Melbourne, 1975 Part I
It started simply, with two tickets and two back-stage passes to Wings show at the Meyer auditorium. A phone call followed, from Mal, interestingly enough.
“Well when Paulie said there’d be a two extra days in Melbourne, guess who got custody of old Mal for the summer.” The former Beatles roadie explained. “Oh and Himself wants to know if you need an extra set of tickets. You know, a plus one.”
“Not necessary.” Brian said.
Meyer Auditorium was a huge venue, even just counting the real seats. Brian shuddered to even think of the festival seating. He held tightly to Billie’s hand and told the excited eight-year-old to not let go. He was glad that he was not in any way responsible for this concert. They had good seats, close, but away from the nutters in the front rows and not too close to the speakers. Once seated, Brian felt secure enough to let Billie’s hand slip from his, so she could cheer enthusiastically. She liked Wings and knew the words to the songs. Brian was impressed with Paul’s energy, the old showmanship was certainly still there, but thought that the rest of the band couldn’t help but drag him down. And a stadium venue would never be conducive to a good musical experience, no matter how advanced the sound systems became. This last thought came with a tinge of guilt.
Backstage. He had wasted a lot of time agonizing over whether to use the backstage passes or not. In the end, he could not help but see Paul, no matter how briefly. It had been a long time. Besides, the passes had been sent, therefore they would be used.
“Be a lady and don’t make claims on anyone.” He reminded Billie.
They got shuffled in with a bunch of local dignitaries.
“Hey, Sam! You’re a fan?” said an acquaintance, a writer for a local weekly. Who then proceeded to stand entirely too close. Brian felt nervous.
Two worlds colliding. Mal passed by. Spotted him (More accurately, had been scanning the crowd for him.) Took him and Billie aside, but thankfully addressed him as Mr. Zolnick.
“Hi there, Princess.” He said to Billie and patted her on the head.
“Uncle Mal!” Billie stage whispered.
Brian felt like he might get sick, they were venturing too far into dangerous territory.
Mal looked at him and mimed talking on the phone. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Brian nodded.
The band made their way around the crowd like it was a receiving line at an embassy ball. Suddenly Brian came face to face with Paul. Who shook his hand impersonally, then winked at him and was gone. Linda followed close behind. She patted his hand, rolled her eyes. Long-suffering looks traded.
Arriving home. Billie was wound-up. Brian was exhausted. He knew that tomorrow he would receive a call from Mal, probably invite him over. No, make that definitely. Seeing Mal, maybe some hand-delivered tapes and a phone call from Paul. It would be good.