Originally published in Uncut Take 57 [February 2002 issue], we look back at George’s remarkable physical journey from 12 Arnold Grove, Liverpool, to superstardom with The Beatles and as a solo artist as well as his equally profound inner journey…
He was a war baby, born in 1943 to the sound of air-raid sirens, barrage balloons along the Mersey and the grim domestic reality of rationing. Reportedly named after King George VI, he lived at 12 Arnold Grove in the Wavertree area of Liverpool with parents Louise and Harold. His dad was a former seaman who had become first a bus driver then a bus conductor.
Young George joined sister Louise and brothers Harold and Peter in the modest two-up, two-down. It had an outside toilet, sharing the back yard with a hen house and a tub which was brought indoors and filled with boiled water on bath nights.
The children shivered through the winters in a house with little heating and just a single fire in the kitchen, but they enjoyed the genuine warmth of a loving family life and George was obedient, kind, fun-loving and keen to learn.
In 1949, the family moved to a council estate in Speke, having been on the waiting list for 18 years. Their house at 25 Upton Green was newer, bigger and it had a bathroom, but the neighbourhood at first seemed rough and unfriendly.
George, by now, was at school. He was a shy but industrious pupil of Dovedale Primary where the older pupils included one John Lennon – although George held no memories from this period of his future Beatlemate.
As George’s age approached double figures, he was already becoming disillusioned with his education – uninspired by the teaching, insulted by the discipline. Still, he passed a grammar school entrance exam and seemed set for a responsible, academic future. But the elitist and archaic routines at the Liverpool Institute simply added to his resentment and triggered a teenage rebellion.
Soon he was copping off with a bunch of mates to smoke “Woodies’ – the cheap, strong, little Woodbine cigarettes beloved of youngsters in the Fifties and Sixties. When he did decide to turn up at class he refused to participate, often sleeping at his desk, and during breaks he enjoyed some less than respectful exchanges with Head Boy Peter Sissons – the future BBC newsreader.
George took a Saturday job delivering meat for a local butcher and, on these rounds, he first became aware of John Lennon, living comfortably in middle-class Woolton with the formidable Aunt Mimi. Enthusiastic about motor racing and cinema, as he would remain throughout his life, George was also soaking up varied musical influences, listening to anything from variety songs to Big Bill Broonzy and Slim Whitman, Hoagy Carmichael to sugary ballads and novelty ditties.
But in the mid-Fifties, as he entered his teens, his musical interests changed dramatically. He first heard the sound of rock’n’roll with Fats Domino’s “I’m In Love Again”. Then came Bill Haley’s “Rock Around The Clock” and Elvis’ “Heartbreak Hotel”, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Buddy Holly…
George’s parents were startled when he began to cultivate the appearance of a Teddy Boy, customising his school uniform and slicking his hair back with Vaseline. But Louise placated her husband, and when George fell in love with Lonnie Donegan and the British skiffle sound, drawing guitars over his school books, she slipped him three pounds and ten shillings to buy one of his own, an Egmond acoustic, second-hand from a friend.
Now he was the proud owner of a “real cheapo horrible little guitar” from which he soon managed to unbolt the neck. Eventually, his brother Pete fixed the stricken instrument, but it was still impossible to play properly. George, however, was determined to learn. He worked his way through a teach-yourself manual and took weekly lessons from a friend of his father’s.
Louise also helped towards the cost of her son’s first decent guitar, an electric Hofner President, and, as he gained confidence, George formed a skiffle band which included brother Pete. They did a lot of bedroom rehearsing but played only one gig, at a local British Legion hall.
George travelled to school each morning on the bus. He disliked being packed in with a crowd of strangers – an early indication of his need for privacy – but one enduring friendship arose from the regular journey, and that was with Paul McCartney, who lived a stop away. They were kindred spirits: Paul had a trumpet, and both loved music.
Paul was an intelligent pupil from the year above George at the Liverpool Institute, and the age difference mattered: McCartney has since admitted he talked down to George, and did so throughout their time together in The Beatles. Still, Paul would become George’s most important ally and supporter.
When the McCartney family moved from Speke to a posher council house in Forthlin Road, Allerton, Paul and George kept up their friendship. Paul, by now, had abandoned the trumpet for a guitar, and the boys would play and sing at each other’s homes, enthusing about Carl Perkins, Duane Eddy, the Everly Brothers and all things rock’n’roll. They hung out together, girl-watching, and hitchhiked to Devon and South Wales.
George was 14 when Paul went to St Peter’s church fête in Woolton in July 1957 and famously met John Lennon, who was playing there with his band The Quarry Men – named after John’s grammar school, Quarry Bank. Impressed by McCartney’s word-perfect rendition of “Twenty Flight Rock”, Lennon and his band invited McCartney to join.
Within a matter of months, Paul had introduced his two friends at a Quarry Men gig. John was two years and four months older than George and unimpressed by the whippersnapper. George, for his part, came to idolise the streetwise rock’n’roller.
Lennon remembered in 1970: “I couldn’t be bothered with him when he first came round. He used to follow me around like a bloody kid, hanging around all the time. It took me years to come round to him, to start considering him as an equal or anything. He was a kid who played guitar.” The kid played a damned good guitar, particularly a piece called “Raunchy”, which impressed even Lennon. With McCartney hammering on about George’s excellence, John finally agreed that he could join The Quarry Men.
The other members of the group soon fell by the wayside, leaving John, Paul and George as a three-piece, snapping up any bookings they could get, including the wedding of George’s brother Harry. On another night, Harry Harrison Sr, a union official, had arranged for them to play the Liverpool Transport Club. They thanked him by getting pissed.
One of the group’s earliest fans also helped to find them some party gigs. He was Stuart Sutcliffe, a gentle, friendly fellow student of John, now at the Liverpool Art College. George and Paul had met Stu while sneaking out of school at lunchtimes to visit John at college, an alluringly grown-up place, and Stu accorded the boy George a respect that he didn’t command from his champion McCartney, the grumpy Lennon or the class-conscious Aunt Mimi.
George, at the same time, was playing guitar and sharing lead vocals in a skiffle, blues and bluegrass band, The Les Stewart Quartet, formed with some friends. Through the Quartet, he met Pete Best, whose mother Mona was converting the family basement into a club called The Casbah – later a Beatles haunt.
Before long, George’s commitment to The Quarry Men was absolute. Stu Sutcliffe came in on bass, even though he couldn’t play it, and drummers drifted in and out. In the spring of 1960, as Lennon legend has it, “a man appeared on a flaming pie” to call them The Beatles, although they were Johnny And The Moondogs, Long John And The Silver Beetles, and then just The Silver Beetles before settling on the famous name.
