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Post by Jai Guru Deva on Feb 23, 2011 20:30:05 GMT -5
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Post by Jai Guru Deva on Mar 1, 2011 14:53:47 GMT -5
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Post by Jai Guru Deva on Mar 10, 2011 15:29:12 GMT -5
This is an interesting snippet from the personal blog of Julie Anne Rhodes. She says is a friend of Kim Kindersley (Garech Browne's nephew). Anyway, she gives us a little peek into Luggala. One of the things I found really fascinating was the paintings on the wall she saw which were by Frances Bacon, Lucien Freud, Magritte and another lesser known painter named Anthony Pallisser. She also talked about the musicians, poets, and celebrities that have frequented Luggala like Van Morrison and Marianne Faithful. ____________________________________________________ Saturday, March 13, 2010 Luggala, Escape to my Shamrock Paradise jewelsfromtherovingstove.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.htmlThe bluebells were in full bloom, a field of electric blue against the deep green hues of the Irish countryside the first time I set eyes on Luggala. The imposing Gothic Revival Lodge that would become my second home sat just beyond them in the distance, but first the woods gave way to a small lake with a lonely little boat floating on it's edge. With my marriage completely in tatters... it was the perfect backdrop for my despair. A "comedy of errors" was about to propel me into the magnificent world of The Honorable Garech Browne, a deliciously eccentric patron of the arts, founder of Claddagh Records, and often referred to as " the pied piper of the artistic and bohemian glitterati of the day". Now he happens to be one of my favorite people on the planet, but back then I just felt intimidated. Garech immediately struck me as a character straight from a Charles Dickens novel. His long grey hair swept back in a ponytail that cascaded over the collar of his crisp white shirt. He wore beautiful handmade shoes and a silk three-piece suit in pastel blue that evoked another era. I noticed his hands shook ever so slightly, and he had long fingernails... a hint that he was above conventionality's. He speaks with a deep, commanding voice that although terribly aristocratic, has a warmth I suspect he does his best to hide. The glint in his baby blue eyes usually betrays his impish nature, but they were cold and grey on this particular afternoon. He was not at all amused that I landed on his doorstep, a complete stranger with my five year old daughter in toe. I was under the misguided impression that I was arriving at the home of my friend Kim Kinderlsey, his nephew. Tatjana and I were reluctantly led into a hexagonal shaped purple and gilt drawing room while the housekeeper rang around in search of a bed & breakfast for us. The walls of the room were filled with Francis Bacon and Lucien Freud paintings with the exception of a Magritte portrait of a beautiful woman that hung over the fireplace, and another painting by a lesser known artist. Acutely aware that we were unwelcome, I was mortified and on the verge of tears, but the words still spilled from my mouth before I could stop them “Is that an Anthony Pallisser?” “Why…yes” Garech seemed shocked. "He is a good friend. How did you know?" "I sat for Anthony during my modeling days in Paris." Suddenly the frosty reception melted away and that commonality paved the way to one of my most treasured friendships. Garech is the most gifted story teller I have ever met, and he always chases away my tears with his exquisitely dry sense of humor. I returned to London at the end of that weekend with my stomach literally aching from laughter at a time I might otherwise have drowned in tears. Tatjana and I would spend nearly every weekend in that majestically beautiful corner of the world, cradled in the Wicklow Mountains. Feeling loved and protected, and surrounded by the most incredible creative energy I have ever known. Garech quickly became family to us. I would soon learn that the beautiful woman in the Magritte was Garech's mother, Oonagh Guinness. She was still ravishingly beautiful well into her eighties when I had the pleasure of meeting her one weekend. Together, Oonagh, Garech, Tatjana, and I planted a Meddler tree at Luggala which Garech assures me still flourishes today. I was also fortunate enough to meet Garech's father, Lord Oranmore and Browne who held the unusual distinction of being the longest serving member of the House of Lords, even though he never uttered a single word in debate. On any given weekend Luggala was filled with the likes of Van Morrison or Marianne Faithful singing to us. Seamus Heaney reciting poetry while Edward Delaney sculpted in the gardens. There were long conversations over dinner with film director John Boorman and actor John Hurt. More