angelgodiva
Oct 11, 2002, 02:14 PM
GEORGE LOVERS:
That was way too much of a pain, so I copied the whole article. Enjoy!
SHAKIN' ALL OVER
A visit with George Harrison's parents, Liverpool 1964
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By Scott Wheeler
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In July 1964, the American teen magazine 16 published what it rightfully hailed as "the scoop of scoops": the home addresses of the Beatles' families in Liverpool. The source of this priceless pearl of information was George Harrison's girlfriend, Pattie Boyd - later to become his wife - who was writing a "Letter from London" column in the magazine every month.
George was reportedly quite upset with Pattie for having blown his family's cover, and she stopped writing the column shortly thereafter, but the damage was already done. Thanks to 16 Magazine, the Beatle addresses were in the hands of thousands of eager Beatles fans all over America...including those of yours truly.
As it happened, my family was already planning a month-long trip to Europe that summer. My father, with his characteristic kindness, asked me if there was any place in Europe that I particularly wished to visit...and so it was that, early on Sunday morning, 2 August 1964, my parents and I boarded a British Eagle Vickers Viscount plane at Heathrow-known simply as London Airport in those days-for the two-hour flight to Liverpool.
George was my favorite Beatle in those days, and I had read in one of my fan magazines that "George's parents are visited by fans from far afield, very often bearing presents. Mrs. Harrison gives them tea and cookies." I was desperate to make my own pilgrimage to the threshold of a Beatle's home, and the Harrisons' house at 174 Mackets Lane, Hunts Cross, Liverpool, was the place to begin.
As a special present for George, I was carrying a large scrapbook that my mother and I had carefully filled with a variety of items back home in Boston. First we pasted in several dozen Beatle trading cards from my collection, each accompanied by a comedy caption. Next, my mother painted four realistic tempera portraits of the Beatles directly on four of the blank pages. Finally, we pasted in a matchbook cover and a sheet of stationery from the Deauville Hotel in Miami Beach, Florida, where the Beatles had stayed during their first American visit. We had written fake "love notes" on them from actresses Mitzi Gaynor and Jill Haworth, both of whom had partied with the Beatles during that visit.
As we embarked on our Liverpool pilgrimage, I was brimming over with confidence, trusting fully in something I called "Beatle luck." My parents, however, were concerned that the trip would be a terrible letdown for me, and both were wondering how they would ever bring me out of the gloom I would surely fall into after facing a succession of closed doors and unanswered knocks.
Just before 11:30 a.m., our plane touched down on a rain-slicked runway at Liverpool Airport under overcast skies. I bought an Ordnance Survey map at the airport gift shop, and we made our way across Speke Road to a nearby bus stop. We weren't familiar with the "request stop" system, and we were mystified when several buses whisked past us without stopping. We finally gave up and decided to walk.
We had gone only a few hundred yards when a car pulled up alongside us and a friendly young man, out for a drive with his mum, leaned out the window and asked if he could be of assistance.
We asked him for directions to Hunts Cross, and they ended up cheerfully driving us to the town square, a few blocks from Mackets Lane. "You see?" I told my parents. "I knew luck would stay with us!" They just shook their heads in amazement.
After walking for several blocks, we arrived in front of number 174, a semidetached (or duplex) council house with a small front garden full of rain washed flowers. I compared the building with a photo in a magazine I had brought along, and a chill came over me: this was the place-Ground Zero. Clutching my scrapbook under my arm, I took a deep breath, walked down the driveway and up the path to the front door, and rang the doorbell.
Moments later the door opened to reveal a tall, handsome young man with dark eyebrows and piercing eyes - not George, but unquestionably a Harrison. It was George's younger brother Peter. I said timidly, "I'm awfully sorry to bother you on a Sunday morning, but I've come all the way from America to see George's place, and I'd like to leave him this book."
Having delivered my speech and my present, I was ready to turn and run, but Peter said, "Come in! Come in!" Despite my protests, he pulled me into the front hall, asked me to wait a moment, and disappeared down the hall.
