23 May 2007 - George Harrison - ‘the seventh Python’

I know I promised you a couple of small excerpts from Eric Sykes book about his neighbour John Lennon and haven’t yet got around to it, but here, much more than that for your pleasure, are excerpts from Michael Palin’s excellent Diaries book, mostly bits about George Harrison. 

Saturday November 4th 1972

With Terry and Andre, walked across Regent Street

and into Savile Row, where the Apple Studios are

situated in a well-preserved row of Georgian town

houses.  They seem to be the only place that has

the technology to cut our multiple B side.  Down

the stairs to the basement.  Into a foyer with

heavy carpets, two soft sofas and felt covered

walls, all in a rather dark, restful plum

colour.  A big glass-topped coffee table,

designed for only the best coffee table books,

was littered with copies of the Daily Mirror.  A

flamboyant stainless steel strip was sunk into

one wall.  Immediate impression on entering the

cutting room of being in a Harley Street

dentist’s consulting room.  At one point, about

7.00, I had just come back into the studios after

having a drink when a slight, thin figure walked

towards me.  The face was familiar, but, before I

could register anything, a look of recognition

crossed George Harrison’s face, and he shook my

hand, and went into a paean of praise for Monty

Python - with the same exaggerated enthusiasm

that I would have lavished on the Beatles had I

met them five years ago.  He said he couldn’t

wait to see Python on 35mm, big screen.

Thursday January 9th 1975

Another sign of the times.  ‘The Beatles’

company, Beatles Ltd, officially and finally

ceased to exist today.  The company, which held

the Beatles group as such together in various

legal obligations, has become increasingly

obstructive to their various separate

careers.  The group haven’t played together since

1969.  We began when they finished.

Friday January 10th 1975

By one of those strange coincidences, today was

the day that Python and the Beatles came

together.  In the last two months we’ve heard

that George H has been using ‘Lumberjack Song’

from the first BBC LP as a curtain raiser to his

US stage tour.  So it seemed almost predictable

that the two groups would be sooner or later

involved in some joint venture.  Terry J, Graham

and myself on behalf of Python and Neil Aspinall

and Derek Taylor on behalf of the Beatles, found

ourselves at lunchtime today in a hastily

converted office at the Apple Corp’s temporary

headquarters in smart St. James’s, to watch the

Magical Mystery Tour - the Beatles’ TV film made

in 1967.  At that time I remember the film being

slated by the critics and it vanished, swamped by

an angry public who doubtless felt the Beatles

had let them down by not subscribing to the image

of success and glamour which the public had

created around them.  When it was suggested at a

meeting late last year that we should try and put

out the Magical Mystery Tour as a supporting film

to the Holy Grail, there was unanimous agreement

among the Python group.  After several months of

checking and cross-checking we finally heard last

week that the four Beatles had been consulted and

were happy to let the film go out.  So today we

saw it for the first time since

1967.  Unfortunately it was not an unjustly

underrated work.  There are some poor and rather

messy sequences, it’s very obvious when the group

is miming to playback and there’s a cutesie Top

Of The Pops-type look at Paul during ‘Fool On The

Hill’, which is very tacky and dated.  However,

it is extraordinary still, it is far too

impressionistic and odd to be just outdated and

many sequences are very successful.  It’s also

quite long - nearly an hour, but all in all we

were pleased.  It will have great curiousity

value and should be complementary to the Python

film, because much of it looks like familiar

Python territory.  Ringo was suddenly there,

talking with Graham and Terry.  He was dressed

like a British Rail porter, with a black serge

waistcoat and black trousers.  I noticed his hair

was streaked silvery at the sides.  He looked

rather ashen-faced - the look of a man who needs

a holiday.  I was given George Harrison’s number

by Aspinall, who said he thought George would

appreciate a call - he’s apparently the all-time

Python fan, and it was at his mansion near Henley

that they had been last night looking at the last

Python TV series.  Later in the evening,

fortified (why did I feel I needed fortifying?)