George had given up on school and, after a period of unemployment and pressure from his dad, had become an apprentice electrician for a shop called Blackler’s. But after auditioning for London agent Larry Parnes, the group were booked for a May Scottish tour with Johnny Gentle, and George, to his father’s disappointment, quit his job. He became Carl [after Perkins| Harrison as the band adopted stage names for the tour. And that would be the only trace of glamour about it for George.
He didn’t enjoy travelling in a cramped van. The crowds were dismal, the band were broke, they had little equipment and they sounded terrible. Still, it was better than a ‘real’ job. And so when The Beatles got the call to go to Hamburg later that year, the 17-year-old George jumped in the van with renewed optimism, a tin of his mother’s scones and the band’s new drummer, the one he had met at The Casbah and recommended to The Beatles: Pete Best.
That first trip to Hamburg was the making of The Beatles – and, in a particular way, the making of George. It was there that he lost his virginity in the dingy apartment he shared with the band, while John, Paul and Pete followed his progress from their bunks.
“He used to follow me around like a bloody kid… it took me years to come round to him, to start considering him as an equal“
Lennon on Harrison
George recalled: “They couldn’t really see anything because I was under the covers, but after I’d finished, they all applauded and cheered. At least they kept quiet while I was doing it.” He was – and seemed like – an innocent abroad.
That’s just how he appeared to photographer, intellectual and Beatles fan Astrid Kirchherr. She said: “He was just such a lovely young boy…so sweet and open about everything.”
The lovely young boy was also introduced to drugs. With The Beatles playing for up to eight hours a night, or rotating with another band for a gruelling 12 hours, they kept going by using uppers supplied by the clubs – particularly Prellies’ [Preludin].
“We were frothing at the mouth, stomping away,” said George. “We went berserk in as much as we got drunk a lot and we played wildly and then they gave us these pills.”
Hamburg, according to George, “bordered on the best of Beatles times.” It did provide a classic education in sex, drugs and, definitely rock’n’roll, with The Beatles building up a massive repertoire, tightening their sound and learning how to work a crowd – and control one. Their audiences ranged from young teenagers to prostitutes and strippers, Existentialists like Astrid and Klaus Voormann to gangsters, drunken British soldiers, out-and-out fighters…. and Ringo Starr.
George was initially wary of Ringo, who was playing in town with Rory Storm And The Hurricanes and “looked like a real tough guy”. However, Ringo quickly became more pally with The Beatles than their own drummer, the quiet Pete, and would shout up requests while they were onstage.
After residences at the Indra and Kaiserkeller, The Beatles were just about to be promoted to the Top Ten club when George was dealt a shattering blow. The authorities discovered that he was too young to be in nightclubs after the 10pm curfew for under 18s, and he was sent home, “on my own and all forlorn”, especially since the band intended to play on without him. But it was also found that they had no work permits or visas, and Pete and Paul were deported after starting a small fire in a cinema.
Billed as conquerors of Hamburg. The Beatles received a heroes’ welcome when they played in Liverpool, graduating from clubs to dancehalls and fitting in regular gigs at The Cavern – often with George’s mother, Louise, in the audience.
In February 1961, George turned 18 and the group returned to Hamburg just weeks later. Here, they bought their trademark leathers and cowboy boots. George had forgotten his Vaseline and, with Astrid’s and Klaus’s encouragement, started letting his hair dry over his forehead instead of slicking it back. It was the birth of the moptop, with John and Paul following suit later on.
The Beatles were regulars at the Top Ten, backing singer Tony Sheridan, with whom they taped the legendary “My Bonnie”. When the bookings finished, so did Stu Sutcliffe, who quit to settle down in Hamburg with Astrid, and The Beatles’ third guitarist, Paul McCartney, switched to bass.
Sadly, Sutcliffe died from a brain haemorrhage in April 1962. Before that, he’d come back to Liverpool to see his old friends. George felt that it was “almost as if he’d had a premonition that he wasn’t going to see us again… In retrospect, I believe he was finishing something.”
On Saturday. October 28, 1961, so the story goes, the first of a few customers came into Brian Epstein’s Liverpool record shop, NEMS, requesting “My Bonnie” by a group called The Beatles. Curious, Epstein went to The Cavern, where George assessed his future manager as “some very posh rich fellow”.
George may not have been far off the mark, but Brian proved his worth in May 1962. Having had The Beatles turned down by almost every record label in Britain, legendarily Decca, he secured an audition with George Martin.
The group heard the news in Hamburg during a seven-week residency at the famous Star Club, where they had played some notable supports with raving mad rock’n’roll hero Gene Vincent – who once terrified George by asking him to hold his gun during a showdown with an imagined love rival. The youngest Beatle ran.
Back in the UK, George Martin, seemed every bit as posh and urbane as Brian. His authority was clear at the audition, but he showed that he could take a joke when he asked The Beatles if there was anything they weren’t happy about and George replied: “Well… I don’t like your tie.”
It was a Harrison witticism of the sort that would soon become familiar to millions of fans – a little cheekier than Paul’s boy-next-door joshing, but milder than Lennon’s often vicious lash. There was one thing the producer wasn’t happy about himself, and that was Pete’s drumming. which jeopardised the group’s proposed Parlophone contract. By his own admission, George Harrison was the prime mover in the conspiracy to dump Best and bring in Ringo. He personally extended the invitation to Starr and later earned a black eye in the Cavern, courtesy of a Pete Best supporter.
With Ringo in place, The Beatles were poised to captivate Liverpool, Britain and the world with the sound of ‘Merseybeat’. Before they did, though, they put away their leathers and took to suits, at Epstein’s bidding. Unlike Lennon, George was agreeable.
He said: “Brian Epstein wanted us to appeal to the producers of radio, television and record companies. We gladly switched into suits to get some more money and some more gigs.”
The Beatles’ first single and first Top 20 hit, “Love Me Do” was released early in October 1962, and when George heard it on the radio for the first time, it “sent me shivery all over. It was the best buzz of all time.”
There were, of course, a million more buzzes to come. “Please Please Me” became the first in a run of Number One singles in February 1963 while The Beatles, back from their final stint in Hamburg, were on their first UK package tour, supporting Helen Shapiro.
They took one day out to record their debut album, Please Please Me, with George singing lead on John’s “Do You Want To Know A Secret”. But, George was clearly not being taken too seriously as a vocalist.
Of “Do You Want To Know A Secret”, Lennon said: “I thought it would be a good vehicle for him because it only had three notes and he wasn’t the best singer in the world.” George’s performance was technically underwhelming – he has since admitted that he “didn’t know how to sing” – but he did invest it with a friendly naiveté that suited his boyishness and endeared him to many a young girl.
