Cheering for the Marlboro race team

Long Beach Grand Prix '82

I have one of these stories already on this blog from two of the fans who were there's perspective.  Now here is the same story written by a different fan that was in the group, Kris Spackman.  I can't even begin to imagine how exciting it must have been for this group of girls to know that they might see George at the race each year.    And then the times they actually DID see him and even get to say hello, must have been beyond exciting!  

This story was taken out of the July 1982 issue of "With a Little Help from my friends."

Photo by Kris Spackman

 

photo by Kris Spackman

Long Beach Grand Prix ‘82

By Kris Spackman

Ahhh, Long Beach!  The mere thought conjures up wonderful pictures of those gorgeous drivers from exotic places around the world; the thunderous roar of Formula 1 racers screaming through the streets; the colors, the crowds, the excitement…and sometimes, George, putting in a hasty appearance!  The thought is always in the back of our minds as we make our annual trek to the race; whether he shows or not, we always have a good time.  And this year was no exception.  We truly were not expecting to see him, since he’d failed to appear in 1980 and 1981.

As always Jennie Swenton and I were ensconced in our usual spot by the Liguer team, watching dearling Jacques Laffite preparing for the qualifying session. Karen Dyson had wandered off on her own, as had Patti Murawaki, who suddenly reappeared, urgently muttering, “He’s here!”

We quickly followed her back to where she’d seen him.  And what to our wondering eyes should appear?   He looked wonderful, with his hair cut very short, no mustache, and sporting a dark tan and sunglasses.  Dressed in jeans, t-shirt, running shoes, and a dark jacket, he seemed to be trying very hard to blend in with the crowd.

Absorbed in watching the last few minutes of qualifying, he stood close to the track wall until it was over, and then quickly to the garage with one of the crew member he knew.   After just a few minutes, he was gone.  Another famous Harrison disappearing act!

On Saturday, we didn’t see him til later in the day, almost missing him because we were feeding our faces!  We giggled over the fact that he was wearing exactly the same thing as the day before, wondering if he’d left Olivia in Hawaii or Australia and was therefore looking after himself!  He stood chatting with friends, so we just watched, not wanting to interrupt or bother him.  After a short time, he was off with a journalist friend, and we later caught him in the garage, but only long enough to witness another Harrison-Houdini act!

On Sunday, we truly didn’t expect to see him at all, figuring as in years past he’d be watching the race from his favorite spot.  We were all delighted that Niki Lauda was in the front row; he’d returned to racing after a two year “retirement” and was doing incredibly well already!  

As always, the air was electric with excitement as teams rushed frantically about, readying their cars for that all important moment when the green light would come on.  We always enjoy race day but at the same time, hate to see it come because it’ll then all soon be over for another whole year!

Then suddenly there was George again!  And again wearing the same clothes!  This time, though he had a friend along, and we recognized Denis O’Brien, who was looking about rather in awe.   George carefully pointed out and explained things to him, then laughingly posed as Denis took a picture of him!

After a while, they were joined by a man George obviously knew from one of the teams.  They greeted each other warmly, then George took a button out of his pocket and tried to pin it on the man’s jacket. 

Then suddenly there was Karen who’d been off wandering on her own and she was only several feet away from him an edging closer!  She spotted us, giving us a look which “Help!”  Little by little, she moved closer waiting for an opportune moment.

As we silently cheered her on, she finally went up and said hello.  A bit hesitantly, he returned the greeting.  Karen determinedly hung in there and told him she just had wanted to say I and tell him he was looking wonderful, that someone must be taking good care of him.  She asked about the family and he said they were fine.  Bringing up Dhani really got him going!  A huge smile lit up his face, and he told her how big he was getting, how much he enjoyed him, how smart he was, and all the time they spent together in the garden.  They then went on to discuss the race and he reassured her that Niki Lauda would probably win (Turned out he was right!)  Karen then said goodbye and off he went with Denis into the crowd.

That was the last we saw of him, but what a sight indeed!  It was great to catch a look at him, without anyone recognizing or bothering him.   He seemed quite relieved that he was able to enjoy the weekend in relative peace.

Thanks George!  We enjoyed it too.

