My Other Paul Shows
Sunday, December 3, 1989. This was the date of my very first Paul McCartney concert. It was held at the Rosemont Horizon in Rosemont, Illinois. I was in high school at the time and enrolled in advanced placement classes. My English teacher gave us an assignment: we had to pick an event to write about for a class mini-book that she was going to put together.
I chose to write about Paul. What other event could have possibly been important enough to write about?
I turned my story in and got an A; which was very hard to achieve in this particular English class. A’s were like little, golden trophies. They were extremely rare.
So here is my A-winning story about this momentous occasion. I wrote it in January 1990 and gave it the title, “Mac is Back.”
I am the ultimate Beatles’ fan. Paul is my favorite. I was very excited when I heard that Paul had decided to tour again to promote Flowers in the Dirt. After all, the previous tour was in 1976-and I was only three years old.
I missed my chance to buy tickets, and I was utterly miserable. Mom had sent me to clean my room, but I really didn’t feel like doing so. I switched on the radio to one of my favorite stations. I became bored as the DJ started to ramble. I was about to flip the radio off, when the DJ announced that the station had tickets to win. I freaked out! The DJ went on to say, “Listen to ‘Breakfast with the Beatles’ this Sunday morning to find out more!”
I did listen that Sunday, as well as every single day for three solid weeks. After awhile, I began to get discouraged because I hadn’t won. My entire family felt my pain as I moped around the house.
The weekend before the concert the radio station offered chances to win tickets every hour on the hour. I stayed up all night long waiting for my next chance to win. Friday and Saturday breezed by, and I still hadn’t won. So I gave up and went to bed.
The Tuesday before the concert, I sat in my usual after-school moping place-in front of the TV. I was beyond sad, and my entire family knew it. My Mom came in from work that day in an unusually good mood. I greeted her with my usual “Hi, Ma” and then turned my attention back to the TV.
“Honey, I’ve got something for you. I don’t want you to get too excited, but here you go.”
I approached my Mother with caution, at first, and then excitement. “What is it, Ma?”
“Just open it.”
Mom handed me an envelope marked with the “Ticketmaster” logo. I ripped open the flap; I reached inside, and my left hand pulled out two Paul McCartney concert tickets. I just stared at them blankly for awhile, in disbelief.
“Now, we have to keep this between us,” Mom told me. “I used your dad’s credit card, and he doesn’t know. It’ll take my whole check this week to pay for the tickets, but you’ll have to make up a story to tell people.”
I started to cry. “I could say I won them.”
Mom smiled, and I hugged her so tight. She really couldn’t afford the cost for the tickets, yet she put everything on hold to make me happy. It was absolutely incredible. It’s not that I was spoiled, I wasn’t. I didn’t realize then that this was Mom’s dream too. I must admit here that I truly had no idea that my Mom was such a Paul fan. I think if I had, she would have accompanied me instead. Her sacrifice is not and will never be unappreciated.
Afterwards, I had so much frantic energy that I ran all the way over to where my buddy, Mike, lived. Mike was a Beatles fan too and we promised each other that if either of us won tickets, we’d give the other person one of the tickets. Mom was close behind me as I found Mike at our neighbor’s house, playing Battleship with the kids. As soon as his last ship sank, I went up behind him and said excitedly, “Guess what, Mike!” I scared the living daylights out of him.
Mike just stared at me for a moment, and then he looked at my Mom. “She’s lost it, hasn’t she?”
“Nope,” Mom smiled.
Mike was not reassured, and kept repeating “She’s lost it!” over and over. I finally got a little frustrated and shoved the ticket in his face.
He stared at it with the same blank face and I did, then he looked up and me and exclaimed, “You little bitch! You won didn’t you!?”
“Uh,” I paused, and then looked over at my Mother. “Yeah, sure did.” Both of us were extremely ecstatic. We started making plans immediately.
The day finally came. In the hours before the concert, Mom said that I completely lost my mind. I spent the day running about the house announcing, “I’m going to see Paul!” and listening to my Beatles records.
Mom decided to drive Mike and me to the concert, so we left our house at 5:00. We arrived at the Horizon around 6:30. I was so excited that it was all I could do to keep from fainting. As we got caught up in the usual event parking traffic jam, a security guard urged Mom to drop Mike and me off at the back of the arena. Then she went to hang out at my aunt’s house until the show was over.
Mike and I walked around the Horizon to the front doors. I had my camera at the ready the entire way. I prayed for a glimpse of Paul.
It was the coldest night in Chicago that winter. As we made our way through the various array of cars and limousines, we heard lots of voices complaining about the cold. I pulled my new coat, hat, and scarf tight and waited for the gigantic doors to open.
