Discussion in 'Alternate History Discussion: After 1900' started by Asharella, May 5, 2019.
Wasn't mine. I just liked it.
Well anyone who wants to find or design a cover for the Penny Lane side of the single is welcome to do so.
The single version of SFF is different than the album- it has just part of the reprise with no repeat of the chorus. It fades out at the end of the song like it does on the album and then fades into the reprise, like it does on the album, but then fades out again before the chorus- just after John says "Cranberry Sauce."
After the rumors got going and people were looking for clues, they misunderstood him to be saying "I buried Paul." But he actually said "Cranberry Sauce," which more sober folks pointed out.
The irony was that when he said "Cranberry Sauce" he was thinking of how Paul's brains were spread out over him looking like cranberry sauce. But only a few knew he'd thought that.
Damn, I need to get an eye exam. I'm sorry.
Don't be sorry. We got a wonderful cover for the sleeve of the single! Maybe you can get a cover for the other side for Penny Lane too?
I'll think on it.
Nope. Nowhere near as colourful as the front cover. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was...sombre. And why isn't the band's name on display? I dunno, something's definitely up here. Hmmm.
Now That You Know Who You Are
OTL's song is very much like TTL's "How Does It Feel" without the chorus
In both realities the song was about Brian Epstein
"What were you thinking?" Ian demanded.
"I was thinking I wanted to sleep." Brian could barely speak. Ian had found him on his bed, naked, spread out on top of the sheet. He'd almost perp walked him to the bathroom and forced his finger up his throat until Brian had vomited. Now he was walking him around, clothed in the sheet.
"A whole bottle?"
"I hadn't slept for days, Ian, days. I just wanted it to all go away."
"Keep walking." Ian walked him into the kitchen. "I've got to get some coffee down you."
Ian had come over. Brian hadn't called for days nor answered the phone. That's not how one was supposed to treat one's boyfriend. Not that either man could be open about that, it was still a felony in England to be gay. It didn't matter if one was the manger of the biggest band in the world, like Brian, or a successful stage actor, like Ian. Ian McKellan.
Brian had never had a boyfriend until he met Ian that day he'd gone to visit the new 'Paul' in the hospital, looked at him as his bandages were removed, and sighed in relief. He'd left the room and went down to the cafeteria to get a cup of tea to calm himself.
Ian was there too. Brian knew who he was. He'd seen him in several plays. He considered himself a fan. Ian was getting a cup of tea also. He was there visiting an 'uncle' who was ill. He wasn't really an uncle, he was an older gay man in the theatre that had been a good friend since Ian's first days acting. A lot of homosexuals lost their families who rejected them, so they made new families out of their friends.
Ian knew who Brian was and he knew that Paul McCartney was in the hospital. He looked up as Brian walked in and said, "Brian Epstein, I presume. How is your boy?"
"Ian McKellen! Is that really you?"
Ian had laughed and said, "You act like I'm more famous than you."
They'd sat and drank their tea together. The first of many times they took tea together.
Now as Brian leaned against the wall, struggling to keep his eyes open, Ian brewed some coffee. "It's the rumor isn't it?" he asked.
"I can't take it. I can't handle it. I don't know what to do."
Brian had told Ian the truth a long time before. Ian walked back over as the coffee began to drip in that new "Mr. Coffee" machine that was all the rage now, replacing percolators. He started walking Brian around some more. "They have no proof, Bri, it'll blow over."
"If it doesn't blow up. Plus, what am I good for anyway? They aren't even making promotional videos anymore for me to manage getting on the shows. I'm just a useless old fag Jew with nothing to do. Except answer phone calls from every rag in the kingdom wanting a comment."
"Now, now, from what you've told me you got Queen and MI6 behind you, even the Yanks. They'll not let it blow up. It'll blow over."
"You think so, Ee?"
"I know so. What you need is a holiday. I'll be through with Lear this week. Then we should go somewhere, you and I, somewhere we can relax and not worry about all this.
"What if I hadn't come by, Brian? What if no one came by until tomorrow? What were you thinking?"
