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.

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!

Like a Flash you could miss him going by

I was a little surprised when I was looking in my files and saw that I had no information on what George did in the year 1983.   So I was pleased when I found this article from the May 1983 issue of The Harrison Alliance about George at the Long Beach Grand Prix in March of 1983.    The photos and story were written Pattie Murawski along with Karen Dyson.    Much thanks goes out to Karen for getting Geroge to reconsider recording again.   Without her encouragement, we might not have some of my favorite Harrison songs from cloud 9!  

Like a Flash You could miss him going by…

By Patti Murawski & Karen Dyson

I had advance warning of the possibility of George showing up at Long Beach Grand Prix this year.  Only a week before the race there were reports on a New York television station that he had been in Manhattan to see a private screening of “The Meaning of Life”, the latest Monty python film.  I was scheduled to fly to Los Angeles for my annual trip only a few days later.  With me I brought some hopeful news to my friends that George just might be heading west.

With all the terrible, savage weather Los Angeles and vicinity had this past winter; it was no surprise that I arrived in L.A. in a storm akin only to an Asian monsoon.  Having been to a Grand Prix at Watkins Glen in rainy weather some years ago, I was praying it wouldn’t rain for race weekend.  I had no desire to go through an experience like that again!  I needn’t have worried.  For the seventh year in a row, the weather was clear, warm and sunny for Long Beach weekend!

Long Beach has been going through rapid urban renewal, so major changes had to be made in the race course for this year.  My companions, Kris Spackman and Karen Dyson, and I were somewhat confused by the new configuration; it was like being at a race track that we had never visited before.  We took one path and ended up taking a very long walk around the west side of the track during the morning Formula One practice.  After going in a large circle, we finally found what we had set out to find in the first place – the Pit access road.  We had limited access passes to the pits.  Our first opportunity for access was not for another 30 minutes or so, after practice.  I decided that this would be the time to grab a bite to eat and answer the call of nature and announced my intentions.  Kris and Karen agreed with me and joined me in the walk to the convention center where most of the facilities were housed.

It was quite a walk, and I was enjoying the sunny weather just sort of taking it all in while Karen and Kris trailed a few steps behind me sharing a silly joke.  I was watching the crowds to my right when I thought I heard Kris say something, but when she didn’t repeat it I didn’t take any notice.  When I felt a hand clench my elbow and someone wheel me about face, I know intuitively, immediately, what had happened --- someone had spotted George.  Whereas I was wondering if he had walked by me without my knowing it at LBGP last year, to my surprise he actually did this year!  Kris had seen him walking down the sidewalk, coming straight toward us and had been trying to tell Karen and me that he was coming.  He had passed directly by me on my left while I was watching the crowds to my right, my mind lost somewhere in the ether.  I stood and stared in disbelief as Kris pointed him out to me. I couldn’t believe it!  I had no idea that he had passed me until Kris had grabbed me and pulled me back!!  We started to walk down the pavement several yards behind him.  Who had to use the toilet anyway?

We paced ourselves to keep him in view, but at the same time, be discrete.  For such a little guy, George had dressed so that he would blend in perfectly with the racing community.  In his jeans, running shoes, black jacket and dark glasses he looked like so many other of the male spectators/journalists/team people.  He wore his hair in a longer but similarly cut style as he had when I saw him last year.  He was also clean shaved and nicely tanned.

It was obvious to Karen, Kris and I that George had just arrived, as he didn’t seem to know where he was going.  He was just as confused as we had been about the new circuit layout.  We watched as he made the same wrong turn that we had made earlier.  He would surely be looking for the pit access road and he wouldn’t find it by crossing the bridge that spanned the race track!  Realizing he had made a mistake, he headed back towards us.  We had hung back, knowing he would see that he went the wrong way.  We had started to walk slowly in the proper direction, making sure he was right behind us as we made the correct turn to the pit access road.  He followed.  We stopped casually at the far side of the pit road gate and conversed, or tried to, while we watched him enter the garage access gate.  We weren’t too sure he really wanted to go that way.  Was he to meet someone at the garage, or did he just guess wrong?

Anyway, we knew that everyone he’d want to see was in the pits at that very moment for the Formula One practice, and waited to see if he would come back.  Sure enough, he came back down the drive; he stood for a minute or two asking the security people how to get to the pits.  The guard at the gate was pointing to the opposite gate.  George crossed the drive and nonchalantly flipped a pass out of his pocket for the guard to see and slid through the security check without missing a step.  He disappeared up the access road.

