Fab_ An Intimate Life Of Paul McCartney Part 16

There were other irritants, though. Paul had agreed that a special LIPA ticket could be sold at the concerts. Costing the equivalent of $1,000 US, this was a very expensive seat, and many fans who dug deep for the money a.s.sumed that a backstage meeting with Paul was included. Though this was never explicitly promised, McCartney did meet some LIPA ticketholders in Australia. When LIPA tickets were subsequently sold in the USA, promoters gave enquirers the impression they definitely would meet the star. When this didn't automatically happen, ticketholders became angry, infuriated when they saw Paul on television meeting other, ordinary concert-goers as the whim took him. When Paul looked out from the stage during his set, he routinely saw banners declaring 'WE LOVE YOU PAUL' and so forth. Now there was a banner complaining about a '$1,000 LIPA SCAM'. One American fan wrote to Mark Featherstone-Witty in bitter complaint, explaining that she was part of a hardcore group who had supported Paul throughout his career, even when his records weren't first rate. 'Who do you think is buying Off the Ground Off the Ground?' she asked pointedly, as if doing so was an act of charity. 'It isn't selling, but everyone who had a LIPA ticket knew all the words to all the songs.'

Even worse, not enough LIPA tickets were sold in America, part of a wider problem of selling out the North American shows. Following the tremendous success of the 1989 -91 US tour, when Paul had been backed by Visa's television campaign, the New World Tour had been planned and budgeted on selling out the same vast venues, the likes of the Houston Astrodome and Giants Stadium. But there was no national TV campaign in 1993, and there were no takers for the last few blocks of seats in towns like Boulder and Toronto. These empty seats often meant the difference between profit and loss. While his motivation wasn't purely financial, Paul didn't want to work for peanuts (as he sang every night in 'Drive My Car'). He blamed Richard Ogden, and Ogden resigned accordingly from MPL. Looking back on his six years managing the star, Ogden concludes that Paul wanted to be wanted to be successful successful. He wanted to be the toppermost of the poppermost. The Beatles thing. He wanted to be number one. He never lost that desire. Lost maybe the understanding of how to get that sometimes, but was prepared to listen to someone who could tell him, 'Hey, let's do this!' 'Oh, that seems like a good idea, man, let's do that.' ... I had a wonderful time managing him.

He also discovered that if you made a mistake with Paul you were up s.h.i.t creek.

To balance the books, Paul extended the tour into the winter of 1993. 'Not that I need the money, but I still feel that if we bother to get out there then, like everyday working people, we'll see some sort of reward.' When Mark Featherstone-Witty came to visit Paul in Oslo in September, he found the musician in a lousy mood. Standing together at the backstage bar, Paul started berating the man from LIPA, demanding that he perform some Shakespeare on the spot to prove he'd been an actor as he claimed. 'Come on, man, you say you were an actor, do something now.' When Mark failed to rise to the challenge, Paul told him brusquely to go away. Mark was still with the tour the following week when Paul played Frankfurt again, just seven months after he'd last performed in the city, a testament to the size of his German fan base. Paul was still in a contrary mood, insisting that the Grundig sponsorship banners were hung in the Festhalle in such a way that he wouldn't see them from the stage, apparently never having reconciled himself to the sponsorship deal, and summoning Mark to his dressing room before the show to give him a lecture.

From the start, Paul's interest in the Liverpool Inst.i.tute had been more to do with saving his old school than founding an educational establishment, with underlying doubts about the validity of teaching show business. On a recent trip to Liverpool Paul had met the band the Christians, a member of which asked McCartney why he was putting money into teaching middle-cla.s.s kids what musicians from working-cla.s.s backgrounds, like himself, had picked up by experience. Paul brooded on this conversation, venting his concerns in Frankfurt. 'He was very angry,' says Featherstone-Witty, who discovered that his Lead Patron was also contemptuous of some of the proposed LIPA courses, one of which, t.i.tled 'Image and Style', 'infuriated and worried him' because he thought it trivial. Unless Mark did better, Paul warned he might withdraw his support altogether.

Mark stumbled from Paul's dressing room at the end of this harangue not knowing what to do. 'I was so shaken that, putting my hand out to steady myself on the wall outside the dressing room door, I mistakenly placed it on Mary McCartney ... who was standing outside waiting to go in,' he wrote in his memoir Optimistic, Even Then Optimistic, Even Then. To his horror, Mark realised that his hand was on Mary McCartney's b.r.e.a.s.t.s. 'Aghast at the ramifications, I sprang back, white with apology.'

So the tour rolled on, Paul releasing a spin-off live LP, Paul is Live Paul is Live, that seemed redundant only three years after Tripping the Live Fantastic Tripping the Live Fantastic. On this new live alb.u.m, 'Let Me Roll It' held its own especially well beside the Beatles material, while Paul showed his sense of humour by including a sound-check version of 'I Wanna Be Your Man' sung in the style of Mick Jagger, whose career the song kick-started. The alb.u.m got most attention for its cover, which saw Paul posing with one of his Old English sheepdogs on the Abbey Road crossing, the artwork and alb.u.m t.i.tle a riposte to the Sixties rumour that Paul was dead and a double had taken his place on the original Abbey Road Abbey Road sleeve. sleeve.

That summer Paul's school friend Ivan Vaughan died of heart failure aged 51. Although the news was not unexpected, in that Ivy had suffered from Parkinson's disease for years, the death of a contemporary always comes as a shock. 'They had the same birthday. They'd known each other from school. They'd gone their different ways, but they had a lot of respect for each other,' says Ivy's widow Janet, who received a copy of a poem Paul wrote in response to his friend's death. In 'Ivan' Paul describes how two doors opened in Liverpool on 18 June 1942 when he and Ivy were born; how they went on to become mates, playing music together, Ivy being 'the ace on the ba.s.s'; before Ivan introduced him to a couple of other pals, a reference to the fact that Ivan had taken Paul along to the Woolton fete where John Lennon was playing with the Quarry Men. Now: Cranlock naval Cranlock pie A tear is rolling Down my eye On the sixteenth of August Nineteen ninety-three One door closed Bye-bye Ivy The Cranlock rhyme is attractive and intriguing. 'It was like a sort of jingle that they often used to say when they were together,' explains Janet Vaughan. 'I mean, it's nonsense speak, but it's something that was very familiar to them ... I recognised it immediately [in the poem] as a familiar thing that they said to each other ... If they were having a conversation, occasionally they would say it, and then burst out laughing. Haha! ... It's a lovely poem.' There is indeed a simple, charming warmth to 'Ivan', a fitting and evidently heartfelt lament for a long and largely private friendship that had continued in the background of Paul's public life.

Ivan's death was followed by a scare closer to home on 13 September 1993, Stella McCartney's 22nd birthday. Stella, studying in London for a career in fashion design, was home in Suss.e.x with the family when the McCartneys received news that James, who'd celebrated his 16th birthday the previous day, had gone missing surfing off Camber Sands. A lifeboat was launched and an RAF helicopter sent up as Paul drove to the scene. 'It's a three-mile drive and all sorts of thoughts were going through my head,' Paul later said. Fortunately, James was found alive and well, though it wouldn't be the last time he frightened his parents.