Brian didn't say anything. He just looked into those beautiful eyes. Those magical magnetic eyes.
"Here, the coffee's ready. Let's get a cup or two down you. You got nothing to worry about. You know what we should do? We should go to San Francisco! Catch the last few days of the Summer of Love. Maybe you can find another band, one that needs you to do hands on managing. Let MI6 deal with the rumor."
"I'm afraid, Ee." He took the cup from Ian. "I'm afraid John is going do something, say something."
Ian had met John. He'd met all of them, including the new Paul. He actually liked the young man, who seemed happy with his new girlfriend, Melanie. John, George, and Ringo had gone off to meet with that Maharishi fellow they were doing meditation with. Paul had stayed in London with Melanie. He hadn't been invited.
He said, "Perhaps all this Hindu chanting stuff will calm John down, help him accept this."
"I don't know what I'd do without you." Brian took another sip of the coffee.
"You're not going to find out and I wouldn't worry about John."
Brian had a little calendar flip book with the dates on it and a saying that was inspirational. Ian had given it to him last Christmas. As Brian sipped his coffee Ian looked at the little flip book. "Brian you haven't even updated your calendar. It's still set on Thursday." He flipped its pages twice so it read, Saturday, August 26, 1967.
The little quote with it read, "Beauty is the only thing that time cannot harm~ Oscar Wilde."
It turned out that Ian was right about John. It was someone else Brian should have been worried about.
So I saved Brian and gave him a wonderful boyfriend.
that's a very bright spot
George ?? (I don't know)
I am glad for them.
I am not either surprised how this is becoming already the worst kept secret of the cold war.
My Friends Have Lost Their Way
Early in August, George and Pattie, along with Neil Aspinall and Alex Mardas, took a vacation to America. Their plan was to fly into L.A., spend a week there visiting with former Beatles' publicist Derek Taylor and his wife, Joan, who'd moved to L.A. to work with American bands, and then to visit Haight-Ashbury.
George rented a house up in the Hollywood Hills that was on Blue Jay Way and had a spectactular view of the city below. The night they got there, Derek and Joan were supposed to come visit. It got later and later. A fog settled on the Hollywood Hills, which George could see due to the fabulous view. Everyone else went to bed. George stayed up despite his jet lag.
He waited and they didn't come. This was back long before cell phones. He had no way to contact Derek and Joan to know what was happening, but he correctly supposed that despite his directions, they'd gotten lost in the winding and maze like roads of the Hollywood Hills in the fog. There was a Hammond Organ in the rental and to keep himself awake, he sat down and started playing it softly. He ended up composing a song about the situation.
When George sang that night that his friends had lost their way, he meant Derek and Joan and that they had literally lost their way driving to his rental house.
Later he and everyone else would realize that all his friends in the Beatles and the Beatles enourage had metaphorically lost their way. They all were miserable. They were stuck in their grief for Paul. Will's idea to bury him up in Scotland had given them a grave. But the fact that it was up in Scotland made it difficult to visit. The reality was that Melanie Coe, visiting the farm with him in order to see his mother, visited Paul's grave more than John, George, Ringo, George Martin, or Brian Epstein. So they didn't really even have that to process their grief.
Ringo actually liked Will and supported him, or as he called him, Billy Shears. But that didn't mean Ringo also wasn't upset about Paul.
George had basically shut himself off from feeling anything about Will or Paul. He liked he got more songs on the Strawberry Fields Forever album, but that made him feel guilty for he knew if Paul wasn't dead he would have written songs, that George was now willing to admit to himself, would have been better than what George actually did write.
John was angry and getting angrier. His anger at Will had turned into seething hatred. He didn't like he was so filled with hate when what he wanted was to be a man of love. That Will now looked exactly like Paul, and was in the videos they'd made the previous Winter and the album pictures just added to that hate. That Will was supportive and understanding and seemed to honor Paul when ever he could also just added to that hate.
But the worse of them was Brian. He wasn't just stuck in grief and upset like Ringo. He wasn't pushing away his feelings and going numb like George. He wasn't even angry like John. He was afraid and depressed; Ian suspected his response that he just wanted to sleep really was he just wanted to sleep forever.
