AUTHORS DEDICATION:
This record – or confession – chronicles events that occurred between 1966 and 1980. It is dedicated to my dearest friend, who never really left the boat.
It is also dedicated to my other dear friend, who was brave enough to confess our sin, even if no one believed him. If I had been as strong a man as he had been, I would have spoken sooner.
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CHAPTER ONE: "DON'T PASS ME BY"
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The following lyrics are from the song Don't Pass Me By*:
"I listen for your footsteps, Coming up the drive
Listen for your footsteps, But they don't arrive
Waiting for your knock dear, On my old front door
I don't hear it, Does it mean you don't love me any more?"
* Don't Pass Me By was Ringo Starr's first solo-composition for The Beatles.
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The following occurred during a recording-session on November the 6th, 1966, at approximately two-thirty in the morning*:
Richard Starkey watched, but said nothing – as usual. He hoped that without his participation, the argument would end sooner.
While Paul McCartney ranted, John Lennon sat in the corner of the recording-booth, staring down into the empty space between his knees. In the three year that Richard had known John, he had seen him do this often. John's last tactic in every argument, Richard thought, was to retreat into that place where no one was able to follow him.
Richard looked across the recording-room at George Harison, who was sitting beside the piano, scribbling his strange doodle-men** – he called them meanies – down into his note-pad. George had been just as silent through all this as Richard had been, though his disinterest in the argument seemed more genuine. Maybe because George has known them longer, Richard thought. He's used to hearing them fight.
Paul was still ranting, arms in the air. His guitar swung around his waist by the strap, haphazardly. The neck clashed against a symbol on-top the drum-set.
Richard grimaced, but still said nothing. His fear was no longer of prolonging the argument, but simply of becoming involved in it.
There has been more fighting then usual the during this recording-session – the forth-coming album, tentatively titled Smile, had been plagued by everything except – but this time, Paul seemed to be in an extraordinarily violent huff.
George Martin appeared through the door to the recording-booth. "Can we run through it one more–"
"No, George, we can't", Paul said. He never looked away from John, who still sat with his head lowered between his legs.
George Martin*** opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself. The door to the recording-room closed silently behind him.
"Say something, John!", Paul roared.
John didn't raise his head.
"You won't even look at me. You're a fucking child, John."
"Jesus Christ, let up, Paul", Richard said, finally. He stood from his drummer's-stool. "You've been yelling for a half-hour, John's probably deaf – we all are! Give it up, already."
Paul flushed with anger, but didn't reply.
"Okay?", Richard asked, feeling flustered. "Let's just do it again, like Marty said."
No body moved. After a moment, Richard looked to George to find support, but George didn't offer any.
"It's because of your mother", Paul said, his voice horse now. "You never grew up after her, did you, John?"
John looked up.
"You're just a little boy in-side", Paul said. "Still a bloody child."
"Fuck you", John said, before lowering his gaze again.
"Grow up", Paul said, pulling his guitar strap over his head.
"Where are you going?", Richard asked.
Paul put his guitar down on-top of the studio's piano, then turned around. "Out. I'll be back in a couple hours."
"Paul –"
Paul turned around sharply, then glared at Richard. "What, Ringo?"
Richard had been ready to ask Paul to stay – beg him, even – but now he stopped short. Instead, he said: "I think you're the child, Paul. Really."
Then, Paul stormed out of the studio. Richard heard him argue with Marty on his way out, then the slamming of a door.
John didn't move an inch.
George stood from his chair, and sighed. "He'll be back, but not tonight. Let's go home."
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* Author's personal account of the event.
** The first instance of George's doodles appearing on a Beatle's cover was Revolver, inside Paul McCartney's ear. Hiding the doodle on the cover had been John's idea. Paul protested, but George had been indifferent.
*** Nicknamed Marty by John.
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The following is a message* was left by Richard Starkey at the front-desk of Paul McCartney's hotel, at 4:30 the same morning:
"Recording starts after lunch. Don't stand us up, Paul. Please"
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* When asked by the author, the bell-hop claimed the message had never been delivered.
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More lyrics from Don't Pass Me By:
"I'm sorry that I doubted you, I was so unfair
You were in a car crash, And you lost your hair
You said that you would be late, About an hour or two
I said that's alright, I'm waiting here,
Just waiting to hear from you."
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Paul McCartney's first thought had been to go to Jane's house*.
The drive would take over an hour. By the time Paul pulled his Austin Martin into her drive-way, it'd be just passed six o'clock in the morning. Jane will be awake by then, Paul thought. He was sure she would be. Jane Asher hadn't sleep-in one single day of her life. Despite this, Paul hoped she might still be in bed when he arrived, bleary-eyed, and dressed in her soft cotton pyjamas.
He drove with the windows down, no mind for the rain. Hang On Sloopy by The McCoy's bleared through his radio. Paul sang along to only the chorus – screeching "Hang on, Sloopy! Sloppy, hang on!" into the empty night like a banshee – and let the Austin Martin's engine throb the rhythm of the verse's.
When the song finished, Paul leaned back into his seat, feeling an angry pressure in his chest dissipating. His breaths became long, and deep. For the first time since leaving Abbey Road, Paul wondered if something he had said to John had been wrong.
The DJ on the radio – a local station, WKR-FM – drawled for a moment, then introduced the next song: We Can Work It Out, by The Beatles. The anger that had spent itself to ash during Hang On Sloopy suddenly rekindled inside Paul's chest, and burned. His knuckles became white around the steering-wheel.