In November Paul took his band to j.a.pan, then South America, by which time everybody was road-weary. Playing with Paul had been a joy for his musicians, and the New World Tour had been brightened by the introduction of an acoustic set, yet the main show was the same every night, with Paul sticking to faithful recreations of the Beatles songs as heard on record. While this is initially thrilling, such rigid renditions become dull with repet.i.tion, for audience and band, pointing out the wisdom of Bob Dylan's policy of remaking his songs constantly, even if audiences complain that the songs don't sound like the records. Dylan says this doesn't matter. The recording is just how the song sounded that particular day. Good songs can stand being altered. This was not Paul's way. He presented his and the Beatles' greatest hits like museum pieces, even making the same comments from the stage, such as encouraging his audience to sing along to 'Hey Jude', which they did eagerly and loudly every single night, first the girls, then the boys, the left side of the stadium, then the right, harmonising on the na na na na-na-na nas na na na na-na-na nas, an apparently delighted Paul complimenting everybody for singing so sweetly as though he'd never had this reaction before. As Hamish says, 'When he knows that something works he sticks to it, which is true of [other artists]. It's mainly a different audience every night, so I think you can get away with it.'

By the time they reached Santiago, Chile, for the final show, it was, in Hamish's words, 'a little tired'. They had played to 1.7 million people on five continents, with Paul transforming what looked like a loss-making tour into an earner. MPL turned over 14 million in the 12 months to December 1993 ($21.42m), squeezing a profit of 2.6 million on the year ($3.97m). Paul then said goodbye to his band, whom he'd been working with for almost six years, explaining that he was committed to a major new project that would keep him at home in 1994. 'I'm off to be a Beatle now,' he said.

24.

A THREE-QUARTERS REUNION.

THE ANTHOLOGY.

For years the press had speculated about a Beatles reunion. The boys themselves said it would never happen, and indeed how could it with John dead? Yet the impossible now came to pa.s.s, in a partial sense at least, thanks to the band's old friend and servant, Neil 'Nell' Aspinall, who ran Apple on their behalf.

Since the Sixties, Nell had been collecting footage of the Beatles for a doc.u.mentary film. He first edited the clips together after the band's break-up, creating a 16mm flick he called The Long and Winding Road The Long and Winding Road. 'But then the Beatles' manager, Allen Klein, wanted to take it to America. He wanted his own in-house people to expand it into a social commentary of the Sixties. So I took it all to pieces again,' Aspinall recalled. 'I remember him coming into the editing suite in Savile Row and saying, "Where is it?" I pointed to the whole library, and said, "It's all those cans." Was he furious? Yeah.' After the Beatles parted company with Klein, Aspinall remade the film and sent copies to the individual band members for old time's sake. Nothing more was done on the project for two decades, during much of which the Beatles were arguing between themselves over money, most recently the extra one per cent royalty Paul was being paid by Capitol Records.

When all lawsuits were resolved, around 1990, Aspinall raised the idea of a definitive television history of the Beatles using the old footage he had collected. The unique selling point would be that the Beatles would tell their own story. 'I said to the guys, "Well, we're going to have to interview you,"' notes Aspinall. 'There were varying degrees of enthusiasm for that suggestion.' The three surviving Beatles were like brothers who have grown up and left home, still seeing their siblings occasionally, feeling affection for their brothers naturally, but quick to be irritated by them. Relations between Paul and George were particularly p.r.i.c.kly, George being the least inclined to look back on 'the mania'. The excessive devotion of the fans in the Sixties had genuinely freaked him out, and he had never forgotten Paul's condescension towards him. Although the men still saw each other socially, George had a tendency to snipe at Macca in interviews, complaining about him to others, and ignoring Paul's calls and letters. Nevertheless, Harrison now had a compelling reason to work with Paul.

Although he'd made millions, George Harrison never earned as much from the Beatles as the two princ.i.p.al songwriters, and while his solo career got off to a promising start in 1970 with the acclaimed triple alb.u.m All Things Must Pa.s.s All Things Must Pa.s.s, flop records followed, with George suffering the indignity of being sued successfully over his biggest solo hit, 'My Sweet Lord', which infringed the copyright of the Chiffons' 'He's So Fine'. The latter song belonged to Allen Klein, to whom Harrison had to pay a humiliating $ 587,000 compensation (383,660). Harrison's one major tour, his 1974 jaunt across North America, had been a failure, after which he retreated behind the high walls of his Oxfordshire mansion, becoming a hermit gardener. In addition to the upkeep of Friar Park, George had expensive tastes for cocaine, motor racing and movie-making. In 1978, he bailed out his friends in the Monty Python troupe when EMI withdrew financial support from the heretical comedy Monty Python's Life of Brian Monty Python's Life of Brian. Harrison advanced the Pythons the money to make the picture, which proved a commercial and critical hit, encouraging George to invest in more movies via his company HandMade Films. He enjoyed further success with The Long Good Friday The Long Good Friday (1980) and (1980) and Withnail and I Withnail and I (1986), but lost big money on (1986), but lost big money on Water Water (1984) and (1984) and Shanghai Surprise Shanghai Surprise (1986), with the result that HandMade Films was mired in debt by 1989, undermining George's financial security and leading to an expensive legal battle with his business advisor. A j.a.panese tour with Eric Clapton raised some needed cash, but George's best chance of a substantial pay day lay in the Beatles. (1986), with the result that HandMade Films was mired in debt by 1989, undermining George's financial security and leading to an expensive legal battle with his business advisor. A j.a.panese tour with Eric Clapton raised some needed cash, but George's best chance of a substantial pay day lay in the Beatles.

Ritchie could always do with a little extra. He'd earned far less in royalties than John, Paul and George, and had the least successful solo career, yet he pursued a relentlessly expensive jet-set life, moving so frequently even he found it difficult to keep track of his homes. Cautious, hard-working, consistently successful Paul was far richer than George and Ritchie combined, and those close to Paul talk of him agreeing to a three-quarters Beatles reunion partly to give the other two some of what he already had: 'serious money'. Despite being the Beatle who most needed the favour, George's old niggles about Paul resurfaced almost immediately. Harrison vetoed The Long and Winding Road The Long and Winding Road as a t.i.tle for the doc.u.mentary project, because it was a Paul song, with the result that the reunion gained the unimaginative umbrella name of the as a t.i.tle for the doc.u.mentary project, because it was a Paul song, with the result that the reunion gained the unimaginative umbrella name of the Anthology Anthology.