Just another day at the races

A Vacation Surprise: George at the 1982 Long Beach Grand Prix

So I think this is the last of my "Long Beach Grand Prix" George stories for awhile.   They are all starting to sound similar to me.   Although it is pretty awesome that George was able to go out to these races every year in the late 1970's and early 1980's and just enjoy the race as a spectator.   I think these fans who wrote for the Harrison Alliance were the only ones that really noticed him as George Harrison.   And for the most part, they just watched him from a distance and didn't get in his way of the race.   

So this is the 1982 race.   I love the conversation George and Karen have because you get the feeling that George is thinking to himself  "How do I know this girl?"   "She knows about my family....where have I met her before?"    She didn't talk to him like a fan, going on and on about his records.  Instead she took the wise route and talked to him about his kid, because what Dad doesn't want to brag on his son?   

This story was written by Patti Murawski and Karen Dyson for the July 1982 issue of the Harrison Alliance.

A Vacation Surprise

Le Grand Prix de Long Beach 1982

By Patti Murawski and Karen Dyson

I’ve been taking an annual holiday in Los Angeles for many years to visit family and some very dear friends.  Each year I make it a point to try to include the Long Beach Grand Prix on my itinerary, F-1 motor sport being one of my passions.

So on the sunny weekend of the Long Beach Grand Prix, as qualifying was taking place on Friday, I was walking along, absorbed in my photography, really enjoying myself.  It felt good to be in Long Beach in the electric atmosphere of the Formula One Circus and in the strong southern Californian sun.  It was about to blizzard 12 inches of snow there!  So here I was minding my viewfinder, when I looked up for a moment, only to spy a familiar looking figure.  I stood there for a minute, convincing myself that I was seeing things.  He was trying so hard to be invisible in the shelter of the massive crowd, but there was no doubt – standing some 25 feet away was George.

I almost didn’t give that familiar figure a good long look.  When I first saw George he had his back to me.  No, I thought, it couldn’t be.  He turned his head to speak to someone beside him – I could see his profile now.  The fact that he was quite tanned, lacked a mustache and had his hair cut in a different, shorter style, combined with the ever-present sunglasses, helped to disguise him.

He seemed to be trying deliberately to blend in with the crowd.  Dressed in running shows, jeans, t-shirt and blue jacket, he was quite successful at being indistinguishable from the community of drivers, mechanics, owners, journalists, photographers, and hangers-on.  In fact, I wondered if he had walked directly past me without my noticing!

I stood there for a few minutes and, seeing how he was absorbed in watching the last minutes of qualifying, I figured he wasn’t likely to leave yet, so I immediately went to track down my friends.  I found Jennie and Kris easily enough, but Karen had gone wandering off and was nowhere to be found.

When we returned he hadn’t budged, thank goodness!  He didn’t go wandering around at all,  which was very unusual.  He kept close to the track wall, keeping out of the mainstream of activity, looking nervously about.  As soon as qualifying was over he began to walk away from the wall and was met by a man that he knew, that was a crew member from one of the teams.  They flashed off to the garage, where George kept such a low profile that Emerson Fittipaldi, George’s good friend, only happened to meet him by chance.   George didn’t stay long, disappearing rather quickly after a few minutes of conversation with Emerson.

Saturday was more of the same, George not showing up until later in the day.  We had almost missed him as we had taken about a ten minute break for our lunch.  He was attired as on Friday.  He hung out with a few team people and spent a few minutes talking to a driver and his girlfriend.  All of us got to see him briefly but none of us had the opportunity to go over and say hello, as he was conversing with friends and it would’ve been terribly impolite for us to intrude.  He left shortly thereafter with a journalist of the international motor sport press, trekking off to his favorite spectator spot, no doubt.  He later showed up at the garage for a few minutes and disappeared as fast as he appeared.  It was so hard to see as the garage is so huge, so crowded, and not well lit.   We were lucky to get a glimpse of him.

On Sunday – the start of the Grand Prix being less than an hour away – there was a burst of frantic activity within various teams as they fought the clock to get their racecraft in top form for that all important zero hour.  We were all quite pleased that Niki Lauda was on the front row in his third race after his two year absence.

