I'll See you on cloud Nine

This story comes from the Harrison Alliance fanzine January-March 1992 issue.  It was written by Hiroko Taguchi and translated by Naomichi Hirao.

I'll See you on Cloud Nine
By Hiroko Taguchi

It was 3:47 PM on November 28, 1991, when George's plane arrived at Narita airport.  His plane was seven minutes later than the estimated time of arrival.  It was raining outside.  I was at the airport and said to myself that I must try to remain calm while waiting for George to appear at the arrival gate.

After a little while, there was George!  There was a halo around his head -- I'm not exaggerating.  I really felt like that.  I couldn't stand still; I panicked and burst into tears.  After that, I went to the Capitol Tokyu Hotel where he was staying, but I couldn't meet him that day.  I went back home, but I don't know if I slept or not.

The next day I really wanted to meet him, so I played hooky and went to the hotel again.  It was the day that George and Eric had the press conference in the same room of the hotel, the "Pearl Room," where the Beatles had a press conference 25 years ago.  I tried to attend the press conference, but I wasn't allowed in.  And in the end, I was asked to leave the hotel.  but I didn't give up.  After the promotors left, I went to the lobby of the hotel again to meet George.

I don't know how many hours it took.  I was shown the door again and again.  Actually, I was almost about to give up, but my friends encouraged me a great deal.   George still didn't turn up.  But suddenly my friends saw George and started running to him.   Other fans also were gathered around him, but I couldn't get close to him.  My legs didn't move!   The halo prevented me from going to him.  Another reason was that I didn't want to behave foolishly and give him a bad impression.   I felt dizzy.  Looking at my friends shaking hands with him, I did my best to get closer to him.  George looked in my eyes and smiled at me with his characteristic crooked grin, and shook my hand tightly.   And then he went away by taxi.

I cried and cried.  There was a middle-aged woman crying beside me.  She had been a fan of George's from the 60's.  It must have looked unusual to people who had no interest in Geroge.  But to me, it was the day my dream came true.  I had to wait for this for 18 years!

I decided to keep on waiting for him.  I wanted to see him again even though my last train had gone.  After 40 minutes, I noticed George was in the lobby.  And luckily enough, most of the fans had gone and there were only 5 left.  His bodyguards told us "no autographs!", but he picked up the pens handed to him by fans and gave everyone autographs.  He shook my hand again and looked into my eyes -- I almost passed out!

I thought how glad I was to have been a fan of George for years.  Then I went home.  I got on the subway and when I switched my Walkman on to listen to George's songs, I burst into tears again.  I cried until I reached my stop.  Strangers looked at me with suspicious eyes, but I didn't mind at all.  I was the happiest person in the world.  November 29, 1991 --- I'll never forget that day.

My Nostalgia

The following was written by Jude Vachon and was published in the January 1973 issue of the Harrison Alliance. 

My Nostalgia by Judy Vachon

     When it comes to the Beatles, we each have our varied memories.  The happy times of the first Ed Sullivan Show, the sadder times of crises in the Beatles own lives.  But for me, much of my nostalgia centers around on man.  A dead man.  Brian Epstein.

     In the last year of his life, Brian was in poor health and heavily into gambling.  Virtually ignored by the four he helped make famous, he died feeling unneeded, unwanted, unloved.

     August 27, 1967, fell on a Sunday.  The morning paper had a one-liner about Brian Epstein contributing a few thousand dollars to plant trees for the war dead in Israel.  At noontime, the newsman on WBZ Radio announced: "The chief of the Beatles is gone."

     Rosalie and I froze in anticipation.  Oh, God, not John--- please not John...   "Brian Epstein was found dead in London today...."   The deejay, Dave Maynard, made a stupid joke about something and then played "In My Life" by Judy Collins.   I've never forgiven him that laughter.

     I was hysterical when I got home:  my poor mother trying to sort out the chocked words.   "Well, who's dead?  Who?"  And then, "But you never even knew him!"

     Monday I scavenged downtown for all the papers.  Tuesday it wasn't "news" anymore but a few details leaked out.  Drugs and alcohol.  Was it accidental?   I didn't think so then, and I don't think so now -- five years later.