After considering a range of directors for the doc.u.mentary, the Beatles selected a big, bearded Geordie named Geoff Wonfor, who had worked with all three previously, most recently with Paul on a film of his Liverpool Oratorio Liverpool Oratorio. A production office was established, with the band's old PR man Derek Taylor (now white of hair and reedy of voice) brought in to advise the film-makers; another old friend, Klaus Voormann, was commissioned to create artwork for the packaging; while the musician and broadcaster Jools Holland was engaged to interview the Beatles. The interviews would also form the basis of an Anthology Anthology book. It was decided almost as an afterthought to compile a series of complementary CDs containing rare and unreleased Beatles recordings, out-takes, rehearsals, live performances and demos, starting with what George Harrison described as 'the most ancient Beatles music possible', which was the sh.e.l.lac disc Paul had recently bought back from John Duff Lowe. The ageing George Martin - now in his late 60s - would take charge of this aspect of the project, listening to the significant takes of every Beatles track recorded, 600 items in all, with Geoff Emerick at his side. book. It was decided almost as an afterthought to compile a series of complementary CDs containing rare and unreleased Beatles recordings, out-takes, rehearsals, live performances and demos, starting with what George Harrison described as 'the most ancient Beatles music possible', which was the sh.e.l.lac disc Paul had recently bought back from John Duff Lowe. The ageing George Martin - now in his late 60s - would take charge of this aspect of the project, listening to the significant takes of every Beatles track recorded, 600 items in all, with Geoff Emerick at his side.

Work on the Anthology Anthology began in earnest in 1991, with Paul, George and Ritchie interviewed multiple times over the next few years, with the result that their appearance varies considerably during the series. Hair changes colour and length. Beards come and go. The men age before our eyes. Paul proved the most consistently entertaining interviewee, whether reminiscing at sound checks, in the studio, sitting at a camp fire on his Suss.e.x estate or piloting his boat, the began in earnest in 1991, with Paul, George and Ritchie interviewed multiple times over the next few years, with the result that their appearance varies considerably during the series. Hair changes colour and length. Beards come and go. The men age before our eyes. Paul proved the most consistently entertaining interviewee, whether reminiscing at sound checks, in the studio, sitting at a camp fire on his Suss.e.x estate or piloting his boat, the Barnaby Rudge Barnaby Rudge, on the water near Rye. He enjoyed indulging in nostalgia, especially about the early days on Merseyside, and though he had told his stories until they were worn smooth as river pebbles, they were still good to hear. George was less inclined to look back and was more sardonic in his comments, but exhibited a wry sense of humour and had a knack for a good phrase, while Ringo unfortunately felt the need to hide behind dark gla.s.ses and suffered memory lapses. They all forgot things to a degree. Moreover, as Jools Holland questioned the men, it became apparent that each Beatle remembered their story differently, not necessarily because drugs had addled their minds, or they were dissembling, but in the same way that any group of people interviewed after an event will give contradictory accounts of what they did, said and heard.

Work on the Anthology Anthology reached a peak in 1994, which Paul began by inducting John Lennon into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame, making Lennon one of the first artists to be inducted as both a band member and a solo artist, which the McCartneys' friend and nominating committee member Danny Fields considered a mistake as it set a precedent for other multiple inductees. reached a peak in 1994, which Paul began by inducting John Lennon into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame, making Lennon one of the first artists to be inducted as both a band member and a solo artist, which the McCartneys' friend and nominating committee member Danny Fields considered a mistake as it set a precedent for other multiple inductees.56 Paul's induction speech was in the form of an open letter to his old pal: 'Dear John, I remember when we first met, in Woolton, at the village fete,' he began, telling the audience how John had made up words to 'Come Go with Me'. Later they sagged off school to write new songs together. George joined the band, they played the Cavern, went to Hamburg, and became stars in Britain and the USA, where they met Elvis, 'the first person I ever saw with a remote control on a TV. Boy!' Paul recalled the excitement of that LA visit. Then came drugs. 'I remember writing "A Day in the Life" with you, and the little look we gave each other as we wrote the line, "I'd love to turn you on."' John met Yoko, the Beatles went through 'all our business s.h.i.t', eventually reaching a point, in the late 1970s, where 'we were actually getting back together and communicating once again ...' That gave Paul 'something to hold onto' when John was killed in 1980. 'So now, years later, here we are ... John Lennon, you've made it. Tonight you are in the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame. G.o.d bless you.' Paul's induction speech was in the form of an open letter to his old pal: 'Dear John, I remember when we first met, in Woolton, at the village fete,' he began, telling the audience how John had made up words to 'Come Go with Me'. Later they sagged off school to write new songs together. George joined the band, they played the Cavern, went to Hamburg, and became stars in Britain and the USA, where they met Elvis, 'the first person I ever saw with a remote control on a TV. Boy!' Paul recalled the excitement of that LA visit. Then came drugs. 'I remember writing "A Day in the Life" with you, and the little look we gave each other as we wrote the line, "I'd love to turn you on."' John met Yoko, the Beatles went through 'all our business s.h.i.t', eventually reaching a point, in the late 1970s, where 'we were actually getting back together and communicating once again ...' That gave Paul 'something to hold onto' when John was killed in 1980. 'So now, years later, here we are ... John Lennon, you've made it. Tonight you are in the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame. G.o.d bless you.'

Yoko came on stage and Paul hugged her, as if they were great friends. Apart from honouring John, Paul may have had one or two other motives for helping his former partner into the Rock'n' Roll Hall of Fame. Almost immediately the McCartneys got back to England, Danny Fields started receiving calls from Linda asking when Paul was going to be brought into the Hall of Fame as a solo artist to gain parity with John. 'All the time she was saying, "What do you think Paul's chances are this year?" They were asking Jann Wenner the same thing.'

There was another reason for Paul doing John's memory a good service: he, long with George and Ritchie, wanted Yoko to give the Beatles some music. In working on the Anthology Anthology, the three surviving Beatles decided it might be fun to record some incidental music, but it didn't seem right without John. 'If we were to do something, the three of us, as interesting as it may be, and as nice as we could make it, to have John in it is the obvious thing,' George said. So Yoko was asked if she had any recordings of songs John had been working on which the other three could complete as a 'new' Beatles record. When they met in New York, she gave Paul a demo tape of 'Free as a Bird', an unfinished song from the late 1970s. The following month the surviving Beatles reunited discreetly at Hog Hill Mill to complete it. The men who met at Hog Hill almost a quarter of a century on from the break-up of the Beatles were naturally changed. George Harrison, the youngest, turned 51 during the reunion and looked the oldest of them all, having allowed himself to gain a few pounds in a life spent mostly away from the spotlight, and his hair having grown long and grey. Scruffily dressed, he looked like what he was these days: a gardener. Paul had also gone grey in the 1980s, but had cheated time by having the grey dyed out of his hair, with the result that four months before his 52nd birthday he possessed a thick mane of light brown locks. Still, the lines around his eyes gave his age away. At 53, Ritchie continued to hide behind dark gla.s.ses, longish hair and a beard, which he too must have had coloured, for he'd had a streak of white as wide as a skunk's when the Beatles met him, and yet there was no trace of it now. To help deal with the fact that they were making music without John, the trio told themselves that Lennon had already recorded his part of 'Free as a Bird' and then popped out of the studio. 'And once we had agreed to take that att.i.tude it gave us a lot of freedom, because it meant that we didn't have any sacred view of John as a martyr, it was John the Beatle, John the crazy guy we remember,' Paul commented. 'So we could laugh and say, "Wouldn't you just know it? It's completely out of time!"'

