George Harrison in his garden at Kinfauns in Esher. (6 April 1969)Photo by: John Haynes“George [Harr

George Harrison in his garden at Kinfauns in Esher. (6 April 1969)Photo by: John Haynes“George [Harrison] had this great peace within himself that allowed him to live on the outside of his phenomenal celebrity in such a natural manner and simplicity of being. He carried himself so that you could probably sit down next to him on a bus, ride the bus route, and get off at your stop without noticing that you had just ridden with a Beatle. This is similar to what would happen when I went out to lunch with Paul [McCartney] in London: there would be this recognition time lag of sorts from people when George would run into a 7-Eleven for a pack of cigarettes. Most times we would be in and out of a place before people would catch on to who had just been in there, and as we drove away we could look back as the stunned customers came to the door of the store scratching their heads in disbelief when the realization set in of who had just made a purchase.Such was the day at Fred Segal’s jean store on the corner of Melrose Avenue and Crescent Heights in Hollywood. At the time, this was Fred Segal’s first enterprise that drew the music business people into shop for upscale jeans. Besides that, Fred had a very eclectic offering of hip clothes and had become the place to go when record companies and bands needed stage outfits. There was a great insider feeling at Fred Segal’s in those early days. George and I decided to go try on jeans and probably were in the place for about half an hour taking turns with one of the small dressing rooms before someone caught on to who was trying on the really small-waist-size jeans. I remember that it was George’s turn in the small changing room, and the store seemed to start tilting our direction. In a matter of minutes, customers who were casually grazing through the store were all now crowded outside of George’s dressing room; each person all of a sudden had an article of clothing that he needed to try on, and this particular dressing room was just where he wanted to be. I saw what was happening, and it was obvious that we would have to abandon our original (optimistic) plan to simply try to buy a couple pair of jeans.I began planning an escape out of this small, crowded space – a blue jean bailout, I guess you could call it. Once the autographs started, it became a never-ending event, and we knew that. George was usually an extremely kind and courteous person and very considerate of people when they asked for his signature; and although it was uncomfortable to be caught in these situations, he never wanted to disappoint anyone. This is a nice characteristic to have for most people, but here is where the rub comes in: Let’s say there are ten people in the store, and they all line up for autographs. Figuring thirty seconds per autograph it would take roughly five minutes to accommodate the fans and we would be on our way – right? Wrong. During this gracious five minutes on George’s part, the word is getting out on the street and over to the people in the shops next door. Even the employees at Fred Segal’s are frantically calling nearby friends and relatives to hurry down because a Beatle is there. Soon the location of a Beatle would cross area codes and into radio station newsrooms and potentially within less than half an hour there could be TV trucks, reporters, and rubberneckers clogging the traffic. Those who have been there know this is definitely not an exaggeration. I had experience in these situations, and I knew that my role was now to assume the position of being the bad guy.I hustled George out of the place by literally grabbing him by the arm and pulling/pushing him out of the door while he protested that he wanted to stay and satisfy the gathering group’s requests for autographs. We both knew our parts, and we both acted them out with great aplomb. Once we were in the car and pulling away from the curb, George continued his act by waving and smiling at everyone with a look that said, ‘Oh darn, I wanted to stay and sign your arms, T-shirts, store receipts, and whatever else, but my mean friend wouldn’t let me.’”- Ken Mansfield (former US manager of Apple Records), The White Book -- source link
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