Paul McCartney flies from New York to Los Angeles
The previous day, Paul McCartney had flown from London to New York, for the first stop on a promotional trip for Apple. On this day he arrived at his final destination: Los Angeles, California.
The purpose of the trip was to show a promotional film at the Capitol Convention in Los Angeles, where record company executives would be able to see The Beatles' intentions for their business. He was accompanied on the trip by head of Apple Ron Kass, employee Tony Bramwell and Ivan Vaughan, McCartney's childhood friend who had introduced him to John Lennon on 6 July 1957.
At the luxurious Beverly Hills Hotel we were given a bungalow beside the pool. It seemed like heaven! The first thing we did was change and go for a swim. Cliché as it might be, but, this is the life
, I thought, as Paul and I floated side by side on lilos, drinks in hand and gazing at the blue sky as the heavy scent of jasmine and orange blossom wafted in the air.
That afternoon, we decided to shop on Sunset Strip. To me, everything was wildly expensive, but Paul didn't care.
'Sign for anything you want,' he told me. It was a bizarre situation. Here was a young man worth many millions who didn't have a penny on him. A bit like royalty, I suppose. At any rate, everyone was more than happy to have our signatures.
'Make the bill out to Apple,' Ivan and I said grandly, collapsing into giggles around the corner on Rodeo Drive. It seemed unreal. Even Paul said that after several years he still couldn't get used to this way of life...
On our shopping trip, Paul and I bought Nehru jackets. Paul's was red velvet and mine was white silk. We also bought several pairs of exotic sunglasses with pink lenses at a psychedelic optique, which we clowned around in. One pair would have done, but we couldn't make up our minds which we liked and in the end Paul said, 'To hell with it. Let's have 'em all.' Once again, as we signed the outrageous bill, we found it wildly funny and ran into the street, laughing like people who had done a runner from the Chinese restaurant without paying.
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In the evening they enjoyed the Los Angeles nightlife, visiting restaurants and clubs.
That night, after another dip in the warm silky water of the swimming pool, we dressed in our new gear, put the psychedelic glasses on, and swanned off in a limo with tinted windows, ten miles long. This was the sixties and in the accepted parameters of cool, we were the coolest of the cool...
As the news that Paul was in town spread like wildfire, the girls began to appear in their droves again. Our first stop was Romanoff's, Frank Sinatra's favourite restaurant, run by a sort of Russian prince. Then we were off clubbing. The Factory was next on the agenda. Located in the middle of a large industrial warehouse, the members were mostly Hollywood elite, people like Paul Newman and Steve McQueen. Paul Wasserman, 'Wasso,' the top Hollywood press agent, sat with us, greeting and introducing, pointing names out. Sammy Davis Jr was there and came over to our table for a chat.
'Hi, Paul, how're you doing, man? Glad to see ya.' I was fascinated by the amount of gold jewelry this very short man could drape on his wiry little body and still dance. Ringo would have been impressed. Ringo loved gold, loved to dance, and he was good at it, too. Meanwhile, models and starlets were throwing themselves at us. If they couldn't grab Paul's attention, then Ron, Ivan or myself would do. The Scotch and Cokes didn't stop flowing until the early hours, all of us on such a natural high that we didn't feel any ill effects. We tipped out of the club, still accompanied by Wasso and several girls. I think I ended up with an air-hostess, but it was hard to tell. Dozens of girls were mobbing around and came back to the hotel with us. Traveling back down Sunset Strip to the hotel with a carload of girls, Wasso took great delight in bumping our car from behind with his equally gigantic Cadillac before he overtook us, waved, and roared off home.
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