Paul McCartney
Toronto, Canada 1989 10
Paul McCartney, 1989, Chicago IL. When the Beatles hit in ’64, it was a big deal. My sisters’ 45s were on the record player, then the albums. My friend Robby and I pretended we were the Beatles—tennis rackets as guitars—I was always John, he was Paul. 28 years later Rolling Stone calls me to shoot Paul on tour. My concept was “Paul McCartney on the road.” We fly to Chicago. We’re staying at the same hotel, but it’s like being with the President...it was not easy access.
He had 4 shows in a venue outside the city. I never knew when he was coming or going. We’d sit outside the hotel with our equipment in this minivan for hours. It was freezing—I mean, it’s winter in Chicago. Whenever he walked out, we had to be ready. We couldn’t eat, we couldn’t pee, we had one job—wait for Paul. Every day for 4 days we waited, and every day his security said, “Not today.” We’d go to the venue, shoot sound check, backstage, all this great stuff. But every day I thought, Today I’m gonna get him on the side of the road. I was so hyped up on adrenaline.
Night 4 ended, and I still didn’t have the shot. His team told me we’d get it on the way to the airport, so we tailed his limo in our van. His security hopped out to tell us we didn’t have time, Paul had to make his plane. We weren’t gonna get it. It was so frustrating—I was this kid who grew up with The Beatles, and shooting Paul for Rolling Stone was everything.
Their next stop was Toronto, and they told me if I came with them I could get it then. “No assistants, no tripod, no lights—just you. 3 minutes tops.” I stuffed film in my pockets, filters, cameras—anything I could. I sent my assistants to get on the plane for our next shoot with Billy Joel—I had to get my shot.
We took off in the jet, just me, Paul, and Linda. I was freaking out inside. I shot pictures until we landed. The next morning I got the call. I hopped in his car and we set off up a ramp towards the highway. I had no idea what it looked like on the other side, but this was my moment. So I said, “Go up this ramp...pull over right here.” Paul jumped out on the side of the road. I shot a few rolls of film—so fast—but I knew I had it. I finally got my cover shot.
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