In 1970 I visited Liverpool and found Brian's grave.  On the beautiful black marble stone is written:

                                                    In Loving Memory Of

BRIAN EPSTEIN

                                                              Dearly Loved Son of
                                                       Queenie and Harry Epstein
                                                     Who Passed Away 27 Aug. 1967
                                                                   Aged 32 years


                                                      Deeply Mourned and Sadly Missed
                                                          By his Devoted Mother,
                                                          Brother and All His Family.

                                                            May his Dear Soul
                                                                   Rest in Peace.

     Let's hope Brian has finally attained some peace.  How different things might have been had he lived. 

All it takes is guts and persistance

All it takes is Guts and Persistence

Harrison Alliance

December 1974/January 1975 issue #16

It would take page upon page to explain exactly how it happened, but somehow my friend Madeleine S. became acquainted with Bill Graham, the promoter of the tour.  She had been to at least six shows by the time Madison Square Garden rolled around, and if I remember correctly, she had met with Bill or his associates at least once every gig.  Bill had promised to get her backstage but so far he had let her down. 

Thursday afternoon after lunch, Madeleine went down to the Garden to speak to Bill, while the rest of us went back to the hotel to rest up.  I had been up all night save two hours, in order to finish embroidering the Dark Horse logo on a t-shirt, and I was dragged by the long bus ride into the city, so I had to get some sleep.    Madeleine came back a few hours later to tell us she had spoken to Bill, and he had promised to take her backstage o meet George between shows on Friday.  She showed us a little black Aum badge with a sky blue background that Bill had given her to get through security, and she said he had told her to meet him at the stage at the afternoon show and he’d see what he could do.  Well, we figured if the badge would get her through security on Friday, it could get me through that night!  It was certainly worth a try!

A badge like the one from this story.   Part of Sara Schmidt's collection 

I was really disappointed with the seats I had for Thursday night even though they were $9.50 seats, but I managed to get a seat in the 2^nd row behind the stage, which were more to my liking.   I really didn’t think the badge would work that night because they used a different badge each show, and I was content with where I was sitting, but Jennie prodded and persisted and said the least they could do is send me back to my seat; so just before the house lights went down after intermission, I made my way down to the lower loge runway.  Security tried to move me, so I showed them the badge and one of the guards started hassling me, that I should know better than to be up on the walkway, that I should be in the orchestra where I belonged!   Well, I didn’t want to upset the poor man, so I came down to the orchestra and made it into the fenced in part (the first 30 rows were fenced in and heavily guarded) with the badge.  This was during “For You Blue.”

I walked all the way up the side aisle where the security guard had been; I think he talked to me a bit, but Iw as so intent on watching George I don’t really remember.   I do think that the Dark Horse shirt I embroidered help me look a bit more official.  I then crossed over and made it to the left center aisle to about the 10^th row and crouched there for a while; I was determined!   The next thing I knew he had finished the number and the formal introductions, and I found myself walking directly up the center aisle, with George dead ahead!   I somehow managed to get to the 2^nd row; George was standing directly above the aisle; the only thing between us were a photographer, a security man, the stage barrier and 10 feet of space!   I remember the song was “Give me Love,” and him getting into his acoustic, then standing at the mike bathed in yellow lights, but that’s all.   Funny how the rest of the world melts away when you’re that close!   Since I wasn’t a working photographer, I couldn’t stay in the aisle for long, but I stayed until they asked me to leave.  I wasn’t going to leave on my own accord, but when they did ask me, I didn’t push it and went.

