A True-to-Life Adventure
By Sher Miller
Published in the George Harrison Birthday Issue Special from the Harrison Alliance
1973
This particular George adventure began on a cloudy, drizzly Sunday, the first day of September 1968. My three friends, Joyce, Carol, and Margaret, and I met at Paul's house on Cavendish. Before long, we boarded a train for Weybridge, Surrey. We went there first to try and see Ringo and John.
Ringo wasn't home, but we met Maureen's housekeeper. She was holding Jason, who was only a year old at the time. Then we proceeded up the steep hill to John's home. We suddenly remembered he was living in London with Yoko, but we decided to ring the bell anyway. It turns out that Cyn was using the house, and her mother answered the door with Julian by her side. I remember thinking how much he looked like John, and how sad he seemed. We gave him some chocolate and left to go to Esher.
Luckily for Joyce and me, the other two girls, both English, had been to George's before, so we had no trouble finding the right bus. Before long, we were in the middle of the little town of Esher. Margaret led the way up the road towards Claremont Drive. I have no doubts that on my own I'd never have found it. We walked nervously down the gravel road, and finally arrived at George's driveway itself.
I noticed Mr. Harrison Senior standing by the garage of his son's home, curiously watching us. I thought for sure then we wouldn't get any farther; for sure, we'd find ourselves told to leave with a polite but firm lecture on why George needs his privacy. But as we got closer, Mr. Harrison smiled. I had the feeling he loved the idea of us coming to see his son.
The four of us stood on the step by the front door, debating about who would be the lucky one to ring the bell. Finally, Margaret rang, and after a minute, Pattie appeared at the door. I couldn't believe I was really seeing her after staring at her picture in magazines for so many years. She had no makeup on, was barefoot, and wore a beige minidress. She still was beautiful. Margaret asked if we could see George, and for a second Patty hesitated. Then said, "Just a minute." I thought this was really going to be it, and our good luck would end right then. It was a fairly well-known fact that George displays a fiery temper if his privacy is disturbed.
I bent my head down to put in a film cartridge. When I looked up, there was George standing in the doorway with a little blonde boy by his side. He proceeded to tell me, "I can't stay out long, as I'm sort of busy." I thought perhaps he was writing a song or something, but it turned out he had a house full of relatives. I told him I had a gift for him, and gave him the psychedelic tie I'd bought for him in New York. His face broke into that huge, lopsided grin of his, and he promptly put it around his neck and tied a bow. He said, "Thank you", and was about to take it off when I said, "Leave it on," for a joke; he did!
Then Margaret said, "Can we take a picture with you?" And he said, "Sure." Carol and Joyce each had their picture taken with George, with Margaret taking the photos. As he stood with each of them and turned, he suddenly looked at me and said, "Wow, where did you get that umbrella?" I told him I'd gotten it in London. It was just a plastic, see-through one, but he got so excited over it. He called Pattie out of the house to see it. She just sort of nodded and went back inside, carrying one of their many cats. Every once in a while during our chat with George, she would pass by in the hallway of the house, just to see what was going on with us. Guess it was more interesting than what the relatives were talking about!
Then I asked him who the little boy was, and he said it was his nephew, Paul. It was my turn to pose with him, but before I stepped up next to him, I said, "Is it all right?" He smiled that smile again and said, "Of course." As I stood next to him, he asked me if I was on holiday, and when I said "yes", he asked if I was having a good time. He was so nice and friendly, as if we'd known each other for years.
It wouldn't have been strange to tell him the truth, that I'd come to England only to see him and his three friends. I'm sure he guessed that, though, when two days later he waved to me from his car at EMI. But that's another story.
When it was Margaret's turn to pose with him, I somehow got the job of taking the picture. Well, needless to say, my nerves were going crazy, and as I was about to take the picture, George politely pointed out to me that my hand was covering the lens opening. "Your finger's on the thing," was what he said, to be exact. I said, "You're right." We both ended up laughing. Picture taking over, Margaret handed him a copy of Beatles Monthly to sign, which he graciously did. Then I suddenly decided I wanted an autograph, and all I had to write on was a picture of Paul (Yes, Paul McCartney) I had taken the week before, so I handed that to him. He looked at me with this devilish expression and made a big motion with the pen towards Paul's face. I panicked for a second, not totally aware that he was joking around. "Not on his face," I warned. He cracked up and signed on the bottom. I still got that picture to this day, and people never can understand why George signed Paul's picture.
Then I asked him if it was true that the Beatles would be coming to New York for the premiere of Yellow Submarine. He looked up with a smile and said, "Well, no one told me about it." I also mentioned that I had seen Magical Mystery Tour in New York, and it was really great, not the disaster the press had said, to which he replied, "Well, the ones who like us liked it, and the ones who don't didn't," which was a pretty clever answer, if you think about it.
He then asked us if we were all Americans, and when he found out that the other two were English, he wanted to know how we'd met. It took us a bit to explain that we'd been pen pals and finally met over here. Then he asked where in America I was from, and I told him New York. After about 20 minutes, George said he really must go in. We thanked him for being so nice and putting up with us, even though he had company. He smiled and said, "Hope the rain stops, so you can enjoy your holiday." We waved goodbye and noticed that George's father had been standing up by the garage and had watched us the entire time we had been there. He waved to us too, and we walked in a daze out of Claremont Drive. It was truly one of the highlights of all my trips to England, and I will always remember how fantastic George was when he really didn't have to be.
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