by Larry Kane
John paid him back. What an irony that John, in his very devilish and confused years of 1970 through 1975, offered constant attention to George as the younger ex-Beatle launched both his solo music career and his long journey searching for the meaning of life.
There is also evidence of the well-meaning but sometimes indifferent attitude that Paul, and even John, had toward the sublimated creative side of George.
In the acclaimed 2011 documentary by Martin Scorsese called Living in a Material World, there is an older film interview with Paul McCartney. The discussion is about the art of songwriting. And Paul says, quite calmly, “Even our guitarist, George Harrison” is writing songs now. In his using the term “our guitarist” the question remains: Is that the way Paul viewed George, as “our guitarist”? Because in the musical makeup and legacy of the Beatles, George is much more than merely the guitarist. In recent years, and especially during live concerts from 2010 on, Paul definitely cherishes George’s memory and contributions, with a poignant and quite emotional tribute to his friend from Liverpool. Paul’s rendition of George’s sensitively written and performed masterpiece “Something” is enough to bring you to tears.
On the Beatles’ tours, George was the most uncomplicated of the four, enjoying the ride and providing an extraordinary sense of humor in times of turmoil, like during the emergency landing of the chartered Electra airplane in Portland, Oregon, during the 1965 North American tour. While John and Paul were sweating nervously, George yelled out to me, “Remember, Larry, if anything happens, it’s Beatles and children first!”
As a reporter who spent so much time with the boys in those early years of success, I was deeply impressed by George’s willingness to express his feelings, many times with the sense of humor he expressed in that “special landing” in Portland. His composure during that event is even more compelling when you consider that airplanes were George’s least favorite form of transportation. On another occasion, in August 1964, astrologer Jeanne Dixon had forecast that our airplane would crash on the flight from Philadelphia to Indianapolis. In the dressing room at Philadelphia’s Convention Hall, George told me how upset he was at the prediction.
“Will you go on the plane tonight?” I asked.
“No, I’m going to ride a bicycle,” he declared, laughing.
Just for the record, the flight, white knuckles emerging as people grasped their seats, was uneventful and ended with a safe touchdown and loud applause, led by George.
Fears aside, George was an excellent traveler, and was even more amazing to watch on stage. He developed an onstage habit that began at the Casbah and the Cavern, and continued on from there, that was always fascinating to watch. He would gently nod his head downward, as though listening to his guitar, although, frankly, at most locations, with the roar of the crowd and the high-pitched screaming, I couldn’t imagine that he could really hear anything.
Quite the contrary. During a noisy flight on the Electra that carried us across North America, I quizzed him about the noise level in the arenas. Could he hear the music?
“I can hear everything,” he said. “I know when it’s right, and I know when it is not good.”
Promoter Sam Leach recently offered me his early take on George from 1961.
“Very quiet—not an introvert like Pete, but very quiet and shy. He had more of a boyish immaturity. He said only what he had to say—he was not a talker, but when he did say something it was usually funny. He had a dry sense of humor and a quick wit.”
Leach lamented George’s early career, and the circumstances that laid a professional straightjacket around his abilities:
WHEN GEORGE DIED, I WAS IN CHICAGO DOING A SHOW WITH A LOT OF BIG ARTISTS—SPENCER DAVIS AND ABOUT TWENTY OTHER REALLY BIG STARS. GEORGE HAD DIED THE DAY BEFORE. I DID AN INTERVIEW WITH THE PRESS AND IT WENT WORLDWIDE. I TOLD THEM THEN THAT GEORGE WAS NOT USED PROPERLY WITH THE BEATLES. HIS TALENT WAS OVERLOOKED. NOT DELIBERATELY, THOUGH. PAUL AND JOHN WERE SO POWERFUL THAT GEORGE GOT SHOVED INTO THE BACKGROUND BECAUSE HE WAS QUIET, I THINK. I AM A LITTLE DISAPPOINTED WITH PAUL MCCARTNEY’S OUTPUT IN RECENT YEARS; IT’S ALL THE SAME. I THINK GEORGE’S ALBUM BRAINWASHED WAS THE BEST SINGLE SOLO ALBUM FOR TWENTY YEARS. HE WAS OVERLOOKED AND SO UNDERRATED.