A lot of what exactly happened is hazy, but I remember a security man pulling me over to some big-wig for Garden Security, and this man telling me, “What are you doing out here?  Get backstage where you belong!”  It was flipping me out, what was happening, and it’s a weird story, but eventually, I ended up backstage – walked right through security.    As soon as I got backstage down the hall a ways, I was approached by a roadie.  He asked me if I had ever been backstage before.  I told him tonight was my first time backstage.  He asked where I got the badge, and I told him Bill Graham had given it to me after I had bugged him for it all week.  He then gave me some story about this and that, and how I couldn’t’ take photos backstage, so not wanting to push it, and not wanting to bump into Bill, who wouldn’t have known me, I went back out on the floor.  As soon as I went back out, the ushers and security men were trying to push me backstage again, only by a difference entrance, one near the special box Mr. Harrison and Geoff Briton had been watching the show from.  Unfortunately by some other security man. I went back and tried to cut across the orchestra floor again, and the ushers and security men were still trying to push me backstage again, so I told them that “they” wanted me on the other side of the Garden; they sent me out into the hall and I had to go around that way.  Meanwhile, the band played on.  I think I remember hearing “Maya Love” while walking back. I think I hung around the orchestra for a while, went to talk to Jenn, went back down again, and went back to my seat to be with Jenn for the endo f the show.  I remember boogieing back to talk to Jenn to “Tomcat” and later, he was just finishing “While my guitar gently Weeps.”  I should’ve stayed in the orchestra for the end of the show, but I had a really fantastic time with Jenn for the last bits.   It was so funny to her because I kept asking her if he had already sung this or that before they started Billy’s two songs.  It was so incredible that something like that came about so unexpectedly, and it really left me incoherent, and so supercharged.  It means as much as a front row ticket would have meant to me.

Friday afternoon Madeleine used the badge, and she left us during the Indian music set.  She met Bill down front, and he took her backstage during intermission.  She had the same problem with the ushers shoving her backstage before she got to even meet up with Bill.  When she met with Bill she asked him to speak to George about her so that George would have something to say because she was afraid she’d be so tongue-tied in the shock of it all.  Bill took her through several curtains and rooms and they finally stopped; he told her to wait there.  The exact story of getting there is hazy Madeleine was so incoherent from shock when she related it to us.  Bill took her into the room and said “Good Luck” and then left.

Olivia was in the room and asked Madeleine her name.  The next thing she knew, George was walking across the room directly to her, and as if they were old friends, put his arms around her!   She was so overwhelmed and she automatically put her arms around him and hugged him back.  He asked her her name, and she told him it was Madeleine.  She said something to the effect of “I love you George” in her cute and charming way, but George only replied, “It’s Krishna that you love.”  He was told by Bill how many concerts she had attended, so he asked, “This is your 11^th?”  In her shock, she said yes, but when he asked again, she said no, it was her 8^th concert.  He was knocked out that she had gone to that many.   She told him, “I would have gone to all 50 if I could,” to which he jokingly replied, “If I could I wouldn’t have!”  During this time George was holding both her hands in his. 

A roadie popped in and told George he had one minute before he had to be back on stage, but he acted like he had all the time in the world.  Madeleine asked him to sign her book of autographs and showed him where his father had signed it last summer.  “Where do you want me to sign?” he asked.  She gave him a clean page; he asked her her name again, and this time she spelled it to him so he’d get it right.  The results you see with this article.   She thought that asking to have a photo taken would be ab it much as he had already signed for her, so she didn’t bother.  She remembers that both George and Olivia were very nice to her.  For those interested, he was wearing plaid pants and a white silk shirt when she met him.

After she had stumbled out into the hallway, the roadies congratulating her for finally making it in to meet him, she was interviewed by a writer for Rolling Stone, which caused her to miss much of the 2^nd half of the show.  She was so flipped out, it didn’t really matter.

So congratulations to Madeleine and thanks to her for sharing such a precious moment in her life with us.  A very special thanks to her from me personally, for loaning me her badge!

Close encounters of the best kind (part 2)

I am so sorry that it has taken me longer than I had anticipated to get the second part of this story up.   

Photo by Karen Dyson 1978

This is the 1978 Long Beach Program like the on  the girls in the story had with them and had George sign.  This one is also signed by George and some of the racers, but it isn't the one that the girls in this story had.

Close Encounters of the best kind

U.S. Grand Prix West Long Beach California

April  2, 1978

By Karen Dyson and Kris Spackman

Up early again and off at 7am, headed for Long Beach.  Someone had stolen our parking permit out of Kris’ car, really great, nothing like having to worry about parking on Race Day.   But things worked out; we went to our parking zone and explained to the guy what happened and he gave us a free permit.  Alright!  So far everything had gone so well; there were chances of rain, but there were showers at night, and the day was gorgeous!  Someone above was looking after us indeed.