With the album released in March and a third single, “From Me To You”, in April, The Beatles jumped on a treadmill that they would not get off for some years. There were press interviews, television and radio appearances, and, always, live shows. On one package tour in May, they ended up swapping places on the bill with original headliner Roy Orbison, who formed a close friendship with George. Much later, they would work together in The Traveling Wilburys.
Now, though, Beatlemania was taking off in a big way. Tickets changed hands for ridiculous prices. Girls were screaming and throwing jelly babies at the stage, thinking George liked them. The group were mobbed wherever they went, and their fan mail had to be delivered to their homes in special vans.
Over the summer, George made serious attempts at songwriting. Ill in bed in a Bournemouth hotel, he penned the irritable “Don’t Bother Me”, which he sang on With The Beatles, the group’s second album of 1963.
“I don’t think it’s a particularly good song…” he later remarked. “But at least it showed me that all I needed to do was keep on writing and maybe eventually I would write something good.”
Paul McCartney remembers talking to Lennon about the possibility of including George in the songwriting team and the pair deciding that “we’d just keep to two of us”. This left Harrison feeling isolated and “a bit paranoid” as he persisted with his writing over the years, trailing in the slipstream of his prolific and revered colleagues. But with characteristic determination, he went on to establish himself as a most individual composer: to the horror of some and the great fascination of others, he began to incorporate his discovery of Indian music into his writing, and his knowledge of Eastern instruments and techniques came into play in Beatles songs other than his own.
A man of broad influences, George also ventured beyond the Oriental to produce such enduring highlights as the bass-driven, fucked-off “Taxman”. the delicate “Here Comes The Sun” and, of course, his big, mainstream moment, “Something” – a love song to his wife Patti and one of the most covered songs of all time.
All of this was undreamt of back in January 1964 when “I Want To Hold Your Hand” took The Beatles to Number One in America. Beatlemania, having blitzed the UK, swept the world. George was the only member who’d previously been to the States. The year before, he’d visited New York, St Louis and Illinois, where his sister Louise was living.
Flying out for the second time with The Beatles, to the tearful waves of thousands of girls at the airport, and arriving in New York to the shrieks and faints of thousands more, George was preoccupied with his appearance – he was having a bad hair day – and a developing throat infection. His illness became so bad that he almost had to step down from the prestigious Ed Sullivan Show, which aired to 73 million viewers.
Two months later, The Beatles occupied all top five places in the Billboard singles chart, with “Can’t Buy Me Love” at Number One. Later, George said of the riotous scenes in America: “I wasn’t really aware of any change-over in our fame. I thought, We’ll enjoy what’s happening and go out there and do our thing.”
But as one tour followed another, the stresses and strains of travelling with the world’s greatest pop circus became “just too much” according to George, who yearned for his privacy all the more as time went on.
Apart from the obvious difficulties of being mobbed at every turn, he was tiring of the constant screaming, the futility of even attempting to play live, the waving from hotel balconies and windows (although he rose to the occasion for an unprecedented 300,000 fans turning out to welcome The Beatles to Adelaide), the many civic receptions that the group were expected to attend and the inevitable showers of jelly beans – harder than the soft British jelly babies – that rained down on the stage every night.
He detested celebrity games and set-ups, including the night he and John were lured to LA’s Whiskey-A-Go-Go. There, busty actress Jayne Mansfield, having alerted the paparazzi, sat between the two Beatles with her hand at the top of George’s leg. As cameras flashed and the pair were forced to wait for their drinks, George threw a glass of water over a photographer and passing actress Mamie Van Doren, and caused a sensation in the press.
With hurricanes and other violent weather systems blighting their travels, political protests and riots taking place across the world, and with President Kennedy’s 1963 assassination in the back of his mind, George admitted that “all the time, constantly, I felt frightened by things,” and he refused to take part in a ticker-tape parade in San Francisco.
Safely back in the UK, The Beatles began their debut film, A Hard Day’s Night, with director Richard Lester and scriptwriter Alun Owen. It’s widely believed that George was ill at ease with filming but, in fact, he loved the experience. He had every reason to be happy – he met his future wife, Pattie Boyd, a model appearing as one of the schoolgirls in the movie.
His other memorable achievement was to speak the line which gave us the word ‘grotty’. “Alun Owen made that up,” he protested recently. “I didn’t.”
The premiere of A Hard Day’s Night was held in July 1964 in London, with Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon in attendance. Legend has it that a ravenous George, at the party afterwards. diplomatically asked the royal couple to leave because The Beatles had been warned not to breach protocol by eating in their presence.
Within a week, “A Hard Day’s Night” the single, and the rushed but spirited album, were in record shops across the country. And by the end of 1964, the group had released another equally hasty LP, the patchy Beatles For Sale. While George took the lead vocal on various Lennon-McCartney originals and covers, he had none of his own songs included on either album, but his perseverance eventually began to pay off, and he contributed to every Beatles LP thereafter.
During this period, George gave Paul a run for his money as a sex symbol. And although he entered into The Beatles’ quickfire repartee for public appearances, he was quieter, more self-contained than his bandmates.
He was increasingly regarded as “the invisible man”, “the quiet one”, and a thoroughly private individual. Even his birth date was shrouded in mystery. Most records state February 25, although George told Billboard many years later that it was, in fact, the day before.
Through the second half of the Sixties, George would retreat further, into psychedelic drugs and mysticism, his interest in both beginning in 1965. While making the dubious Help!, their second film, The Beatles flew to the Bahamas in February for some location filming. Sitting astride bicycles, they were surprised to be approached by an orange-clad yogi who handed them copies of a book, The Illustrated Book Of Yoga. Later, having studied hatha yoga, George met the same man again. He turned out to be Swami Vishnu Devananda – “the foremost hatha yoga exponent”.
Back in London in April, still shooting Help!, George was strongly attracted to the sound of the Indian band appearing in a restaurant scene. In a series of coincidences, he kept hearing about Ravi Shankar and was finally invited to dine with him. Shankar’s music “hit a certain spot in me that I can’t explain, but it seemed very familiar.”
It was that same spring that George, Pattie, John and Cynthia Lennon tried LSD – accidentally – in what they later named “The Dental Experience”. The Beatles had already progressed from uppers to pot. George’s first smoke was with The Beatles in a dressing room in Southport, later twisting the night away while insisting that the drugs hadn’t worked.
They spent a memorable night sharing spliffs with Bob Dylan in New York in August 1964 and then never looked back, puffing and giggling their way through Help! and dropping a mischievous “turns me on” into the lyrics of “She’s A Woman”.
But LSD was something else. The two couples had gone to dinner at the home of a dentist friend who spiked their coffee. George recalled in Anthology: “It was something like a very concentrated version of the best feeling I’d ever had in my whole life. It was fantastic. I fell in love, not with anything or anybody in particular but with everything.”