That sentiment is echoed by author and world-class Beatles researcher Ron Ellis, who was also a witness to the very early concerts, and a regular supplier to the boys of American records:
MCCARTNEY, EVEN AT THAT YOUNG AGE, FELT LIKE HE WAS THE BUSINESSMAN. I THINK HE WAS THINKING LIKE, “‘WE’VE GOT A GOOD THING GOING HERE, I WANT TO BE IN CHARGE OF THIS. . . .”
GEORGE’S AMBITIONS WERE, I THINK, HELD IN CHECK FROM A SONG-WRITING STANDPOINT. I WOULD SAY GEORGE WAS AS GOOD AS MCCARTNEY AND LENNON, YET . . . HE WASN’T ALLOWED TO DO IT. . . . LENNON AND MCCARTNEY WERE CONTROLLING WHAT WAS SAID. “WE’LL GIVE GEORGE A SONG, WE’LL GIVE RINGO A SONG.” I THINK THEY PUT GEORGE IN THE CATEGORY OF RINGO—THEY WERE THE TWO PEOPLE WHO COMPLETED THE MAKEUP OF THE GROUP, BUT NOT RUNNING IT.
From the beginning, and consistently, George Harrison was a wonderful friend who believed in performing little kindnesses. It’s a quality he seems to have gotten from his upbringing. Beginning in 1963, his parents felt obliged to answer thousands of fan letters, which brought them a lot of joy but also caused them to lose many hours of sleep.
The guitar man himself liked Sundays, especially the times when he would drive his new Ford Anglia, the first car he purchased, over to Tony Bramwell’s house.
“He would drive up,” Bramwell remembers, “and ask my mum and I to take a ride. We had such fun, and George loved making other people smile. He would drive up and say, ‘Hi, Mrs. Bramwell, want to go for a ride?’”
Family was always on George’s mind. After the initial success of “Love Me Do,” and when money started to arrive in larger quantities, the Harrisons moved into a nicer home in Hunts Cross, not far from the Bramwells.
The house was soon overrun by fans who offered to wash the dishes, iron the shirts, and perform other chores and activities. As Bramwell remembers it, these fans became part of the Harrison family.
But the family, especially the parents, never really treated George as a star. George’s sister, Louise Harrison, who lived in North America before and during the Beatles’ ascent, brings real history to life when she reads letters from her mother from that time period: “I was reading one of the letters and someone said, ‘You know, there’s nothing glorious about the way that they are talking.’ They were astounded by the matter-of-fact, non-adulation way that my parents were talking about my brother.”
From the perspective of pressman and Beatles advocate Bill Harry, George really didn’t need to stay in the background, but Harry thinks he may have been overwhelmed.
HE WAS QUIET LIKE THAT WITH THEM. WHEN I PUT THEM ON THE COVER [OF MERSEY BEAT] INDIVIDUALLY, IT WAS GEORGE WHO WAS PORTRAYED AS THE QUIET BEATLE. I SAID TO GEORGE ONE DAY, “LISTEN, GEORGE, HOW COME IT’S ALWAYS LENNON AND MCCARTNEY’S NAMES ON EVERYTHING? WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR SONGWRITING?”
