The Lovely Linda
What did she mean to Paul McCartney's music--and life?
When Linda McCartney failed to show up for her husband's
knighthood ceremony at Buckingham Palace in March 1997, it was a sign
that the breast cancer she had been diagnosed with in 1995 might be
worsening. How else to account for the absence on such an occasion of
the woman who personified stand-by-your-man dedication? Whether you
liked or disliked her, there was no doubt that Paul McCartney would
still need her--and she him--when he was 64.
And she had her share of critics. Some saw her first as the hussy
who shattered teenyboppers' dreams by marrying the "cute Beatle."
Later, she was painted as the erstwhile hippie chick/rock
photographer who, after getting the ring, led her willing hubby
around by it for nearly 30 years. But when Linda, 56, died April 17
of complications from the cancer that had spread to her liver, all
such derision rang hollow. During her last few days, spent in the
couple's Santa Barbara, Calif., home, Paul reportedly remained in bed
with her, talking her through the pain. When she finally passed,
there was no doubt that along with her children (Heather, 34, from an
earlier marriage, and Mary, 28, Stella, 26, and James, 20), she had
left her soul mate behind.
For a rock & roll couple of the '60s, Paul and Linda had
enjoyed an exceptionally durable, nurturing marriage. They met in
1967, when the former Linda Eastman, then 26, was in London snapping
pics of the Fab Four, and were wed March 12, 1969. Apart from the
early grumbling by female fans--not to mention her lawyer father's
unsuccessful attempt to represent the Beatles--Linda more easily
sidestepped the "she broke up the Beatles" accusations that dogged
Yoko Ono after Ono snagged the other half of the Lennon-McCartney
team. Indeed, with her grace and affability, Linda came to be seen as
the good Beatle wife--the anti-Yoko who kept the home fires stoked,
bore Paul three children, and played keyboards and sang in
McCartney's post-Beatles band Wings.
Yes, her musical skills were largely considered suspect. That was
evident from the start. "When we found out Linda was going to be
keyboardist," says original Wings drummer Denny Seiwell, "I thought
it was a pretty strange thing. She didn't have any training...but it
was Paul's wishes."
Was it good for McCartney's art? Again, Linda was certainly no
Yoko, whose arty persona spurred John Lennon to record some of his
most visceral work. Linda, by contrast, brought her hubby's sappy
side to the fore, inspiring heart-on-sleeve trifles like "The Lovely
Linda," "Silly Love Songs," and "My Love." Says Village Voice senior
editor Robert Christgau,
"Lennon was McCartney's edge [in the Beatles], Yoko became
Lennon's edge, but Linda indulged what was softest about McCartney,
and that was not what he needed."
But her impact on McCartney's social consciousness and peace of
mind was profound. She kept his love-is-all-you-need '60s spirit
alive,converting her husband in well-publicized fashion to
vegetarianism and a concern for animal rights (a torch she's passed
to all her children, most notably up-and-coming antifur fashion
designer Stella). Linda also brought him qualities that aren't so
media-obvious. "She showed him the virtues of simplicity, elegance,
nature, home, and family," says longtime friend Danny Fields.
With Linda gone, how will the devastated Paul cope? "She was his
security blanket," says Seiwell. Fields goes even further, calling
her "a mother figure." In a statement, McCartney said, "Her passing
has left a huge hole in our lives. We will never get over it, but I
think we will come to accept it." Indeed, he's likely to be grappling
with his loss for some time to come; McCartney's office confirms Paul
will oversee an album of songs Linda wrote. "It hasn't been mixed
yet," says Geoff Baker, a family representative. "Since the '70s,
Linda's been quietly putting together and writing her own songs.
Shortly before they left for America on this last occasion, they went
into the studio and recorded quite a lot of tracks." After his loss,
McCartney may want to fill the world with not-so-silly love songs.
Copyright 1998, Time Inc. From the May 1, 1998 issue of Time
Magazine