John F. Myslinski | “Paul McCartney, a Peacoat, and a Coffee”

John F. Myslinski

“It was in the fall of 1974 that I finally got officially released from my vows as a Jesuit. I was living in an old refurbished townhouse in Boston’s Back Bay. It was a beautiful place, and I desperately needed a job! There was a wonderful men’s store in Boston on Boylston Street called Louie’s. At the time, it was considered one of the finest in the country. It catered to a very select and wealthy clientele—celebrities, sports figures, and politicians were frequent regulars.

I remember walking in one day and feeling very intimidated by the staff, the clothes, the prices—everything about this special store for the rich and privileged. On that quick first visit, it never occurred to me that one day in the very near future, I would be working at Louie’s. Not only working there but eventually becoming the number one salesman in this prestigious store. I watched and learned. One of my tutors and friends at the time was Joe Abboud. He was a buyer at the store but eventually created a designer clothing line called "Joseph Abboud."

I must admit, I was surprised at how successful I had become in just a few months at Louie’s. I had a lot of regular celebrity customers and was assured by the owner of Louie’s that I had a career—and probably a successful career—in retail. One of my regular customers was an executive from Bloomingdale’s. He bought his clothes at Louie’s in Boston because Bloomingdale’s, at that time, did not have a clothing store in the Boston area.

There was a three-month competition to determine who was the most successful salesman during that time period. I came in number one—ahead of the career salesmen who had been there for years. My first taste of celebrity! My regular customer from Bloomingdale’s was thrilled with my success and suggested I move to New York and accept a position as a buyer—actually, an assistant buyer—at Bloomingdale’s. Bloomingdale’s had its own executive training program in NYC at the time. It usually took two years in the program to become an assistant buyer, which was considered a major position at the time.

I was offered a job, and I took it. Moving to New York, looking for an apartment, and knowing no one in the city seemed more like an adventure to me—I was young—rather than a situation many people would consider an ordeal. Luck, good looks, and a great personality were on my side, and I happened to meet several people who were real, authentic, and fun New Yorkers. With their counsel and direction, I settled into a very comfortable apartment on West End Avenue at 96th Street.

It provided security and the very best location—overlooking the Hudson River and the George Washington Bridge in the distance to the right. I thought I had made it and looked forward to a successful career in retail at one of the finest stores in the world—Bloomingdale’s. But actually, I was a disaster as an assistant buyer. Nothing I bought sold, and instead of having just one stockroom like the rest of the buyers, I had two—nothing moved! But I was having the time of my life living in the city in the early 70s and taking full advantage of everything that New York had to offer.

My career at Bloomingdale’s was short-lived. During the few months that I was an "executive" (assistant buyer) at Bloomingdale’s, I met a lot of the celebrities that drifted in and out of the city at that time.

It was two weeks before Christmas, and my boss—the buyer—told me she was going to be out of town and that a "celebrity couple shopper" (which was a common event) would be in around 2 o’clock and that I should be totally available. Who was this mystery couple? Paul McCartney and his wife, Linda—BIG TIME CELEBRITIES!

After the initial introductions, Linda made it clear that she wanted to shop alone for Christmas presents for her parents, who lived in New York. Paul (yes, you got it—first name) just wanted a hot "cuppa coffee" and a quiet place to sit and smoke. What better place than my office? I liked to sit and smoke and invited him to join me there. We spent a good two hours smoking (mostly my cigarettes) and drinking horrible vending machine coffee, with Paul opening his heart and soul to me as if we were "old buds" from Liverpool.

Of course, I asked thousands of stupid questions like, "What was it like being a Beatle?" and "Did you guys really get along?" Paul chuckled, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "It was madness, really. We were just four lads from Liverpool who loved music, and suddenly, we were the biggest band in the world," he said, shaking his head in amusement. "As for whether we got along... well, we had our moments, but we were like brothers. We always looked out for each other."

He told me a story that has stayed with me over the years. He became quite serious and said the best advice they received during those very successful years was something that Marilyn Monroe had said. She said that when she was standing off stage preparing for a public appearance, she would hear tens of thousands of her fans screaming and yelling, "We love you, Marilyn!" And she thought to herself, "If there could be tens of thousands of people yelling that they love me without really knowing me, there could be one deranged person who could hate me with as much passion."

Paul said that was probably the best advice—if you want to call it that—that they received during their successful careers. And now, in hindsight, many, many years later, I realized how prescient that remark by Marilyn Monroe was.

There was a knock on my office door. Paul’s driver was there to tell him Linda was waiting in the car, and he should get down as soon as possible. By now, of course, there was a very large crowd gathering along 3rd & Lexington Avenue, waiting to get a glimpse of their favorite Beatle.

How could he avoid the crowd and get to the car as easily as possible? Maybe, he said, he could wrap himself in MY peacoat (remember, it was the early 70s) and my heavy winter scarf that was hanging in the corner of my office. But, I wondered aloud, how would I get these items back—if I ever would, I thought. The driver quickly assured me he would bring them back to my office once Mr. McCartney was safely in his car with Linda and the dozens of beautifully wrapped Christmas gifts she purchased at the magnificent Bloomingdale’s!

Yes, I did get back my peacoat and oversized scarf—with a pack of Marlboros from Paul himself! And for years, whenever I wore that jacket or scarf, I would proudly tell this story. I was 26 years old, and the whole world lay ahead! Or so I thought…”