with a couple of brandies, I phoned George

Hargreaves (as Derek Taylor and Aspinall referred

to him).  An American girl answered - or rather a

girl with an American accent.  She sounded

bright, but when I said I was from Monty P she

positively bubbled over and went off to get

GH.  George and I chatted for about 20 minutes or

so.  He adores the shows so much - “The only sane

thing on television” - he wants to be involved in

some kind of way with us in the States.  He said

he had so many ideas to talk about, but I was a

little wary - especially when he told me he

envisaged a Harrison-Python road show, with us

doing really extraordinary things throughout the

show, with us swinging out over the audience on

wires, etc.  Hold it George, I thought, this is

hardly the way to get John Cleese back into

showbusiness!  But he’s clearly an idealist who

has warm feelings towards us and it’s very

flattering to hear one of one’s four great heroes

of the ’60s say he’d ‘just like to meet and drink

a glass of beer with you, and tell you how much I love you.’

Friday October 3rd 1975

 From the Captain’s Cabin to the Work House - the

studio in Old Kent Road where we are to re-record

‘Lumberjack Song’. (George loved the song so much

he offered to produce it as a Christmas

single.  It reached No. 51, but no higher as the

Pythons refused to sing it on Top of the

Pops.)  The Fred Tomlinsons have been rehearsing

for an hour by the time I arrive (just after

8.00), and up in the control room are Eric and

George Harrison.  George grasps me in a welcoming

hug and Eric pours me some Soave

Bolla.  Downstairs, noisy rumblings of Fred

Toms.  I get down there to find them in the usual

hearty good spirits - no Soave Bolla in evidence

down there - just huge cans of beer and

cider!  Instead of dividing the song and

introduction up into different takes, we just

launch in, and soon we’ve done three versions

straight through and my voice is getting hoarse

from all the added shouting at the

beginning.  But one of the takes seems to please

everybody.  George, Olivia, Kumar (George’s

assistant), Eric and I leave in George’s BMW

automatic for a meal.  We drive, if that’s the

word for George’s dodgem-like opportunism, to the

Pontevecchio in Brompton Road.  George’s a

vegetarian, but he managed to demolish some

whitebait quite easily, and did not pass out when

I had duck.  (I noticed everyone else ate veg. dishes only.)

Saturday October 4th 1975

At half past four drive up to collect Eric and

take him out to George’s house in Henley to mix

the song we recorded last night.  Eric

philosophical about his recent separation from

Lyn.  He laughed rather ruefully when he told me

he’d taken Carey out to the zoo this morning -

‘With all the other divorcees,’ as he put

it.  But he cheers up when we get to Henley and

in through the gates of Friar Park, the

magnificent, opulent and fantastical

mid-Victorian Gothic pile which George bought

seven years ago with the Beatle

millions.  George’s flag flies above its mock

embrasures - it’s an Indian symbolic design of

the sun and the moon and bears ‘om’ mantra.  In

the gardens there are grottoes with mock

stalactites and stalagmites in mock caves and

there are Japanese houses and Japanese bridges

and all kinds of other ways in which an

enormously rich Victorian can spend money on

himself.  George has endorsed it all by cleaning

everything up and looking after it and generally

restoring the place to its former

splendours.  The nuns whom he bought it from had

let it rather go to seed and, according to

George, had painted swimming trunks on the

cherubs and cemented over the nipples on the some

of the statues.  It is delightful just to walk

around and examine the intricate details of the

carving - the recurring naughty friar’s head

motif - even in evidence in brass on every light

switch (the face is the fitting - the switch is

the friar’s nose).  It has none of the feel of a

big draughty Victorian house, but one can’t

escape the feeling of George somehow cut off from

everyday life by the wealth that’s come his

way.  Maybe he feels the same way, for almost the

first thing we do is to walk through the

grottoes, across the lawns and down to the

elaborate iron gates and into the world

outside.  Henley, with its narrow streets and the

fine church tower standing protectively over the

little town, with thickly wooded Remenham Hil

looming behind.  This was the town my mother was

born and brought up in - in fact, she had been to

Friar Park for tea when it was owned by Sir Frank

Crisp, a barrister.  Strange to think of the

circumstances that brought me into Friar Park

sixty years after she came here for tea.  Anyway,

we all walked down to the local pub - where we

drank Brakspear’s Henley Ales and played

darts.  George was clearly anxious that we should

stay the night, play snooker on his Olympic size

snooker table, smoke, drink, mix the record and

generally enjoy ourselves.  But this was my

second evening devoted to the ‘Lumberjack Song’