At 9:30 was the Formula One “warm up” so we hung out at the pits beforehand; no sign of George.  I decided to use the few shots left on my roll, so I could have a new fresh roll just in case.  So while Kris and Cindy hung out at Jody’s pit, I trekked down to James Hunt’s and finished my roll on him.  I watched James for awhile, then rejoined Kris and Cindy.  Soon the cars were going to the track and there was n sign of George, so we went again to ur seats and eyed the cars passing by.  When there were about 5 or 10 minutes left of the warm up, we headed for the pits.  It really didn’t look as though George would show up, not now anyway.  The actual race didn’t start until one.

So the Grand Prix began and it was so incredible!  When the cars finally came around the first time I couldn’t believe how fast they were moving!  The cars seemed to be passing by faster than before, even fast than qualifying, which didn’t make sense.  It was so exciting when they came around; to see what place they were in.  I love it.  But so sad on the 5^th lap, the cars came around and James Hunt wasn’t there!  I looked won the road and he was obviously slowed down; when he arrived at a wider part of the road, he pulled over.  I could have died.  I felt so sad for James.  He had hit a wall with his front wheel, which mangled it.  My second choice was Jody Schkecter, but he too was eventually out of the race.   The whole thing was so too much!  Most of the crowd seemed to be fans of Mario Andretti.  The event went by so fast.  The two hours were over before we knew it.  Around the 78^th lap we went down to the pits (right after we spotted Rod Stewart strolling by).  James had left and Jody too.  Most of the cars were already in the garage.  We hung around for a while; the crowds were crazy, so we headed for the garage, figuring George would most likely show up there sooner or later.  We waited for ages.  The cars came by but there was no sign of George.  Some guy came along and handed Cindy his VIP pass, saying she could get into the barricaded area of the garage.  So she was in!  Kris and I continued to wait outside.  It was looking hopeless after a while.  Either George wasn’t showing up or he went in without us seeing him.

Jackie Stewart had gone by once; now he was leaving.  He stopped and talked with a couple of men for a while.  One of us came up with the idea of ask Jackie if George was in there, and Kris came up with an even better idea to ask him to sign her program as a good excuse to stop hm.   Jackie finally walked down the ramp and he signed.

Kris:  Have you seen George today?

Jackie:  Oh yeah, he’s around here somewhere.

Kris:  Is he in the garage?

Jackie:  No, I don’t think so.  I didn’t see him.

We two proceeded to wait again.  It was ages.  A couple of young guys were hanging around and they had seen George on Friday as well as Saturday.

Kris headed over to ask someone something from nowhere George appeared!  I could hardly get it out to call Kris’ name and when I did, I wasn’t sure if that was her name!  I tried to focus for a picture, I honestly can’t remember if I did take one or not.  Everything happened so fast, it made me terribly nervous.  I had brought a t-shirt with me that I wanted to give to George.  It’s a goofy t-shirt from a bar in Boulder, Colorado called The Dark Horse.  It’s really funny.  So I thought better now than never. I hurried over to him, and called to him.  George was a few steps away when he finally turned around.

Karen:  May I give you something?

George:  Oh yeah (he came over to me and I held open the t-shirt; he held the ends and looked at it.)  Oh yeah, that’s nice.

He then let it go and began to walk away!  This totally confused me, and I didn’t know quite what to do, so I called out to him again.  George turned back around and I said, “Will you take it?  May I give it to you?”  George came back to get it and said, “Oh sure.”  Then he went up the ramp with Olivia.  Further up, he opened the shirt up and checked it out again.

(Kris speaking)   In the meantime, from God only knows where, I‘d gotten the first stroke of courage of my whole life and captured those very precious moments on film.  While I shook the whole time and didn’t even know if the camera was in focus (somehow it came out beautifully!)

And off he went inside, to encounter Cindy, who saw him the moment he came in the door.  As she hurried towards him, he instantly spotted her Dark Horse t-shirt (a genuine one she’d gotten in a trade), and proceeded to totally blow our Cindy away by saying, “hi darlin’!” to her!  He also saw the camera in her hand and without her even having to ask, promptly posed with Olivia for her!  She stayed close while he talked with other people and tried not to stare, but every time she’d sneak a look at him, he’d be looking right back at her!  The look on his face was one of genuine delight like “Wow you really like me!”

He wasn’t in the garage for very long and by this time Karen and I were inside watching them from a distance.

