A while back I posted part 4 of a 5 part series that was features in Good Day Sunshine magazine by Sue Bujonsky about when she traveled to England in 1969 and met the Beatles. Well I recently obtained the Summer 1992 issue of this fanzine which has part five of her story (which is an amazing story!). I hope to find the other 3 parts one of these days. I scanned the photos Sue included in her article, but as I mentioned in part 4, the magazine is a printed in Xerox and is very hard to scan clearly. I tried my best. Regardless, Sue's story of meeting George Harrison is a must read!
Adventures of a first Generation Fan part V by Sue Bujnovsky
On my second trip to London, I met two girls from Minneapolis outside Abbey Road Studios. They had been given directions to George’s house in Esher, and we all decided to go the day before I had to leave for home. The plan was to meet in Trafalgar Square. I was there bright and early on Sunday morning, but they never showed up – and I never found out why! I stood there trying to decide whether to go alone, but when I realized that it might be years before my next trip, I had to do it.
After taking the tube over to Waterloo Station, I caught the train to Esher, which was only a half hour ride. The station was deserted, but extremely clean and well-kept. I started off with my hand-drawn map and was lost within 15 minutes; so I stopped at the next house I came to. I told the elderly woman sweeping the walk (in my best English accent) that I was a friend of George’s who had been invited down for the day, that I had decided to walk from the station and that I was lost. She said he lived “somewhere nearby” and told me to go to the nearby school and ask the weekend caretaker. As was leaving, she came running after me and asked if I wanted to “ring George up” from her house. I told her I couldn’t possible disturb him since “he meditates about this time every day.”
I found the school without any problems, and told the caretaker the same story. He told me the house was just around the corner, and to look for the fans hanging around. Sure enough, there were five or six German fans sitting at the end of the driveway. They told me that I shouldn’t go any further, because George might come out and “throw things” if he was in a bad mood.
I saw Terry Doran working on George’s new Ferrari in the garage, s I walked up and started talking to him about the peace march and rally he and Pattie had been in the previous weekend (I hadn’t actually been in the march, I only heard about it form my Minneapolis friends, but who was counting “little white lies” at this point!). A few minutes later, a young couple drove up, both in Indian dress, to drop off some books for George, and Terry went in the house to get him. Now my heart really started pounding! George came out and spoke with them for a minute. After they drove away, he turned to me (as I was trying to disappear into a corner of the garage) and asked, “And what are YOU doing here?” I don’t know how my by-now-paralyzed brain thought of it, but I blurted out, “oh, I’m just lurking!” At least I got a smile out of him. I asked for an autograph and if I could take a picture ( “Yes” to both).
Since it was a very warm day in August, and since I had to walk back to the train station, I asked George if Terry could bring me out a glass of water. He said, “Sure come on in.” I don’t think it registered, as I followed him down the walk toward the back door, that he had actually invited me into his house!
The kitchen was cozy and small, and the shelves were filled with knick-knacks. It reminded me of the kind of kitchen you would find in a middle-class Liverpool home. As I was coming through the door, George was in front of the open refrigerator, pulling things out, asking, “what do you want? I’ve got beer, juice, milk, soda…” I said it didn’t matter as long as it was cold and wet, and finally settled on a can of orange soda.
He poured the soda into a glass for me and we sat down at the table. After he stared at me for a few seconds, I decided it was up to me to begin the conversation. I asked about Pattie—she had been in Paris modeling and he was going to meet her at the airport. We talked about their new album (Abbey Road) and his new Siamese cat (his Persian “Corky” had disappeared mysteriously). After about 15 minutes he said he had to get ready to leave, but I could stay and finish the soda. I got up and peeked into the hallway, but all I could see was the large round window in the living room and a sitar lying on the floor.
After finishing the soda (I wish I had kept the can), I let myself out, and waved to the five or six very surprised Germans who were still sitting at the end of the driveway. I found my way back to the station quite easily and caught a train to London. My aunt didn’t believe that I had found the house, let alone been invited in. A lot of my friends had the same reaction until they saw the pictures I had taken.
There are times I can’t believe it happened, but when I get back to England (hopefully in 1992), I’m definitely taking a side trip to Henley to look up an old friend!
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