DID YOU KNOW THAT THE ORIGINAL NUMBER THAT MADE PRINT HAD GEORGE’S NAME ON IT? THE VERY FIRST SONG AS THE BEATLES, ORIGINAL COMPOSITION, AS DEPICTED IN ISSUE NUMBER TWO OF MERSEY BEAT, [WAS] “CRY FOR A SHADOW” BY GEORGE HARRISON. IN PRINT, THAT WAS THE FIRST MENTION OF A BEATLES COMPOSITION AND GEORGE WAS THE AUTHOR. SO I SAID TO HIM, “IF YOU CAN’T WRITE WITH JOHN AND PAUL, THEN WRITE A SONG WITH RINGO.” HE WROTE A SONG WITH RINGO, AND I WROTE ABOUT IT IN MERSEY BEAT. I DON’T REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT SONG. THEN AT A LATER TIME, ONE NIGHT, I SAW HIM AS HE WAS COMING OUT OF THE CABIN CLUB ON WOODS STREET. I ASKED HIM ABOUT HIS WRITING. I SAID, “AREN’T YOU WRITING SONGS AGAIN?” HE MUMBLED. THEN I SAW HIM AGAIN IN 1964 IN THE ABC BLACKPOOL, AND I WAS SITTING WITH THEM, AND GEORGE SAID, “I WANT TO THANK YOU.” “THANK ME FOR WHAT?” “YOU JUST MADE ME SEVEN THOUSAND POUNDS.” AND GEORGE SAID THE REASON WAS THAT HE THOUGHT OF ME AND SAID TO HIMSELF THAT HE HAD BETTER WRITE SOMETHING BECAUSE HE WAS GETTING NERVOUS THAT H
E WAS GOING TO RUN INTO ME, AND I WAS GOING TO GET ON HIS BACK ABOUT NOT WRITING, AND THAT HE WAS REALLY WORRIED. SO HE WANTED TO THANK ME BECAUSE HE ALREADY HAD ACCUMULATED SEVEN THOUSAND POUNDS IN ROYALTIES FROM A SONG CALLED “DON’T BOTHER ME.”
“Was he as sweet and pleasant as everyone says, in those days?” I ask.
“He was very nice, very polite and refined—the Beatle who was most stretched,” he says.
LIKE RINGO . . . GEORGE WAS LESS EDUCATED, LESS INTELLECTUAL. ALTHOUGH GEORGE WENT TO LIVERPOOL INSTITUTE WITH PAUL, HE WASN’T THAT INTERESTED IN EDUCATION OR AS KEEN ON GETTING AHEAD AS THE OTHERS. HE AND RINGO WERE NOT AS INTELLECTUAL, LIKE JOHN AND PAUL. GEORGE WASN’T INTERESTED IN BOOKS AND OTHER CULTURAL PURSUITS LIKE JOHN. BUT LATER ON, WHEN HE GOT TO MEET MONTY PYTHON, THE MAHARISHI, AND RAVI SHANKAR, THIS STRETCHED GEORGE . . . [AND] HE EXPANDED HIS HORIZONS. FROM WHAT HE WAS TO WHAT HE WOULD BECOME, THIS I WOULD SAY WAS THE BIGGEST EVOLUTION, THE BIGGEST STRETCH IN ANY ONE MEMBER OF THE BAND. JOHN ALREADY HAD IT. PAUL DID TOO. IT WAS HARDER FOR GEORGE AND HARDEST FOR RINGO.
Even as a boy, George cherished peace and quiet. The limelight was not his intended destination as a teenager. Quarryman Rod Davis shared a wonderful conversation with me that relates to George Harrison and fame:
WE WERE DOING A GIG ONCE, AND LOUISE HARRISON WAS ON THE SAME QUESTIONS-AND-ANSWER PANEL, AND SOMEBODY SAID TO US, WOULD WE HAVE LIKED TO HAVE BEEN THE BEATLES? AND WE SAID, WELL, THE MONEY WOULD HAVE COME IN HANDY NOW AND THEN, BUT WE CAN WALK DOWN THE ROAD TO THE SUPERMARKET, WALK INTO THE PUB, NOBODY’S THREATENING US AND ASKING FOR MONEY. AND LOUISE, SITTING NEXT TO ME, SAID, “YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT GEORGE WOULD GIVE TO JUST BE ABLE TO WALK DOWN THE ROAD TO A PUB AND HAVE A DRINK.” SHE SAID, “YOU KNOW, YOU DON’T REALIZE UNTIL YOU MISS IT HOW IMPORTANT IT IS.”