We’re still trying to figure out how George got past us, as he suddenly materialized with Denis O’Brien in tow!  It didn’t look like Denis knew too much about motor sport.  They watched a kart competition as they conversed.  George would point out various karts as they whizzed by and then would turn and point out a section of a nearby Formula One vehicle, gesturing as he explained, or he would point out a particular driver that was walking by.  They kept out of the main stream of activity for the most part, standing in the shelter of a group of trees.

A man came over to George, from one of the teams, we assumed.  They obviously knew each other, as they exchanged warm greetings, mock punching each other like brothers.  I had noticed this man earlier on in the weekend as he had been walking around wearing a Pretenders button and I think a Dylan button too.  George took a red and black badge out of his pocket, laughing all the while, clumsily trying to pin it onto the man’s jacket.  The button was pretty small so we never did find out what it read, even as the guy walked past us.

Denis took a photo of George, which sent him into laughter, with a “why take a photo of  me, Denis” expression on his face.  We delighted in watching him have a good time, conversing and joking with Denis and various friends stopping by to say hello.

Karen, who had, once again, gone off on her own, suddenly popped into view, standing near the trees, about six feet away from George and Denis.  We spotted each other and she gave us a look of despair; she was debating whether or not to approach George and how to do it without attracting attention to him.  Other than people who actually knew him, only two other people had taken any notice of him standing there.  She slowly and inconspicuously inched up closer and looked if she was about to give up after waiting several minutes (take it away Karen!)

He was talking among friends, as I watched on.   At an opportune moment, when he was alone with Denis, I scrounged up the nerve to approach him.

With much hesitation, I walked up to him (Geoerge was a bit tight-lipped at first) and the following conversation took place:

Karen:  Hi, George!

George:  Hi.

K:  I just wanted to say hi, and tell you you’re looking wonderful!

G:  Oh….thanks…..

K:  Someone must be  taking good care of you!

G: (No reply)  (He was just looking at me the whole time, and it was very frustrating, as he was wearing sunglasses so I couldn’t see his expression).

K:  Yes?  No?

G:  Well…yes, I guess so.

K:  How is your family?

G:  Good…they’re fine.

K:  Dhani must be getting….

G:  He’s getting big, yeah.

K:  How old is he now?

G:  Um…he’ll be four in August.

K:  Oh my goodness!  He must be a lot of fun.

G:  Oh yeah…I really enjoy him, and he’s smart too, y’know.

K:  Really?

G:  Yeah, he’s a smart one…it comes natural (he giggled).  Y’know….he’s just naturally smart.

K:  that’s great.  I mean, you wouldn’t want a dummy kid.

G:  Oh….no!

K:  Do you have him out in the garden with you?

G:  oh yeah, all the time.

We went on to discuss the racing activities on the weekend, with George assuring me that Lauda, a more experienced driver, would get around the pole sitter, a relative newcomer.

We said our goodbyes and take cares and off George went with Denis O’Brein into the crowd.  George looked so healthy, tan, with short hair. It’s so wonderful that he can go out and enjoy himself in public.  Very few people noticed to recognize him, so he was able to enjoy himself without being mobbed.

Well, George was right, Lauda did win the race!  We never did see him again but then, we didn’t expect to have shown up in the first place.  What a “Grand Prize” indeed!

Long Beach Race of 1979

Here is another story about meeting George at a Formula One Race.   What an exciting time that must have been.  To go to a car race and be on the look out for George because he might appear.  This is taken from the July 1979 issue of the Harrison Alliance.   It was written by Patti Murawski.  

A Dream Vacation

By Patti Murawski

The start of our vacation was no indication of what was to come.  Just days before we left for L.A. United Airlines decided to strike and we were left to fend for ourselves for a rebooking.  It did no good; even though we were rebooked with TWA, flights were running late and we wouldn’t get our New York connection.  As it turned out, we were Chinese-checkered across the U.S. via Atlanta Georgia and Dallas, Texas, and had to call our friends on the coast to give them the new flight numbers.  As I said to Jennie, “You wanted adventure?  You’re getting it for free.”

Saturday of the race weekend was a beautiful sunny spring day but not without its faults.  Karen and I had to park downtown as we’d had our parking permits stolen on the first day of qualifying and it seemed forever before we found a suitable space.