That night, said George, “a light bulb went on in my head”. He found LSD positive, illuminating. the route to a different consciousness. Later, he would decide that chemicals were not the way to self-awareness but, in the meantime, he and John would take numerous trips together, and they badgered Paul and Ringo into tripping, too. Quite apart from the dramatic impact hallucinogenics would make on the music, they had bonding qualities: Lennon forgot about the age gap and became George’s closest friend in The Beatles.
George was still finding it “very hard” to compete with Paul and John when The Beatles came to write and record the progressive, marijuana-scented Rubber Soul, released in December 1965. But by the time of the pioneering Revolver, which was decisively informed by acid, George was coming forward as a key contributor. He declared that the only worthwhile contemporary music was Indian, and the Eastern elements of the album were almost entirely of his making
The growing complexity of The Beatles’ music, with its studio wizardry, rendered much of it impossible to reproduce onstage. Because of this, and dissatisfection for the touring process, George, like John, was starting to feel that the band should retire from live performance. Manila just about put the cap on it.
The Beatles inadvertently offended the First Lady of the Philippines, Imelda Marcos, by not turning up to an official function. They’d been unaware of the invitation – Brian had declined it – but the repercussions were enormous. The snub was inflated to the level of a national crisis, the band were yelled at, abused and manhandled as they struggled around the airport, and they were then held on the plane while officials relieved Brian of their concert earnings for “tax”.
All four Beatles now agreed that enough was enough. But first they had to honour a tour of America. While there, following Lennon’s inflammatory remark about The Beatles being bigger than Jesus, they were confronted by death threats and record- and effigy-burnings by the Ku Klux Klan. Their final show; at San Francisco’s Candlestick Park on August 29, 1966, would be their last.
George was relieved, and went on holiday with Patti to India, there to learn sitar with Shankar, study yoga and discover more about the “tremendous spiritual strength” of the people.
As 1967 dawned. the Sgt Pepper sessions were in full swing at Abbey Road, with George, like the other Beatles, sporting a moustache. “Penny Lane” and “Strawberry Fields Forever” released together in February, showed a revolutionary musical process, an ability to write visually, but it was, ironically, the first Beatles single since “Please Please Me” to miss the Number One spot, held off by Engelbert Humperdinck’s “Please Release Me”.
George wasn’t too worried. He’d left his heart in India, and was already losing interest in “being ‘Fab’”. He wasn’t that impressed by McCartney’s original vision of Sgt Pepper as the fictitious story of another band, and he became bored by the hours of laborious studio work, as did John. Only one of George’s songs was included, “Within You Without You”, and with Indian musicians helping out on the recording, no other Beatle was featured – although John and Ringo both adored it.
Retrospectively, George stated that although he was proud of the famous sleeve and liked “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” and “A Day In The Life”, much of the album was ordinary. He preferred Rubber Soul and Revolver.
In February, George was embroiled in a scandal when police busted Keith Richards, Mick Jagger and their friend Robert Fraser at a raid on Keith’s house. Rumours spread that George and Patti had been at the party, but as George was an MBE-holder and respected citizen, the police had waited for them to leave before swooping.
George, on the contrary, came to believe that there was “an establishment plot against us”. John and Yoko were busted; and on March 12, 1969 – Paul and Linda Eastman’s wedding day – so were George and Patti. They claimed that the police had planted a lump of cannabis in their home (the arresting sergeant was later found guilty of doing just that in other cases). The couple were convicted of possession and fined £250 plus costs.
Back in 1967, George was still well into his psychedelics, and when The Summer Of Love rolled around, it seemed fitting that he should personally visit Haight-Ashbury, centre of the hippie movement. It was a crushing disappointment. George had expected to find an atmosphere of spiritual endeavour, but was instead confronted with all sorts of “bums and drop-outs” getting wasted. There and then, he gave up LSD and turned to transcendental meditation.
“I fell in love, not with anything or anybody in particular, but with everything… A light bulb went on in my head“
George on his first acid trip
Maharishi Mahesh Yogi arrived in his life at exactly the right time. Brian Epstein was at a loose end when The Beatles stopped touring. After battling insomnia and fresh bouts of a lifelong depression, he was found dead in bed from an accidental overdose of prescription drugs on August 27, 1967.
The Beatles heard the news in Bangor, Wales, where they were attending a Maharishi seminar. Shocked but drawing from the Maharishi’s philosophical reactions, George told the press: “He [Brian] dedicated so much of his life to The Beatles. We liked and loved him. He was one of us. There is no such thing as death. It is a comfort to us all to know that he is OK.”
Then he drove back to London with the other Beatles, where they quickly realised the enormity of their loss but refused to appoint a new manager in Epstein’s place. Paul’s response was to urge the others back to work, suggesting his earlier idea of an unscripted film about a magical coach trip. George and John were unenthusiastic about the proposal but went along with it anyway.
George said in Anthology: “I had no idea what was happening, and maybe I didn’t pay enough attention because my problem, basically, was that I was in another world.” At the same time, he conceded that there were a couple of good songs and a few funny scenes in Magical Mystery Tour. His own contribution, “Blue Jay Way”, was lavishly treated with studio effects, making it a weirdly atmospheric triumph.
Released in December, the double EP was followed by the BBC’s world premiere of the film on Boxing Day. George wasn’t surprised when it was roundly panned, later commenting that “it wasn’t a brilliantly scripted affair that was executed well.” (He would be much more complimentary about Yellow Submarine next year, describing it as “a classic”, even though the group had little to do with it.)
It was around this time that The Beatles were trying to clarify their financial and business affairs, and made an early decision to expand Apple, which Brian had set up as a small publishing company. George thought the famous Apple boutique in Baker Street “started as an excellent idea”. He particularly enjoyed the overnight, psychedelic painting of the building, seeing it as “part of the Teddy Boy in us, the theme of “We’ll show them.’”
George went to Bombay in the new year of 1968 to work on the soundtrack for the Wonderwall film with Indian musicians. In February, he returned to India with Patti, John and Cynthia to study under the Maharishi in Rishikesh. The other Beatles joined them later.
It was a productive visit, inspiring many songs which would end up on The White Album. Leaving suddenly in a storm of controversy, George and Patti travelled south to Madras to visit Ravi Shankar. While he was away, his bandmates opened the Apple offices in London, and George returned to find them over-run with “lunatics” and “hangers-on”.
Harrison later accused Lennon and McCartney of getting carried away and wasting millions, and he publicly advised aspiring entrepreneurs against forming partnerships. But he was excited about the A&R aspects of Apple, and brought Jackie Lomax and Billy Preston to the label.