In my career, I’ve interviewed presidents and public figures from all industries. George was one of the most self-deprecating public figures I’ve ever met. On one occasion in 1964 in an Atlantic City penthouse ballroom, George and I and the others watched a private showing of the final cut of the Beatles’ first movie, A Hard Day’s Night. He seemed to curl up and shrivel in embarrassment. He was shy, but not overly so—just in a very charming manner. You would like the guy instantly. George was a person who reached out. He was a perfect listener, but he was not a man of bullshit, or superficial charm. Yes, he was an amazing performer, but not in the style of John and Paul, rather as the keeper of the guitar, the finesse man who tickled the strings and looked for a better sound than the night before.
Paul McCartney liked the guy from the beginning. The two would share rides on the bus to the Liverpool Institute, and it was there that an excited George told Paul about his first and last gig with George’s very own group, the Rebels, founded just a month before the Woolton meeting between Paul and John.
The Rebels were hired as a replacement band to perform at a British Legion Club near his home. George and his brother Pete handled the guitars. A few other friends provided what they could, which was two songs—the same two songs played over and over again. The crowd, George said, was pleased. Paul loved the story, but even more than that, he admired George’s low-key but obvious enthusiasm, and the look on his face. Paul was enthused; his own day was not far away.
It was his sessions with the musically obsessed George, and George’s determination to learn more and more about the guitar, that eventually convinced Paul to bring George into the Quarrymen.
The early days were frustrating, especially for the youngest player. But he had his own special support network, parents Harry and Louise, who were loving, caring, and willing to go with the flow.
George’s sister, Louise Harrison, describes the parental dynamic of the Harrisons:
THEY WERE TOTALLY, TOTALLY, SUPPORTIVE, RIGHT FROM THE VERY VERY GET-GO. THIS IS SOMETHING THAT I WRITE A LOT ABOUT IN MY BOOK . . . WHAT AN EXCEPTIONAL COUPLE THEY WERE. I FEEL THAT ALTHOUGH THEIR STORY ISN’T KNOWN, I FEEL THAT IT’S A VERY IMPORTANT STORY AS THE FOUNDATION AS TO WHY THE BEATLES HAD SUCH A SOLID OUTLOOK ON LIFE. YOU SEE, BACK IN THEIR TEENS, BOTH PAUL AND JOHN LOST THEIR MOTHERS, AND MY MOM WAS THE ONLY . . . UNTIL, OF COURSE, RINGO CAME ALONG LATER. OF THE THREE OF THEM, MY MOM WAS THE ONLY MOM LIVING. GEORGE WOULD ALWAYS SAY, “BE CAREFUL, BE CAREFUL,” BECAUSE THEY ALL SHARED HER. I’VE GOT LETTERS FROM HER, AND AT ONE POINT I HAD SAID SOMETHING LATER ON ABOUT HOW LEVEL-HEADED THEY WERE, AND SHE SAID, “PARDON ME, BUT I THINK I CAN TAKE SOME CREDIT FOR THAT.”
Was George the nicest Beatle? There is no question about that. His sister claims that title for her kid brother, but my experience and the combined and cumulative impression of the major players also confirms that.
While in the busy days of their adult lives, Paul and Ringo rarely looked back (although Paul has been philanthropically involved in education in Liverpool). George, meanwhile, always did the right thing. He was, indeed, the man who remembered people’s needs in life and death—the family of Mal Evans, whose own story remains ahead, the legacy of his good friend Derek Taylor, his kindnesses toward almost everyone connected to his family, his lasting friendship from unknown to superstar with Tony Bramwell, and his benevolence and sense of concern for John and Ringo in their days of waste and addiction post-Beatles.
Beatles researcher Ron Ellis, who carries the title of football writer to his assorted credits, views George as the ultimate team player, whose respect for the group originally was enormous.
“George Harrison was a nicer person compared to the rest of the guys, and it was from the beginning. John could always be edgy and difficult. Paul was determined to gratify himself. Pete was moody but pleasant. And Ringo started out kind and innocent, but got jaded very quickly. George Harrison was a nice respectful kid in the beginning, and a nice respectful man at the end.”