I stood there, literally shaking in my boots, and suddenly there was Louise Harrison walking toward me, bidding me welcome and apologizing for having her hair in curlers. She looked exactly like the robust, vivacious woman I had seen pictured in the fan magazines.
We went into the front parlor, where I immediately noticed two prominently displayed items on the wall: a large, framed photo of George and a framed gold record presented to the Beatles for "Twist and Shout." I also noticed a writing-desk in the corner heaped with stacks of fan mail. Louise said the family had been up until four that morning answering fan letters.
We talked for a few minutes and I showed her my scrapbook, which she accepted enthusiastically on George's behalf. Then she asked me, "Did you come up from London all by yourself, luv?" "No," I answered, "I came with my parents." "Where are they?" "They're waiting for me outside." "Well, bring them in!"
I went to the door and called them in while Louise dashed off to take out her curlers. Just then, George's father, Harry, appeared, and he extended a warm hand to my parents.
The family had been preparing Sunday dinner when I arrived, but, despite our vigorous protests, they dropped everything and Louise and Peter set to work making us coffee and sandwiches. Then we all settled down in the parlor for an unforgettable two-hour visit. While Louise and Peter showed us George's baby pictures and told us one Beatle story after another, Harry and my father talked over their experiences in the war.
Louise explained that George had moved down to London with the other Beatles in late 1963 but still came home often for visits. Before he moved, so many fans had converged on their home that George had had to walk around the house on his hands and knees for fear of being seen through the window. In fact, Harry had trimmed and installed a large blackout screen in their front window in order to give the family some measure of privacy.
I could have stayed forever, but, all too soon, it was time for us to move along to Mathew Street and let the Harrisons get back to their interrupted Sunday dinner preparations. Peter offered to drive us to the Cavern Club, but my mother put her foot down and said that we had already taken up enough of their Sunday-we would take the bus.
Just before we left, I asked Louise whether I might be allowed to peek into George's bedroom. She obligingly led me up the stairs and showed me the cramped bedroom George had shared with Peter until George's move to London eleven months earlier.
There was a pair of single beds against one wall. I had never before seen the English practice of drawing the bedclothes over the entire bed instead of tucking them under the pillow. Louise had decorated the wall behind the beds with red paper hearts and oversized gold keys that various fans had sent George six months earlier for his 21st birthday.
I was thrilled to see an acoustic guitar standing up in the open closet doorway. I picked up the guitar, carried it over to one of the beds, sat down with it, and began struggling to strum some of the chords I had clumsily learned a few months earlier.
Louise went over to George's wardrobe and opened the doors, and I gasped in recognition at the familiar-looking, velvet-collared jacket and brown corduroy jacket hanging there. She reached into the inside pocket of one of the jackets, took out a folded piece of paper, examined it, and said, "You can have this, luv." I looked at the printing on the paper and nearly fainted. It was a typed list of songs that George had used at the Beatles' final recording session for the BBC radio series Pop Go the Beatles in September 1963. What a trophy!
More than 15 years later, in 1979, I was reading an interview with Harry Harrison printed in the Liverpool newspaper Mersey Beat in late August 1964, and was astonished to read this quote from Harry: "We've had people from America here quite recently. One American family, off on a Continental tour, even flew up from London especially to come and see George's home." I was overwhelmed that Harry had paid me the supreme honor of a mention in Mersey Beat, and I felt very sad that I couldn't ring him up and thank him, as he had died the year before.
That visit to Mackets Lane was the beginning of a wonderful friendship with the Harrisons that lasted until they passed away (Louise in 1970, Harry in 1978). It has also led to dozens of cherished friendships with other Beatle friends and family members all over Merseyside.
Along with hundreds of other Beatle fans lucky enough to experience the Harrisons' fantastic hospitality, my parents and I will forever be in debt to George's remarkable family, who so warmly welcomed a straggling family of Yanks into their home and their hearts on that rainy Sunday morning all those years ago. I've never recovered from that day-why would I want to?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All material copyright 1997, 2002 Wheeler Communications
------------------
Paul is still alive.
