Paul was the big deal and she was trembling along behind, whereas you felt that a bit with Pattie Boyd and some of the other gals. I mean Cynthia was left standing still, basically, by John. Whereas you felt Jane was an absolute equal to Paul and had a very supple mind. She wasn’t a dumb girl. She was really smart.

When Paul was in London recording
Rubber Soul
, Jane was in Bristol rehearsing a play. After Christmas she went into a Bristol Old Vic production of
The Happiest Days of Your Life
, which kept her down in the West Country. One can imagine Paul calling Jane’s Bristol digs, becoming suspicious if told that she was out, demanding to know where she was, who she was with, the jealous boyfriend of ‘You Won’t See Me’. The conflict was serious enough for the couple to separate briefly. ‘It was shattering to be without her,’ Paul admitted, and they soon patched it up. But Paul was not faithful.

Several women have attested to affairs with the star during his time with Jane, and when he came to work on his authorised biography in the 1990s, Paul admitted: ‘I had a girlfriend and I would go with other girls, it was a perfectly open relationship.’ A true open relationship would mean Paul and Jane were both free to see other people, but it seems the relationship was more open on his side than hers. Certainly Jane had more reason to be insecure about what Paul was up to. He was a member of the most famous group in the world, the best-looking Beatle to many eyes, and one of only two bachelor Beatles left. Girls threw themselves at him. ‘You’d go down a club and half the girls on the dance floor would all immediately manoeuvre their partners so they were dancing right in front of Paul, and they would let their dresses ride up and everything. It was astonishing,’ comments the writer Barry Miles, who became a friend at this time. ‘All he would have had to do was say, you know, “Let’s go” and off. The boyfriend would have been left standing!’

Miles was an enthusiast for American beat literature, who wanted to open an alternative London bookshop. One of his friends was the art critic John Dunbar, who was married to singer Marianne Faithfull (who in turn had a hit with ‘Yesterday’) and wanted to open an art gallery. With investment from their friend Peter Asher, who was coining it now as a pop star, Miles and Dunbar opened an art gallery cum book store named Indica (after the cannabis plant) at 6 Mason’s Yard, Piccadilly, between a gentleman’s toilet and the Scotch of St James nightclub. Miles’s bookshop was on the ground floor, Dunbar’s art gallery in the basement. Paul became friendly with the two young men via Peter Asher and started hanging out at Indica. Having completed
Rubber Soul
, and conducted a few concerts in December 1965, the last British shows the Beatles played as it turned out, Paul had the luxury of taking the first three months of 1966 as a holiday, part of which he and Jane, now reconciled, spent helping get Indica ready for its opening, painting the walls and putting up shelves. ‘I remember once he and Jane arrived and there were about 50 people following them,’ recalls Miles, who became both Paul’s pal and cultural guide. ‘It was very hard for him. He hated that really. He loved going on buses and generally being part of the city, behaving like a normal [person].’