(Karen speaking)  He had my shirt all neatly folded in his hand.  We thought we saw Cindy talking to him, but we weren’t sure.  We figured she’d see the t-shirt and know we’d seen him.  As he started for the door, Cindy finally approached him and asked him to sign a scrap of paper for her.  He was most obliging and as he did so, asked where she’d gotten her t-shirt.  She explained about the trade to him, then noticed he was wearing an “I think it was the trousers” button!  Without a second thought, Cindy most innocently exclaimed, “Oh George, I think it was the trousers too.”

He started laughing, “Oh yeah?” and asked if she’d seen and enjoyed the Rutles program. They talked for a couple minutes, then he was on his way to the door again.  As we had the day before, we made a mad dash for the exit, racing around the building.  And there he was only a few feet in front of us, walking hand in hand with Olivia.  We drew up shot, not knowing what to do, hating to follow him but wanting so badly to talk to him for just a minute.  

I told Kris that we can’t follow him, but then we took another 10 steps.  I felt so bad.  What should we do?  He headed up a side street toward Ocean Boulevard; it was as if we’d totally lost all control over our legs, as if we were drawn by a powerful magnet.  We were totally helpless.  But he didn’t even know we were there.  

We tried to keep our distance, but there were times they’d slow down and we’d get so close to them.  Once or twice we nearly were standing right next to them.  I could hear George’s voice now and then.  I was so scared he was gonna turn around and be angry with us.  I worried like crazy the entire time.  We followed him for ages; over a bridge, back onto the street, not knowing where in the world we were going, or what we’d do if and when he stopped.  George and Olivia were so cute, holding hands the entire time.  We all continued a block more or so.  At one point George looked at Olivia, gave her a big gorgeous smile, then put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him.  Oh, it was just so cute; the two of them were so darling together.

Down the road was a limo, which I suspected was theirs.  We got up to the limo, the chauffeur opened the door, George helped Olivia into the car, and then stood there and talked with the chauffeur, who apologized, saying he couldn’t’ find a closer place to park.  George told him it was ok and the chauffeur said something to make George laugh and say, “Oh yeah?”  George turned around and looked at us:  Kris and I just looked back and him, so he got in the car and closed the door.  I didn’t know what to do, so I asked the chauffeur if he’d ask George to sign my program.  He said, “You go ahead and ask him!”  

(Kris Speaking)  Karen and I looked at each other.  I got down by the window and pointed to her program.  “George, could you sign this for her?”  He rolled down the window, undid his seat belt and scooted forward, as Karen said, “Oh George, we’re so sorry to bother you.”

“That’s ok, that’s ok,” he assured, taking the program from her hand.  (In the program is a picture of George, James Hunt and Leo Sayer.  We’re sure he was tickled to have his pictures in the program.  Earlier Karen had gotten James to sign it and commented jokingly to me, “Gee, if I got George to sign this, I bet he’d say, “Oh you got James to sign, too!”) 

I opened the program to the page Hunt and signed and handed George the pen.

George:  ‘Oh, I see you got James to sign.”

Karen:  Oh yeah, what happened to his car?

George:  He hit a wall with his wheel in the 5^th lap.

Karen:  He’s not doing very well so far this year.

George:  No, he’s not.  (He then signed for Kris)

Kris:  Did you enjoy the race, George?

George:  Oh yes, though I’m not a fan of Carlos (Carlos Reutemann won the race)

Then he looked at me and saw my “the Rutles are coming” button.  “oh the Rutles!  Good!”

Karen told him he looked real spiffy in the show and he started laughing.  Karen then asked what were his plans for the future.  Replied our “hard-working” George, “I’m going home next week to start working on my album.  It’ll be out in July or August.”

“July or August?!” cried Karen, in a tone of “What have you been doing all this time?”

Knowing full well we’d know what he meant, he grinned and replied, “Yeah, well, I’m in semi-retirement now, ya know!”

Karen:  Ah c’mon, now don’t you start giving us that…

George:  (laughing) I am!  I am in semi-retirement!

Kris:  Any plans for a tour, George?

George:  No…no tour.  It’s too much trouble.

Then very nicely he excused himself because people were beginning to gather.  We waved goodbye and watched as the limo pulled away then went absolutely wild and crazy with joy!   We went back to find Cindy and all went nuts together.

There are no words to suffice.  How do you describe the most incredible weekend of your life?  And whoever up there likes us—thank you!