Paul had written the song for Jane, of course; but now, he couldn't help but think of John. Paul decided then that The Beatles would never work it out again. The finality of the thought had its own exhilaration, which Paul expressed with the gas-pedal.
He turned a sharp bend in the road, and felt the Austin Martin's tires lose traction briefly, then grip onto the wet pavement again. That's when Paul saw her, standing on the side of the road. She was young, and even though she cowered below her umbrella, Paul could tell she was tall. He pulled over, and reached to open his passenger-door.
Had he not slowed down after the turn, he might have passed her by.
He might have lived, the author can't help but add.
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* When asked by agent "Maxwell" where they thought Paul had been driving to, the remaining three Beatles had answered, unanimously: "There was no where else he would have been going."
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CHAPTER TWO: "HE DIDN'T NOTICE THAT THE LIGHTS HAD CHANGED"
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"He blew his mind out in a car
He didn't notice that the lights had changed
A crowd of people* stood and stared
They'd seen his face before
Nobody was really sure
If he was from the House of Lords**"
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* First witness on the scene was Sally Strummer. Before the police arrived, five witness had gathered around the flaming wreck. James Corner was another witness of note.
** This lyric are often quoted as "from the House of Paul".
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The following was transcribed by the author from the recording of a phone-interview he conducted with Mrs. Strummer, on November 18th, 1966:
AUTHOR: Did you see his face, Mrs. Strummer?
SALLY STRUMMER: Of course I did – we all did! I told you – I think he broke that poor man's hand –
AUTHOR: Not that man, sorry. I meant the driver. Did you see his face?
SALLY STRUMMER: I guess – just for a second, before the police arrived. I wish I hadn't, but I thought I could help who ever was in there.
[Pause]
AUTHOR: Mrs. Strummer?
SALLY STRUMMER: Sorry. I'm here. I just can't –
[Another pause]
SALLY STRUMMER: I didn't even know there had been a fire – at first. I guess the rain put it out before I saw the wreck. He might have had brown hair. I couldn't tell, there was so much blood. His face wasn't burnt as badly as the woman's was. He still had a mop of hear on-top his head. Looked like a Beatles fan, you know? His head was split right down the middle. Like a slice had been taken out* –
[Pause]
SALLY STRUMMER: When the police arrived, we had to stand a ways back. A couple more people showed up, and waited with us for news. Then another car arrived. I think they were police, too – or maybe something more. You know what I mean?
AUTHOR: I think I do, Mrs. Strummer.
SALLY STRUMMER: Sally, please. The man I told you about before, you said his name was Max?
AUTHOR: It's just a nick-name.
SALLY STRUMMER: He was a horrible man. After one of them wrote all of our names down in his note-pad, Max told us we had to leave. One man in the crowd – we had spoken earlier, his name was James – said he had been driving for hours, looking for his run-away daughter, when he stumbled onto the crash. James told one of Max's men that he wouldn't leave until there was news. I really think Max broke Jame's hand –
AUTHOR: I wouldn't mention any of this to anyone else, Sally. You're right. Max is a very horrible man. If you don't draw any of his attention, you'll never have to see him again.
SALLY STRUMMER: He had a hammer. Do you believe that? He put James's hand down flat on the hood of his car, and smashed it.
AUTHOR: Sally –
SALLY STRUMMER: I don't remember how many times. Then, we all left. No one tried to help him. No one screamed. We just – left. When I started to drive away, I saw James still lying on the wet grass. I thought I saw Max's men going through his car. I called the police in the morning, and reported it.
AUTHOR: You shouldn't have done that, Sally.
SALLY STRUMMER: Before we all ran, I saw their faces – the rest of the crowd. I knew none of them would tell a soul about what had happened. Do you read the paper?
AUTHOR: Yeah, I –
SALLY STRUMMER: Read the Westminster Daily Telegraph, November 8th. On page three, there's an article about the crash. It said the white Austin Martin 'hadn't noticed that the lights had changed' – but, there were no lights. They moved the crash, but nearly a half a kilometer. And no one said a word about it–
AUTHOR: There are very good reasons to say nothing, Sally.
[Pause]
AUTHOR: Mrs. Strummer?
[The sound of a knocking door can be heard on Sally's end of the recording]
AUTHOR: Are you still there?
SALLY STRUMMER: Yes, sorry. One moment –
SALLY STRUMMER: [Not spoken directly into the telephone] I'll be right there!
[The sound of the phone being put down on the counter can be heard.]
AUTHOR: Sally!?
[A long pause.]
AUTHOR: ...Sally?
[Click]*
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* A follow-up interview was attempted, but Mrs. Strummer was unavailable. Her land-lord claimed to have received a call from Mrs. Strummer late in the evening on November 18th, saying she would be traveling to India, and that someone would take care of her place while she was gone. She was never seen again.
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The following lyrics are taken from the song Maxwell's Silver Hammer:
"But as she's getting ready to go
A knock comes on the door…
Bang, bang, Maxwell's silver hammer
Came down upon her head
Bang, bang, Maxwell's silver hammer
Made sure that she was dead."
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"…the driver of the Austin Martin, William Sheers, was heavily intoxicated. When he came to the intersection, Mr. Sheer didn't notice that the lights had changed. At 5 a.m., he crashed his Austin Martin into a Volkswagen entering the intersection, killing the driver, James Corner, and his daughter, who had been sitting in the passenger's seat. Martha Corner, Mr. Corner's widow, claims that her husband left their house at 3:30 a.m. that morning, looking for their run-away daughter…"
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