Later, however, George would be responsible for a gang of Californian Hell’s Angels setting up home, chaotically, in the offices, accepting his invitation to drop by should they ever be in London. Eventually, he had to ask them to leave.
More welcome was the quiet, young Krishna disciple who sat hoping for an opportunity to collar George in the Apple lobby one day in 1969. The chance meeting led to a lifelong involvement for George, who promoted and donated generously to the faith, and became close friends with guru Srila Prabhupada.
Having met the rest of The Beatles and moved into John and Yoko’s Tittenhurst Park estate while awaiting permits for a new temple, the devotees recorded a single, “The Hare Krishna Mantra”, with George, Paul and Linda. Released on Apple in August, it was a hit throughout Europe and Japan. George also produced and played on the follow-up, “Govinda”.
The Beatles were at work on what many consider to be their finest collection – the double White Album – throughout much of 1968. George felt that there was more of a group spirit about the recordings than there had been for Sgt Pepper, even though there was a lot of individual activity.
But he did have problems. Lennon and McCartney were unhelpful during the recording of “Happiness Is A Warm Gun” until George invited Eric Clapton to play on it. The presence of an ‘outsider’ resulted in more respectful behaviour.
George had no answer, though, to the “weird vibe created by Yoko Ono, who was constantly present during the sessions. Recalling that, like Paul and Ringo, he was “uncomfortable” with this unheard-of situation, George was sure that Yoko intended to separate John from the rest of the group.
John retaliated in 1970: “George insulted her right to her face in the Apple office at the beginning… and we both sat through it. And I didn’t hit him. I don’t know why…Ringo was all right. So was [his wife] Maureen. But the other two really gave it to us. I’ll never forgive them. I don’t care what fuckin’ shit about Hare Krishna and God and Paul – well, I’ve changed me mind. I don’t forgive ’em for that.” (He forgave George sufficiently to invite him to play on the Imagine album the following year.)
In addition to the conflict over Yoko, each Beatle felt that the other three were united against him, and Ringo left for a short while. He returned after protestations of love, and George welcomed him back by dressing the studio in flowers.
It was George’s turn to leave during the miserable, filmed recordings for Let It Be – another of Paul’s ideas – which began in January 1969. Relations within the band were at an all-time low, and George, who had been enjoying the company of other musicians, had little desire to be there. Nor did Ringo or John, smacked out and accompanied, as usual, by Yoko.
After a string of inter-band arguments and a row with Paul, who’d been trying to dictate what he should play, George stormed out of the band. Like Ringo, he was persuaded to come back, and by bringing Billy Preston in to play keyboards on “Get Back”, he succeeded in improving the atmosphere, as he had before with Clapton.
But more problems were on the horizon. In May 1969, George, John and Ringo appointed American Allen Klein’s company to take charge of The Beatles’ business affairs, believing at the time that he was a straightforward operator, but Paul had decided to be represented by his in laws, John and Lee Eastman, effectively splitting the group into two factions.
George later resented Klein, who got rid of many Apple staffers, put his own men in and “proceeded to control everything in the manner he wanted”. Despite the divisions, The Beatles worked harmoniously when they recorded their last album, Abbey Road (although it was released before Let It Be). And it was now, as the group was coming to an end, that George finally established himself as a major songwriter with “Here Comes The Sun” and “Something”.
Sir George Martin later admitted: “He was never treated on the same level, as having the same quality of songwriting, by anyone – by John, by Paul or by me… His songs did get better until eventually they got extremely good… George was a loner and I’m afraid that was made worse by the three of us. I’m sorry about that now:”
In May 1969, George released an album, Electronic Sound, to launch Apple’s experimental Zapple label, along with the Lennon-Ono album, Unfinished Music No 2: Life With The Lions. The Beatles ended when John announced he was leaving in September 1969, although the split was covered up until McCartney announced it in & April 1970.
It took months and years of legal activity to wind up their affairs, dissolve the partnership and sort out the money, during which McCartney filed a suit against George, John and Ringo. George became so fed up with the protracted battles that he told Lennon: “T’ve had enough. I don’t want to do it any more. Fuck it all! I don’t care if I’m poor. I’ll give it all away.”
But he was convinced, too, that The Beatles had done the right thing: “It had to self-destruct, and I wasn’t feeling bad about anybody wanting to leave because I wanted out myself. I could see a much better time ahead being by myself, away from the band. It had ceased to be fun and it was time to get out of it. It was like a straitjacket.”
George had been writing with Eric Clapton, recording with Bob Dylan and Jack Bruce, producing Billy Preston and playing with Delaney & Bonnie at a time of sweeping changes in his life.
In March 1970, he and Patti left their bungalow in Esher for a spectacular manor house, Friar Park, in Henley-On-Thames, Oxfordshire. At one time owned by the eccentric solicitor and JP Sir Frank Crisp, it’s a bizarre folly, complete with gargoyles, statues and carvings, a lake and acres of grounds in which George would discover a passion for gardening. It was a perfect retreat for the reclusive Harrison. In time, his brothers Harry and Pete moved south with their families to help run the estate and gardens.
Officially free of The Beatles, George spent the second half of 1970 recording his triple solo album, All Things Must Pass, with Ringo on drums and Phil Spector producing. During this period, his mother Louise – then living with Harry in a house George had bought for them near Warrington, Cheshire – died from a cancerous brain tumour on July 7 with her famous son at her bedside.
“He was never treated on the same level, by John, by Paul or by me… his songs did get better until eventually they got extremely good“
Sir George Martin
Four months later, All Things Must Pass was released. Record buyers were still in the grip of post-hippie mysticism, and the album’s Number One triumph on both sides of the Atlantic confounded the expectations of John Lennon who, on seeing the cover, had reputedly remarked: “He must be fucking mad, putting three records out.”
The Ivor Novello award-winning single, “My Sweet Lord”. was an equally spectacular success. Describing his inspiration, George explained: “What I really want to do is liberate myself from this chaos and of this body… I want to be God-conscious.”
Perhaps George should have been copyright-conscious, too. Despite claiming to have been influenced by the spirit of the Edwin Hawkins Singers’ “Oh Happy Day”, he was subsequently found guilty of “subconscious plagiarism” of The Chiffons’ “He’s So Fine”, and ended up paying more than half a million dollars in damages.
George’s star continued to rise when he released the single “BanglaDesh” and organised two celebrity benefit concerts, both on August 1, 1971 at Madison Square Garden, for refugees from the war with Pakistan. For George, the great success of the event was that a dithering Bob Dylan had actually made it onstage. In fact, it was the first major charity spectacular of its kind, and a forerunner to the likes of Live Aid.
