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Paul McCartney’s Lubbock concert is less than a week away.
In honor of that historic event (he’s appearing for the first time in the
hometown of his musical hero, Buddy Holly), I’ve been reflecting on my favorite
McCartney moments.
Mind you, these aren't about his life and achievements, but
about times when his iconic presence and music played into my life in some form
or fashion:
1966
(first grade at Greenbriar Elementary in Fort Worth) – Robbie Tarvin came to
school with a Beatles lunchbox, which was about the coolest thing a six year
old could do. As he pulled out his baloney sandwich with way too much mayo and
began adding Fritos , he made the ridiculous suggestion that John Lennon was
the leader of the Beatles. I pointed out that McCartney was not only the best
looking Beatle, but also clearly the leader, since he sang lead on the two
greatest Beatles songs, “I Saw Her Standing There,” and “Michelle.” Before
long, classmates Regina, Jess, Kent, and Charlie had joined the discussion and
the whole table was involved in a Beatles debate. The worst part was the silly
six-year-old who couldn’t keep straight the difference between The Monkees,
Beatles, and Herman’s Hermits. Miss Hunt, the incredibly attractive
fourth-grade teacher who had lunch room duty that day came over to see what the
fuss was about. After hearing the crux of the matter, she quickly sided with
me, noting it was also McCartney who sang lead on “Nowhere Man.” Turns out she
was wrong about that, but nobody in first grade knew it. Robbie and I were
never close after that (which was fine, because his breath smelled like mayonnaise).
For the rest of the year, every time Miss Hunt saw me in the hall, she would
engage in a short but sweet bit of Beatles conversation. That’s heady stuff for
a first grader.
1973
– Ellen Jobe, the blonde who lived across the street from my grandparents in
Fort Worth, apologized for saying Paul McCartney wasn’t a real rocker. This
came after he and Wings released the regrettable “Mary Had a Little Lamb” and
many rock fans cashed in their chips and moved on. While I still can’t figure
out what he was thinking, I chose to focus on “My Love” as a rock ballad for
the ages, rather than the goofy “Mary.” When “Live and Let Die” came out,
McCartney got his “cred” back with Ellen and gave us an excuse to strike up a
conversation. Thanks, Paul. Ellen Jobe was a cutey.
1974
– At church youth camp, the always cool Steve Marsh brought his guitar. He knew
how to play “Rocky Raccoon,” but mangled the lyrics a bit. When he reverted to
la-la-la-something-or-other, I jumped in and helped him out. Since I was only a
freshman and he was a senior, that was either a heroic move or a huge faux pas. As Rocky rode off into the North Dakota
sunset, Steve said, “You’ve got a nice voice. What else you want to sing?”
Cha-ching!
1978
– A sad moment which still embarrasses me. I went to see Peter Frampton, The
Bee Gees, Alice Cooper, and Aerosmith in the movie version of Sgt. Pepper’s. I
enjoyed it and said so to anyone who would listen. Then Rolling Stone magazine declared it the worst rock music movie of
all time. Whatever cred I got back in 1974 was now pretty much gone. Looking
back, Rolling Stone was right and I
was clearly an idiot.
Early-
to Mid-1990s – Singing my daughter to sleep each night with a medley of
songs that started with “I Love You” from Barney the Dinosaur and ended with “Blackbird,”
by McCartney. Maybe that’s a connection he was hinting at way back in ’73 with “Mary
Had a Little Lamb.”
1976
– Winning a KZEW t-shirt for being the first caller to correctly identify the
snippet of a “new” song they played and name the band. It was “Got to Get You
Into My Life,” which was originally recorded in 1966 but not released as a
single until a decade later to promote the “Rock ‘n’ Roll Music” Beatles compilation
album. Always one of the Beatles most underrated songs and a key reason why Revolver is the second best Beatles
album of all time.
1971
– The TCU Theatre in Fort Worth was running a Sunday afternoon double feature: Yellow Submarine and Let It Be. It was my father’s weekend to
see us, but he was a no-show on both Friday night (we were supposed to go
camping) and Saturday (“Got held up at work. We will go camping tonight.”) He
showed up Sunday afternoon as my little brother and I were walking out of
church and about to get on the “blue goose” church bus to be driven home. He
told us to come with him and he would take us to do whatever we wanted. Knowing
how much he hated anything even remotely tied to rock music (he never forgave
Buck Owens for “letting” the Beatles do a cover of “Act Naturally), I said I
wanted to go to the movies. My mother had refused to take me to see the Beatles
double-feature for fear there would be “hippies with drugs” lurking about.
Turns out, she was right. I got my first whiff of marijuana sitting in that
theater. My father, who couldn’t backtrack after promising to take us anywhere
we wanted, sat and stewed for four hours while I rocked to the Beatles and my
brother (nine years old at the time) curled up and took a nap.
1965
– Music has always played an important role in my life. In 1965 my grandparents
asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I told them I wanted a new record player
and a Beatles record. I got both. Score!
1997
– Going through security at the Tokyo airport and seeing a large picture of
McCartney in handcuffs following his 1980 arrest for marijuana.
See you Saturday, Paul.