Building the song up from John's scanty demo tape was a production challenge, not one that was overseen by George Martin, surprisingly, even though George was in overall charge of the Anthology Anthology CDs. The Beatles turned instead to Jeff Lynne, Birmingham-born leader of the Electric Light Orchestra (ELO) who co-produced Harrison's 1987 alb.u.m CDs. The Beatles turned instead to Jeff Lynne, Birmingham-born leader of the Electric Light Orchestra (ELO) who co-produced Harrison's 1987 alb.u.m Cloud Nine Cloud Nine, and its. .h.i.t 'When We Was Fab', going on to join George in the Traveling Wilburys Traveling Wilburys, whose records the musicians co-produced, achieving a smooth, commercial sound. 'I think George Harrison wanted Jeff Lynne to do it ... because he had been working with Jeff in the Wilburys,' ventures Geoff Emerick. Martin insisted he was not unhappy about being pa.s.sed over in this way, saying in polite explanation: 'I'm now quite old.'57 When Lynne had fixed the underlying tape, Paul and George added acoustic guitar to 'Free as a Bird', Paul doubling John's piano part and adding the ba.s.s, Ritchie playing drums, naturally, and George slide guitar. Paul risked another Let It Be Let It Be-style row by saying he didn't want George's guitar to sound like 'My Sweet Lord'. It had to be Beatley, so Harrison was prevailed upon to play a simpler blues lick. In return, Paul allowed George to cut some of the words he had written to pad out the unfinished middle-eight. At times it all 'got a little difficult', as McCartney later conceded.

On a gorgeous summer's day two months later, Paul and Ritchie came to Friar Park to talk with George on camera about the old days, McCartney clearly being careful not to say anything that would upset his touchy friend. Footage was shot by George's lake and in his home studio, the boys trying to recreate the repartee of their early days, but appearing awkward in each other's company, and again forgetful. Stories were begun, then trailed off into silence. As with Let It Be Let It Be, it was when the men started playing old tunes, like 'Raunchy' and 'Thinking of Linking', that they looked happiest, smiling at each other in enjoyment of their musical youth.

BACK AT THE FARM.

Hardly a year had pa.s.sed since Paul signed with EMI that he hadn't put out a record, with multiple releases some years. Now came a sabbatical. Following the release of Paul is Live Paul is Live and the first Fireman alb.u.m in 1993, Paul didn't release a new record for three and a half years, partly to avoid competing with the and the first Fireman alb.u.m in 1993, Paul didn't release a new record for three and a half years, partly to avoid competing with the Anthology Anthology. Yet once Paul had recorded 'Free as a Bird' and filmed his interviews for the doc.u.mentary, there wasn't a great deal for him to do on the Anthology Anthology except wait and see what Geoff Wonfor and George Martin came up with. Along with the other Beatles, Paul viewed early cuts of the doc.u.mentary programmes, sending the production office meticulous, typewritten notes of comments and changes. If any Beatle was unhappy with any detail, it was excised. There were inevitable clashes with the programme-makers, who found it virtually impossible to win an argument with a Beatle, and the Beatles themselves clearly still had unresolved issues. Recalls series director Bob Smeaton, who admits he found the project so frustrating at times he almost quit: except wait and see what Geoff Wonfor and George Martin came up with. Along with the other Beatles, Paul viewed early cuts of the doc.u.mentary programmes, sending the production office meticulous, typewritten notes of comments and changes. If any Beatle was unhappy with any detail, it was excised. There were inevitable clashes with the programme-makers, who found it virtually impossible to win an argument with a Beatle, and the Beatles themselves clearly still had unresolved issues. Recalls series director Bob Smeaton, who admits he found the project so frustrating at times he almost quit: Paul and George sat in the editing suite with Ringo looking at the last programme. George was on the screen, talking about the split, and Paul turned to George sitting next to him and said, 'I didn't know you felt like that. Is that really how you felt?' George said, 'Of course it was.'

Watching the Anthology Anthology footage proved emotional for Paul. 'I get to see my dad again. I get to see my mum again, I get to remember what she did again,' McCartney explained to readers of his fan magazine, footage proved emotional for Paul. 'I get to see my dad again. I get to see my mum again, I get to remember what she did again,' McCartney explained to readers of his fan magazine, Club Sandwich Club Sandwich, still hyper-sensitive about anything to do with his parents. Listening to the tracks selected for the Anthology Anthology CDs also brought back memories, not always pleasant ones. CDs also brought back memories, not always pleasant ones.

In volume one there are a few songs that I would have preferred not being there, like 'Besame Mucho' which portrays me as a cabaret artist, whereas in my soul I am a rock and roller ... But because the others wanted it in, because George Martin wanted it, I could put down my slight reservation and say, 'Cool. If you guys like it, then it's got to be alright.' And it's a very nice feeling to be on a team like that. The minute a thing is done and it's the Beatles, I'm happy with it.

With no touring commitments in 1994, and no new solo alb.u.m to worry about, Paul used his free time to enjoy life with Linda at Blossom Farm, the couple celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary in March. He wrote some new songs and composed some more orchestral music, sat for interviews with Barry Miles for their forthcoming book, and did lots of painting, a hobby Paul had become increasingly pa.s.sionate about, spending many afternoons in his Suss.e.x studio and working on pictures when he was in the United States on holiday. During his annual summer break in the Hamptons, Paul took inspiration from visiting the elderly artist Willem De Kooning, a Long Island resident and fellow client of Eastman & Eastman. Fired up with enthusiasm after his meetings with 'Bill', Paul bought art materials from the same local store De Kooning used, then went home to paint. His pictures were often inspired by objects he picked up on the beach.

Stories about Paul's painting got into the press and in response he was contacted by a German curator, Wolfgang Suttner, who said he wanted to show Paul's pictures at the munic.i.p.al gallery he ran in Siegen, the birthplace of Rubens. McCartney invited Suttner to Suss.e.x to discuss the idea, meeting him in the estate house he used as his art studio. The German found room after room of the farmhouse filled with Paul's pictures, stacked up and hung on the walls. Paul explained that he'd always drawn and painted pictures, from when he was a boy, that he had won prizes for his artwork at school, but he suppressed this side of himself when he met John because John was the art student. After the Beatles broke up he had made one or two pictures. Paul showed Wolfgang a 1971 drawing, Hooray for Stella Hooray for Stella, which he made to celebrate the birth of his youngest daughter. He also revealed that he'd covered the kitchen door at High Park in Scotland with pictures. But it was only after John had died, and Paul himself had turned 40, that he began to explore this side of himself properly, painting large, colourful semi-abstract portraits and landscapes. Paul was wary of showing these in public in case he was mocked. To make him feel more relaxed about the idea of putting on a show, Suttner invented a fiction whereby Paul was a young artist named Paul Miller whom Suttner had discovered and was going to introduce to the German public via his provincial gallery. That way there was less pressure. McCartney fell in with the idea and began to talk with enthusiasm to Wolfy, as he addressed his new friend, about staging their exhibition, though, as with many of Paul's projects, there would be a time-lag before he got around to mounting the show.