The concerts, plus the live album and film that they spawned, together raised around $IS million, although George was disillusioned when the tax authorities took a chunk despite his remonstrations, and when he discovered that record retailers were profiting by hiking up the price of the albums.
In 1973, George enjoyed another massive hit single with “Give Me Love (Give Me Peace On Earth)”. The album, Living In The Material World, sold a million while earnestly promoting George’s spiritual message. In his private life, George spent hours meditating and chanting mantras, often using prayer beads.
He made pilgrimages, he was vegetarian, and he tried to observe a lifestyle which sternly forbade vices such as drink, drugs, greed, anger and sex for any purpose other than procreation. But he was only human – and he had been a Beatle: anything he wanted was his. Without renouncing his deep-seated beliefs, he sometimes succumbed to worldly temptation.
After setting up his own Dark Horse Records in February 1974, he split with Patti in the summer and, for a while, he went on a bender, enjoying sex, drink and “other naughty things that fly around” before heading for America to set up a tour with Ravi Shankar. While in LA, he met Olivia Arias, an assistant with Dark Horse distributors A&M, and they fell in love.
The tour was not a happy event for George, despite the presence of his father and the prestige of a visit with President Gerald Ford in the White House. The shows were criticised by both audiences and critics alike, who struggled with Shankar’s traditional material and George’s religious evangelism.
The Dark Horse album, which followed immediately, sold disappointingly, and George, back home with Olivia in Friar Park, became more of a hermit than usual, drank a lot and contracted hepatitis.
A follow-up, 1975’s moody Extra Texture – Read All About It, fared slightly better. The following year’s Thirty-Three And A Third was a more up-beat offering – even though George (by now sporting an ill-advised curly perm) missed his deadlines and was only saved from being sued for $10 million by A&M when Warner Bros agreed to buy out the contract. The album was widely received as a return to form.
In May, 1978 George’s father died from emphysema after reportedly appearing in a vision to his son during the night. Only three months later, George and Olivia celebrated the birth of a baby boy, Dhani, and the couple were married at Henley Registry Office on September 2 with only the bride’s parents in attendance.
Releasing his acclaimed George Harrison album in February 1979, he commented drily: “It’s the first time I’ve done a birth, a marriage and a death during making a record.”
Another marriage soon followed – that of Patti and Eric Clapton. George, Paul and Ringo were among guests at the reception, held on May 19. There they played together for the first time since The Beatles, on a wooden stage in Clapton’s back garden.
The three reconvened again after John Lennon’s murder in 1980 to play on George’s “All Those Years Ago”, which he had rewritten to refer to John. “After all we went through together I had and still have great love and respect for him,” George had told the press after receiving the dreadful news from America.
Years on, asked about his own security, he commented – ironically, in view of what later happened: “I don’t fear for my life like some people try to suggest.” In other conversations, he admitted a greater concern.
Peter Sellers, another close friend of George, had also died in 1980. Many of the ex-Beatle’s inner circle were from the world of comedy, including Eric Idle. He had persuaded George to appear in an episode of Rutland Weekend Television in 1975, and to play a cameo role in The Rutles’ 1978 film, All You Need Is Cash.
George formed Handmade Films after putting his own home up as collateral to raise the budget for the 1979 Monty Python movie, The Life Of Brian. The company went on to produce some first-class films, including The Long Good Friday (1980), Mona Lisa (1986) and Withnail And1 (1986), although George’s patience was said to have been strained by the “Poison Penns” during filming of the less-than-brilliant Shanghai Surprise (1986). He sold the catalogue in 1994, having entered into a dispute with former partner Denis O’Brien.
Throughout the early Eighties, George remained depressed over Lennon’s assassination and seemed lacking in motivation. He released the dismal Gone Troppo album and, closeted away in Friar Park, allegedly developed a hearty appetite for cocaine, was rumoured to have rediscovered his interest in sex outside marriage, and once again seemed to have abandoned his spiritual discipline.
He furthered his interest in motor racing, and was finally tempted back onstage by his old hero Carl Perkins for a TV show also featuring Ringo and Dave Edmunds in October 1985. From then on, friends say, he was rejuvenated, picking up the guitar again with old cronies like Clapton and Dylan.
George’s musical rehabilitation was complete with the release of 1987’s Jeff Lynne-produced Cloud Nine – a Top Ten album both in the UK and the US. A single, a cover of Rudy Clark’s “Got My Mind Set On You”, topped the American chart, and “When We Was Fab” permitted George a backward-looking chuckle at The Beatles with a similarly nostalgic videos.
In January 1988, he took the stage at New York’s Waldorf Astoria Hotel with Ringo, Yoko, Sean and Julian Lennon as The Beatles were inducted by Mick Jagger into the Rock’n’Roll Hall Of Fame and, after the ceremony, he jammed with Jagger, Ringo, Dylan, Little Richard, Elton John and Bruce Springsteen.
Taking his new-found enthusiasm a step further, George formed The Traveling Wilburys with Jeff Lynne, Bob Dylan, Roy Orbison and Tom Petty. Each adopted a name, George’s being Nelson Wilbury, and a single, “Handle With Care”, was released in October with the album, Volume One.
The scale of the Wilburys’ success was even more gratifying to Roy Orbison – whose career had been in a dip – than it was to George, and so it came as a bitter blow to everyone concerned when Orbison died from a heart attack on December 6.
George said afterwards: “We loved Roy, and still do. He’s out there, really, his spirit. You know, life flows on within you and without you. He’s around.” Into the Nineties, the four Earthbound Wilburys were at work with new names, George this time choosing Spike. Their second album, titled Volume 3 to avoid confusion with a bootleg. was released in October 1990 with no original composition from George.
It included a cover of “Nobody’s Child” which they released as a single and also donated to the Nobody’s Child – Romanian Angel Appeal album. The appeal was set up to aid Romanian orphans by George’s wife Olivia, in collusion with Yoko and Linda – a fact which highlighted the warmer winds now blowing between the three surviving Beatles and John Lennon’s widow. Ringo had remained on friendly terms with everyone after the split, but clearly the others were beginning to repair the old friendships and, with Yoko, to establish more positive relations.
George talked from time to time throughout the Nineties about a proposed new solo album, but none transpired. He recorded with friends, including Ravi Shankar, Ringo, Carl Perkins and Jim Capaldi and, in 1992, he released a live album from the two-week Japanese tour he’d played with Eric Clapton the previous December.
Still game for the odd one-off, he performed at the George Formby Convention in Blackpool in 1991, turning up onstage with everyone from Gary Moore to Eddie Van Halen and, unsurprisingly Carl Perkins, finally performing Perkins’ “Your True Love” at the old rock’n’ roller’s funeral in Jackson, USA, in 1998.