often than not Ronan Browne (no relation) or Seamus Ennis would play the pipes while I was mesmerized by the footwork of the Irish folk dancers. Sunday lunches were always at the Roundwood Inn, where owner Jurgen would serve up his famous Hungarian goulash in addition to traditional Irish Pub fare. Once president Kennedy’s sister Kathleen, who was then the American Ambassador to Ireland, joined us. Garech still delights in recalling the faux pas he made. Feeling rather jubilant from the wine consumed over lunch, he accidentally addressed her as President Kennedy instead of Ambassador Kennedy. She failed to see the humor in it, although it was not lost on us. There are endless tales to tell of my escapes to my Shamrock Paradise. Those weekends were heaven on earth to me…especially when my weekdays were filled with the bitter destruction of divorce. Luggala became my sanctuary away from a brutal world, and Garech my closest confidant. With St. Patrick's Day upon us, I can't help feeling a tinge of homesickness for County Wicklow and my dear friend. Garech always seems to know instinctively when I am low. The phone will ring, and I'll hear his deep gravelly voice bellow "Dear One... how are you?" Suddenly everything feels right with the world again, and he'll have me giggling within seconds. |
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Post by Jai Guru Deva on Jul 29, 2011 16:30:37 GMT -5
From excerpt about how Dominick Browne allowed pigs to come into Castle Mac Garrett in an effort to make ends meet.slick.org/deathwatch/mailarchive/msg00839.html____________________________________________________ In 1930 Oranmore and Browne sold the Mereworth estate and concentrated on running Castle Mac Garrett, which had been spared from being razed during the Troubles because it was occupied by the Free State Army before being returned to the family. This gave him a chance to take up flying, practising on a twin-engined Cutty-Sark machine which could alight on land or water.
But with an estate that had a staff of 150 there was always trouble making ends meet. In 1933, Oranmore and Browne was involved in a rates dispute, in which a collector briefly seized some cattle. Two years later a serious fire broke out in the castle. Oranmore and Browne headed a party of local farmers and peasants who formed a human chain to carry buckets of water from the nearby river Roe, but furniture, paintings and other possessions were destroyed. In 1939, Oranmore and
Browne tried to join the British Army, but he was told that, at 38, he would be more useful concentrating on farming; as a result his war service was with the Local Defence Force in Co Mayo.
The castle was known for its shooting and fishing, and Oranmore and Browne also showed tourists around himself, at five shillings a time. By 1961, he could no longer afford to live there. In a last ditch attempt to hang on, he conceived a scheme of "arm-chair farming", which involved moving pigs into the castle, and rearing them in the drawing rooms and boudoirs. The idea was that a sow reared in such a setting would command about 90 guineas on the market, a profit of about £55.
"Not a bad investment," commented Oranmore and Browne's nephew, Michael Mordaunt-Smith, who was masterminding operations.
Oranmore and Browne had high hopes that this would attract swarms of American pig owners to the castle to inspect developments. But not long afterwards, the castle was compulsorily taken over by the Land Commission, which sold it to become a home for the elderly.Might the story have been the source, at least in part, of George Harrison's classic "Piggies"? A more well known explanation of the song:"Pigs" and Charles Manson.. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PiggiesInterpretationsThough Harrison intended the song as social commentary, it was often misinterpreted as an anti-police anthem. This due to the fact that the term "pig" is a common slang term for a police officer.[citation needed]
[edit] Charles Manson familyCharles Manson derived personal meaning from many songs of The White Album (see Helter Skelter (Manson scenario)). "Piggies" was used in particular to justify attacks on the White establishment, with the lyrics "what they need's a damn good whacking" reflecting the attacks on Blacks in what Manson envisioned would be an apocalyptic race war. During the murders of Sharon Tate, Leno and Rosemary LaBianca, Gary Hinman and others, the words 'political piggy', 'pig' and 'death to pigs' were written with the victims' blood on the walls. In the case of the LaBianca murders, knives and forks were actually inserted into the victims in reference to the lyric "Clutching forks and knives to eat their bacon"[3].Piggies - The Beatles Piggies
Have you seen the little piggies
Crawling in the dirt
And for all those little piggies
Life is getting worse
Always having dirt to play around in.
