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   CLUB SANDWICH 70

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STRUNG ALONG

Club Sandwich reader Wendy Marcec, from Illinois, earned top grade in her writing class with this account of an unusual affair.

            My harmonious relationship with Paul McCartney began during his early years as a rock star, and although many detractors labelled me "just another cheap pick-up", I feel our intimate friendship has been most notable.
            Our initial encounter was in my hometown of Hamburg, Germany. My friends and I, being musically inclined ourselves, had no trouble at all striking a common chord with Paul and the other Beatles when they walked into the local music shop where we hung out. Even though there was a slight language barrier, we all found that we could communicate through our music. Paul seemed to be a perfectionist, and I felt sure the impromptu jam sessions he orchestrated were tests to see how accomplished at music accompaniment I really was. Paul also seemed to enjoy the lieblich (charming) and upbeat atmosphere our shop afforded him. I knew it -was in sharp contrast to the rank, sleazy clubs on the Reeperbahn strip where the Beatles were performing nightly gigs. Paul and the band began spending suspended pauses at the shop every afternoon.
            I couldn't tell if Paul was more impressed with my musical talents or my physical appearance, because he began to compliment me about both on a very grand scale. He would tell me he liked the warm, rich sounds I could produce on bass, but he would also tell me he liked my tiny waist and tawny features. I was completely freudig (joyous) when he chose me over all my counterparts. We spent a good many hours getting to know each other in that music shop.
            The day before the Beatles were to return to Liverpool, Paul picked me up and asked if he could see me alone. There was no place for privacy except for the cramped, soundproof chamber in the rear end of the store. Paul pulled me inside the room and shut the door. I can still remember the pulse of electric vibrations I felt as Paul held me close in the darkness and gently caressed my neck. It was a rhapsody I did not want to diminish. We improvised a song together, and I felt myself go flat thinking it would be our finale. I had no idea that this was just a prelude to the events that would follow. When we rejoined the others in the front of the store, Paul blurted out the most melodious words I have ever heard.
            "This one — this little fraulein's coming home to Liverpool with me!" he proclaimed. As everyone stood muted, he winked at me and whispered, "We're going to make beautiful music together, darlin'!". I felt those tingling, charged vibrations again.
            Back in Liverpool, my friendship with Paul began accelerating to a Zunehmend (crescendo). I became part of the Beatles' "inner circle", and I witnessed the upscale and downscale sides of their music career. John Lennon and Paul were under terrible pressure to keep churning out new hit records. I discreetly assisted them on many occasions. The two composers would sit bouncing ideas off each other, while I rested unobtrusively against the piano or against the studio wall. The tempo of their work would sometimes become so intense that the strain would show on their faces. Suddenly, my presence would remind Paul of the music we had worked out together during late evening interludes at his home. He would once again be energised and activated as he suggested to John, "Here, let's have a go with this bit", and he would pull me close to him and allow me to reveal our little riffs and chords. Although he never told me in words, it was at times like this that I knew Paul was proud of my contributions to his work. I could see the respect he had for me in his huge, smiling, saucer-shaped eyes, and I could feel the love he had for me in his strong, pulsating, sweaty, embrace.
            During the height of Beatlemania, Paul entrusted me with carrying the set list of songs the Beatles would perform at each concert. I expressed concern about losing such an important piece of paper. Paul, always the tease, said, "Don't fret! We'll tape it to you, peghead" (Peghead was his pet name for me.) I continue to carry the set list on my frame to this day.
            Beatlemania also made me eminent. I sometimes preceded the group into an arena or concert hall. I became very recognisable as Paul's "main squeeze", and my German features stood out in the crowds. I generated almost as many screams as the Beatles themselves!
            Beatlemania also brought dozens upon dozens of other young women who -were vying for Paul's affections. It was hard for him to resist their attractive proposals, and he became involved in several torrid affairs. At this point, critics began telling me that Paul was just stringing me along and that our relationship would soon discord and strain. Those critics never knew that I was a very important part of Paul's life and his bond with me was much different than the relationships he shared with others. Paul and I have always been in tune, strapped together by our deep respect for one another and for the music we make. Although Paul did, on occasion, pick on me, push my buttons and cause me to resonate with vociferating passion, we always ended any dissonance by playing a melodic love ballad. Paul and I have always been a unique duet.
            My darkest hours were during the Beatles' breakup. No one could lift Paul out of the despondency and depression he experienced during that period. Things got so bad he could not bear to be associated with anything or anyone that reminded him of the Beatles. As a result, he sent me away. I stayed in England, but for several years I lived encased in isolation and out of tune with the populace. The strings of my heart were broken.
            In 1989, I heard from an "instrumental source" that Paul was going to do a grandiose world tour, and that he was going to endeavour to perform many of his venerated Beatles songs live on stage for the first time. I couldn't contain my excitement or remain low-key. I used every measure I could to get a note to Paul letting him know of my desire to be part of his life again. Several weeks after the tour was officially announced, Paul came to find me. We embraced in much the same way old roommates at a class reunion do, and it seemed as if we had never been out of sync. Paul invited me into the living room of his private family home, and we spent the entire evening jamming with Linda, the rest of the band and the McCartney children. Before he returned me to my own place, Paul asked if I would accompany him on his world tour. I resounded with a very sharp yes!
            To thwart any tour repercussions or slurs against us, Paul resolved to issue a candid statement about our long-standing friendship. He said, "...she's got a very different sound, and she's very light — that's the greatest buzz about her. She actually alters my playing. I play a lot faster, very easily with her. It's really amazing. It's a very different thing to play with her. I've got right back into it. Can't do some of the songs we're doing on this tour without her." Paul's words repressed even the most insolent detractors, and I found myself back in the tempo with him. Next to Linda, I am still his dominant companion and confidant.
            We've played the old songs for new audiences, and we've shared the excitement measure-for-measure. At times, I creak and he croaks, and we are both reminded that we aren't as young as we were when he first ambled into that little shop in Hamburg. Paul's eyes always twinkle with amusement during those intervals, and he reminds me that I should never fret. As he pats me on the back, he gives me a freudig smile and says, "Don't worry, darlin'! We STILL make beautiful music together!" I know he's right, and that's an electrifying sensation for me, his 30-year old Hofner bass guitar!