Alistair Taylor says 'Jane was too good for Paul'
jen
23/9/01 Mail on Sunday by ALISTAIR TAYLOR
He was The Beatles' friend and fixer who dealt with their women, cars, homes
and personal problems during the Sixties. As assistant to Brian Epstein, the
band's manager, Alistair Taylor knew everything and became a trusted
confidant of Paul McCartney. Now, in a candid new book, he offers a
fascinating, and damning, insight into McCartney and the women in his life
that will shock many readers. The love affair between Paul McCartney and
Jane Asher was one Beatles romance I thought would last. Jane was adorable
bright, funny and incredibly attractive. She was a wonderful match for Paul.
And he thought so, too. The truth is she was far too good for him. She was
well educated and very successful in her own right.
Paul met Jane in 1963 when she wrote an article for the Radio Times on The
Beatles' appearance at the Royal Albert Hall. All of them took a shine to
her, but it was Paul she fell for.
As their romance grew, I became closer to Paul than to any of the other
Beatles. Jane and Paul were devoted to each other: they both revelled in
simple pleasures well away from the world of celebrities. By the time they
met, the country was
firmly in the grip of Beatlemania. Love Me Do, released in October 1962, had
raised the group to a new level. Their first album had shot to the top of
the charts and advance orders for their second, With The Beatles, were about
to top a quarter of a million, more than for any previously released LP. The
Beatles were making history. They couldn't go anywhere without being mobbed,
and fans camped outside their homes.
In the midst of this mania, Paul came to the office one day to tell me he
had bought a farm in Scotland High Park Farm on the Mull Of Kintyre. He
asked me to go up and see where he could build a new farmhouse. When I got
there, I discovered there was a house on the only suitable spot, but it was
just about derelict.
I told Paul that to put up a new home there he would have to knock down the
old one and build on the plot. The three of us went up to have a look. I was
a little apprehensive about what Paul and Jane might think of the place. It
was very remote, basic and cold. But they fell in love with it at first
sight. High Park seemed to stand up in defiance of the elements. Paul and
Jane marvelled at the complete absence of even everyday modern conveniences.
They spent the first hour exploring the farm and its tumbledown buildings,
squealing in delight when they found an old washtub or a piece of dead
tractor.
We needed something to sit on, so when we wandered into the barn and found a
filthy old mattress and piles of old potato boxes up in the rafters, Paul
said: 'Let's get that down. The mattress can be our sofa. We'll have to give
it a good beating to get the dust out.
We can build the frame from the boxes.' I was dispatched to the nearest town
to buy a big bag of nails and a couple of hammers.
After a day or two, we all needed a bath, so we decided to use the old milk
tank a huge, stainless steel container on a plinth in the derelict dairy.
Paul said: 'I've got it. We'll rig this up as a bath. All we need is a
stepladder!' Immersion heaters warmed up the water and we filled our
enormous bath. We found a stepladder and took turns to climb up for a wash.
Paul was not as squeaky clean as he would have liked Jane to believe. He and
I were walking Martha, his Old English sheepdog, when he turned to me and
said: 'You'll have to go to the chemists in Campbeltown for me...' He had a
personal medical problem and didn't want Jane to find out about it. I phoned
our solicitor, Bob Graham, and told him the medicine was for me. I'm pretty
sure he knew it was for Paul because I had to stress secrecy.
When the treatment arrived, it was labelled 'Sheep Dip' so Jane would not
find out.
Eventually, Jane did catch Paul out although this didn't happen until some
years later, by which time The Beatles had conquered America, released
Sergeant Pepper and heard the tragic news of Brian Epstein's suicide. Paul,
meanwhile, had met his future wife, Linda Eastman, although she wasn't the
cause of his breakup with Jane.
Instead, Jane came home one day in July 1968 to find Paul with Francie
Schwartz, a girl from New York. Francie was not just in their house in
London's Cavendish Avenue, but in the bed Jane shared with Paul. Jane was in
a state of shock and her relationship with Paul they were engaged by now
ended there and then.
As usual, there were fans outside the house and they had tried to warn Paul
that Jane was approaching. But he thought they were joking.
Jane's departure shattered Paul.
I have never been sure if it was because he really loved her or because he
was shocked that she had the nerve to turn him down.
Afterwards, he had a succession of one-night stands, although many of the
relationships did not even last that long.