For his sister, Louise, there are vivid memories of a man who cared only about one kind of love.
SO MANY TIMES HE TALKED ABOUT UNCONDITIONAL LOVE. UNCONDITIONAL LOVE IS MUCH BETTER THAN “I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU” KIND OF LOVE. UNCONDITIONAL LOVE—THERE ARE NO CONDITIONS ON THAT LOVE. NO MATTER WHAT THAT PERSON DOES TO ME, “I LOVE YOU” . . . BUT IT’S NOT NECESSARILY ROMANTIC OR SEXUAL LOVE. IT’S LOVE. SIMILAR TO THE KIND YOU HAVE WITH A PARENT. IT TRANSCENDED THE SEXUAL LOVE. WHEN [FIRST WIFE PATTI BOYD] FOUND THAT SHE WANTED TO BE WITH SOMEBODY ELSE [ERIC CLAPTON], GEORGE JUST WANTED HER TO BE HAPPY.
The author believes that George, in his early years, was the happiest of the boys—just thrilled to be playing music on any stage.
Optimistic. Loving. Almost undaunted. His vision was enhanced, perhaps blurred, through the prism and dreams of hope. But in the late fall and early winter of 1960, the buoyancy of his confidence was seriously challenged when he returned wounded from an overseas incursion to the inner layers of hell and deprivation.
WHEN
THEY
WERE
BOYS
PART THREE: ACROSS THE SEA
Far away. There are no comforts of home. Sleeping with a flush for an alarm clock. The girls who looked like girls but, wait a minute, why were they so willing? Going “all the way” from the art school and institute to the school of real life. The language was different, but the sex was the same and the Jacaranda man played “pox doctor” every few days. The boys paid a price for sowing their seeds. The so-called keepers of the flame—Paul and Pete as pyromaniacs? Angry thugs force them out as young George gets the boot, and Horst comes to the rescue. John stays under the radar; that’s a change. And Stu chooses love over fate.
Rock ’n’ roll lives, and the pills keep a-poppin’, with a trio of friends on hand to give food, ideas, fashion, and the best four-letter word ever: hope. In the dark alleys and bright stages, they get to know Rory. Rory, who set the pace, and whose own sadness parallels their early triumphs.
Things are sloppy, but so is life among the ruins of drugs, insomnia, and sex, more of the latter than the former.
The music? The boys and girls who wander under the glow of the red lights keep
coming back. It’s a good sign, but life turns quickly and scary fists and truncheons are close by. The lights go dark for the young Beatles, but fate follows them like an invisible guardian.
When they come back home in self-imposed disgrace and depression, Mama Mona and a curious promoter help save the bitter-cold days of early winter with a trip to a place called Litherland, which can only be remembered as the boys’ dramatic and scintillating December Surprise.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HAMBURG PART 1—THE WILD SIDE
“In truth, Allan Williams smuggled us into Germany. No papers.
Nothing legal. And that’s the way the first trip ended.”
—Pete Best
“George described it like ‘the black hole of Calcutta.’”
—Louise Harrison, George Harrison’s sister
HOME IN HAMBURG WASN’T PRETTY. So once again, fate and timing enter the boys’ world. Fearing the unknown and yet deciding to hurtle toward it, they left school, left their jobs, and made a creaky, pothole-filled journey to Germany. Once again they would soon be convinced that they were failing. But in reality, they were quietly creating a juggernaut—they just didn’t know it.
The world is filled with cities that project the sinister aspects of life, and neighborhoods that have little subtlety in their efforts to satisfy sexual appetites. Paris has Montmartre; New York City had 42nd Street; and Hamburg has St. Pauli. The red-light districts of the world have always been a sideshow, and in many cases the show includes drugs and violence and other dangers to the mind and body. It’s an irony that the most clean-cut of bands in the British Invasion of 1964 cultivated its raw talent in the seedy surroundings and hostile environment of Hamburg. It is also, as you will learn, somewhat of a minor miracle that the boys survived Hamburg at all.
