I was a wreak. The rug in my room was getting worn from my pacing. I couldn't sleep. I tried counting sheep. Godzilla movies didn't bore me like they usually did. There was a copy of the bible in the room. I'm not religious, but it did remind me of a prayer. It was called Shepards Prayer. Not The Shepards Prayer. This one had its origins way back in May of 1961 when astronaut Alan Shepard was heard to say shortly before launch “Dear lord, don't let me f--- up now”. I was so desparate I actually read the phone book. Did you know there are 121 people with the name Zamboni listed in it ? Dawn finally came so I had a shower. A nice long shower. Then I shaved. That was a mistake. I was so nervous I cut myself four times !. When Rusty ( whom I think Paul asked to be my guardian ) knocked on the door did he say good morning ?. No. How did you sleep ?. No. Instead I was the recipient of “Holy Hannah, what the hell happened to you !”. He then went on to ask about knife wielding midgets, and other absurd reasons for my appearance. He was really in a panic. “Look Rusty. When I have stage makeup on nobody will know. I'm sure this happens a lot”. After I said that he calmed down a bit. We went down to the front desk where there was a message for me. It was from Donn. He said the DuoJet was mine to keep, and to try and say the name of the store during the concert. That was something I wasn't too sure Paul would permit. After all, it was his show.

 

Everybody assembled at the appointed time. Everybody except Paul. After “larking about” for a while, I was elected to phone his hotel room. After a small lecture from the hotel receptionist, and an equally small lecture from me ( I told the receptionist I was his brother Michael ) I got through to his room. It turned out Paul had watched the same Godzilla movie marathon I did, then over slept. I ended our conversation with “as long as you're all right mate. Now get your arse down here”. I was certain I was doomed. He was going to have my guts for garters. When he did show up he had forgotten about what I had said and summoned the sound technician to set up a microphone for me. “Don't tell me it can't be done. Bollocks !. Just use an AKG mic and set him up !”. Last time I checked I didn't sing, but my little Liverpool accent on the phone had given him an idea. Within minutes this mic with the letters AKG appeared before me. The sound tech did not take kindly to being balled out, and asked me to count to three. “One...two...three”. “Ok, just peachy champ, now sing something so I can set the level”. “I don't sing. I play the guitar”. The sound tech did not appreciate my candor. “Everybody here sings champ. Hell, even I sing when I'm in the shower, so sing somethin' will ya ?. I'd like to get this over with”. Paul intervened on my behalf. “Take all of the mics down to zero except his. Lenny don't play for this one”. Paul put on an Ovation acoustic and started playing “Bip Bop”. He knew I knew the song, so I started to sing along in something close to the key he was singing in. Before I knew it a voice came came over the public address system. “Ok champ got it. Just sterling”. The next sound anybody heard was that of a heavy metal door being closed. “That guy gets on my nerves”. said Paul. Rusty came over to me and said “Just take it nice and easy. That guys has always been an ass, and always will be”. What he said was reassuring, but I was more concerned about tonight. I even said Shepards Prayer silently to myself. All of a sudden Paul said “Play me an A chord”. The chord was the opening for the song “Helen Wheels”. Lenny started bashing away on the drums, Paul started plunking away on a bass, Rusty started stomping while he played his SG, and I sort of froze solid intent on not making any mistakes. Paul walked over while he played.   “Loosen up, relax, and have fun. If you screw up, just keep on going”. I did loosen up, and soon I was stomping the boards like I was on a old sailing vessel.  Actually I was trying out something Paul did on the roof of the Apple offices in January of 1969. It worked. I never felt so relaxed than I did at that moment. Then the whole band changed to good old rock n' roll. Paul was in his element. So was I. I played rythmn in such a way that it was perfectly natural for me to move around. And the DuoJet was a dream to play. Everything felt so right.

The members of the band went on one by one. Then it was my turn. Olympic sized stomach flip flops were one thing. But now I was facing one hundred percent grade “A” fear. And the fact that Donn was in the wings didn't help at all. “Do it for the store. Think of how many people will come to the store if you go on stage”. “I really want to thank you for the DuoJet, but I don't know if I can do this. There are thousands of people out there waiting to see Paul”. You could see in Donns eyes wheels grinding away. He knew that if I went on stage his store would profit. “You've got it wrong. They came to see you”. Donn actually believed that, and tried to me to get me to do the same. Paul could see that was wasn't buying what Donn was saying. He motioned to Donn to come towards him. They whispered so quietly I couldn't hear them. When they finished Donn stood in front of me. “Forget everything I said. This could be your big break. You might be “discovered”. Paul can't go on without you. He needs your help. You have to go on now”. Donn was beginning to make sence, which was rare for him. He wasn't the greatest saleman in the world. Unknown to me Paul was about to play a prank that would force me to go on stage. In total silence, (and with practice I suspect), he put the neck of his guitar between my legs, and slowly raised it till the cold metal tuning pegs were touching a certain place below my belt. My eyes suddenly widened, I think I swore, and rocketed on stage. As I took my place on stage, Paul appeared. I whispered “I'll get you Macca”.

 

The audience was pretty rambunctious, and Paul started with “Hello Goodbye”. Next came “Helen Wheels” which evolved into a guitar dual between Rusty and me. This multi-colored piano materialized from the wings, and Paul began his piano material. “Hey Jude” had everybody singing. Still seated at the piano he asked “Is everybody feelin' ok ?”. If you weren't there you couldn't imagine the sound. Then he introduced the members of the band. My heart was going a million beats a second. “And from Richmonds Trading Post, a citizen of this fair city, Mr. Tom Austin”. I almost died. The crowd went wild. It was absolute chaos. All this fuss over a guy they never heard of before. Just off the stage I could see Donn doing a dance because the store got mentioned. I didn't know it then but Paul let word leak out that I was playing that night. Some people in the crowd carried newspapers with bold headlines that read “LOCAL BOY MAKES GOOD !”. Some woman in audience screamed “I want to have your baby”. When Rusty heard that he came up to me and said “you really know you're in the big time when you hear that”. I felt like I really belonged. I wasn't the wooden no name guitar player of just two days earlier. Paul put on a Martin acoustic and played “Yesterday”,”I've Just Seen A Face”, “Michelle” and “Bip Bop”

 

 

Before I knew it two hours had gone by. Paul announced “We're going to do one more song then we have to go”. This what Ringo had been waiting for. He got into position. Lenny reliquished the drummers throne to Ringo. The audience could see who was suddenly appearing and went berserk. Paul thought it was wild applause. But when the solo started he said something very un-Paul. “Well I'll be a dirty bird....ladies and gentlemen Ringo Starr !”. Ringo came down to the front of the stage and hugged Paul. “Happy Birthday from Heather”. Paul was brought to tears at seeing his old friend again. The crowd was so excited that they wouldn't let us leave. Paul hadn't planned any encore. The band went back on stage and played Let It Be. It was a wild time. We did “Soily”, “Band On The Run” and “Goodnight Tonight”. Then Paul played another prank when he annouced that I was going to do “C Moon”. I got my revenge by saying he was going to do “Love Me Do”. I went up to the mic when I realized he couldn't remember how to play it. So he joined me at the mic, John and Paul style, and we wowed the crowd. He put his hand on my shoulder and said “thanks but you promised to cut the grass today”. I said he sounded just like my wife. “I am your wife, and will you stop calling me Paul”. The image of Paul and the band disappeared, and the image of my wife took his place. It was a dream, but one so real it was scary.