It's the only time I ever saw him distraught normally, he was flip, cool and
full of himself. It was then that I realised how close we had become. We
spent weeks together after Jane left. He pleaded with her to forgive him,
but she was implacable: she is very strong and principled. I think she was
deeply in love with Paul.
Paul literally cried on my shoulder. We hit the bottle together.
Hard.
He always seemed to feel lonely at night that was the time my phone would
ring and it would be Paul saying: 'Al, get a cab and come on up to
Cavendish.' I didn't mind because he was a friend in pain. I had watched his
love for Jane grow from early infatuation into a deep and passionate love.
Paul told me how much he had learned from Jane and her family.
He wasn't a yobbo before he met Jane, but he was unsophisticated.
Jane introduced him to fine wines, art, films and all aspects of culture.
Jane's mother taught at the Royal College of Music. This was a new world for
Paul and he absorbed it like a sponge.
That's partly why he found it so shocking when she dumped him.
What's more, he couldn't tell the other Beatles how he felt. They never
liked to admit individual weakness, and Paul would have hated John to think
he was upset about a woman.
Paul and I would sit up until 3am while he talked about what a prat he had
been. 'I had everything and I threw it away,' he'd say. 'Jane wasn't just my
woman, she was my closest friend. I've told her everything inside me. She
knows what makes me tick. I went right through all the stuff about my mother
dying and how I dealt with that. With Jane, I could just relax completely
and be myself and that seemed to be what she wanted. With the other women,
I'm a f****** millionaire rock star who just happens to be about as shallow
as a puddle.' At other times he just turned up at my house long after my
wife, Lesley, and I had gone to bed. 'Has Lesley got the kettle on?'
he'd ask, and I would know I'd be up half the night going through how
wonderful life had been with Jane. And he would put his arms around me and
cry. Paul was never ashamed about crying. Afterwards, he'd try to joke about
it. 'I thought Jane was the drama queen, but it's me,' he'd say with a weak
laugh.
Months later, Paul rolled up outside our flat in Montagu Place on a Sunday
morning in his Aston Martin.
'Come on, we're off to look at a house,' he said. He already had Francie and
Martha the dog as passengers, but insisted Lesley and I squeeze in. When we
reached the grounds of the house in Kent that Paul was thinking about
buying, he and Francie disappeared for about 20 minutes. I'm sure they
weren't playing Scrabble. Francie didn't last long a bewildering sequence of
women passed through Paul's life at that time.
He was by now more or less over Jane. He had tried for a while to get her
back, but his messages were returned unopened and his calls were not
answered. It changed him.
For years, he'd had everything he could want: Jane was the first woman to
reject him, and he did not like the experience. He was a little harder, a
little more cynical from then on.
Paul had met Linda Eastman in the Bag O' Nails pub back in 1967 on an
evening when the entertainment was being supplied by Georgie Fame and the
Blue Flames. I remember him talking about a female photographer with long,
elegant fingers. He was smitten. By the autumn of 1968, she was his partner.
I think Linda resented anyone who had been close to Paul, particularly
during his period with Jane. It was obvious that she could not come to terms
with the rapport between Paul and me. She never stopped smiling, but
sometimes there was a glint in her eyes that I did not like.
After Linda appeared on the scene, my late-night chats with Paul had been
terminated. But there was also a change in Paul's whole demeanour.
He seemed cooler and as careful with his words and his warmth as he had
always been with his money.
One of the first things Linda did at Cavendish Avenue after she managed to
move in was to have the ground floor redecorated. Although Jane had
decorated it with exquisite taste, Linda wanted to remove every last trace
of her. She didn't want to hear her name. She didn't want to see pictures
Paul and Jane had chosen.
The first I knew of Linda's plans for the house was when Paul rang me at
four o'clock one afternoon and asked me to come round to Cavendish Avenue.
Paul and Linda had to leave at 7pm for a five-day break that I had arranged
for them, so I knew I wasn't in for a long session. When I got to the house,
Paul answered the door himself and immediately said: 'Right, Alistair. I
would like the whole of the ground floor of the house decorated by the time
we come back.' The way Paul had delivered his instructions left me in no
doubt that he was not inclined to discuss the matter. Behind him stood Linda
with a small, cold smile on her face an expression which I was to see again.