Less than a half hour later, we were in the pits; we had just arrived and had taken a guess at who George was there to visit and we found him where we had expected.  We had just spotted him in the throng when he was preparing to leave!  I then realized, after hearing a familiar voice and accent, that Jackie Stewart, along with his wife and two teenage sons, we standing directly in front of me.  George was trying to locate them in the crowd.  It was a bit unnerving not knowing quite what to do.  Here he was heading straight in my direction again.  I was casually looking around for Karen and Kris, now which tree were they hiding behind?  Anyone who has ever met anyone they had admired for years and years has probably through the same dilemma…wanted to stop him and talk to him, or hide behind the nearest tree fearing that you are bothering him and he’d be annoyed.  I opted not to stop him, he seemed like he was in such a hurry, and the Stewarts had begun to walk toward the exit already.  I located Kris and joined her. 

One of Jackie’s sons was walking backwards scanning the crowd for George.  When he found George he motioned to him to signify where he and his family were in the crowd.  Kris had just whispered to me, “Where’d he go?” and I barely got the words out, “He’s right behind us” when George came brushing into me in an effort to catch up with said young Stewart.  The five of them went off together.

Later in the day when the main events were over, we chanced to spy George visiting the boys at Brabham in the garage.  He hung out with them for quite a while.  While in the garage George removed his dark glasses.  It was nice to be able to get a look at his face without them.  He looked marvelous, and his smile was as radiant as ever!

George took a stroll up to Arrows to visit an Australian friend, world champion Alan Jones, who had come out of retirement after a year.  A guy standing next to Karen and I looked over to see who we were watching.  He pointed out George to his friend and said, “See that guy talking to Alan jones?  That’s Frank Williams!”  Karen poked me…it was too much for us.  Frank Williams is Alan’s ex-boss and a well-known team owner.  The only thing that George and Frank have in common is that they are both British.  We broke into near hysterics.  The guy looked at us laughing and said “What’d I say?”  We weren’t about to tell him who it really was!

Back at Brabahm now, the team manager brought George over to the race car to check out the new design for this year’s regulations.  George was listening in earnest as the guy pointed out various highlights of the design.  He nosed in and around the car, then sat down to chat for a while more.  He also visited with Sylvia and Nelson Piquet (the 1981 champion from Brazil) and with his friend Gordon Murray, designer of the car he’d just been perusing.

Just when it looked like he was going to be leaving, George got delayed several times on his way to the exit.  He kept meeting people that he knew and stopped to talk.  Jackie Stewart, Chico Serra and his girlfriend were among them.  When he did leave he just disappearing into the crowd.

Saturday we did not see George until it was nearly 1:00 p.m. and the drivers were having themselves strapped into their racing machines for the final qualifying session.  We were being asked to clear the pit area; only team people, journalists, safety people and anyone with an FOCA pass were allowed to stay.  Just as we were walking out we saw tall Gordon Murray coming around the corner and knew that George couldn’t’ be far behind.  George was speeding along as he tried to keep up with Gordon’s long-legged, swift stride.  George was wearing jeans and running shoes again and the same jacket.  He was also wearing a colorful t-shirt which depicted an aerial view of people on a beach.  We stopped to turn around and watch him walk away, taking a few steps back the way we came.  As we were lamenting that hew would show up when we were about to leave, Karen suddenly started back in George’s direction saying, “Come on!”  Kris and I were trying to be sensible about it all.  We wanted to follow but knew that if the three of us had tried to go back we would have all been asked to leave or thrown out.  Karen had a better chance of going undetected if she went solo.  Kris and I slowly walked down the access road and waited for Karen, wondering all the while if she had any success.  She came back all smiles and excitement, but I’ll let her tell you about it!

The way things were going on Saturday, I had my doubts that we would be so lucky as we had been on Friday, especially the way we walked right smack into him.  Was I ever in for a surprise!

Details are sketchy, unfortunately, as I must’ve “gone troppo” during my moment of moments, but this is basically how the story goes.

We ran into George again, when we least expected it.  As he passed by, I did an “about face” and slowly followed him.  George stopped to chat with friends, so I used the moment to sneak a couple of photos.  Eh soon took off on his own.  I followed not knowing what the heck I was doing, or what was in store.  I had lost sight of Patti and Kris.  I wondered and worried about where they were, but I continued on.  

