Sunday, August 9, 2009

The best day of my life (article)










Here is another story written by a fan who met George Harrison at his home in 1967. I believe this one came from the February 1968 issue of Datebook magazine (I might be wrong about the month but the year and magazine are correct). This story is written only the way a lovesick Beatlefan who is 14 years old could write it. I love it! I am sure that if Pattie Emerson wrote this same story again today, it wouldn't have the puppy love feeling about it that it has from when she originally wrote it in 1967. A few thoughts about this article. Has Pattie Emerson's home movie footage ever surfaced? And who knows the Sgt. Pepper handshake. I think I need to know this!



The Best Day of my Life
By Pattie Emerson, 14, McKinley Junior H.S.
Flint,
Michigan


Monday July 31, 1967 was the best day of my life. That day I met George
Harrison. Wendy, Betty and I planned this excursion to Esher for quite
awhile. All of the Beatles were supposed to be Athens. You should have
seen us when we read that George and Pattie had landed in London the day
before!

We arrived at George’s house at about 10:30, took pictures and movies, and
bashfully went to the front door. Betts and Wendy saw someone walk by
inside. I was too busy taking movies through the mail slot. I
knocked almost inaudibly on the door and Pattie answered. We asked about
George and how her vacation in Greece was. She had just gotten up and
wasn’t dressed, and kept hiding behind the door. She said we should come
back in the afternoon, when George would be there. We asked if he would
mind and she said, “oh no!” She was very
nice.


We then went to John’s where he had stare down with the gardener. We were
taking pictures and movies while he was inside asking permission for us.
He said John was to be away three weeks so I left my book of poetry with him
along with a hurried note to John. (John was home that night.
Someone there told us a
lie!).

We then left John’s for Ringo’s. When we started to walk towards the
backyard via the flowery wall, a woman knocked from an upstairs window,
motioning for us to leave. So we
did.

We ate lunch at the Bear Inn in Esher (where I had trouble eating knowing we
would meet George that
afternoon).

We arrived back at George’s a little before 3:30 and stood at the door, waiting
for something. We saw George walk past the window, heard him cough and the
telephone ring. Then we heard the clock strike half-past. Reading
the sign, “doorbell push”, I did and out popped George. I wasn’t scared,
but I said, “Do you want to make me cry?” for lack of something
intelligent to say. And George replied thoughtfully and seriously, “I
don’t want to make you do anything.” That did it. I no longer thought of
him as George Harrison, famous person, but as a friend, which he is. He
talked to us for over three quarters of an hour about religion, love, life, music
– everything. He said he enjoyed talking with us and he wished he
could spend some time with everyone in the
world.

I gave him some beads and the Sgt. Pepper handshake – well never mind. I
took movies of George doing the Charleston with my
beads.

I’ve never met a man so intelligent and understanding. HE seemed to have
the answer for everything. He was very funny too. He laughed when I
told him I was taking TWA home the next day. I found out the next day he
left London for the States the same time on Pan Am. He recommend a book
for me to read, The Autobiography of a Yogi, which if you find it (which isn’t
likely) please sent it to
me.

George’s front door is a riot! So is the whole house! There are
little clippings painted on like “do you want to play like the pro’s?” and
“those who enter must beware” and “Front Door”. His living room is what
I’d call Indian Modern. It’s pretty anyway! There was a big white
teddy bear on the sofa and beautiful things all over the place.
Another surprise was the laundry hanging on the line. I guess they don’t’
have a
dryer.

I can’t explain how nice George was. He just talked to us like old
friends. He made me realize so much about the world. I’ll never
forget him or what he’s done for me. I love him like he loves me and
everyone else in the world. He really does. This isn’t just
something he says. He believes it, and talking with him made me realize
this.

When we left he said, “Be seein’ ya!” and he meant it. He will.
Maybe next year, I hope because I just have to visit this wonderful man again.

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