In 1992, he took up a new crusade, playing a Royal Albert Hall concert with Clapton and special guest Ringo for the Natural Law Party, an organisation devoted to transcendental meditation and spiritual improvement. He said: “I believe this party offers the only option to get out of our problems and create the beautiful nation we would all like to have.”
Although he was no longer singing the praises of the Maharishi or the Krishna gurus, George was clearly still practising what he had taken from their teachings and pursuing his spiritual quest.
In July 1997, he posed the question on VHI: “What happens when you die? That to me is the only thing that is of any importance. The rest is secondary.”
As the years passed, George was spotted all over the world at Grand Prix meetings and motorcycle events, but his most prominent doings were, of course, with the surviving Beatles, who had regrouped for the Anthology – a TV documentary and a series of CD and video releases throughout 1995 and 1996, with an enormous, accompanying book following in 2000.
According to Yoko, it was George who first approached her, in 1991, with the idea that some of John’s old demos might be turned into new Beatles tracks. Three years later, George, Paul and Ringo were in the studio, adding their parts to “Free As A Bird” and “Real Love” for the Anthology – a title agreed upon after George objected to the original proposal, “The Long And Winding Road”.
Of “Free As A Bird”, George commented: “I think John would like it. In fact, I said to them [Paul and Ringo]. I hope someone does this to all my crap demos when I’m dead, making them into hit songs.”
Although the interviews given by The Beatles on the documentary portrayed an easy familiarity, suggesting that they had overcome their differences, the atmosphere between George and Paul still crackled.
Paul said at the time: “There were one or two little bits of tension, but it was actually cool for the record. For instance, I had a couple of ideas that he didn’t like and he was right… He’s not that easy to get on with… But I love him, he’s a lovely guy.” A third track, the McCartney/Harrison song “All For Love”, was aborted in the studio and, at George’s insistence, the reunion was over.
George was not inclined to be gracious towards the younger generation of musicians. He launched some astonishing attacks in a series of interviews – firstly, in 1996, upon Oasis’ Liam Gallagher. “They don’t actually need him,” bitched George, going on to label Liam “the silly one”. The following year he told a French newspaper: “Bono and his band are so egocentric. It’s horrible…”
Neither victim was slow to respond. Liam, hilariously, retorted that George was “a nipple” and, in a typical tirade, suggested that he would “beat the fucking living daylight shit” out of George or any other disapproving elder statesman who would care to meet him at Primrose Hill. Decisively, he commented: “They are jealous and senile and not getting enough fucking meat pies.”
Bono took his reply to the stage, announcing at a U2 concert in Leeds, “This one’s for you, George,” with a middle finger raised. But an unrepentant Harrison carried on: “Music of today is a pollution and has no value at all. Rap stinks and techno is humanless music coming out of computers that brings you to madness if you listen to it for too long.”
Towards the end of the Nineties, George’s security was breached in three progressively more serious incidents. Thieves managed to scale the fence at Friar Park in January 1998, escaping from the grounds with two bronze busts worth £50,000.
On December 23, 1999, 27-year-old Cristin Kelleher got into George’s home in Maui, Hawaii and helped herself to food and drink. She was doing her washing when the police arrived, and she told them: “I thought I had a psychic connection with George.”
Only a week later, in the early hours of the morning, 33-year-old Mike Abram, having travelled from Merseyside to Henley, broke into the Friar Park mansion with the intention of murdering George. He nearly succeeded.
Hearing the sound of breaking glass, George got up to investigate and was confronted by a “hysterical and frightening” Abram yelling at him to come down. George shouted “Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna” to try to distract the intruder, but Abram ran upstairs towards him. George then decided to tackle him.
In the ensuing, desperate struggle, George was stabbed several times as he tried to fend off the blows, and Olivia almost certainly saved her husband’s life by smashing Abram over the head. first with a poker and then with a table lamp. She suffered knife wounds to her head. George, for his part, had managed to pull Abram off Olivia when he attacked her from behind. Both thought they were going to die, but the police arrived in the nick of time.
An ambulance crew spent 20 minutes trying to stem the flow of blood from George’s injuries, and staff at the Royal Berkshire Hospital said one wound was only half an inch from causing fatal damage. Abram was said in court to have believed that The Beatles were witches, that Harrison had possessed him and that God had sent him to kill George. He was found not guilty of attempted murder on the grounds of insanity and sent to a secure psychiatric unit indefinitely.
In October 2001, George received apologies from Abram and the St Helen’s and Knowsley Health Authority. Abram said he felt “embarrassed and ashamed”, adding: “The doctors did not look at me as anything but a drug user. I had a serious mental illness but nobody listened.”
The health authority had ordered an official report which admitted there was “no doubt” there had been “failures” and “shortcomings” in the care and treatment of Abram. The report criticised the decision to release the schizophrenic from hospital a month before the attack, and stated Abram should have been placed in care over a year earlier. The authority concluded: “We have learnt Iessons.”
In July 1997, George found a lump on his throat as he gardened at Friar Park. A month later, he checked into a private hospital under the name of Sid Smith to have surgery for throat cancer. A year afterwards, still talking about a new solo album, he joked, “Maybe l’ll record a track called ‘Radiation Therapy’.” Throughout 1998 and 1999, he assured well-wishers that he had received the all-clear during a series of check-ups, but in 2001 it emerged that he had secretly undergone a second cancer operation in which part of his lung was removed.
Later in 2001, he was diagnosed with a brain tumour – the disease that killed his mother. After his discharge from a private clinic in Switzerland. It was confirmed that George had received treatment, although the tumour had not responded. According to newspaper reports, George moved to his home in Hawaii, where he was said to have had his grounds sprayed for protection against an outbreak of dengue fever, spread by mosquitoes.
In October, there was brighter news with the announcement George and his son Dhani had co-written a song. “A Horse To Water”, for Jools Holland. But November brought ominous and confusing news. George had been admitted to a New York hospital for pioneering cancer surgery. Although some reports suggested the treatment was aimed at a brain tumour, ITN stated George was suffering from advanced lung cancer.
On November 7, Paul McCartney said simply that he had recently spoken to his old friend: “I want to tell you that George is great. He’s got an indomitable spirit, he’s a trouper and he’s a lovely guy.”
Only a few days later, George was released from hospital. He was reported to be “improving”, with a hospital source stating that, “His prognosis is still guarded, but not as grim as when he first arrived.” Dr Gil Lederman said, “The treatment is successful in 90 per cent of my cases.”
Sadly, it wasn’t successful in George’s case. He lost his battle with cancer on November 29 at 1.20pm local time in Los Angeles, He was 58.
Great secrecy surrounded his whereabouts and the events that ensued, and reports have differed. It was at first widely believed that after receiving treatment at an LA hospital, George died at the home of an old friend, security expert Gavin De Becker, although there were other suggestions that George was, in fact, staying in a rented, hilltop house.