Close Encounters of the Best Kind (part 1)

I have shared many stories of George fan meeting George at the Long Beach Grand Prix in the late 1970's and early 1980's, but this is the very first one.   I found this story in the May 1978 issue of the Harrison Alliance.  It is a very long article, so I only typed out the first day of the race and will post the rest soon.   It was written by Karen Dyson and Kris Spackman.

Close Encounters of the best kind

U.S. Grand Prix West Long Beach California

April 1 & 2, 1978

By Karen Dyson and Kris Spackman

What  a weekend indeed!  Kris Spackman, Cindy N. and I made plans months ago to attend the Long Beach Grand Prix, with a little help from my boss, who is an avid auto race fan.  Since last October, we’ve been waiting with great anticipation for this gala event.  As time went by, though I found myself really getting into the Formula One racing, asking my boss zillions of questions; watching the events on TV, I’ve really become excited about the sport, and I had decided that, though the original reason for going to the Grand Prix was to chance a glimpse of one George Harrison, I was just as excited about seeing and experiencing the Grand Prix!

Someone up there must like us.  That’s the only reason I can think of: who’d have ever believed that for two days in a row in a crowd of 100,000 people, we’d see George at the Long Beach Grand Prix?  Not me, that’s for sure!  Saturday, April 1 dawned clear and sunny and my dear pals and I were on our way bright and early, arriving in Long Beach about 8:30.  Having never been to anything remotely resembling an auto race, I didn’t know what to except and surely not two miles of Long Beach city streets blocked off and turned into a race track!  But it would prove to be an experience and a fun one!  I think I can even begin to understand why George enjoys it so much.

The morning passed, leaving us somewhat discouraged:  there were so many people, and the track area was so vast.  If he was here, and recent rumors of his being in LA kept us hopeful, would there be even a slight chance of our spotting him in the crowd?  Qualifying races had been going on all morning, and we’d kept moving, scanning the track area and the grandstands for some sign of curly brown hair!  At 12, we lunched at the Exhibition Hall, which was doubling as the garage, then headed back to ur seats for the Formula 1 qualifying race scheduled for 1:30.  Maneuvering our way through the crowd, we were caught suddenly in a rush of people, and the next thing, Karen was gone.

I looked everywhere, but finally gave up and headed for the pits.  I figured the others would realize I’d be at the McLaren pit.

So there  I was at the McLaren pit, just taking everything in, when suddenly I noticed a person looking very much like George, wearing sunglasses, walking down the center of the pits.  It was so strange, as It hought it was him…but I was so unsure at the same time, and it didn’t help when he walked right past the McLaren pit without stopping, so I thought, well, maybe it wasn’t him.  His hair was lighter than normal, and he was walking so fast…it left me so unsure.  So I waiting there, watching James Hunt; in a few inutes along came this character again.  I was so positive, and so unsure at the same time, so I followed along the fence and watched him.  It was nuts, me fighting through the crowds frantically, it was crazy!  Then suddenly, he stopped and turned around to go back the other way!  So I started fighting my way back through the crowds, watching George with one eye, and trying to see where I was going with the other.  I took a few photos along the way, and then he stopped at Jody Scheckter’s car and stood and talked with the mechanics.  He walked over to my side of the car (making him about 5 or 6 feet away) and stood right smack in front of me.  I was dying!  I proceeded to take pictures, as he stood there shaking hands with Jody, wishing him luck.  Meanwhile I was totally freaking out and when he smiled, oh Lord!  I did try calling out to him a couple of times, but he didn’t hear me.  Then he started down the road.  Here I go again!   I followed him down the road again, frantically pushing through the crowd, trying to watch George at the same time.  When finally I got in front of our grandstand, I looked up to see if the girls were up there.  I did everything I could go get their attention—waved my arms, yelled and screamed, but to no avail.  So I took off, following George, but then he disappeared; there was no sight of him.  I’d lost him!

(Kris speaking)  Not 10 minutes later, there was our Karen, dashing frantically up the grandstand steps, crying, “Here’s here! He’s here!  I saw him! I took about 10 pictures!  He passed right below here.  I tried to get you guys’ attention.”  The hour-long qualifying race seemed to last forever.  We cruised the track area, and up the street and up the street, the way he’d been heading when Karen lost him, trying to spot him in a sea of red jackets –everybody had red jackets on that day!