But Ian was wrong that Will was happy. The simple truth was that most upset of them all was Will Campbell who now was legally Paul McCartney according to the Queen herself. He'd gone into this for two reasons, to take care of his mother, which was happening, and to be able to expand musically. He'd naively hoped that maybe he'd even be able to have some of his own music recorded by the Beatles. He had no illusion he was anywhere the composer Paul McCartney had been and would have been if he was alive. But he felt he could come up with the occcaisonal good song. Maybe they could have used one of his songs instead of Harry's "One." But that was now clear that it would never happen. George and Ringo knew he was a capable musician. He could play bass and keyboards and guitar on records. But that wasn't going to happen either. All he got to do was sing Paul's vocals, and that after John and George left the studio.
Then the rumor had started up. The stress was horrid. He was feeling all the rest felt. He was upset, he was at times numb, he was angry, he was depressed.
The only really good thing in his life was Melanie. But even then he sometimes suspected that she really wanted Paul, not him. She never called him Will.
The first time he heard "Blue Jay Way" he heard that the Beatles had lost their way. He had lost his way. He'd lost himself. Not only had Paul McCartney died in that fateful car crash, so had Will Campbell. His agreeing to replace Paul meant giving up on his own dreams, giving up on his own music, giving up on his own life.
He and Melanie did not attend the premier of John's film "How I Won the War" on October 18th, he knew that John wouldn't want him there. But they did the second night.
Somehow the press found out Paul and Melanie were at the film. As they walked out the couple were besieged.
"Paul, how did you like the film?"
"I loved it. It's a masterpiece."
"How do you think John Lennon did in it?"
"I totally forgot he was John Lennon. A superb job of acting. Doesn't surprise me though."
"Melanie, you talk to your parents lately?"
"On the phone just today, they are fine."
"Paul, what do you say to those who say you're dead."
"I'm not, obviously. Here I am, alive and well."
"Does it bother you that they say that?"
He couldn't take it. "You know what? I'm not dead. But Paul is. I'm not Paul. I'm Will Campbell. I'm just a nobody, fake, stand-in from Canada," he dropped the Paul cadence and Liverpool accent and spoke like a Canadian, "with plastic surgery to make me look like him. I didn't write 'One,' Harry Nilsson did. I didn't write 'How Does It Feel,' John did. 'Penny Lane' was written and sang by the real Paul before the crash. He wrote 'When I'm 64' in their early days."
"Are you joking?"
Before he could answer two men in the crowd suddenly rushed forward, grabbed him and Melanie, and walked them back into the theatre. MI6 had been watching them all the entire time.
P A U L . I S . D E A D !
Newspaper headlines around the world.
I imagine there will be a comment like:
"Of course it was a joke, John put me up to it. He said I would never do it. He was even a bit jealous, that the rumor wasn't about him.
And people should really buy Harry Nilssons new album, it's great!"
"My baby's home. My baby's home." Her mom grabbed her and hugged her. "Daddy, our baby's home."
Mr. Coe said, "It's about time. I hope you got that all out of your system, girl."
Melanie sobbed. "I had no idea, he pretended he was him to me," she lied.
Mr. Coe picked up her bag, "I talked to Reg after you rang up. He'll give you your old job back. I'll take up your things to your rooom."
"We kept it for you," her mom said as she kissed her cheek, "I kept hoping you'd come back."
"My friend, Brian, has nothing to say." Ian said through the slight opening he'd made in Brian's door. "You might as well go away." He slammed the door.
John was on the phone. Cynth and Julian had gone to visit her mother for a few days. "That wanker, I could kill him."
Yoko said, "It's terrible, John."
"He's ruined everything. We're done. The Dream's over."
"I could come by so we could really talk."
"You better before I go and strangle him. He's worse than a wanker. He's a traitor."
"Mr. Harrison has gone to India. I have no comment on the situation about Paul McCartney at this time." Peter Brown stepped back into the NEMS office building as the press yelled more questions.
Separate names with a comma.