Paul took me on a hurried tour of the house to show me what they wanted
done. Everything down to the last lick of paint had been planned: nothing
Jane had done would remain.
I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach which told me I was not going to be
nearly so close to Paul for a while.
The expression on my face betrayed my incredulity at the idea of doing all
this in five days. I tried to suggest he was asking the impossible, but Paul
was not in the mood for negotiation. 'You can do it, Al.
Never mind the cost. Just get it done.' Fortunately, a friend put me on to a
firm run by a man called Ian Taverner. I told him what I wanted. He burst
out laughing and said: 'It's absolutely impossible in the time you want.' I
begged him at least to meet me in the house and look at the job.
The next morning, he came to Cavendish Avenue and agreed to take on the
challenge. It meant working through the nights with decorators operating a
shift system, but he reckoned he could do it.
Six hours before Paul and Linda were due back, I went up to the house to
find the foreman completing his last checks. Inside, everything was
immaculate and there was only the faintest whiff of paint in the air.
Paul was delighted, and even Linda almost managed to thank me. Later, I went
to the house to show Paul the decorator's bill it was a lot smaller than I
had feared. He was sitting on a big sofa with Linda when I arrived and
handed him the piece of paper.
Paul looked at it and said: 'Great. Get the cheque off to them.' I was just
about to put the bill back in my briefcase when Linda reached for it.
She looked at it and then accused Ian Taverner of overcharging Paul. Then,
looking at me as if I were something she had just stepped in, she said: 'And
how much are you making out of the deal?' My body went cold and shook with
rage while my mouth suddenly became too dry to utter a word. I stood up,
closed my briefcase and left the room. I can't remember ever feeling more
angry or upset. Paul came after me and tried to act as peacemaker, but I
just didn't want to know.
'Linda's only looking out for me, Al,'
done, then, Al. But not only that, I want it resprayed. I want it to come
back as if it has just been driven out of the showroom.' The garage came up
trumps. The mechanic who delivered the gleaming finished product back to
Cavendish Avenue was beaming with pride at the result. Paul walked round it
for ages lost in amazement and eventually eased himself into the driver's
seat absolutely thrilled.
The bill was reasonable and Paul smiled his approval. But Linda strode out
of the house and my heart sank. A sense of deja vu hit me like a flying
housebrick. She snatched the bill from Paul, looked me straight in the eyes
and asked: 'How much of this is going in your pocket?' This time Paul simply
shrugged and looked away. I said: 'I'll see you then, Paul,' and walked
away.
Linda had no time for me. In my naive and forgiving way, I don't think it
was because of any character defect, but simply because I was part of the
old guard and I was much, much too close to Paul.
When it came down to it, my friendship with Paul did not count for much. He
was quite prepared to turn his back on me to please Linda.
Abridged extract from A Secret History by Alistair Taylor, published by
Blake Publishing on October 1, price 16.99. To order a copy for 14.99 (plus
1.99 p& p) call the Review Bookstore on 0870 1650870.
(Copyright 2001)
©2001 Bell & Howell Information & Learning Services
InYerFace
On Sun, 30 Sep 2001 09:20:11 -0500 "jen" <jsn...@email.msn.com> wrote:
>
> THERE WAS ONLY ONE WOMEN FOR MY FRIEND PAUL.. AND IT WASN'T LINDA
>
> 23/9/01 Mail on Sunday by ALISTAIR TAYLOR
>
> He was The Beatles' friend and fixer who dealt with their women, cars, homes
> and personal problems during the Sixties.
Remembering that the Mail is a tabloid, you will note
that by April, 1968, it was Peter Brown who was Chief
Fixer.
Alistair Taylor is a lovely, but dotty and impoverished
old man who got left in the toxic debris of Apple Corpse.
In 1972, he tried to purchase the foreign rights to BODY
COUNT through my ancient literary agent (she is said to be
the oldest living book agent) Blanche Gregory. He couldn't
get "closure" on the deal, so he just kept his copy and
nicked from it at will, for this unmistakable swan song.
As we know (gosh I miss Deena...) it was Danny Fields
who first cashed in on Linda's death by hitting Paul
with the pitch before he was even out of the critical
initial period of grief, and got him to sign off on
the book deal, which went directly to Linda's own publisher,
Little Brown.
