This story about George in Australia in 1982 is from the Australian Women's Weekly and was first published on April 28, 1982. It was written by Liane Maxfield.
George Harrison --Exploring Australia incognito
By Liane Maxfield
He could have passed for a local fisherman in his shorts, thongs, and khaki bush hat. The only thing that might have given former Beatle George Harrison away was the Liverpudlian accent.
But even that did not evoke interest among the holiday-makers strolling along the Shute Harbour jetty on Queensland's Whitsunday Coast. they were far more fascinated by the luxury $3 million cruisers at the wharf.
George himself barely rated a glance as he jumped aboard and began stowing his gear. A few minutes later, the vessel pulled away.
And that's the way George Harrison likes it, "I've spent the last 10 years trying to become un-famous. And I think that, just maybe, I have succeeded. Only two people have recognized me during my stay in Australia," he said.
With the exception of a satellite broadcast for the TV show "Good Morning America" last year, George has not permitted an interview for six years.
I was lucky enough to be invited to join George and his family on a cruise across the Whitsunday Passage to Hamilton Island as the guest of Queensland tourist entrepreneur Keith Williams. George and Keith met through a mutual friend, British racing driver Jackie Stewart.
For three weeks, George, his wife Olivia, and their three-year-old son, Dhani, had been trekking around Australia as "typical tourists," visiting wildlife reserves, feeding kangaroos and koalas, and picnicking in national parks.
For George, it's his first return visit since the days of Beatlemania. This time round he said with a smile, he is here as a "real person."
He loves Australia -- from the north Queensland tropics to the rugged beauty of Tasmania.
"Everywhere I go I find myself thinking how happily I could live here. There's no tension," George said.
And he stretched back in his deck chair to soak up yet more of the sun.
"A lot of Australians don't know how lucky they are. It's a happy country. In Britain, one almost feels guilty for feeling happy. Winter is so depressing. Strikes and more strikes. Everyone's miserable. It's a constant struggle not to let the attitude of others rub off on you."
But there is another reason George is not too keen on the British winters. He is unable to pursue what has become one of his grand passions -- gardening.
The Harrisons' home, Friar Park (a magnificent mansion built in the late 1880s by a millionaire Victorian eccentric), has a 14-hectare garden.
"The gardens were a wilderness, " he said. "They had been unattended for about 40 years. And you know what they say about gardens -- for one year they are let, it takes three to restore them."
It took George and nine gardeners to accomplish the task.
One of the garden's intriguing features is a series of three lakes, all built on different levels so that if a man crosses the middle lake on stepping stones from the house, he appears to be walking straight across the water.
Because tropical plants cannot be cultivated with any great success in Britain's harsh climate, George is thinking of buying a home "somewhere in the South Pacific" to allow him to use his green thumb to its fullest advantage.
Back home in the UK he loves pottering around the annual Chelsea flower show. Here in Australia, he has been visiting our botanic gardens, collecting ideas for the South Pacific hideaway he may buy one day.
These days, record making is little more than a hobby. George's priorities have changed dramatically.
After the split up of the Beatles, he spent years "finding himself." Devotional yoga helped him in the rough spots.
His philosophy is simple. "It's a matter of finding out who I am, where I am coming from, and where I am going.
"I see life as a huge university. You come here to get knowledge to free the soul. The trick is to find out who you are before you kick the bucket."
Not that he sees "kicking the bucket" as the end. George believes in reincarnation. "I wouldn't mind coming back as a grain of sand," he grinned. "At least I'd never have to worry about the press hounding me again."
Gone, along with the confusion, is the long, shaggy hair that caused such a sensation in the '60s. Today, George's locks look as if they have had a brief encounter with a blunt lawn mower.
Olivia, his second wife, whom he married in 1978, is Mexican born.
She was working in his Los Angeles recording studio when they met.
Both are semi-vegetarians. "We eat chicken and seafood," George explained as he tucked into freshly cooked prawns and mud crabs. Their son, by choice, is a total vegetarian.
Dhani (pronounced something like Danny) is a delight. His name is made up from two notes of the Indian musical scale, dha and ni, and doesn't mean "wealth" as was reported soon after his birth.
He is a bright, creative child, currently hooked on space toys. He speaks with a quaint upper-class English accent. Mum and Dad aren't quite sure how he picked it up.
Perhaps it is the influence of his nanny, Rachael. Not that she is the plum-in-mouth, sensible-shoes type of nanny so often depicted in British films. She looks more like a flower child with her cheesecloth dress, flowing hair, and scrubbed, glowing skin.
There is none of the relegate the child to the nursery where mama and papa will visit routine in the Harrison household.
Olivia spends hours each day playing with Dhani, and George talks to him like an adult and patiently answers his never-ending stream of questions.
Consequently, at three and a half, the boy prattles away in a manner that would put to shame children twice his age.
George feels they spoil Dhani, but admits he is drawing comparisons with his own childhood: "We were lucky to get one present at Christmas time."
Most of Dhani's toys are educational. When he outgrows them, they are passed on to charities.
According to friends, George's generosity is legendary. English comedian Eric Idle described him as "one of the few morally good people that rock and roll has produced. He's one of the people who have turned their attention to goodness. He's extremely generous and gives support you'll never hear of.
George stepped into the breach to put up a reported $4 million when Idle was having difficulty finding a backer for his Monty Python film, "The Life of Brian."
The stories go on. When George heard that another friend, Barry Sheene, was tryng to raise $280,000 to race Formula One cars, he promptly offered to pay the money for Barry NOT to do it because he was worried about the risk.
Another recipient of Geoge's benevolence is the Hare Krishna religious sect, to whom he donated a magnificent manor in Hertfordshire, UK, estimated to be worth $500,000.
George admits that if he doesn't work more than another hour again he will still have enough on which to live in comfort for the rest of his days. So, he is more than happy to help those less fortunate.
Back in the early '70s, he raised $6 million for the child victims of the Bangladesh war by staging an all-star concert in New York.
"I learned a lot from that exercise," he said. "Because of managerial bungling, we are still trying to get money from the concert into the right hands."
Now, he endeavors to keep news of his humanitarian endeavors on a very low key.
But that's George Harrison today. He's unassuming, keeping a low profile, happy to be a family man, and, when weather permits, "mess around in the garden."
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