Interview for The Sunday People

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GONE are the shrieking hordes of delirious girls. Gone are the straining police cordons outside besieged theatres. But Beatlemania is still with us. It’s there, with all its unswerving adoration, outside a £40,000 house in St. John’s Wood, London, home of Beatle Paul McCartney.

Come rain, hail or shine, dozens of teenage girls maintain a hopeful vigil outside the black double doors of No. 7, Cavendish Avenue. Day in, day out. All for a glimpse of their idol and perhaps — just imagine! — a friendly word from the star himself. The most devoted of the McCartney flock must surely be 23-year-old American Carolyne Mitchell. She arrived in Britain 13 months ago and since then hasn’t missed one day outside the hallowed McCartney home.

Carolyne, who works in a private nursing-home, explains it simply:

“I care for Paul. I care for him deeply. I’d like to be in there with him. I’d be with Paul and I’d be happy.”

There is, of course, a snag to that little idea. Paul has a wife, Linda. And what a sore point that is for his worshippers on the doorstep.

To them, Linda is the great obstacle between them and their hero and what they say about her is enough to make an old-style Beatle mop curl.

In his bachelor days, Paul would talk to the fans outside over the house intercom system. Or even go outside for a chat and to pose for photographs with them. Those were the good old days. Now, they don’t see very much of Paul, sometimes not at all for weeks on end. What wife, after all, wants her husband chatting to a bunch of strange girls outside?

But still the fans wait. And wait. And hope. From time to time, police move them on, but in no time at all they are back. It really is all very frustrating and annoying for everybody, not least Paul’s neighbours.

Mrs. Evelyn Grumli, who lives opposite with her husband and two children, said:

“The girls sit on our wall. I wouldn’t mind if they just sat, but they play their transistors very loudly and shriek and giggle and shout. If you try to talk to them reasonably, they just hurl abuse and bad language at you. Really awful language.”

A police officer said:

“We are fed up telling people to move on. We have to come up here every day. The McCartneys have complained to us about the girls standing outside causing a nuisance. The neighbours have complained, too. Everyone is entitled to a bit of peace and quiet.”

Matters did come to a head on the night of Paul’s first wedding anniversary recently.

One group of girls celebrated the occasion by spreading confetti and pushing a bunch of flowers through the letter-box. Another group banged dustbins and barricaded the McCartney drive with milk bottles — with the result that three of them ended up in court for insulting behaviour.

The fans have been in divided camps ever since.

The confetti crowd have since transferred their adulation to the headquarters of the Beatles’ company, Apple, in Savile Row, London, where they claim semi-official recognition. They even produce a duplicated “magazine” which has recorded the grim conclusion that Paul was “stolen” from his fans by his wife!

Another issue had a Lost and Found column. In the “Lost” section was the item: “Beatle Paul — last seen March 12, 1969.” That was Paul’s wedding day.

Sally and Christine, both 20, are in this group. They left their homes in the provinces to come to London to be near their idols.

Christine said: “I met Sally outside Paul’s house and stayed with her. My parents were a bit upset but they accept it now. I was without a job for six weeks and spent the whole of the time following Paul and The Beatles around.”

Sally described those traumatic days after Paul’s marriage:

“When he first brought Linda back, we would all stand in a row and scream abuse at her.”

She also recalled an incident while Paul was on honeymoon.

“A lot of girls, many of them Americans, broke into Paul’s home and stole all his photographs. He used to leave his windows open and the girls were always going in and out. They would climb over the fence or sometimes get through the door. You could push it a certain way and it would open.”

On his wedding day, Paul’s mail was also intercepted by the ever-watchful fans.

“The letter-box is easy to get into so we took the telegrams out and read them,” said one. “But we put them back in the letter-box after we had passed them round.”

Now, four houses in Cavendish Avenue are empty and display signs declaring: “Sold” or “For Sale” or “Acquired.” Neighbours have even held informal meetings to try to work out a plan of campaign to rid the avenue of trouble-making fans.

Perhaps the answer lies with Paul himself. For persistent fans — the followers who made him an idol — are an inescapable fact of Beatle life.

Perhaps he can spare a few precious minutes to chat to the love-struck Carolyne. What a break that would be after 13 months of waiting. Perhaps he can convince her and all the other girls that they should really grow up and go home. He’s obviously the only person in the world they will listen to.