George stopped at his destination, and this was my lucky break.  I wish I couldn’t remember our conversation verbatim, but George took me by surprise!  You never know what to expect when you come in contact with George.  He has been has been known to be a bit sour towards fans.  Last year when I spoke with George, he was a bit apprehensive and tight lipped until we began talking about Dhani.

This time around it was different.  George was so friendly and warm; it was like being with an old friend.  To my delight George remembered me from last year.  We discussed how he can get around without being recognized, how it’s much better than it used to be.  George said he keeps a low profile and tries to be a normal person.  I proceeded to tell George of his “mistaken identity” of the day before.  I said, “George, do you remember yesterday when you were talking with Alan Jones?”

GH:  “Yeah”

KD:   Well we overhead a man behind us tell his friend “see that man talking to Alan Jones, do you know who that is?  Ya know who that is?”

GH:  Yeah?

KD:  Course, we’re all expecting the guy to say, “That’s George Harrison” right?

GH:  (smiling, listening intently) Yeah…

KD:  But he says, are you ready for this…he says “that’s Frank Williams!”  I thought we were gonna die laughing!

George threw his head back in laughter. He loved it!  Anyone familiar with Formula One racing knows who Frank Williams is, and believe me, he doesn’t look a thing like George Harrison!   It was fun to see him laugh.

We continued to talk for oh, ten or fifteen minutes, which was wonderful; like old friends George and I blabbed away.  At one point I realize how close we were standing together.  I could see his eyes through the sunglasses he wore.  George looks straight into your eyes as he listens attentively, and as he speaks to you.  The man was looking so good you can imagine what can go through one’s mind at a moment like that!  I remember telling George it was good to see him again.  He took my hand and said, “It’s nice to see you too.”

Telling George that I work for WEA (Warner/Elektra/Atlantic Crop.  We distribute WB records) I asked him about the problems and rumors I’d heard about him leaving Warner Brothers.  At that time, George replied that it didn’t look too good.  The hassles he’s gone through to get his records released are hardly worth it to him anymore.  George told me he didn’t know if he’d do anymore recording anyway.  He stated that he may write and record for his own pleasure and amusement, but releasing it was another story.  After so many years of it all, he’s getting bored besides.  I took this opportunity to speak up and represent the many George Harrison fans I know that share my sentiments when it comes to his music. 

I pleaded with George to have second thoughts before making a final decision to discontinue his recording career.  Despite what the record company says, or the critics, I told him, “There are a lot of us out there who enjoy your music and appreciate where you’re coming from.”  He took this shyly and seemed to appreciate the sentiment, and I’m hoping just maybe I made some sort of impression on him.  It’ll be a sad day if ever George does quit releasing records.  George doesn’t accept compliments too well, even after all these years he still looks away and shyly smiles. 

When I told George he looked great he looked down, grinning and blurted an “oh…”  I then added, “Especially for an old man of 40!”  He laughed, again threw his head back and giggled as he said, “oooh I know!” as if he couldn’t’ believe that he was 40, old or not!  The two of us eventually said our adieus with George saying, “I’m sure I’ll see you again!”

After qualifying, we located George in a pit suite situated above and behind the pits.  The suites were rented out, generally by corporations (for a mere $7,500), and included closed circuit tv coverage of all the weekend’s events.  Obviously he could watch all the action out on the track on the closed circuit tv and not miss all the pit activity, all in the comfort of the shade of a canopy and not out there on the dusty track.

Later on we caught a glimpse of him visiting his pals in the garage.  This time he kept his sunglasses on while he was inside, and at times he was deliberately keeping his back turned to the crowd at the fence.  We wondered if he was doing this because a girl kept screaming out his name.

George was delayed in leaving as had happened the day before.  Once again he kept running into people that he knew, and stopped to chat.  The girl who had been shouting his name got a mechanic to take her pocket camera from her and go over to take a photo of George.  I heard her scream when the flash went off.  We felt embarrassed for him.

In order to leave the building, George had to walk along a fence that bordered the public way.  A few people were leaning over the fence, calling out to him, pens and paper in hand, but he ignored them.  He didn’t even look their way as he walked by.

We went out the public exit and saw George making his way around the building from the team access road.  We watched him leave with the crowd. No one seemed to know who it was walking in their midst.  He had once again succeeded at melting into the crowd.