Our hopes were not too high where George was concerned.  We had come to see our favorite drivers compete here at Long Beach, but having heard George had skipped town in March we weren’t counting on him to makshow at all.  I was hoping he’d just go off to Maui for his annual seaside holiday and come back for the race, but no one had a clue even if he was back in L.A.  He hadn’t shown up for the first day of qualifying; not to say we didn’t keep an eye out – it was an F1 race.  The weather was nice and there was still some time.  We could not let down our guard for a minute.  Anything could happen!  We had walked down to the Queen’s Hairpin and the Esses for morning practice and were fascinated by the maneuvering talents of the drivers; they always make handing those cars look so effortless.  We were totally absorbed and loved every minute!

We decided to start back for pit road before practice ended; as we walked, practice was halted to remove a vehicle on the circuit.  Someone either had a breakdown or an accident and the track had to be cleared before practice could carry on.  As it turned out, poor Jean-Pierre Jabouille had a frightening high-speed crash.  Thank God he wasn’t seriously injured.  As we arrived on pit road, practice resumed.  We decided to check out approximately where our race day seats were, and then sat in the grandstand to sun ourselves and watch the rest of practice.  As the teams started to come in one by one, Karen and I decided to take a walk or take pictures, leaving Jennie, Kris, Kim and Kathy up in the stands.

I paced the Wolf-mcLaren-Ligier area along the fence and contemplated a walk to Ferrari, while Karen took in the sights at the Wolf pit.  I had stopped a few minutes at McLaren when Jennie came up from behind me and grabbed my arm.  I froze.  “He’s here; isn’t that him over at the timing table??”  I looked over; George was leaning on the timing table, talking to the officials.  I didn’t even have to see his face.  Yes, that’s him!”  We had just about convinced ourselves that he wasn’t going to show up, hoping against hope that he would, and now there he was!  I walked over to the grandstand where Karen was standing and quietly tipped her off.  We stood on the steps and took some photos.  Jenn, Kris, Kim and Kathy joining us.  After a while people began to notice we didn’t have our lenses aimed at the cars, and George began to realize it too!  He pointed to us, all lined up on the grandstand steps with our cameras focused on him.

His hair had grown so much since the press conference in March, and this longer style looked great!  He was so tan.  He must’ve had a vacation.  I have never seen him look so brown in my life! He was wearing a light brown corduroy jacket, a blue plaid shirt, beige trousers and running shoes – quite the opposite of last year’s attire of blue jeans and racing jacket, and fortunately for us, a bit more distinctive; it make it easier to keep track of him in a crowd.

Word must’ve gotten around the pits of George’s arrival, as many of his driver and mechanic friends came to great him.  Emerson Fittipaldi, the Brazilian driver who had invited George to South America in February, came over to shake hands and embrace George, each looking the other over with approval.  The handshaking, back-clapping, and embracing continued as various friends approached him.  Jody Scheckter made a beeline from the Ferrari pit to the Wolf-McLaren area.  It was a bit funny how he avoided everyone until he greeted George.  When James Hunt came over to talk, George pulled a little square piece of paper from the inside of his jacket and held it out for James to see.  He smiled as he handed it to James, James holding it out in front of him in a gesture of admiration and appreciation, also with a huge smile on his face.  Judging from the reactions and the expressions from their conversation we figured it must’ve been a photo of Dhani, but we never found out.

Jacques Laffite came over eventually too, creating a little clatch of drivers and mechanics around George, conversing with him and with each other.  It was quite a set up for the scads of photographers, as well as for females with an appreciate eye.  Four of the world’s most handsome, desirable men standing together on one little piece of God’s earth.  It was just too much!

At various points we could hear George’s voice, but most of the time we couldn’t make out part or all of what he was saying.  It was so nice to watch him being himself, conversing with his friends and having a marvelous time.  He didn’t seem to mind the photographers at all and even signed for those who came up to ask.

George and Jody started walking up the road, George stopping along the way to greet more friends.  He came all the way over to the barrier when he was in the Williams pit (he had the sunglasses off then), facing the fence and not more than 5 feet away from us.  He was all smiles!  