Alistair Taylor must be so hungry for money that he is
willing to further trash the marriage by claiming that
Jane was Paul's true love.
I've read more excerpts of his book which slime Linda
for questioning everyone on Paul's payroll about how
much they were profiting from the job of redecorating
7 Cavendish Avenue in five days.
It's a very ugly perspective on a dead woman who did
a superb job of taking care of and protecting Paul from
all sorts of ripoffs as well as giving him a fine son
and three daughters.
He even manages to jab at yours truly with his smarmy
description of one of our day trips... we were not
looking at a housde to buy the day we packed him and
his wife into the Aston Martin.
That day in Kent we were just cruising, and we stopped
in a little village to check out the pub. It was empty
of customers, and no visible staff. But it had a tiny
stage with a drum kit, and Paul got up and fooled around
on the drums for a bit.
At no time did we disappear into a house for 20 minutes
of hanky panky.
Francie
--
YES. NEW STUFF THIS WEEKEND!
http://sites.netscape.net/fabe9131944
nowhere man
jen wrote:
> THERE WAS ONLY ONE WOMEN FOR MY FRIEND PAUL.. AND IT WASN'T LINDA
>
> 23/9/01 Mail on Sunday by ALISTAIR TAYLOR
>
> <snipped>
> She looked at it and then accused Ian Taverner of overcharging Paul. Then,
> looking at me as if I were something she had just stepped in, she said: 'And
> how much are you making out of the deal?' My body went cold and shook with
> rage while my mouth suddenly became too dry to utter a word. I stood up,
> closed my briefcase and left the room. I can't remember ever feeling more
> angry or upset. Paul came after me and tried to act as peacemaker, but I
> just didn't want to know.
>
> 'Linda's only looking out for me, Al,'
PS - this was getting exciting.....but is there a bit of the text missing at
this point?
> done, then, Al. But not only that, I want it resprayed.
superb article and very revealing.
Thanks for posting this Jen.
I always get the Mail on Sunday and yesterday's is sitting here beside
me....takes me days to get through it tho.
Will
jen
"InYerFace" <Let...@tlesGo.com> wrote in message
news:101827....@corp.supernews.com...
>
>
> On Sun, 30 Sep 2001 09:20:11 -0500 "jen" <jsn...@email.msn.com> wrote:
>
> >
> > THERE WAS ONLY ONE WOMEN FOR MY FRIEND PAUL.. AND IT WASN'T LINDA
> >
> > 23/9/01 Mail on Sunday by ALISTAIR TAYLOR
> >
> > He was The Beatles' friend and fixer who dealt with their women, cars,
homes
> > and personal problems during the Sixties.
>
>
> Remembering that the Mail is a tabloid, you will note
> that by April, 1968, it was Peter Brown who was Chief
> Fixer.
>
> Alistair Taylor is a lovely, but dotty and impoverished
> old man who got left in the toxic debris of Apple Corpse.
<snip>
> Francie
>
Sounds like sour grapes to me. It's interesting that Taylor paints Linda as
cold and calculating, whereas Danny Fields goes out of his way to point out
how warm Linda was, and that Paul really wasn't - he was just a good actor.
Although to be fair, Taylor certainly didn't know Linda as well as Fields
did.
Jen
LovesInNeedofLove
On Mon, 1 Oct 2001 18:37:11 -0500 "jen" <jsn...@email.msn.com> wrote:
>
>
> "InYerFace" <Let...@tlesGo.com> wrote in message
> news:101827....@corp.supernews.com...
> >
> >
> > On Sun, 30 Sep 2001 09:20:11 -0500 "jen" <jsn...@email.msn.com> wrote:
> >
> > >
> > > THERE WAS ONLY ONE WOMEN FOR MY FRIEND PAUL.. AND IT WASN'T LINDA
> > >
> > > 23/9/01 Mail on Sunday by ALISTAIR TAYLOR
> > >
> > > He was The Beatles' friend and fixer who dealt with their women, cars,
> homes
> > > and personal problems during the Sixties.
> >
> >
> > Remembering that the Mail is a tabloid, you will note
> > that by April, 1968, it was Peter Brown who was Chief
> > Fixer.
> >
> > Alistair Taylor is a lovely, but dotty and impoverished
> > old man who got left in the toxic debris of Apple Corpse.
>
> <snip>
>
> > Francie
> >
> Sounds like sour grapes to me.