and I wanted to be back with Helen, so I

reluctantly resisted most of the mind-bending

delights of Friar Park and stuck to a couple of

glasses of white wine.  Half-way through the

evening, George went out into Henley and returned

with vast amounts of vegetarian food from a new

Indain take-away that had just opened.  We all

ate too much - George dipping in with fingers

only.  Home about 4.00.  Helen not pleased, as

she had really expected me a lot earlier - and I

very indignantly tried to tell her how much

hospitality I had had to refuse, to get back even

by 4.00.  Still, it’s no  time of night for an argument.

Tuesday April 20th 1976, New York

At the show tonight George Harrison, looking

tired and ill and with short hair, fulfils what

he calls a lifetime’s ambition and comes on as

one of the Mountie chorus in the ‘Lumberjack

Song’.  He’s very modest about it, wears his hat

pulled well down and refuses to appear in the

curtain call.  He’s now off on holiday to the Virgin Islands.  He needs it.

Friday March 4th 1977

Towards the end of the meeting, Eric asks me if I

would be interested in writing for a George

Harrison TV special in the States.  I say no on

grounds of time.  Eric, too, doesn’t think he an

do it as he appears to have lined up an

£800,000-budget film for NBC on the Rutles

(Eric’s and Neil’s pop group parallel of the

Beatles).  Clearly he commands enormous respect

from NBC, who are letting him direct the thing as well.

Monday March 7th 1977

Eric tells me he’s becoming

vegetarian.  Presumably under the influence of George H.

Thursday April 13th 1978

Anne rings with positive news on John Goldstone’s

meetings with Denis O’Brien, (American merchant

banker introduced to us by George Harrison.  He’d

been Peter Sellers’ financial adviser) our

latest, and probably last, hope for Brian

backing.  Apparently O’Brien has okayed the

budget, but is negotiating over above the line

costs.  So Brian is on the way to a resurrection.

Sunday September 10th 1978

Eric has equally positively decided to move out

of London, though only as far as the outer

commuter countryside - Oxfordshire, possibly -

‘to be near George (Harrison) and near

London’.  Graham and I talked of Keith Moon, who

was to have been in the movie and flying out soon

to join us, but who died some time on Thursday

night, after a party.  Graham, whose abstention

from alcohol has increased his appeal a hundred

percent - he now sounds like, as well as looks

like a very wise old owl - told me that Keith was

trying to cut down his Rabelaisain appetite for

booze, and had some pills called Heminevrin to

help out, but these should be taken under

carefully controlled conditions and never with

alcohol - for they act to increase the strength

of anything you do drink.  So Keith had just gone

too far and, although his whole life was lived

constantly up to the limits, this time, like an

adventurous schoolboy on a frozen pond, he’d

stepped a little too far out.  What a waste.  But

GC reckons both Peter Cook and Ringo S are also in trouble with booze.

Sunday October 22nd 1978, Monastir

Tom (MP’s son) decided he would like to appear in

the afternoon’s filming, so he was supplied with

a long robe and turban and looked very

handsome.  He was the only one of the Python

children to have a go, but was very proud of

himself.  The room was packed and it was

definitely one of the less comfortable scenes,

but graced by the presence of the visiting George

Harrison, who took the part of Mr. Papadopolous,

the impresario in charge of the Mount.  At least

Tom could say he’d been in a scene with Beatles and Pythons.

Monday November 20th 1978

To the Hemdale Preview Theatre in Audley Square

at four to see the assembly of all the Brian

material.  Apart from the Python team - all

looking a lot more like pale-faced Englishmen

after a week of British November - Tim Hampton

and John Goldstone, Anne Henshaw, George Harrison and Denis O’Brien were

there.