The doors of the Horizon open a little over an hour later to let the frostbitten crowd inside. I was so nervous that I could hardly control myself. I was about to see my hero! The usher asked for our tickets, which we watched being torn in half, and sent us through.
“We’re actually inside, Mike!” I said as I tried to swallow the huge lump that had gathered in my throat.
Another usher handed us a free program. Everyone who went to see Paul on this tour got a free program courtesy of Friends of the Earth, an organization that sponsored the tour.
Mike led the way, I clung to the back of his jacket, and we pushed a path through the revved-up crowd. “Don’t loose me!” Mike kept repeating.
We went over to the souvenir stand.”Look, Mike! It’s a poster! Oh, I’ve got to have it!” I exclaimed.
It should be noted that this is what I said about everything else, too. I finally decided on buying a t-shirt, the poster and a flower. I lost the flower, though, halfway through the concert.
Our paraphernalia bought, we headed up to the balcony to find our seats. It took us at least 20 minutes to find them because, in our haste, we had gone up the wrong staircase and ended up on the wrong side of the arena.
“Oh, great.” We both complained in unison. So, we walked around the Horizon, looking for our seats and taking in the fan scene. One lady had a ‘Help!” shirt on; another had an “I Love Paul” shirt on; some guy had a Beatle-wig on. I stared in total amazement at the several other kids my age that came to see Paul. I was so glad that I was not the only teenager there!
I finally found our seats; we sat and waited for Paul. About every five minutes or so, I’d ask Mike what time it was.
“Five minutes later than last time, silly!” he joked in reply.
At five minutes to eight, an announcer spoke: “Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen. There will be a delay.”
My eyes filled with tears and my immediate thought was that the show would be cancelled. Five minutes later, I was jerked out of my horrible fantasy by the sight of a man, dressed all in black, with shoulder-length hair. He walked around the stage giving the peace sign.
“Oh my God! Oh, God, Mike! It’s him! It’s really him! It’s Paul!” I screamed so loud that poor Mike went deaf.
My eyes followed Paul as he walked around the stage, greeting the sold-out crowd of 17,000. “Hello, Chicago!” emerged from those famous lips.
My eyes never left their fixed view on him, so I watched as his picked up his bass and rocked into his first song, Figure of Eight. Tears flowed from my eyes.
“Stop that crying and screaming!” Mike told me repeatedly.
I didn’t care what he said, I still carried on. That was Paul down there on that custom-built stage. I never thought that I would actually ever be that close to him.
The concert was truly fabulous. It lasted two and a half hours, and consisted of mostly Beatles and Wings songs. Of course, I knew the words of every single song. It wasn’t until Paul sang a song called Rough Ride that the audience found out the reason for the delay at the beginning of the show. It seems that there was supposed to be a film to precede the show. Paul offered this reason for the delay:
“A funny thing happened to us on the way here, the film broke!”
This little display of that oh-so-loveable McCartney humor sent the crowd into a roar of applause and laughter.
Mom had returned to the Horizon by the start of the encore. A security guard allowed her to stand inside the arena to get warm, and Mom stood there talking to a limousine driver. Halfway during their conversation, the driver’s passengers appeared. The driver excused himself, and left Mom standing there.
The security guards forgot about Mom, and just left her standing there alone. She quickly turned her attention to the big, green curtains that were drawn all around the arena. Total curiosity overcame Mom, and she decided to sneak a peek at Paul. He was in the middle of singing Yesterday. It was truly a special night for everyone.
“So long, Chicago; see you next time!” Paul closed, with a hoarse voice.
And then it was all over. Mike and I raced downstairs as fast as we could, and headed for the stage doors in the back. Our sights were set on a hopeful glimpse of Paul. Much to our dismay, a lot of other people had the same idea as we did. So, we gave up, did an about face, and went looking for Mom and the van.
We looked for what seemed like forever, when I saw Mom coming out of the Horizon.
“Mom!” I yelled.
I don’t know how she heard me over all of the commotion that was going on. It must be a mother thing. All of us were red-faced and freezing as we ran for the van. We climbed in, and Mom drove home. On the way, Mike told Mom all about the show. I just sat quiet, still in shock and trying to digest the fact that I’d just seen Paul.
“Well, honey,” Mom began. “Did you have fun? Are you happy?”
“Yeah, Mom, I am. If I were to die tomorrow, I’d die with a huge smile on my face.” I laughed.
“That’s morbid!” Mom scolded.
“Yeah, but it’s the truth.”