Linda, who regularly staged exhibitions of her photographs these days, as well as publishing books of her pictures, was increasingly busy with her vegetarian food empire in 1994, opening a dedicated veggie factory in the UK, and going to the USA with Paul to try and sell veggie meals to Americans, who proved more resistant than British consumers.

Paul's parallel pet project continued to be the Liverpool Inst.i.tute for Performing Arts, which was at last under construction, Mark Featherstone-Witty having lined up the necessary 12 million ($18.3m) funds. Roughly a third of the money was coming from the European Union, a third from the British public sector, the final third, including Paul's 1 million, from private donations. 'And then we discovered we got the figures wrong,' groans Mark. 'It was a very sticky moment.' The problem was that putting a new roof on the Inny proved more expensive than expected, prompting a lecture from Paul about financial prudence, not long after which Mark had another in a series of angry confrontations with his Lead Patron.

The conversation took place before a luncheon in London in October 1994. 'At some point I'd mentioned my mother was Jewish, probably to try and cement some sort of solidarity with Linda, mistakenly,' says Mark Featherstone-Witty, who says he then listened with bewilderment as Paul told him that his late father had once advised him that Jews made good businessmen, but he hadn't found it invariably true. 'He went on to note a line of Jews who had failed him in his business life, notably Brian Epstein and Allen Klein,' Mark recalled, 'and rounded the list off by saying, "And now I've got you." I wondered what had prompted this reflection and concluded that it was probably the overspend on the building, which was clearly worrying him more than I had antic.i.p.ated.' Paul's comment was odd, especially so considering he'd married into a Jewish family and benefited from the Eastmans' advice all these years. His comments also seemed to echo the time Paul's manager had apparently harangued Mark for bringing a 'gay' friend to an MPL party.

Reflecting on the luncheon conversation about Jews, Mark says he hasn't 'got the foggiest' idea whether Paul is anti-Semitic, noting that it would be remarkable if he was. If one took Jews, and gays, out of show business the industry would be seriously depleted. Thinking over what Paul had said, Mark could only conclude that his Lead Patron was just looking for ways in which to vent his doubts about LIPA, and about Mark himself, while Mark had no choice other than to take the abuse. 'I'm always conscious you're not nasty to people who can't answer back [and] I couldn't risk him backing off from it. It was a sort of nightmare really if he did decide that [he wanted to pull out].' Mark got his own back in a small way when he published a little-read 2008 memoir, Optimistic, Even Then Optimistic, Even Then, in which he recapped these awkward moments with Paul and his staff. He sent Paul a copy. In reply, McCartney acknowledged that he could be 'a right b.a.s.t.a.r.d' sometimes, which Mark interprets as an apology. 'That doesn't stop him being a right b.a.s.t.a.r.d, of course.' Despite awkward moments like this, Paul continued to help Mark raise money for LIPA, bending his own rules to accept a 25,000 cheque ($38,250) from the Hard Rock Cafe, something he fretted about because the restaurant serves meat. Fortunately, veggie burgers were also on the menu. Paul agreed to receive the presentation cheque when the words 'in recognition of the sale of Linda McCartney's veggie burgers' were added.

Paul would have to re-open his own cheque book to make LIPA a reality. Although he was keen to raise as much money from others first, his underlying commitment to LIPA shows a generous side to his character that is often overlooked or underplayed by his critics. Paul is tight-fisted, they say. There are in fact numerous examples of the star being very generous, such as when a call came through to Hog Hill Mill in 1994 from Horst Fascher, the German pugilist the Beatles had knocked about with in Hamburg. In recent years Horst had taken up with a Hungarian girl, who had given birth to their daughter, Marie-Sophie, that February. German doctors warned Horst that Marie-Sophie would not live long because of a heart defect. Horst had already suffered the death of one child. 'So in my angst that I lose a second child I called Paul. I thought Paul has better doctors in England,' says Horst, who wept on the phone to one of Paul's a.s.sistants, saying he had to speak to the star. 'Then after 20 minutes he called me back. And he said, "What's happened?" I said, "Paul, can you help me?" He was saying, "Horst, whatever I can do for you, I do for you."' True to his word, Paul arranged to have the Faschers flown from Hamburg to London in January 1995, and accommodated in the capital while 11-month Marie-Sophie was admitted to Great Ormond Street Hospital. A team of American surgeons were then flown in to operate on the child. Despite the best treatment, she died 13 days later. 'Then it came to the payment. Paul said, "I take care of everything. You don't have to [worry],"' says Fascher. 'And he flew us back and all of that.' Horst believed the whole thing cost about $190,000. 'I said, "Paul, how can I pay you back?" He said, "Horst, forget it. Only don't tell anybody, because I don't want the big Can you help us Can you help us?"'

This wasn't an isolated example of Paul's philanthropy. For some time Paul and Linda had backed a campaign to re-open their local NHS cottage hospital in Rye, which had closed in 1990 when a new district hospital opened in Hastings. Local people thought Hastings too far to travel and, after Paul and Linda had marched with their neighbours, and donated almost a million pounds to the cause, a new 19-bed cottage hospital and care centre was opened in Rye, with a 'Strawberry Fields' day room. In a quieter way, Paul and Lin helped out with many local charitable causes, in Suss.e.x and Kintyre, earning respect and affection in the communities.

A year on from recording 'Free as a Bird', Paul invited George and Ritchie back to Hog Hill Mill in 1995 to record another 'new' Beatles song, based on a second demo tape Yoko Ono had supplied, Jeff Lynne again producing. 'Real Love' was another slow love song, this time with all the words in place, which made it less of a challenge and thereby less fun for Paul, who nonetheless wanted to continue with this reunion project, eager to complete a third Lennon track. George Harrison said no. He wasn't even sure 'Real Love' was good enough to release (he was right, but it was nonetheless in 1996) and he didn't want to make any more records with Paul and Ritchie, which Paul thought odd considering the Anthology Anthology had been created partly to help George. So the three-quarters Beatles reunion was over. But now that the grave had been exhumed, the ghosts of the past were not easily put back to rest. had been created partly to help George. So the three-quarters Beatles reunion was over. But now that the grave had been exhumed, the ghosts of the past were not easily put back to rest.