Saturday November 25th 1978

Embark for George Harrison’s in the Mini.  Arrive

at Friar Park as the sun has just set.  It must

be two years since I came here with Eric to

complete the mixing of ‘Lumberjack Song’ (or was

it three?).  There’s a blazing log fire in the

galleried hall and George has just come in from

planting bulbs in the garden.  He seems very

relaxed and settled into the role of a country

squire - his face has fleshed out a little, he

looks less frail and tortured.  We have tea and

talk about the house and Sir Frank Crisp, the

eccentric lawyer who built it. (Crisp [1843-1919]

bought Friar Park in 1895.  He, like George, was

a keen horticulturalist.  Unlike George, he was a

fully paid -up member of the Royal Microscopical

Society.)  And died penniless as a result.  My

mother remembers Sir Frank hiding behind bushes

in the garden and jumping out on her and her

sister when they visited the place as little

girls.  (My mother was born and brought up on

Hernes Estate, which borders Friar Park.)  Saw

George’s four-month-old boy, Dhani, then his

other recent enthusiasm, his book.  Called I Me

Mine, it’s an expensively leather-bound

collection of his songs with his own hand-written

notes and corrections.  We find out that George

is just older than me.  He was born February

1943.  He is quite struck by this and, as a

momento of him being just older, gives me one of

the glass eyes made for his Madame Tussaud’s

dummy!  Derek Taylor and Joan arrive later and we

eat a superb Indian meal cooked by Kumar.  Quite

delicious and delicate.  Derek tells of the

horrors of LA that have driven him back to

England - to a farmhouse in Suffolk.  So

humourless and depressing were his colleagues in

Warner Records, that Derek took great pleasure in

puzzling them by eccentric behaviour.  He would

insist on playing Hollywood record moguls a tape

of Violet Bonham-Carter being

interviewed.  (Extremely English upper-class

daughter of former Prime Minister, H. H. Asquith;

leading figure in Liberal politics.)  They sat

there polite but utterly bewildered.  ‘Twenty

minutes’ peace’, Derek recalled with feeling.

Friday January 19th 1979

Brian screening.  Terry Hughes, Michael White,

George H, Jill Foster.  John Goldstone issues us

with clipboards and little torches to make notes.

Monday June 4th 1979, Los Angeles

Some of us, TJ especially, are concerned over the

American funamentalist Baptist backlash - after

all, George Harrison, as producer, has already

had letters threatening never to buy his records

again - but Warner’s dismiss all this.

Monday July 2nd 1979

Back into London for some dubbing and

post-synching on Brian.  The new work on the

‘Leper’ last week does seem to make the speech

clearer, but I see-saw on the effectiveness of

the sketch.  Terry J is the greatest champion of

the ‘Leper’ at the moment.  I think Denis O’B

would rather see it out.  I dub George Harrison’s

voice on - another to add to my collection.

Wednesday September 5th 1979

George Harrison calls.  He has just come back

from appearing in court in his continuous saga of

the fight for Allen Klein’s Beatle money.  He

said he was very nervous before taking the stand

(he went to the lavatory three times before he

even left for the courthouse).  He went to see

Brian - found a one-third black audience and a

row of orthadox Jews - all enjoying it.  But he

does tell me of an exquisite piece of

justice.  Whom should George find himself in the

first class lounge at Kennedy with, but Bernard

Delfont - the man who turned down Life Of

Brian.  George was not backward in going forward

and in an informal way enquired whether or not

Bernie was acquainted with the fact that Python

had taken $1 million already.  George thanked him

profoundly.  A heartfelt thanks - echoed by us all.

Thursday September 6th 1979

This evening all the Pythons meet at

Anne’s….  As we sit around, it’s John who asks,

‘Isn’t there someone missing?’  We all agree that

we have this sensation whenever the Python group

assembles nowadays.  The unknown Python.  The

present ’seventh’ Python (taking over from Neil

Innes) arrives a moment or two later in the

person of George Harrison.  To Odin’s for a nice

meal and too much wine.  George tells tales of

the Beatles - of the hugely dominant Yoko who has

reduced J Lennon to a housewife, of George’s

liking for Paul and his ‘ego’, and Ringo

who’s….’You know, very simple’.  Other little

glimpses into the lives of the rich and famous -

like the fact that George admits (with a smile

acknowledging the absurdity) that he doesn’t buy

clothes any more.  Clothes come to him.  And,

having once again outlasted all other diners, we

meander back to Park Square West.  It’s a full

moon and the entire kerb is taken up with Python

cars - George’s little black Porsche, John’s

dirty Rolls, my Mini, Terry J’s yellow Volkswagen

Polo, Gilliam’s mighty yellow Volkswagen tank and

G Chapman’s rented Mercedes.  Loud farewells,

door slams, car tyres reversing on the road and

the Python fleet heads off in the moonlight to find a way out of Regent’s

Park.