Finally the race finished and people began to swarm all over the place.  We moved slowly along the track, carefully scanning face after face, hoping…praying… Then Karen grabbed us, pushing us toward the fence, “there he is!!!”

And there he was!  What a sight after 4 very long years!  He looked just incredible, so healthy and tanned, so happy and thoroughly enjoying himself.  He was wearing blue jeans, and off white shirt with red jacket and yellow tennis shoes.  For those first brief moments, it was as if everything around me ceased to exist and there was only George.  I had to keep looking and looking to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.   He was really there, only half a dozen yards and three foot cement wall between us.  Cindy and I clutched frantically at each other and at Karen and I knew they were feeling the same.

He was walking happily along, accompanied by a young Spanish-looking guy (Olivia’s brother?); he stopped and chatted with drivers and mechanics, examined the race cares while we followed outside, going absolutely crazy with delight and keeping it very low key so as not to draw too much attention to him.  A few people did recognize him and we smiled at the awe in their voices, “There’s George Harrison!”

Karen was still taking pictures, and I think he finally figured out it wasn’t the cars or the drivers she was aiming at!  But he appeared genuinely amused and we loved it!   It looked about 10 minutes to work his way down the street inside the track area, while we charged through the masses outside trying to keep up with him and not lose each other in the process.  Then we reached a point where a side street off the main road had been momentarily blocked at the curbs on either side to allow the drivers through to leave the track.  There was a truck on the side street backed up almost to the main road with only a “sidewalk sized” space between it and the wall along the track (Hard to visualize, I know but even harder to explain!)

Anyway, when George reached the gate, he scooted through and went around the track to its right side.  Cindy and I were struggling through an absolute mass of people, and I grabbed her, crying “C’mon!” and we ran down a sidewalk to the left of the truck.  Between us and it was another 3-foot cement wall, and at the bottom, I leapt over it, just as George, who was several feet down the street, turned around.  I never made such a fast about0face in my life, “calmly” chatting with Cindy, and we both just cracked up.

Suddenly we realized we’d lost Karen in the crowd, but knew she’d know we were heading for the garage.  George was only a few yards ahead of us, and much as we hated to follow him, we couldn’t bear to lose him.   He was so cute—he turned around once or twice, because he knew we were behind him, and he’d grin teasingly in our direction.  We followed him all the way to the Exhibition Hall which served as the garage for the drivers’ crews of mechanics, and at first he missed the drive where he should have gone in a headed for the public entrance.   Then he realized his error, turned and came back, scooting through a cluster of people who I’m sure had no idea who he was. We watched him go in, then grabbed our garage passes and raced inside (the passes sold to the public allow you inside the hall to watch the crews work on the cars, but the area where they’re working is barricaded all the way around.  Only the VIP’s are allowed in, and needless to say, that’s where we’d find George!)  And we did:  he was right in the center of the hall, chatting with people, having his picture taken by reporters, and signing autographs,.  We couldn’t see him very well through the crowd around him, but we did notice he’d taken off his sunglasses.

(Karen speaking)  I headed for the garage, as the 3 of us had discussed going there after the last event.  There was no sign of Kris and Cindy in the lines watching the cars go in, no sign of George.  I kept my fingers crossed that Kris and Cindy were inside.  I went in, but I thought I’d never find them, it was so crowded!  I walked around looking for the girls amongst all the bodies and looked for George within the barricades.  Getting clear around the room, Kris spotted me and called out, “over here!”  We stood there getting a glimpse of his red jacket and his curly locks.  Some idiot stood right in the way most of the time; he finally moved, and we had a good, clear view.   George was sitting talking with mechanics and other sorts.  Looking good without his sunglasses!  George got up for the door, looking as though he was leaving, so we tore out a back way, close to where he went out and then down the stairs, expecting him to be walking down the ramp way from the garage.

Poof!  The instant “Harrison Disappearing Act” took place right before our very eyes!  Don’t ask me how the man does it, but he’s an expert.  He was nowhere to be seen!  And we weren’t to see him again until the following day, the day of the Big Race.  With all the incredible experiences of the day before under our belts, we returned to Long Beach saying “Yesterday was so incredible, it’s ok if we don’t see him today.”  Yet we were dying inside with anticipation and hope.