He went up the road alone towards the Brabham pit, ad stopped for a moment, looking a trifle lost.  He started to cough, a wretched smoker’s cough, and even though we were standing so far away from him (a good 20 feet) his awful cough made our throats hurt just listening to it!  He came over to Brabham and one of their entourage came over to explain the aerodynamics of the new design.  Niki Lauda came to greet George, patted him on the back and stepped away to look him over as if to say “you’re looking well.”  The conversation was short; it seemed the drivers were anxious to have a rest before the final and perhaps the most never-shattering qualifying heat, and the mechanics needed to get back to work.

In between the practice and  qualifying the Toyota Celebrity race was to be held.   George went over to the wall adjacent to the track to speak to someone, oly to be cornered by the CBS camera crew.  We were watching him being interviewed and wondered if they were live or on tape, and what was being said.

After he finished his bit with CBS, George walked over to the barrier, jumped it, and started walking along the fence, just a bitty bit of steel mesh between him and Jennie and I.  He stopped short, finding himself in a blind alley, which sent us scurrying up the hill again, but he doubled back and came through the gate.  Kris and I hurried down the hill to meet him, as we had a present for Dhani which we’d been wanting to give him for a long time.  That morning I had tucked it inside my purse on the off-chance of having the opportunity to deliver it to Dhani’s dad.  It was a teeny t-shirt with had a picture of an F1 car on it and read, “Watkins Glen Grand Prix Pit Crew.”  Kris grabbed the shirt from me, and a Blue Brothers button she had for George, as I steered her in front of me over to him. He was walking so fast.  “This is for the baby, “she said, handing him the shirt, “and this is for you.”  He seemed bit surprised the larger of the two was for the baby and said, “Oh!  Oh, thank you!”  He scrunched the shirt up in his hand so tightly you couldn’t even tell he was holding anything!

A reporter stopped him in a parking lot, and we had a chance to take a few photos, say hello, etc.  Someone asked him about his foot and he said it was just fine, thanks, that he had had a vacation and got some rest.  We later found out he had indeed been on holiday in Maui.  When he finished with the reporter he began to walk away and he said, “bye-bye” as if to say “that’s all for now” not wanting to impose on him anymore than we already had, we said goodbye and thanks, and began to walk in the opposite direction.  Unfortunately for George, a group of girls followed him.

Generally the afternoon was much the same, Kris spotting him after qualifying, and we watched as he made his way up the road, stopping along the way to converse with Jody Scheckter at the Ferrari pit.  When he reached the gate he was walking with another person, and I could hear them exchanging bits of information about qualifying times, George consulting a little notebook that the guy had given him to look over.  After the day’s qualifying, there’s always a rush of people towards the garage as the crews tow the cars in.  More people noticed George, but this time with such a large crowd of people, he didn’t stop until he reached the motor home of some friends, where he was stopped by a reporter.  On his way over, though, a young girl had screamed as he went by her.  He turned around quickly to see what had happened, to see if someone was hurt in the crowd or whatever, but when he realized it was him she was fussing over he just sort of grimaced and quickly walked away.

We stayed a respectable distance across the street to wait to see him leave.  He sat in the window of the RV with his back to us most of the time but when he turned to watch a particular car being towed in, or when he faced us, we could hear his voice and see him smile as he conversed.  One girl waited outside the door on the RV, obviously wanting his autograph, but she didn’t approach him when he came out.  He saw her there, stopped, looked over his shoulder giving her the most gorgeous smile, took a few steps while looking back at her, as if to say “come on, don’t be afraid,” and waited.  Actually, he met her halfway and signed for her.  He headed for the garage and we waited around for a while, but much to our dismay, since the garage was set up differently this time, he probably left through a back door. 

Sunday was different.  Kris and Karen hadn’t seen him until after the race last year and we generally agreed that we probably wouldn’t see him until after the race if we saw him at all.  All that aside, the race was exciting as usual, especially the battle for the 2^nd, 3^rd and 4^th places. Gilles Villeneuve ran away with the lead and soon after, Jody Scheckter (George’s pick to win) swung into a solid 2^nd place to make it a Ferrari one-two.  Since Jody placed rather well I just couldn’t miss the Victory Circle ceremonies, and told Jenn I’d meet her at Wolf if we got separated.  As the checkered flag came down over Gilles and Jody I was off.  I didn’t have to go far.  Victory Circle was right next to where we were sitting.