Thursday September 13th 1979, New York

Back to the Navarro - this in itself quite an

exciting little trip, as The Who’s fans are thick

outside the hotel, and word has gotten around

that Pythons and George Harrison are also in

there.  George walks with practised skill, firmly

ahead and steadfastly refusing to even see

anybody.  ‘Pretend they’re invisible, it’s the only way.’

Friday September 14th 1979, New York

Finish reading TG’s Brazil script.  Rather dull

characters complicate an otherwise quite striking

visual feel.  Later in the evening, when we are

all taken to Elaine’s by Denis and George, TG and

I talk about it.  He’s near desperation on the

script - knows what needs to be done, but can’t

do it himself.  Champagne in my suite with Al

Levinson and Claudie, the French lady to whom he

has lost his heart.  She is indeed lovely - slim,

long dark hair framing a small face with lively

eyes.  She is obviously quite taken aback by the

champagne and Plaza style - and when George H

comes down to join us for a drink, her smashing

eyes widen to 70 mill.  George, so nice and so

straight, disarms her.  He brings a tape of some

Hoagy Carmichael songs - one of which he’s

thinking of recording. - whilst the remains of

Hurricane Frederick finally reach Manhattan with

a brief but impressive display of lightening and sheeting rain outside.

Saturday October 6th 1979

Drop in on George at Friar Park.  He’s about to

have his breakfast (onions, egg and peppers

(green)).  I apologise for arriving too early,

but George (half-way into a new beard) assures me

that he’s been up a while, and out planting his

fritillaries.  He takes the gardening very

seriously and has a bulb catalogue, which he

refers to now and then in between telling me of

the $200 million suit the Beatles are bringing

against the management of Beatlemania, a live

show in the US using their look-alikes.  He

hasn’t heard that Brian is No. 1, but is greatly

chuffed at the news and shakes my hand.  ‘Now you

can all have one of these,’ says George, nodding

round at Friar Park.  ‘The trouble is,’ I have to

say, ‘I’m really happy where I am.’  ‘Nonsense,

Palin,’ replies the Quiet One, ‘you’ll have a

mansion and like it!’  I enjoy George’s company

and I think he mine.  Despite all his trappings

he’s a down-to-earth, easy-to-please character.

Friday November 30th 1979

Collect Terry and Maggie and we drive out in the

Citroen to George H’s for a Python

dinner.  George scuttles around putting records

on the juke-box, playing silly pieces on the

piano and generally trying to make everyone feel

at home - whereas all the guests are of good

bourgeois stock and far more ill at ease with

George’s unpedictable caperings than with

standing sipping champagne and making polite

conversation.  Cleese and I decide that the house

would make a superb set, for a period film.  we

agree to write a farce together set in Friar

Park.  ‘Ripping Towers’ suggests JC’s blonde and

lovely girlfriend (whom I’ve not seen

before).  The table in the dining room is set

splendidly.  Table seating has been worked out by

Olivia, who clutches a piece of paper as

nervously as George earlier pottered with the

juke-box.  I end up sitting next to George, with

Joan and Derek (Taylor) and Eric up our

end.  Excellent food, especially the salmon, and

1966 claret which was virtually on tap.  George

confesses to feeling uncomfortable with a ‘posh’

evening like this, which I find reassuring - all

the glitter and glamour that money can buy, all

the success and adulation, has only affected our George very superficially.

and lastly…priceless Innes…

Sunday May 5th 1974 Killin

Thirty-one.  A birthday on the road again.  Slept

until 10 or 11 - at half past eleven a knock on

the door.  It was Neil, complete with a birthday

present - three ducks, a yo-yo and a junior doctor’s kit!

——————————————————————————–

I have finished reading Michael Palin’s Diaries

and shall miss it very much indeed.  It has been

a great book to dip in and out of each night as I

relaxed before sleep - often waking Dee up with

my guffaws of laughter at Mr. Palin’s delightful

way with words.  If you need a good read I can highly recommend it…

The Python Years: Diaries 1969-1979