That was way too much of a pain, so I copied the whole article. Enjoy!
SHAKIN' ALL OVER
A visit with George Harrison's parents, Liverpool 1964
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By Scott Wheeler
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In July 1964, the American teen magazine 16 published what it rightfully hailed as "the scoop of scoops": the home addresses of the Beatles' families in Liverpool. The source of this priceless pearl of information was George Harrison's girlfriend, Pattie Boyd - later to become his wife - who was writing a "Letter from London" column in the magazine every month.
George was reportedly quite upset with Pattie for having blown his family's cover, and she stopped writing the column shortly thereafter, but the damage was already done. Thanks to 16 Magazine, the Beatle addresses were in the hands of thousands of eager Beatles fans all over America...including those of yours truly.
As it happened, my family was already planning a month-long trip to Europe that summer. My father, with his characteristic kindness, asked me if there was any place in Europe that I particularly wished to visit...and so it was that, early on Sunday morning, 2 August 1964, my parents and I boarded a British Eagle Vickers Viscount plane at Heathrow-known simply as London Airport in those days-for the two-hour flight to Liverpool.
George was my favorite Beatle in those days, and I had read in one of my fan magazines that "George's parents are visited by fans from far afield, very often bearing presents. Mrs. Harrison gives them tea and cookies." I was desperate to make my own pilgrimage to the threshold of a Beatle's home, and the Harrisons' house at 174 Mackets Lane, Hunts Cross, Liverpool, was the place to begin.
As a special present for George, I was carrying a large scrapbook that my mother and I had carefully filled with a variety of items back home in Boston. First we pasted in several dozen Beatle trading cards from my collection, each accompanied by a comedy caption. Next, my mother painted four realistic tempera portraits of the Beatles directly on four of the blank pages. Finally, we pasted in a matchbook cover and a sheet of stationery from the Deauville Hotel in Miami Beach, Florida, where the Beatles had stayed during their first American visit. We had written fake "love notes" on them from actresses Mitzi Gaynor and Jill Haworth, both of whom had partied with the Beatles during that visit.
As we embarked on our Liverpool pilgrimage, I was brimming over with confidence, trusting fully in something I called "Beatle luck." My parents, however, were concerned that the trip would be a terrible letdown for me, and both were wondering how they would ever bring me out of the gloom I would surely fall into after facing a succession of closed doors and unanswered knocks.
Just before 11:30 a.m., our plane touched down on a rain-slicked runway at Liverpool Airport under overcast skies. I bought an Ordnance Survey map at the airport gift shop, and we made our way across Speke Road to a nearby bus stop. We weren't familiar with the "request stop" system, and we were mystified when several buses whisked past us without stopping. We finally gave up and decided to walk.
We had gone only a few hundred yards when a car pulled up alongside us and a friendly young man, out for a drive with his mum, leaned out the window and asked if he could be of assistance.
We asked him for directions to Hunts Cross, and they ended up cheerfully driving us to the town square, a few blocks from Mackets Lane. "You see?" I told my parents. "I knew luck would stay with us!" They just shook their heads in amazement.
After walking for several blocks, we arrived in front of number 174, a semidetached (or duplex) council house with a small front garden full of rain washed flowers. I compared the building with a photo in a magazine I had brought along, and a chill came over me: this was the place-Ground Zero. Clutching my scrapbook under my arm, I took a deep breath, walked down the driveway and up the path to the front door, and rang the doorbell.
Moments later the door opened to reveal a tall, handsome young man with dark eyebrows and piercing eyes - not George, but unquestionably a Harrison. It was George's younger brother Peter. I said timidly, "I'm awfully sorry to bother you on a Sunday morning, but I've come all the way from America to see George's place, and I'd like to leave him this book."
Having delivered my speech and my present, I was ready to turn and run, but Peter said, "Come in! Come in!" Despite my protests, he pulled me into the front hall, asked me to wait a moment, and disappeared down the hall.