Jennie had flown in to L.A. late Saturday night; her arrival had been delayed by her brother’s wedding.  We tried to be optimistic about the prospects of seeing George on Sunday.  She was just glad to be there and was looking forward to a day at the races, if nothing else.  She was very glad that we had seen George, and even happier when we told her that her favorite driver, Patrick Tambay, had grabbed the pole position for the race.  But, there was no guarantee for her; we had run into George both days by chance, and the crowds were always much worse on race day.

Strolling through the pits Sunday about an hour before the race, I stopped to sit on the curb to tie my shoe.  I took a quick look around as I sat down and asked Jennie to hold my camera.  “He’s here, “I said without looking up again.  “He’s up in the pit suite, up there.”  I nodded upward.  I had caught Jennie totally by surprise.

He was with a guest, the same man I had seen with him on race day in 1979.  I didn’t recognize his friend.  It seems George is always having to explain the finer points of Formula One to his guests, and this year was no exception.  We later joked that if he had us for guests he wouldn’t have to bother with all that!  Anyway, he seemed to be explaining something about maneuvering the car as he had his arms thrusts out in front of him, pretending he was holding a steering wheel.

We watched him for a few minutes but when it looked like he wasn’t going to come down from the pit suite, we decided to take a walk down the pits rather than have him catch us staring at him.  Believe me, we wanted to stay, but we would have alienated him if he had seen us staking him out.  On our walk Jennie, Kris and I took some photos of various drivers and race crafts.  Our minds, however, were always back at the other end of the pits.  We were all wondering if George had stayed put.

About ten minutes later we worked our way back up the pit lane.  “He’s not in the suite,” said Jennie forlornly.  “That’s because he’s right over there, “I said, turning her towards him.  George as about ten feet away, talking to three or four friends.

Quiet one indeed!  How he ever got that tag, I’ll never know.  He was doing most of the talking most of the time!  He was smiling, laughing, gesturing and bouncing around.  It was great fun just to watch him carrying on.  During the course of the conversation, George was relating something to this little clatch of friends, all of them listening attentively to him.  He had such an impish grin on his face as he spoke.  Must’ve been some joke, everyone in the group absolutely roared with laughter when he was finished!

One guy in the group had a pocket camera and wanted to take a picture.  Everyone lined up in a semi-circle, George included, and the photo was taken.  George seemed slightly amused; everyone was smiling as they were squashed together for the photo with their arms around each other’s shoulders.  The group changed around—the guy taking the photo traded places with someone in the group and they went through the process again.

Time was getting closer to the start of the race.  We would have to leave the pits soon in order to make it over to our seats for the start of the race.  As long as George was standing there, however, we just couldn’t’ move.  The old Harrison magic had us glued to the spot.  For safety’s sake the security people were sweeping the pits of everyone that didn’t belong to a team, safety crew or tv crew.  As it was we had stalled for about 15 minutes already.  In the end, our departure time was decided for us.  A man in a red jacket walked off with George.  They were headed in the direction opposite to the exit.  That was our cue to leave.  We all had that funny feeling, a helpless feeling that it may be the last time we would see George, but at the same time relieved that security wouldn’t be dragging us away! In the end it all worked out; we made it to our seats in time for the start of the race.

Like the rest of the weekend, the race was superb.  It turned out to be the most exciting race we had ever seen at Long Beach Grand Prix.  In past years someone on the front row always had won the race, but this year’s winner and second place driver came from the back rows in virtuoso performances.

The last time we saw George was after the race when he dropped by the garage to say goodbye to all his pals. He stayed only for a few minutes.  We wanted to try to see George outside when he left to say hello.  He was so busy with his friends in the pits we didn’t find an opportune moment to speak to him.  It was not to be.  In one of the most stupid and dangerous arrangements I had ever seen, the circuit crews were towing cars across the public way – which was now closed off.  There were thousands of people in the spectators’ area of the garage and absolutely no way out – not even an emergency exit!

We stood in the garage, boxed in, feeling frustrated as we watched George leave via a crew entrance and disappear down the drive.  Our hopes to catch up to George to speak to him had been dashed.

Still, we had to count our blessings.  Two of our passions, George and F-1 racing, all in one weekend; double the pleasure, double the fun!  What a delightful way to start a vacation!

One final note to all this – Formula One cars will no longer fun in Long Beach.  There will still be a race, but the Long Beach Grand Prix Association has decided to run a CART race with Indianapolis type cars at their event next year and in the coming years.  A bright spot in my visits to L.A. over the past years, I shall think fondly of those times when the Master of Fast came to town and especially of those years when there was an added attraction!