Have you seen the bigger piggies
In their starched white shirt
You will find the bigger piggies
Stirring up the dirt
Always have clean shirts to play around in.
And in their styes with all their backing
They don't care what goes on around
And in their eyes there's something lacking
What they needs a damn good whacking.
- everybody: -
Everywhere there's lots of piggies
Living piggy lives
You can see them out for dinner
With their piggy wives
Clutching forks and knives to eat their bacon.
One more time! ...To eat their Bacon! Garech Browne stands with Francis Bacon (some of the artist's paintings line the walls of Luggala). 
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Post by Jai Guru Deva on Aug 20, 2011 15:47:58 GMT -5
A few great photos from someone's blog featuring Tara Browne's store Dandie Fashions. The blog about Dandie Fashions: dandyinaspic.blogspot.com/2011/07/dandie-fashions.htmlDandie Fashions store window.  Jacket with a mandarin collar from Dandie Fashions worn by Paul McCartney in 1967.  Paul McCartney's order receipt for the jacket.  Then there's this rather interesting photo of the exterior of Dandie Fashions, 1967. Is it me or does the gentleman in the blue jacket look familiar?  Look At Life: A documentary about King's Road boutiques from 1967, narrated by Michael Ingram. Maybe it's the times, but the two people walking down the steps at 8:30 have that look of familiarity about them too. |
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Post by iameye on Aug 21, 2011 8:26:44 GMT -5
Terra Firma, still located on the King's Road. Really  |
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Post by Jai Guru Deva on Aug 22, 2011 13:58:46 GMT -5
Paul Gorman the creator of RockPopFashions claims the man in the blue jacket as being Alan Holston and the fellow next to him in red is Freddie Hornik. It would seem only natural because the photo is taken from 1967 and Tara Browne is assumed to have died in 1966. But does it look like Alan Holston?  Alan Holston |
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Post by Jai Guru Deva on Nov 30, 2011 12:45:28 GMT -5
Tara Brown in 1966.  Notice the curvature of the eyebrows. ( The Dandy In A Spic site had mirror image (it was wrong), so I flipped it the right way (how he's supposed to look). Check out blonde haired James McCartney in comparison to the most recent photo of blonde haired Tara. Faul pics for comparison (notice the eyebrows). invanddis.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=pidpix&action=display&thread=4442 Article on James which has photos (notice the eyebrows--even with his sister Stella.) www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-497929/Sir-Pauls-reclusive-son-James-steps-shadows.html  ______________________________________________________ Taken from the site A Dandy In Aspic. dandyinaspic.blogspot.com/2011/10/tara-browne-he-blew-his-mind-out-in-car.htmlFRIDAY, 28 OCTOBER 2011 Tara Browne ("He blew his mind out in a car") - 1960's Peacock Style icon Tara in 1966 Perhaps 'an icon' is not a right word here. But Tara Browne had become something of a cult figure - mostly among Beatles fans - since it was his death that inspired the lyrics of "A Day In The Life" (Little known fact: his death also inspired another song: "Death Of The Socialite" by The Pretty Things). Born in 1945, The Hon. Tara Browne was a son of Dominick Browne, the 4th Baron of Oranmore and Browne and Oonagh Guinness - an heiress to the Guinness fortune. After completing his education in public school in Paris, he came to London, and, like other 'hip' aristocrats in Swinging London, he invested money in a tailoring venture - Foster and Tara. He provided financial backing for tailors Pops and Cliff