Post by beatled on Sept 6, 2004 16:57:50 GMT
Could be BS, but thios person claims they were one of the people in the crowd, and he/she is looking for others who were there.
babyurl.com/HOR0wL
What's interesting is this long angry missive more or less directed at "billy":
babyurl.com/HOR0wL
What's interesting is this long angry missive more or less directed at "billy":
Dana Ross, then a teenager of privilege (her best bud was Francesca
Hilton, aunt of the now infamous Paris and Nicky) and daughter of
hotel magnate Conrad Hilton and Zsa Zsa Gabor) attended the September
4th 1968 HJ video session, which was essentially an exercise in early
karaoke.
Dana was personally ripped off for money by Paul McCartney during the
agonizing process of his wife's death. Going on f*ckface's press
releases, Dana put out thousands of dollars to honor Linda by setting
up the memorial candlelight vigil and tribute concert by headliners
like Kenny Loggins, paying for the nasty legal process of getting
permits to use public spaces like the lawn of Santa Barbara's City
Hall and an adjacent public park and spending many hours on the phone
with L.A. media (print and tv).
Dana couldn't believe her good luck, to be Francesca's friend
(Francesca was older, and scored Paul and me many a great chunk of
opiated hashish, his fave buzz that summer) and invited to stay in P's
house... she felt ultraprivileged to appear in the front row (polkadot
dress?) at the HJ taping. When P got really nuts (I had been gone for
all of one week), when Francesca "crashed" in Paul's king-sized bed, P
was so testy he decided he needed to get away from England. So he took
Francesca and Dana (and Maggie the waitress/groupie) on a little R&R
in Sardinia on his sailboat. It was just like a dream to the teenager
because, as Derek Taylor's wife Joan said to me the day Paul took me
to Summerland to play in the rain with Derek's kids and listen for the
very first time to "The BEATLES STORY":
Just treasure every moment you spend with Him.
Yeah, right.
Because in high society (Hiltons, Princesses, and Poor Little Rich
Girls) one never breaks with diplomacy and Manners, Dana remained
friendly toward Paul all the way through the final fiasco in Santa
Barbara. As a resident of one of the richest private communities in
Santa Barbara, she had access to insider real estate info, and she
helped Ringo to find his retirement home in California -- during this
time (1999) she was dating Richard's manager, and through him, she
encouraged me to get Ringo a copy of my bootleg. But Ringo's manager
is also a jerk, so I have no idea whether he ever received what I
sent. He probably kept it for himself. She had stopped dating him by
the time I was able to put the package together. She also gave me a
private mailing address for Fatface, and encouraged me to write to him
because he was such an asshole! Since P had told her that his
relationship with me was "the most passionate of his life"; he had not
removed the poem I left on the floor of the geodesic meditation dome
in the back yard (where I often prayed when it would not serve Paul's
narcissistic purpose to have me in the studio, and where I retreated
during the big Meeting between Yoko and Cyn); he was completely turned
off although he continued to smoke dope and take street speed and
anything else he could get his hands on; he was asexual, childlike and
completely NOT aroused by the presence of three young women who
worshipped his pampered ass. And of course, they saw him naked on the
boat. I will say no more.
Paul continued to rip off his "friend" Dana over the years. One
example, from one of several phone conversations I had with her during
the worst year of my life, 1999, concerned a talented photographer
whose portfolio Dana took to Paul at MPL. Before Linda was diagnosed
with breast cancer, Paul often stole ideas from new artists seeking
his financial backing, and the animal photography Dana showed him gave
him plenty of inspiration. But just as he had done in 1968, with
James Taylor and Mary Hopkin, he only "helped" them to become more
commercial, he took ideas from their contributions, and he never
looked back or said thank you.
Like most rich people (Dana eventually married and divorced a
prominent Italian doctor and bore him a daughter who was herself a
teenager in 1999) Dana doesn't keep her phone numbers or mailing
address for very long. Because the press (paul's most expedient
weapon against the truth) has lost all ethical standards (by 1999 the
decay had begun with the aftermaths of the OJ trials and the death of
Princess Di) and you can't believe anything they write about the
Presidential election or either of the candidates, I don't expect you
assholes (the remains of rmb) to believe me. You never believed me in
the first place, so I no longer give a f*ck.
There is a manuscript in my library, some 500 pages and growing all
the time, called THE WAR ON SEX DRUGS & ROCK & ROLL: LIFE AFTER PAUL
McCARTNEY. Like BODY COUNT, it is not politically correct, and it
contains only one chapter ("Killing John Again") about f*ckface, so I
guess I'll have to wait until Paul is genuinely dead to get a
publisher. He sues everybody who tries to tell the truth about him.