It was later reported that George’s death certificate gives the Beverly Hills address of a property owned by Olivia. However, there were subsequent reports that the address – 1971 Coldwater Canyon – doesn’t exist, and that the state registrar’s office had launched an investigation.
The certificate also, allegedly, specifies that George had suffered for nine months with lung cancer, the cause of his death, and that he was cremated on the same day by funeral directors Cremation Specialists. It’s said to list his occupation as a “self-employed musician” working in the music industry for 40 years.
Reports stated George passed away with Olivia and Dhani at his side, accompanied by two long-standing Krishna friends who quietly chanted. British fans waking up to the news the next morning left tributes and messages at Abbey Road, Friar Park, Beatles sites all over Liverpool, Strawberry Fields in New York and at The Beatles’ star on Hollywood Boulevard.
Civic flags flew at half mast in Henley-On-Thames and Liverpool, where local radio stations played Beatles music continuously. A book of condolence was opened at Liverpool Town Hall and, later, at other venues, and the council vowed to hold a memorial service. At Buckingham Palace, the Coldstream Guards played a Beatles medley during the Changing Of The Guard, and the Queen issued a statement to say that she was “very sad”.
A spokesperson for US President Bush said: “He is very saddened by the death of George Harrison. He considers The Beatles to be one of the greatest groups of any time.”
British Prime Minister Tony Blair commented: “People will be very sad at his death, and it’s worth pointing out he wasn’t just a great musician and artist but did an immense amount for charity as well.”
Paul McCartney, cancelling his appearance at the Top Of The Pops Awards, said: “To me, he’s just my little baby brother. We grew up together and I knew him in my old home town of Liverpool, and we just had so many beautiful times together that that’s what I’m going to remember him by… He was a lovely guy. He was full of humour when I saw him the last time and, obviously, he was very unwell. He was still cracking jokes. He was a beautiful man. The world will miss him.”
Ringo Starr said: “George was a best friend of mine. I loved him verv much. We will miss George for his sense of love, his sense of music and his sense of laughter.”
Yoko Ono issued a statement declaring: “George has given so much to us in his lifetime and continues to do so even after his passing with his music, his wit and his wisdom. Thank you, George, it was grand knowing you.”
George Martin said: “Now I believe, as he did, that he has entered a higher state. God give him peace.” Patti Harrison, George’s first wife, was traumatised. She said: “He was my first love as well as my first husband and I loved him until he died. I just thought he’d go on living, that he’d beat cancer.”
Bob Dylan commented: “George was a giant, a great, great soul. He was like the sun, the flowers and the moon, and we’ll miss him enormously.” Among the many other musicians honouring George was Noel Gallagher, who owes his career to The Beatles. He said: “I hope he’s found what he spent his life searching for.”
By all accounts, George was aware of his imminent death in time to make his peace with his estranged sister, Louise, who lives in Illinois. He arranged a visit, encouraged by Olivia, to heal the ill-feeling caused, apparently, when Louise opened a B&B called the Hard Day’s Nite. And on the day before his death, George said his goodbyes to Ravi Shankar, who had become a lifelong friend.
His house, financially, was in order. George passed away leaving the bulk of an estimated £200 million estate to his wife and son, with some unconfirmed bequests to charity. The New York Times claimed to have been told by a source that George had left up to 10 per cent to the Krishna movement, and several million pounds to charities. A Krishna representative said George had bequeathed them £700,000 to build a temple in the holy city of Varanasi in north-east India.
George had worked out in advance the details of his own funeral with Olivia and De Becker. According to Krishna tradition, it was crucial that he should be cremated quickly. He was also anxious his family should be spared from press intrusion.
Within 20 minutes of his death, the funeral company received notification a VIP had died, and that discretion was essential. A spokeswoman reported two members of staff were sent to a house in LA where they joined hands in a circle with George’s family and security staff, and said a prayer.
With the death certificate quickly supplied, George’s body, reportedly dressed in Indian robes and placed in a simple coffin, was cremated six hours after his last breath in a small, inexpensive ritual – before the world even knew he was dead.
Olivia and Dhani were expected to travel to India to scatter George’s ashes in the sacred River Ganges, again in line with spiritual obligations, as a symbol of the soul’s journey to eternal consciousness. A spokesman for the International Society of Krishna Consciousness in New Delhi suggested that the ceremony would take place at Varanasi.
There was other speculation it would happen at Allahabad, in the northern state of Uttar Pradesh, where the Ganges and Yamuna rivers converge. For days afterwards, fans held vigils on the banks of the Ganges, but no ceremony was reported, and the Indian authorities say they were not aware of any such plans by the family, who were thought to have stayed in LA.
In the aftermath of George’s death, Gavin De Becker said George’s family had been “deeply touched by the outpouring of love and compassion from people around the world…. The profound beauty of the moment of George’s passing, his awakening from this dream, was no surprise to those of us who knew how he longed to be with God. In that pursuit, he was relentless.” Through De Becker, the family appealed for one minute’s silence, prayer and meditation across the world on Monday, December 3, although there was some confusion about the time.
In Liverpool, more than 1,000 people attended a vigil at St George’s Hall in Lime Street, and held their silence at 6.30pm – three hours earlier than the time apparently specified and observed by most mourners.
Liverpool Lord Mayor Gerry Scott told the assembled: “Tonight we’re gathered here in memory of George Harrison, a true son of Liverpool, whose music reached out to the whole world and shaped a generation… George was a truly gifted musician. But he was much more than that. His ideals and his love of peace inspired countless thousands. His loss will be deeply felt but his vision will live on.”
“You know, life flows on within you and without you”
George Harrison
Pupils from Dovedale Primary School planted a tree in the peace garden behind St George’s Hall. Meanwhile, in the high street, fans were already snapping up copies of The Best Of George Harrison and the recently reissued All Things Must Pass, which was selling out in all of the major record stores. There was also a rush on The Beatles’ albums.
The Sun newspaper was the first to call for a re-release of “My Sweet Lord”, enthusing about the prospect of it becoming a Christmas hit. Meanwhile, it emerged that George, before he died, had been putting the finishing touches to 25 tracks he’d been recording, mainly at Friar Park, for an album that he’d been promising for years.
Provisionally titled “Portrait Of A Leg End” – a clearly mocking reference to himself as well as a nod to the famous Monty Python splat foot – the album allegedly includes lyrics that relate to the last few, difficult years of Harrison’s life.
An official statement from his family simply said this: “He left this world as he lived in it, conscious of God, fearless of death, and at peace, surrounded by family and friends. He often said, ‘Everything else can wait but the search for God cannot wait, and love one another.’”