After the ceremonies I sat down to change the film in my camera.  I went to the prescribed meeting place and waited but none of my friends could be found.  I wondered if I should stay put but I figured everyone would be at the garage.  I started out for the garage, taking my time, still debating about where I would find the others.

As I walked up the drive past the VIP entrance, I spotted George and a friend walking out.  “My God,’ I thought, “I couldn’t have timed it better.  No one’s gonna believe this!”  I waited for him to walk down the hill and out the gate, and as he and his friend came by me I said hello to them.  Sine George was busy taking with his friend I don’t know if he really heard me.  He looked marvelous.  He wore a white shirt and beige trousers and a tweed coat (75 degrees and he’s wearing wool!)

I turned and watched him walk down the hill to an RV; he went in.  I circled around and leaned against a wall down the street to watch for him to come out.  One of our members, Lynn Hocker, and a friend of hers were waiting further up the road.  Since I had met her briefly a few days before and knew she knew my friends, I went to ask if she had seen them anywhere.  She said she had seen them in the garage a while ago.  Well, I was right anyway!  (Jennie told me later that they had seen George in the garage chatting with friends.  He had a bunch of his new LP under his arm and was handing them out to all his buddies).

When George left the RV I just stood and watched; a guy stopped him to sign something.  I was standing there thinking it was just so stupid of me to be standing there and not to be over speaking to him.  I came up behind them and just peered around the guy’s shoulder.  Curiously, no one was saying a word.  “Hello, George! Did you enjoy the race?”  He looked up at me – his face not more than a foot from mine.  “Yeah!” he said breathlessly, like a little kid full of excitement.  “Did your favorites win then?”  “Well, “ he said looking up again as he was handing the guy his book, “sort of.”  “Sort of?” I asked, but I already knew that he was better acquainted with Jody, the 2^nd place winner, than with Gilles, who took first.  He took a few steps; someone asked about his foot and he said it was okay now.  He said he had to go and quickly walked over to his friend, who had started to walk ahead.  He was walking along swinging a set of keys and I thought perhaps he drove himself this time.

He went up to the street and around the corner; his magnetism was too much!  I was overcome, drawn up the hill, saying to Lynn, “this is awful, I don’t want to follow him,” the same dilemma Kris, Karen and Cindy had last year.  It’s so strange, the effect he has on you!  I went to the top f the hill and watched; Lynn and her friend walked off after him.  I walked along the grandstand watching to see where he had gone.  They stopped, and I thought George was going to turn around, but he looked around then pointed to one of the bridges.  I was about a block behind.  He was leaving the circuit, so I decided it wouldn’t hurt to watch him leave, and scurried to the bridge.  I caught up with Lyn and passed, her, telling her he probably had a car waiting in the street below.  George stopped in the street.  There were several limousines parked there but he looked around, puzzled.  He then got the revelation that he and his friend had crossed the wrong bridge and were at the wrong location so they set out to walk across town several blocks.  He turned around to see if anyone was following him as he took a shortcut down an alley.  Lynn was at a loss as to what to do.  I waited until they got to the end of the alley to see which way he turned, and then zoomed up and across the block.  Just as I got to the crosswalk they had crossed the street.   I was still a black behind, keeping my distance, not wanting to bother him.

I lost him in the crowd ahead, a line waiting at the bus stop no less, but I noticed that particular corner was the area where he had met the car last year.  Lynn caught up and asked if I had seen where he went.  I told her he was probably around the corner to our left.  She quickly went walking to the corner, but just as quickly came reeling back.  He was just around the corner. I leaned against the building to catch my breath, and ktty-corner through the plate glass store window.  I could see him standing next to a tree having a cigarette.  The car was not waiting for them.  A woman was watching us trying to catch our breath and watching how Lynn wouldn’t go around the corner.  She kept asking if we were in trouble and why wouldn’t Lyn go around the corner (How to you explain that?)

Several minutes later, a green limousine pulled up at the bus stop directly in front of us.  George went straight for the car; he clambered in and his friend followed; before we knew it, off they went.

For Jenn and I the races are always exciting; race weekend went by in a flash, leaving us with a dreadfully long wait until the trek to the Glen in the fall.  But I couldn’t have asked for a better vacation; a super time with some great people, the cars, the drivers, all this and George Harrison too!  I was right, it was some adventure!