|This photo of Pattie and George is from May 1972. There aren't any photos that I am aware of George on this trip to New York in June of 1972.|
George in New York (1972)
This story was found in the September 1972 issue of The Harrison Alliance. It was written by Pattie Chisari
On Thursday, June 8 (1972), Mary called me and said that Sharon (president of the Let It Be Chapter) had called her to tell her that she’d received a report that George was in New York. We made a hurried decision to go, and on Friday, June 9, we arrived. We went to his hotel, where we were pointedly refused a room. After finding other accommodations, we went to Apple. At Apple, Mary was going to ask what had happened to something she’d ordered. We were waiting in the outside office May Pang, John’s secretary, walked out to talk to someone else. Mary recognized her and called out her name. When Mary explained why we were there, May remembered her name from a list of those who’d ordered and invited her and I into the office.
We were standing around (May had disappeared for a few minutes) talking when Mary suddenly sighted David Peel. David, when he saw that we recognized him, approached us, put his arms around our waists, and kissed us before saying hello. We took a few pictures of him with Pete Bennett and with May and talked a while before leaving for George’s hotel.
At the hotel, we were sitting in the lobby trying to look inconspicuous (it’s impossible!). We’d been alternately sitting, standing, and walking around for a couple of hours, and we were standing by the hotel elevators at the front entrance when Mary said to me, “Pattie, that’s George Harrison walking in!” I dismissed that as nonsense. George, accompanied by someone whom I can only assume is his chauffeur, walked in and had almost passed us on his way to the desk, when Mary folded her arms and resolutely said, “Hello, Mr. Harrison.” He stopped, looked at her, said “Hello,” and walked to the desk. By this time we were standing there with our hearts WIDE open. I approached George at the desk and put my hand on his arm. “George,” I said, “We’ve been waiting here for three hours. We don’t want to scream, we don't want to tear your clothes off, we’d just like to know if you’d mind having your photograph taken.” He replied, “Well not here,” and we walked back to the elevators. We talked for a while, I presented him with a photograph of himself taken from television (at which he smiled that beautiful slow wide of his) and we asked about the picture. At that moment, an elevator opened, and George motioned, “In the elevator.” We got in, (oh the agony of being with him so close!) and he told us “Okay, you can take it now, as long as it’s quick.” I snapped the picture while we kept up a bit of banter (for the life of me, I can’t remember what we said), and put my camera away. George then pressed an elevator button (18th floor) and when the doors opened, said “Girls, this is your floor.” I just didn’t understand and he repeated, “This is your floor.” We said “Goodbye George” and said “Goodbye,” and the elevator doors closed on the most wonderful 15 minutes I’ve ever spent.