Interview for The Sunday People

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In September 1966, a rumor began circulating that Paul McCartney had died. A similar story resurfaced in January 1967, when Paul’s car — driven by someone else — was involved in an accident. However, the “Paul is dead” conspiracy theory gained widespread attention and reached international headlines in October 1969, shortly after the release of the “Abbey Road” album.

At the time, Paul, Linda, and their two daughters were staying at their farm near Campbeltown, Scotland. As the rumours intensified, reporters began descending on the property in search of comment. Under mounting pressure, Paul agreed to grant a series of interviews — including with the BBC (on October 24), Sunday People, and Life magazine (on November 2) — in an effort to publicly debunk the claims.

BEATLE Paul McCartney wants all his fans to know he is alive, fit and well. And he asks The People to give them the happy news which he hopes once and for all will crush the rumours that he is dead and an imposter has taken his place. To emphasise his good health Paul beat his chest as he added:

“Do I look dead? I’m as fit as a fiddle.”

It certainly was the sparkling, witty Beatle Paul whom I had met on previous occasions in Scotland.

He was standing at the doorway of his hideaway farm cottage near this small seaside town in the Western Highlands. He’d arrived there to spend a 10-day holiday with his wife Linda, their daughter Mary, two months, and Linda’s seven-year-old daughter Heather by her former marriage. Dressed in an Arran sweater, corduroy trousers, and gumboots, it was obvious he was thoroughly enjoying his Scottish retreat.

Talking about the cult which has sprung up with the rumours of his death, he said:

“People are foolish who believe these things. It doesn’t really bother me what they are thinking so long as my fans know the truth. Tell them how you have found me—very much alive. I have heard of the stupid cult, naturally.

“But I haven’t bothered trying to crush it until now because I quite honestly believe I have no obligation to put right the wrongs other people have created.”

About the “messages” the cult’s members have “seen” hidden in words and pictures on recent Beatle record sleeves, he explained laughingly:

“Honestly, not one of these things was intended. People are finding messages which just do not exist. There is a logical explanation for them all.”

To reach Paul’s hideaway, High Park Farm, in the hills overlooking the Mull of Kintyre, I had to walk ankle-deep in mud. Paul does not hide the fact he likes seclusion when he comes to High Park.

And in John MacDougall, the owner of Lower Park Farm, a mile and a half away, he has a friend who makes sure his wishes are respected.

When I approached, John shouted and bawled as my car wheels spun in the mud, to make it clear I had to go no farther, and that no one was going near his V.I.P. neighbour. When I did eventually meet Paul he explained:

“I come here with my family to get away from it all to enjoy the peace and quiet and to relax. This is why MacDougall was so determined you would not get up. He keeps a lot of people away.”

Last week, the London Evening ing News fanned the flames by reporting that on both sides of the Atlantic thousands of youngsters were spreading — and often believing — the rumour: Paul is dead. It said:

“The sick legend, which varies only slightly from place to place, is that Paul was decapitated in a road accident in Scotland in November, 1966. It says the Beatles chose to keep his death a secret and replace him with a double, real name William Campbell, who took up Paul’s guitar after plastic surgery.”

It explains that to back up this fantastic assertion a jumble of secret signs and clues have been discovered by devotees.

“These, contained in new records and on record sleeves, are, they say, the Beatles’ way of giving their faithful followers the sad news without making it public. Those who can read the signs, says the cult, have long ago confirmed the story from the pointers provided by the other Beatles—such as:

• On the new Abbey Road cover, Ringo Starr is dressed as an undertaker, George Harrison as a gravedigger, John Lennon as a clergyman and Paul, in a normal suit, walking barefoot as a corpse. Bare feet, it is pointed out, are the mark of a corpse in Italy.
• The licence plate of a parked Volkswagen is 28IF—meaning Paul would have been 28 “IF he had lived.”
• That in one song on the Sargent Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club disc there is a line: “He blew his mind out in a car.”
• That the record sleeve has a grave with Paul’s guitar on top. Paul is wearing a black patch with the initials OPD—“Officially Pronounced Dead.”
• That the back cover shows him wearing a black flower, while the others wear red. And there is a funeral wreath in the background.“

To all this Paul replied:

“I appeared on a record sleeve in bare feet because, frankly, when those pictures were taken it was so hot I was too warm to wear shoes.

“The OPD badge on my arm in another sleeve does not mean Officially Pronounced Dead. I don’t know what it means. I got it from a Canadian policeman.

“I was wearing a black flower in another picture because after the lads got their red ones there wasn’t one left for me.

“And, lastly, it was John who was in a car crash in Scotland and not me. So you see how foolish all these rumours are.”

Another victim of the cult was the industrial correspondent of The Guardian, Mr. Victor Keegan.

On the Magical Mystery Tour record label the word Beatles spelled out in stars can be imagined to be numbers written backwards if viewed as mirror writing.

By this incredible manoeuvre cult followers came up with Mr. Keegan’s telephone number — 834 7132.

In The Guardian on Thursday Mr. Keegan wrote:

“Hundreds of people have rung my number day and night from America, where it has a magical significance, asking to speak to characters associated with Beatle songs. This has built up to a crescendo in recent days.” Mr. Keegan’s number has now been changed.