Lennon/McCartney blog.

I met them in March 1965, during the height of Beatlemania. A friend invited me to the Bahamas for the filming of the beach scenes in Help. After we arrived, I was told to contact Victor Spinetti, which I did. We met and he took me to a sandy beach where a scene was being filmed. All four Beatles were there and they were on a break. Spinetti said, 'I’d like you to meet somebody; this is Annette Spector, Phil Spector's ex-wife.'

John Lennon turned around, smiled at the other three, started conducting and counted '1-2-3-4.' Then they all sang (to the tune of "Happy Birthday"):

'Happy Mrs. Spector to you, Happy Mrs. Spector to you, Happy Mrs. Spector to you, Happy Mrs. Spector to you.' After they finished, I shook each one's hand, saying how nice it was to meet them and we all stood talking for awhile.

There were very friendly and cordial, but above all, so harmonious with each other. They were like brothers and didn't seem on guard either with each other or with me. Besides exuding warmth, they were very funny and humorous, exactly like in the film. The only other people around were the crew preparing a boat for the next scene. None of the Beatles' wives or girlfriends had come to the Bahamas.

Later that day, I went with Mal Evans, the Beatles' bodyguard, to buy cigarettes for them and then we went to a cabin where all the Beatles were resting. When we walked in, the room was very quiet; then George Harrison screamed hello and I didn't know if that was a welcome or a 'get away.' But I went in and sat down next to John Lennon, who was very quiet. Paul McCartney was on the phone having an argument with his girlfriend, Jane Asher. She was upset that he had been away so long and he was promising to call once or twice a day. I congratulated Ringo Starr, who had recently gotten married. George Harrison was playing the guitar. I noticed that they were called 'the boys' by everyone associated with them.

After awhile everyone went to another shooting location. A camera man was filming George swimming in an underground pool. John was joking around, pointing his index finger at different people and saying 'bop, bop, bop.' It was done in a funny way, not as if he had a gun. Then he made a motion signifying somebody is crazy (he'd make a circle around his ear with his index finger and then he'd point to a particular person). He put his finger on my stomach and poked me playfully.

That night there was a party and I danced with Ringo Starr. When the record 'Help' was played he said, 'Excuse me, I can't do this. I can't dance to my own music.' Paul McCartney was also there, surrounded by many women.

I saw them one more time, the next day, when I rode out on a bus with the entire entourage to another of the sets. The Beatles were all singing as we drove along and I felt, once again, the wonderful humor and harmony that they generated.

The door opened and there, in the flesh, was Paul McCartney. “Hello, Patrick,” he said. “Jane tells me you like Aston Martins. Here, drive this.” He tossed a bunch of keys my way.

Then he went off to get Jane. I was stunned — I pulled on my trousers and pinched myself to make sure this was real life.

The three of us made our exit out through the stage door, with Paul signing autographs as we went. His silver Aston Martin, a DB5, was parked at the end of the alley. We got in: me in the front, Paul and Jane cuddled together adorably in the back.

“I’ll tell you what, I have never been to Bath,” said Paul. “Why not drive us there?”

Gearhead that I am, I was as excited to be behind the wheel of an Aston as I was to chauffeur Paul and Jane. Traffic was light, and I was able to operate the car with ease. Several times, Paul encouraged me to put the pedal to the metal. “Yes, go on, overtake!” he said. “Faster, faster. You can make this! Go!”

I appreciated his encouragement, but the thought did cross my mind: If I kill Paul McCartney, it will be the only thing I will be remembered for.