Well, you remember how Kathy and another poster defended
Alistair (he's really poor) as an authority? I'm not sure
what they think he became in 1968, shoved into a corner after
Derek Taylor and Ron Kass were established in the top echelon
of Apple... He is just barely mentioned in the Lewisohn
interview with Derek and Neil (Aspinall), who were closer
to the Fabs than anyone else at the time, including George
Martin.
It's interesting that Taylor paints Linda as
> cold and calculating, whereas Danny Fields goes out of his way to point out
> how warm Linda was, and that Paul really wasn't - he was just a good actor.
> Although to be fair, Taylor certainly didn't know Linda as well as Fields
> did.
>
> Jen
>
And Danny barely knew her at all... he collided with Linda
the night she slept with Mick Jagger, and as a frontline
gossip and gay self-promoter, he thought he had the inside
track. But he was right about Paul being cold to anyone
who looked like he might interfere with Paul's total access
to Linda's thinking and approval, right down the line.
There is yet to be written a portrait of Linda McCartney
from a female point of view. I've thought about doing a
novella of the marriage from Lin's perspective.
But that's a whole nother story.
It's sad that Alistair Taylor wasn't taken care of
with some sort of pension. The Fabs discarded many of
their old "friends" financially in 1971 (the year Klein
forced Derek Taylor to quit). Alistair's title in 1968 was
Office Manager. Sad, really. He was nicer by far than
Peter Brown... he just wasn't aggressive enough.
Francie
--
http://sites.netscape.net/fabe9131944
NEW:The First Air Force Flight Instructors
hennessyandco
from a female point of view. I've thought about doing a
novella of the marriage from Lin's perspective.
Ohh. That'd be tasteful.
What special insight do you claim to have on the subject?
Jeremy Boob
"hennessyandco" <hennes...@email.msn.com> wrote in message
news:OFn#iIuSBHA.1544@cpimsnntpa03...
Don't tell me, let me guess...Francie wrote this?
Oh, brother!
>
>
>
na
well, from what i can see, none at all. but, for science's sake, let's
examine a few points......
==
linda appears to have been be a warm, loving person, mother and wife. franny
is a bitter twisted old ex groupie.
linda had a loving husband and beautiful loving kids. franny has her hand.
linda was married to one of the most respected and best loved men of modern
times. franny has been trying to get on with "Life after Mcartney", with
very little success it seems judging by her seething bitterness towards the
man and his career.
linda was extremely successful in her career apart from music. franny has no
career save plying her "who i fucked" memoirs, which are themselves of no
interest to anyone at all.
==
gee you know, i'm getting the feeling franny would have a REAL hard time
writing anything from "lin's perspective" unless she had a complete heart,
mind and soul transplant....:)
TallyHo
Rich Diakun
than on rec.music.beatles a huge favor. Don't cross-post your juvenile
tripe. We don't want to see it, and we'd rather not have to go through the
hassle of having to blanket-mark-read (in the off-chance that you might
accidentally have something to say). There's a reason why we don't bother
with that forum any more, and this latest thread reminds us all what it is.
Keep your stupid idiotic name calling and vitrol over in the rat's nest that
you've turned RMB into and leave those of us who have sense enough to avoid
it alone. Thanks.
- Rich
P.S. The answer is: "no... you didn't even come close to passing the
audition."
"TallyHo" <D...@dedBeep.com> wrote in message
news:102110....@news.best1.net...
Jeremy Boob
"Rich Diakun" <URDE...@prodigy.net> wrote in message
news:yHtu7.4089$bq4.71...@newssvr17.news.prodigy.com...
> Do those of us who opted to post on rec.music.artists.paul-mccartney
rather
> than on rec.music.beatles a huge favor. Don't cross-post your juvenile
> tripe. We don't want to see it, and we'd rather not have to go through
the
> hassle of having to blanket-mark-read (in the off-chance that you might
> accidentally have something to say). There's a reason why we don't bother
> with that forum any more, and this latest thread reminds us all what it
is.
> Keep your stupid idiotic name calling and vitrol over in the rat's nest
that
> you've turned RMB into and leave those of us who have sense enough to
avoid
> it alone. Thanks.
>
> - Rich
>
Ah, always quick with the compliment, eh Rich? Give us a kiss.
ar ar