Foster. Foster & Tara initially were making clothes on order for boutiques such as Granny Takes a Trip, before Tara decided to open his own boutique - Dandie Fashions, which would exclusively sell F&T designs. On December the 18th, 1966, Tara was driving his Lotus Elan through South Kensington with his mistress, model Suki Poitier - the was on their way to meet decorators Binder, Vaughan & Edwards to discuss designs for the shopfront of Dandie Fashions. While passing the junction of Redcliffe Squre and Redcliffe Gardens, he "didn't notice that the light had changed", and crashed the car with a parked lorry. He died in hospital few hours after (Suki Poitier survived, and soon started dating Tara's friend - Brian Jones).He was 22. The following day, Tara's friend John Lennon picked up a copy of Daily Mail which contained the article about the accident. The rest is a well-known story... Apparently, Irish writer Paul Howard is currently writing a biography of Browne. He interviewed several close friends of Tara's. One of them, Hugo Williams shared some of his memories of Tara on The Spectator website: At 15, in 1960, Tara was barely literate, having walked out of dozens of schools. He smoked and drank but he hadn’t got on to joined-up handwriting yet. He was living at home with his mother Oonagh Guinness and her third husband, a louche Cuban ‘shoe-designer’ presently named Miguel Ferreras, who was gaily going through her fortune. Tara was two years younger than me but years ahead in sophistication and fun, dealing jokes, insults and ridiculous boasts from an inexhaustible deck like a child delightedly playing snap. In his green suits, mauve shirts with amethyst cuff-links, his waves of blonde hair, brocade ties and buckled shoes, smoking menthol cigarettes (always Salem) and drinking Bloody Marys, he was Little Lord Fauntleroy, Beau Brummell, Peter Pan, Terence Stamp in Billy Budd, David Hemmings in Blow-Up. His drawly Irish blarney was the perfect antidote to our public school reserve and what would come to be called ‘postwar austerity’.
All the white-gloved pre-debs doing time at Paris finishing schools found their way to Oonagh’s apartment, where they encountered their first taste of Sixties hedonism, without Daddy being around to say no to drinks and cigarettes and staying up past their bedtime. There was the chauffeur-driven Lincoln Continental to conduct us to the clubs and swimming-pools. There was fresh milk in the fridge picked up daily by the Irish butler from the American embassy canteen, the only place in Paris where you could find it in those days. If there was any embarrassment about money Tara would pretend to find a ‘dix milles’ note in the street.
Tara could hardly have failed to be a success in Swinging London. While I was wandering around the globe in ’63 and ‘64, he embarked on the second and last phase of his meteoric progress. He got married, met the Stones and the Beatles, opened a shop in the King’s Road and bought the fatal turquoise Lotus Elan in which he entered the Irish Grand Prix. He let me drive it once in some busy London street: ‘Come on, Hugo, put your foot down.’ I had just got my first job and our ways were dividing. His money and youth made him a natural prey to certain charismatic Chelsea types who turned him into what he amiably termed a ‘hustlee’. He reputedly gave Paul McCartney his first acid trip. The pair went to Liverpool together, got stoned and cruised the city on mopeds until Paul went over the handlebars and broke a tooth and they had to call on Paul’s Aunt Bett for assistance. There is still a body of people — and a book called The Walrus is Paul — who believe that Paul is dead and is now actually Tara Browne with plastic surgery.