James McCartney had reached an age when he was asking his father about the Sixties. A discussion about the song 'My Dark Hour', which Paul had made with Steve Miller during the rancorous end days of the Beatles, led McCartney to hook up with Miller again, at his home studio in Sun Valley, Idaho, to record a song t.i.tled 'Young Boy', the lyrics of which express the sort of conversation Paul and Lin may have had about their son as he approached adulthood. The track worked well. Later in the year, Miller came to Hog Hill to record a second song with Paul, a sloppy blues they named 'Used to Be Bad'. This also turned out successfully. Paul brought Jeff Lynne in to produce a series of other new songs he'd been working on recently, including 'The Song We Were Singing', which described Paul's working relationship with John, and 'The World Tonight', which also referred to their past. These were some of the best songs Paul had written in years, though it would be some time before the public heard them.

At the same time, Paul was continuing to compose orchestral music, no longer with Carl Davis, but with a friend and colleague of Davis's, the English composer and arranger David Matthews. 'I know after Liverpool Oratorio Liverpool Oratorio Paul felt he'd like to do more things himself,' says Matthews. 'Carl felt perhaps [he] wasn't sufficiently acknowledged as a co-composer ... they did have a slight falling out.' As a young man, David worked as an a.s.sistant to Benjamin Britten, whose music Paul enjoyed, Matthews becoming a prolific and well-regarded composer in his own right, publishing a number of symphonies and concertos, and working on a celebrated arrangement of Mahler's Tenth Symphony, which Mahler left unfinished at his death. Matthews strove to make his additions to the score sound like Mahler, rather than his own work. This was also true of his collaboration with McCartney. Paul felt he'd like to do more things himself,' says Matthews. 'Carl felt perhaps [he] wasn't sufficiently acknowledged as a co-composer ... they did have a slight falling out.' As a young man, David worked as an a.s.sistant to Benjamin Britten, whose music Paul enjoyed, Matthews becoming a prolific and well-regarded composer in his own right, publishing a number of symphonies and concertos, and working on a celebrated arrangement of Mahler's Tenth Symphony, which Mahler left unfinished at his death. Matthews strove to make his additions to the score sound like Mahler, rather than his own work. This was also true of his collaboration with McCartney.

Their first meeting, at Hog Hill Mill on 17 January 1995, was very pleasant. Says Matthews, who was a year younger than Paul and had developed an appreciation and respect for the Beatles' music in his youth, as many serious composers did in the Sixties: Well, certainly he's very nice and very friendly, and very easy to talk to and very modest. I remember him saying, 'I'm Paul McCartney.' I thought, Well, yes, I do know that! Well, yes, I do know that! [laughs] He would say things like, 'We did an alb.u.m called [laughs] He would say things like, 'We did an alb.u.m called Sgt. Pepper.' Sgt. Pepper.' 'Oh yes!' ... I learned he was writing a symphonic piece of some kind, which at this stage he was quite vague about. 'Oh yes!' ... I learned he was writing a symphonic piece of some kind, which at this stage he was quite vague about.

It gradually emerged that Paul was working on a piece t.i.tled Spiral Spiral, inspired by his interest in Celtic mythology, a subject he also explored in painting; the history fascinated Paul because it was the story of his own ancestry. Paul had recorded a demo on piano, getting an a.s.sistant to transcribe the music. He now wanted to develop the score with Matthews. Creating orchestral music in this way was slow work. And what exactly was McCartney trying to achieve?

'When I met him I thought, What does he really want to be? What does he really want to be? He wants to be a composer. OK. See if I can try to get him to do it all himself ... He wants to be a composer. OK. See if I can try to get him to do it all himself ...

My business was writing the score down and suggesting things that he wouldn't necessarily think of,' explains Matthews.

I had to make him aware of the whole range of dynamics, how a [piece of music] can be phrased. Take this, [hums a piece of orchestral music they made together] da-da-dar da-da-dar, how is that to be phrased? Should it be da-da-dar da-da-dar [staccato] or should it be [staccato] or should it be dar-larrrr dar-larrrr, and if it's da-da-dar da-da-dar you put staccato dots over the notes and if it's you put staccato dots over the notes and if it's dar-larrrr dar-larrrr you put a line over it, and you see that's not something he would know from playing music by ear. you put a line over it, and you see that's not something he would know from playing music by ear.

Paul was also using other arrangers. The result of a collaboration with the American composer Jonathan Tunick resulted in a piano prelude t.i.tled A Leaf A Leaf, premiered in March 1995 as part of An Evening with Paul McCartney and Friends in front of the Prince of Wales at St James' Palace. The event was in aid of the Royal College of Music. In a varied programme, Paul also performed 'One After 909' with Elvis Costello, and new arrangements of 'For No One', 'Eleanor Rigby' and 'Yesterday' with the Brodsky Quartet. At the end, Prince Charles awarded McCartney an Honorary Fellowship of the Royal College of Music, further a.s.similating him into the English Establishment and the cla.s.sical world Paul clearly aspired to join. 'Unlike most people in the rock world he's ambitious to do new things all the time,' says David Matthews, comparing McCartney approvingly to rock stars who 'are content with recycling their early stuff ...'

Paul didn't confine himself to conventional orchestral music. Reminiscing with Barry Miles had re-awakened his interest in the avant-garde, with the result that he accompanied their mutual friend Allen Ginsberg on guitar at a poetry reading at the Albert Hall in the autumn of 1995. Ginsberg came down to see Paul at Blossom Farm first. During their rehearsals for the show Paul asked Allen if he could recommend someone who might help him polish up an epic poem he had written on a Celtic theme, a work t.i.tled 'Standing Stone'. Ginsberg referred McCartney to the British poet Tom Pickard, who took on the job, which would form the basis of Paul's next major orchestral work.

More in the mainstream, Paul found time to record a charity cover of 'Come Together' at Abbey Road Studios with Paul Weller and Noel Gallagher of Oasis. The record did well, reminding Paul that working with John at Abbey Road had been his peak. 'I think he always realised that the really great days [were with] the Beatles - he's always talking about the Beatles - [and] it's never been quite the same since he stopped collaborating with John,' observes David Matthews, who was spending a lot of time with McCartney now. 'That produced all their really great work and I think he must know that really. Nothing's quite been the same, has it?' There was another reminder of that career-defining partnership in the spring of 1995 when two Liverpool brothers, Charlie and Reg Hodgson, were clearing out their mother's house in Allerton, just around the corner from where Paul used to live in Forthlin Road, and found an old Grundig tape recorder. Many years ago Paul had borrowed the machine from the Hodgsons to make home recordings with John, George and Stuart Sutcliffe. There was an ancient tape with the machine. When the brothers played the spool, they heard McCartney singing 'The World is Waiting for the Sunrise' and other songs. After making contact with MPL, Reg's son Peter was invited to Hog Hill Mill with the tape so Paul could listen to it. 'I still remember him standing there singing to the [songs],' says Peter of the moment McCartney heard his teenage self again. 'He remembered the words to songs he hadn't sung in years [like] "I'll Follow the Sun".' There was a banging in the background. 'That's Our Mike banging [his] drum,' explained McCartney, who bought the tape from the Hodgsons for 260,000 ($397,800).