I can wait.
Francie Schwartz
"Freedom's just another word for nothin left to lose." (Lyric by Kris
Kristofferson, sung by Janis Joplin, released posthumously on "Pearl")
Hilton, aunt of the now infamous Paris and Nicky) and daughter of
hotel magnate Conrad Hilton and Zsa Zsa Gabor) attended the September
4th 1968 HJ video session, which was essentially an exercise in early
karaoke.
Dana was personally ripped off for money by Paul McCartney during the
agonizing process of his wife's death. Going on f*ckface's press
releases, Dana put out thousands of dollars to honor Linda by setting
up the memorial candlelight vigil and tribute concert by headliners
like Kenny Loggins, paying for the nasty legal process of getting
permits to use public spaces like the lawn of Santa Barbara's City
Hall and an adjacent public park and spending many hours on the phone
with L.A. media (print and tv).
Dana couldn't believe her good luck, to be Francesca's friend
(Francesca was older, and scored Paul and me many a great chunk of
opiated hashish, his fave buzz that summer) and invited to stay in P's
house... she felt ultraprivileged to appear in the front row (polkadot
dress?) at the HJ taping. When P got really nuts (I had been gone for
all of one week), when Francesca "crashed" in Paul's king-sized bed, P
was so testy he decided he needed to get away from England. So he took
Francesca and Dana (and Maggie the waitress/groupie) on a little R&R
in Sardinia on his sailboat. It was just like a dream to the teenager
because, as Derek Taylor's wife Joan said to me the day Paul took me
to Summerland to play in the rain with Derek's kids and listen for the
very first time to "The BEATLES STORY":
Just treasure every moment you spend with Him.
Yeah, right.
Because in high society (Hiltons, Princesses, and Poor Little Rich
Girls) one never breaks with diplomacy and Manners, Dana remained
friendly toward Paul all the way through the final fiasco in Santa
Barbara. As a resident of one of the richest private communities in
Santa Barbara, she had access to insider real estate info, and she
helped Ringo to find his retirement home in California -- during this
time (1999) she was dating Richard's manager, and through him, she
encouraged me to get Ringo a copy of my bootleg. But Ringo's manager
is also a jerk, so I have no idea whether he ever received what I
sent. He probably kept it for himself. She had stopped dating him by
the time I was able to put the package together. She also gave me a
private mailing address for Fatface, and encouraged me to write to him
because he was such an asshole! Since P had told her that his
relationship with me was "the most passionate of his life"; he had not
removed the poem I left on the floor of the geodesic meditation dome
in the back yard (where I often prayed when it would not serve Paul's
narcissistic purpose to have me in the studio, and where I retreated
during the big Meeting between Yoko and Cyn); he was completely turned
off although he continued to smoke dope and take street speed and
anything else he could get his hands on; he was asexual, childlike and
completely NOT aroused by the presence of three young women who
worshipped his pampered ass. And of course, they saw him naked on the
boat. I will say no more.
Paul continued to rip off his "friend" Dana over the years. One
example, from one of several phone conversations I had with her during
the worst year of my life, 1999, concerned a talented photographer
whose portfolio Dana took to Paul at MPL. Before Linda was diagnosed
with breast cancer, Paul often stole ideas from new artists seeking
his financial backing, and the animal photography Dana showed him gave
him plenty of inspiration. But just as he had done in 1968, with
James Taylor and Mary Hopkin, he only "helped" them to become more
commercial, he took ideas from their contributions, and he never
looked back or said thank you.
Like most rich people (Dana eventually married and divorced a
prominent Italian doctor and bore him a daughter who was herself a
teenager in 1999) Dana doesn't keep her phone numbers or mailing
address for very long. Because the press (paul's most expedient
weapon against the truth) has lost all ethical standards (by 1999 the
decay had begun with the aftermaths of the OJ trials and the death of
Princess Di) and you can't believe anything they write about the
Presidential election or either of the candidates, I don't expect you
assholes (the remains of rmb) to believe me. You never believed me in
the first place, so I no longer give a f*ck.
There is a manuscript in my library, some 500 pages and growing all
the time, called THE WAR ON SEX DRUGS & ROCK & ROLL: LIFE AFTER PAUL
McCARTNEY. Like BODY COUNT, it is not politically correct, and it
contains only one chapter ("Killing John Again") about f*ckface, so I
guess I'll have to wait until Paul is genuinely dead to get a
publisher. He sues everybody who tries to tell the truth about him.
I can wait.
Francie Schwartz
"Freedom's just another word for nothin left to lose." (Lyric by Kris
Kristofferson, sung by Janis Joplin, released posthumously on "Pearl")