I stood there, literally shaking in my boots, and suddenly there was Louise Harrison walking toward me, bidding me welcome and apologizing for having her hair in curlers. She looked exactly like the robust, vivacious woman I had seen pictured in the fan magazines.
We went into the front parlor, where I immediately noticed two prominently displayed items on the wall: a large, framed photo of George and a framed gold record presented to the Beatles for "Twist and Shout." I also noticed a writing-desk in the corner heaped with stacks of fan mail. Louise said the family had been up until four that morning answering fan letters.
We talked for a few minutes and I showed her my scrapbook, which she accepted enthusiastically on George's behalf. Then she asked me, "Did you come up from London all by yourself, luv?" "No," I answered, "I came with my parents." "Where are they?" "They're waiting for me outside." "Well, bring them in!"
I went to the door and called them in while Louise dashed off to take out her curlers. Just then, George's father, Harry, appeared, and he extended a warm hand to my parents.
The family had been preparing Sunday dinner when I arrived, but, despite our vigorous protests, they dropped everything and Louise and Peter set to work making us coffee and sandwiches. Then we all settled down in the parlor for an unforgettable two-hour visit. While Louise and Peter showed us George's baby pictures and told us one Beatle story after another, Harry and my father talked over their experiences in the war.
Louise explained that George had moved down to London with the other Beatles in late 1963 but still came home often for visits. Before he moved, so many fans had converged on their home that George had had to walk around the house on his hands and knees for fear of being seen through the window. In fact, Harry had trimmed and installed a large blackout screen in their front window in order to give the family some measure of privacy.
I could have stayed forever, but, all too soon, it was time for us to move along to Mathew Street and let the Harrisons get back to their interrupted Sunday dinner preparations. Peter offered to drive us to the Cavern Club, but my mother put her foot down and said that we had already taken up enough of their Sunday-we would take the bus.
Just before we left, I asked Louise whether I might be allowed to peek into George's bedroom. She obligingly led me up the stairs and showed me the cramped bedroom George had shared with Peter until George's move to London eleven months earlier.
There was a pair of single beds against one wall. I had never before seen the English practice of drawing the bedclothes over the entire bed instead of tucking them under the pillow. Louise had decorated the wall behind the beds with red paper hearts and oversized gold keys that various fans had sent George six months earlier for his 21st birthday.
I was thrilled to see an acoustic guitar standing up in the open closet doorway. I picked up the guitar, carried it over to one of the beds, sat down with it, and began struggling to strum some of the chords I had clumsily learned a few months earlier.
Louise went over to George's wardrobe and opened the doors, and I gasped in recognition at the familiar-looking, velvet-collared jacket and brown corduroy jacket hanging there. She reached into the inside pocket of one of the jackets, took out a folded piece of paper, examined it, and said, "You can have this, luv." I looked at the printing on the paper and nearly fainted. It was a typed list of songs that George had used at the Beatles' final recording session for the BBC radio series Pop Go the Beatles in September 1963. What a trophy!
More than 15 years later, in 1979, I was reading an interview with Harry Harrison printed in the Liverpool newspaper Mersey Beat in late August 1964, and was astonished to read this quote from Harry: "We've had people from America here quite recently. One American family, off on a Continental tour, even flew up from London especially to come and see George's home." I was overwhelmed that Harry had paid me the supreme honor of a mention in Mersey Beat, and I felt very sad that I couldn't ring him up and thank him, as he had died the year before.
That visit to Mackets Lane was the beginning of a wonderful friendship with the Harrisons that lasted until they passed away (Louise in 1970, Harry in 1978). It has also led to dozens of cherished friendships with other Beatle friends and family members all over Merseyside.
Along with hundreds of other Beatle fans lucky enough to experience the Harrisons' fantastic hospitality, my parents and I will forever be in debt to George's remarkable family, who so warmly welcomed a straggling family of Yanks into their home and their hearts on that rainy Sunday morning all those years ago. I've never recovered from that day-why would I want to?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All material copyright 1997, 2002 Wheeler Communications
------------------
Paul is still alive.