Making orchestral music became easier for Paul in May 1995 when he acquired a computer that generated sheet music from notes played on a keyboard. Paul gave reams of print-out to David Matthews, who dutifully transcribed them. Paul's compositions became increasingly ambitious and eccentric from this point, as if he wanted to reach back beyond the conventional orchestral music he'd made with Carl Davis to his more experimental Sixties self. One of the first works McCartney and Matthews produced with the aid of the computer was what David describes as 'a crazy piece' Paul t.i.tled p.i.s.sed p.i.s.sed, possibly because 'he was p.i.s.sed when he did it', then renamed Inebriation Inebriation. It is challenging music, sounding like discordant Erik Satie. 'Not your normal McCartney, is it?' asks Matthews, playing a section on the piano at his London home. 'That's the most extreme he got, I think.'

As they worked together, Matthews found himself drawn deeper into Paul's world. One night he and his wife were invited for supper to Blossom Farm, where they got to know Linda a little: a strong woman 'obsessed with her vegetarian ideas'. That said, it was a delightful evening, Linda serving dinner at the kitchen table in what was a remarkably unostentatious family home. The McCartneys were almost like any other middle-cla.s.s, middle-aged couple, if one forgot their fame and their wealth, and the thousand private acres outside the window with estate workers watching for the determined, sometimes crazed Beatles fans who regularly came down the lane from Peasmarsh looking for Paul.

The kids were growing up and becoming more independent of Mum and Dad. Heather had moved into a cottage on the southern border of the Suss.e.x estate, with an outhouse in which she did her pottery. She established a company, Heather McCartney Designs, in 1995. Sister Mary was still working for Dad at MPL in London, while Stelly graduated from St Martin's College with a degree in fashion design in 1995, her clothes modelled at her graduation show by celebrity friends Naomi Campbell and Kate Moss. Paul and Lin came to support their daughter along with the rest of the family and the veteran model Twiggy, one of their oldest and closest friends. Paul created a celebratory piece of music, 'Stella May Day', helping launch his youngest daughter on what became a very successful career in the fashion industry.

Their youngest, James, was still living full time at home. A quiet boy of 17, with Paul's cherubic features and his mother's straw-blond hair and pale complexion, James frightened his parents again in 1995 when he overturned a Land Rover on the Suss.e.x estate. He got trapped underneath and had to be rescued by the Fire Brigade. In other words it was normal family life at Blossom Farm, the kids both a source of delight and worry to Mum and Dad. Above all the McCartneys were a close family. 'To see them together with [their] kids, I've never seen such a loving family,' comments Barry Miles, recalling his visits to Blossom Farm around this time.

They would all hug each other and stuff. It was a very touchy-feely kind of family. They were always telling each other they loved each other. When the girls left to drive back to town or something they would all [wave them off]. It seemed pretty good actually. Obviously tempestuous, you know, four kids and that rock 'n' roll lifestyle, so obviously there were problems from time to time, but I would have thought a very happy marriage.

The Beatles' Anthology Anthology premiered on ABC television in the United States on 19 November 1995, and five days later in the UK, then in 100 countries around the world. The original TV series ran to approximately five hours, long by normal standards, but nevertheless perfunctory for such an epic story with so many fascinating characters and incidents. The story was better told in subsequent, expanded video and DVD releases, the final version stretching to more than 11 hours. Well received at the time, the series remains the definitive televisual history of the Beatles, as Neil Aspinall had set out to make it, even if sensitive parts of the story were soft-pedalled to appease the protagonists. Paul didn't want to go into the whys and wherefores of who broke up the band, for instance, so there wasn't a word about his High Court action to dissolve the partnership. As with any 'authorised' biographical project, including Paul's forthcoming book with Miles, the premiered on ABC television in the United States on 19 November 1995, and five days later in the UK, then in 100 countries around the world. The original TV series ran to approximately five hours, long by normal standards, but nevertheless perfunctory for such an epic story with so many fascinating characters and incidents. The story was better told in subsequent, expanded video and DVD releases, the final version stretching to more than 11 hours. Well received at the time, the series remains the definitive televisual history of the Beatles, as Neil Aspinall had set out to make it, even if sensitive parts of the story were soft-pedalled to appease the protagonists. Paul didn't want to go into the whys and wherefores of who broke up the band, for instance, so there wasn't a word about his High Court action to dissolve the partnership. As with any 'authorised' biographical project, including Paul's forthcoming book with Miles, the Anthology Anthology was a glossing over of the truth, with key areas of the story ignored. But to hear Paul, George and Ringo talk directly at length about the amazing experiences they had shared was compensation. was a glossing over of the truth, with key areas of the story ignored. But to hear Paul, George and Ringo talk directly at length about the amazing experiences they had shared was compensation.

A couple of days after the show was broadcast, the first of three double CDs of hitherto officially unreleased Beatles music went on sale. This included what George Martin termed a 'rather grotty' home recording of 'Hallelujah, I Love Her So', 'You'll be Mine' and 'Cayenne', all featuring Stuart Sutcliffe. These were the tapes found recently in a Liverpool attic. Beautifully produced, with excellent liner notes by Mark Lewisohn, Anthology Vol. 1 Anthology Vol. 1 quickly sold more than two million units in the USA alone. One of those who benefited from the runaway success was Pete Best who, like Stuart Sutcliffe, appeared for the very first time on an official Beatles record. Pete was on tracks recorded in Hamburg in 1961, at the Decca audition in London on New Year's Day 1962, and at EMI that June. As a result, Pete - who had worked in a Liverpool unemployment office in recent years, as well as playing his drums for Beatles fans - received his first substantial pay day from the band who sacked him, making him a rich man finally at 54. There was, however, a last indignity. The cover of the first volume of the quickly sold more than two million units in the USA alone. One of those who benefited from the runaway success was Pete Best who, like Stuart Sutcliffe, appeared for the very first time on an official Beatles record. Pete was on tracks recorded in Hamburg in 1961, at the Decca audition in London on New Year's Day 1962, and at EMI that June. As a result, Pete - who had worked in a Liverpool unemployment office in recent years, as well as playing his drums for Beatles fans - received his first substantial pay day from the band who sacked him, making him a rich man finally at 54. There was, however, a last indignity. The cover of the first volume of the Anthology Anthology features an early band picture of the Beatles. Pete's face had been deliberately torn out, replaced by that of Ringo Starr. features an early band picture of the Beatles. Pete's face had been deliberately torn out, replaced by that of Ringo Starr.