Everyone has got some golden boy or girl in their life whose death or sudden departure distils the period into the long party it should have been but probably never was. When my first girlfriend was trying to think of something really nice to tell me she came up with ‘Your eyes are nearly as nice as Tara’s’. I remember being tremendously pleased about this and could hardly wait to tell him. I discussed titles for the book with Paul Howard and there seemed to be no choice: A Lucky Man Who Made the Grade" (http://www.spectator.co.uk/books/7156433/part_4/the-short-life-of-tara-browne.thtml). |
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Post by LOVELYRITA on Dec 4, 2011 19:43:28 GMT -5
Then there's this rather interesting photo of the exterior of Dandie Fashions, 1967. Is it me or does the gentleman in the blue jacket look familiar? IMO the man with the blue coat strikes me as "Bill"...tall, thin and the type of posing he had posed in at that 67 era....Interesting. I've never seen this pic before... One dude dies in a car...about the time that "Paul" was supposed to have died...and in 1967 a taller, thinner Paul appears...Nothing strange about this picture....  |
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Post by LOVELYRITA on Dec 4, 2011 19:50:12 GMT -5
Can someone give us a closeup of Mr. Bluecoat?
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Post by iameye on Dec 4, 2011 21:19:47 GMT -5
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Post by beacon on Dec 5, 2011 9:38:36 GMT -5
Strikes me that the guy in blue outside Dandie fashions could be Dudley Edwards and the other guy could be Douglas Binder. They painted the exterior, as well as Maccas Magick Piano and can be seen sitting in the car with Tara Browne, front row centre and right. Rumour has it that Tara was on his way to visit Binder, Edwards and Vaughan when he smashed his Lotus into the back of a van and gave birth to the enduring mystery that is PID!
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Post by P(D)enny La(i)ne on Dec 5, 2011 11:20:13 GMT -5
From page five of this thread: So, any road, we went to see a dentist instead...   |
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Post by P(D)enny La(i)ne on Dec 5, 2011 15:48:46 GMT -5
From page five of this thread: Until proven otherwise I'm switching to Tara is Sir Paul camp. Thank you! The potential Paul/Tara switcheroo is discussed in humorous detail here. |
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Post by LOVELYRITA on Dec 5, 2011 20:38:34 GMT -5
From page five of this thread: Until proven otherwise I'm switching to Tara is Sir Paul camp. Thank you! Well, with that comp, and the man outside the clothing shop in the blue coat....I'm thinking there is something to it. I had thought about the possibility of several fake Pauls or "Fauls" that were being "tossed around" so to speak, just to see which Faul would be a suitable replacement. But not Vivian Stanshell, or the guy from the Pepperpots...and his name slipped my mind. But that's ancient history...like Don Knotts being the replacement of Brian Epstein....Now 60 IF had turned into a colossal joke! |
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Post by ramone on Dec 7, 2011 0:05:41 GMT -5
From page five of this thread: Until proven otherwise I'm switching to Tara is Sir Paul camp. Thank you! Teeth aren't the same IMO. -front incisors and laterals - different lengths relative. Quite a space near Bills (?) canine. |
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Post by B on Dec 7, 2011 15:57:12 GMT -5
GN/Beatle Paul's case for Tara playing Ringo from TKIN: (Ringo on the left.)(Unfortunately, I've lost the link.)""Tara presents a VERY PECULIAR feature between his left (our right) eyebrow and eye."  " |
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Post by LOVELYRITA on Dec 9, 2011 21:10:29 GMT -5
I've seen the pics supposed to be comparing Tara with Ringo...and the pic on the far left was a different Ringo than the guy in the middle.
I'm not getting the sense from looking in the eyes that the man in the middle is the same man Tara....
That's just my take on it.