The opening track on this double CD was not an old recording, or at least not in the same way these museum pieces were old. It was the 'new' Beatles song 'Free as a Bird', released as a single in December 1995. 'It sounds like them now,' said George Harrison enthusiastically, but in truth 'Free as a Bird' was a disappointing dirge. Jeff Lynne's production was part of the problem. It gave the Beatles the same smooth sound as ELO. Also, the basic song wasn't very good. Even though EMI gave 'Free as a Bird' a ma.s.sive launch it failed to hit number one in the UK, kept off the top spot by Michael Jackson's overblown 'Earth Song', to McCartney's chagrin. The Anthology Anthology project as a whole generated a mountain of money, though. MPL turned over 6.4 million ($ 9.7m) in what had otherwise been a quiet year, with Paul paying himself 1.9 million ($2.9m), including pension contributions, with the project as a whole generated a mountain of money, though. MPL turned over 6.4 million ($ 9.7m) in what had otherwise been a quiet year, with Paul paying himself 1.9 million ($2.9m), including pension contributions, with the Anthology Anthology continuing to earn the boys millions for years to come. Two further CD sets were to be released in 1995/96, with a VHS box set of the doc.u.mentaries retailing at 99 in the UK, and an expensive continuing to earn the boys millions for years to come. Two further CD sets were to be released in 1995/96, with a VHS box set of the doc.u.mentaries retailing at 99 in the UK, and an expensive Anthology Anthology book in the works. All of this, however, was of little account to Paul, for he now faced the terrifying news that Linda had cancer, the same cancer that had killed his mother. book in the works. All of this, however, was of little account to Paul, for he now faced the terrifying news that Linda had cancer, the same cancer that had killed his mother.

25.

Pa.s.sING THROUGH THE DREAM OF LOVE.

LINDA HAS CANCER.

When Linda McCartney found a lump under her arm she went to see her general pract.i.tioner, who told her it was nothing to worry about and prescribed antibiotics. Still feeling unwell, Linda sought a second opinion, receiving the results by telephone at Blossom Farm in December 1995. Linda rang Paul to tell him she had a cancerous tumour in her left breast. Before going into hospital to have the lump removed, Linda also confided in Danny Fields and Carla Lane. 'She said, "Look, I want to talk to you, come on in the house,"' recalls Carla.

We sat in the kitchen and she just looked at me. She said, 'I have cancer,' and I went to open my mouth, and she put her finger up and she said, 'Shush! Nothing. Don't think about it. I want you as my friend to know, but we're not going to talk about it but we're not going to talk about it.' I said, 'OK.'

Then Linda changed the subject, and rarely spoke of it again.

On Monday 11 December 1995 Linda underwent a lumpectomy - the removal of the cancerous tumour and surrounding tissue, rather than a whole breast - at the private Princess Grace Hospital in London, not far from the McCartneys' St John's Wood home. Paul and Linda then retired to their Suss.e.x estate to allow Linda to recuperate. When the story broke in the press, as it inevitably did, immediately becoming a major story, Paul came up from the house to talk to the reporters gathered outside his gate in Starvecrow Lane. 'The operation was 100 per cent successful, thank G.o.d,' he told the media, 'and the doctors have told her now just to get some rest.'

As he watched his wife, Paul was reminded of his mother's terminal illness. Linda was enervated like Mum had been. It was a mark of how poorly Linda felt that she wasn't with her husband on 30 January 1996 when he stood on stage in his old school a.s.sembly hall, now the Paul McCartney Auditorium, to open the Liverpool Inst.i.tute for Performing Arts.

To give Liverpool its Fame- Fame-type school had taken longer and cost more than antic.i.p.ated, almost 6 million more than the original 12 million budget ($18.36m), with Paul loaning LIPA 1.5 million ($2.2m) to help bridge the gap, a loan that became 2 million ($3.06m) with tax relief when he declared the money as a gift, bringing his total contribution to 3 million ($4.5m). Despite such munificence, some Merseysiders grumbled that Paul could have paid for the whole thing himself, part of a surprisingly widespread feeling that the Beatles let the city down. 'They never came back, really, when they left in the Sixties; they never came back to raise Liverpool's profile,' grumbles Dave Holt, a former Cavern-goer, over a pint in a Mathew Street pub. 'Paul McCartney comes back occasionally to play - it seems he comes back when he needs a pay day.' This att.i.tude is unfair. Paul had maintained a home on Merseyside all these years, visited frequently in a private capacity and, in backing Mark Featherstone-Witty's school, rescued the Inny from dereliction and brought new blood to the city, literally so in terms of the students who now came from around the country, and abroad, to study there, with corresponding social and economic benefits for Liverpool. LIPA also brought some welcome show business razzmatazz back to Merseyside, with Paul's personal and ongoing close a.s.sociation with LIPA helping persuade other celebrities to become patrons. Some commentators believe the opening of the inst.i.tute helped begin a wider regeneration of the city. 'You had the Derek Hatton-era in Liverpool, which was pretty ghastly for the city, and everywhere was being run down, and it so happened that McCartney started to develop LIPA really before there was much hope in the city. It was one of the first things. And I think that gave other people hope, and things developed from there,' says local radio personality Spencer Leigh, referring to improvements that continued through 2008 when Liverpool became European Capital of Culture, with a vast amount of new building work and other enhancements to the city. And rich though Paul was, 3 million was not an insignificant amount of money to give away.

While Paul had been generous, he had not frittered money on LIPA, and most of the difficult conversations he'd had with Mark Featherstone-Witty were about finances. At times of crisis, such as the overspend on the roof, Paul's reaction tended to be expostulations of: 'You don't know what the f.u.c.k you're doing!' - which was the sort of thing he used to yell at Apple staff. While not pleasant, Paul's criticism was on target then as now, as Mark admits with laughter: 'There would always be the [reaction] from Paul, unless you're careful, "You don't know what the f.u.c.k you're doing," which of course would be partly true, unfortunately, because you don't do this, in one's lifetime, too often.' On Inauguration Day, though, with the refurbished auditorium filled with happy faces, all rancour was forgotten. Paul gave a pa.s.sionate speech in which he talked about the tremendous start in life he'd received in this building (apparently forgetting that he had lost all interest in his own studies as a boy after music entered his life) ; now he hoped others would benefit. 'Obviously one of my feelings now is how proud my mum and dad would have been ...' he said. Then he stopped, choked with emotion, thumped his lectern, and continued: 'But I won't go into that because I'll start crying.'

Any reference to Paul's parents was liable to tap a deep well of emotion in this highly sensitive and sentimental man, but this very public display of feeling was also to do with Paul's underlying concerns about Linda, who was now undergoing chemotherapy, despite the fact that the drugs she was taking had been tested on animals. This went against everything Linda believed in as an anti-vivisectionist. 'If a drug has got to be used on humans then legally it has to be finally tested on an animal,' Paul later acknowledged. 'This was difficult for Linda when she was undergoing treatment.'

Despite the feelings of sickness induced by the drugs, Linda continued to work the phones for Paul, as she had always done, calling Danny Fields and asking when he and his colleagues at the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame were going to induct Paul as a solo artist; also calling Yoko to ask her, as a personal favour, if she would let Paul have his name before John's on 'Yesterday' when the second volume of the Beatles' Anthology Anthology CD series was released in March. The fact that Paul's most successful song was credited to Lennon & McCartney had always niggled with him; while it was well known