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Post by linus on Feb 7, 2012 17:47:49 GMT -5
From page five of this thread: So, any road, we went to see a dentist instead... In the lower picture he looks more like George, if anything. |
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Post by Silversong on Feb 11, 2012 0:04:01 GMT -5
This is an interesting thread with a lot of potential. The OP has obviously put a lot of hard work into it. What I'm seeing as a challenge to the theory, though, is that you say on the first page that JPM had level eyes, but you are showing pictures of him with lower left eyes, which you say only Faul had. If it was always Faul in the case of a lower left eye, then he has been around since 1958, and has been predominant on the scene in every year of the Beatles career. Also, Tara's eyes look straighter across and deeper-set to me than Paul's. 1958 Lower Left Eye - Paul or Faul?  The Paul Is Dead Vintage Magazine shows him with a lower left eye, and they call him the real James Paul McCartney. The older Paul has the same lower left eye, but I believe there are other Pauls still out there as well.  There was always a rare lower-right-eyed Paul, too. Notice how the inner corner of his left eye points upward in both pics.  |
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Post by Silversong on Feb 11, 2012 1:28:37 GMT -5
To start, here some typical comparisons of James Paul McCartney and Sir Paul McCartney.  Just so I'm understanding you correctly, are you saying you think the two above are different from each other? I've found some distinctive markings and features to point out that might provide evidence they are the same. Perhaps the noses look a bit different because of the angle of the pose. Notice the same lower left eye, and the eyelashes over the left eye shading the same spot. The line that runs along the top of his left eye is also the same in both pics (though I don't have a steady hand when using the pen tool), and he has a mark on his left cheek. The whiskers above his upper lip look like they have the same growth pattern. What do you think?  Color photos of Beatle Pauls are rare, but I've seen two or three of them with green eyes before PID. I would say these two are a good match instead. Same whisker pattern and far-away blank look.  And these, I think it's the same again, but is the one I'm showing a better-looking match? Notice the extremely high left nostril on both in your pic and mine. I can tell you from personal experience that a face shape can elongate like that, and it's very normal.  The other ones are all easily matched, too, as long as you get the right ones put together. (I'll keep going if you like)  . I don't think it's Tara in any case, but this thread still has a lot to offer. The kids and grandparents and all that is very interesting, and could mean something. I don't think it should just be dismissed for sure. I think we've seen 4 different Pauls here, and the 4th one can be matched with a Beatle Paul, too. I'd say 1965, but there were 4 or 5 Pauls that year. (Truth is stranger than fiction). |
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Post by Silversong on Feb 11, 2012 3:26:01 GMT -5
Until proven otherwise I'm switching to Tara is Sir Paul camp. Thank you! Teeth aren't the same IMO. -front incisors and laterals - different lengths relative. Quite a space near Bills (?) canine. Compare the teeth on the left in that comparison with any picture of Beatle Paul, and they match. The same thing happens with every picture of Faul/s and Beatle Paul/s. There is a Beatle Paul who matches that nose, too. 1965 and 1968  Instead of this? |
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Post by hotman637 on Feb 11, 2012 11:47:55 GMT -5
I have mentioned it before on other threads but the reason we will probably never explain PID/PWR is that it is a MAGIC SPELL.The more you try to explain it the less sense it makes.The more you go into it the more perplexing it becomes.It is very very powerful magic,that is why it is so addictive.I get to a certain point and then say"it is darn good hillbilly magic",lol.
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Post by iameye on Feb 11, 2012 13:37:50 GMT -5
I have mentioned it before on other threads but the reason we will probably never explain PID/PWR is that it is a MAGIC SPELL.The more you try to explain it the less sense it makes.The more you go into it the more perplexing it becomes.It is very very powerful magic,that is why it is so addictive.I get to a certain point and then say"it is darn good hillbilly magic",lol. Speak for yourself. I explained everything in fine detail. It's not a magic spell. It's a recipe You are a very lucky man to have been fed by the King of the Hill in person Take this, brother, may it serve you well.  |
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Post by hotman637 on Feb 11, 2012 18:52:20 GMT -5
To me the difference between a recipe and magic is a recipe is measurable,magic is not.If PID was measurable we would have figured it out years ago and these websites would be dead.Therefore PID is amagic spell.
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. I don't think it's Tara in any case, but this thread still has a lot to offer. The kids and grandparents and all that is very interesting, and could mean something. I don't think it should just be dismissed for sure.