Yesterday

The fourth Beatle had deep brown eyes, pale complexion, and immaculately groomed long hair.  The youngest of the four, known as the quiet Beatle, with crooked teeth, appealing and shy, his spiritual quality was evident from the start.  If my grandmother(Mary) could re -live any few moments of her life, it would be her interview with George Harrison.  What she would tell him is in the rest of this story.

Vaulted into celebrity stratosphere overnight after one appearance on the famous Ed Sullivan show,  this was their very last stop on a tour of Australia and  New Zealand. John Lennon had a sore throat and wouldn’t appear announced their manager.

Jogging into the ballroom of the City Hotel, Dunedin,they looked smallish, even slight, next to a dozen or more linebacker  security guards. A roar erupted from the crowd of press, photographers. and assorted journalists.   

Ringo playfully punched a bodyguard in the gut. In response the hand that gave him a reassuring pat could’ve scooped him as easily as an elephant’s trunk swiping an apple.

“How would you like to interview the Beatles, Ian( our morning disc  jockey) is running a high fever” 

Arch Curry, station manager at 4ZA. poked his head round her open office door.  Along with normal duties, typical of small radio stations, Mary had been occasional news reader, sheep shearing contest judge, even cookery expert though she lived on eggs and Heinz beans. 

The dream job in radio came just in time.  Newly arrived, an immigrant from England, she’d had to work the moment she stepped onto NZ soil.  Working two jobs when she auditioned for on air shopping reporter, her job at the wool buyers’ cafeteria was perilous.  

An impatient, hungry crowd arrived the same time every day.  Dainty sandwiches(a normal American sandwich cut into four and sold separately) cakes, buns, Cornish pasties, all differently priced at pre decimal currency, pound ,

shilling and pence, also half-pennies.  Adding machines were not provided.  Mary had her own method to keep  the queue moving. Scanning the plate she’d determine small, medium or large, with a set price for each.  All went well, the boss delighted by her efficiency, until this happened:

“Miss, I’ve come through here for the last three days with the exact food but you’ve charged a different amount each day”.

In a flash, leaning in with a “just between us look”; she explained;

“Sometimes I suspect the bread isn’t today’s

A classical music lover, she knew little about pop, and even less about the Beatles.  With short notice, a quick research turned up a recent essay, written by an Otago University lecturer, stating, without ever meeting the artists, the phenomenal success of the Beatles was due to their unique personalities, Harrison being the least charismatic. Outraged, she determined to prove the upstart wrong.  

The pantomime began, Like all their mass interviews a sea of froth and effervescent nonsense. Journalists shouting out:

“How’s your throat, Ringo (he’d had a tonsillectomy in. Australia)

“Fine, ‘ow’s yours”

“What’s your favorite food”

‘Am ‘n eggs”

And so on……..

“Prior to the command from the boss,  Mary had been mulling a proposed trip to the remotest small third island, Stewart Island.  Hilda, a colleague, suggested as they ate lunch.

“You can see kiwis  in their natural habitat”

Cocking an  eyebrow Mary wondered if that meant bird or man.

She was intrigued though to view a kiwi up close, not the prettiest of birds, but what woman, at times, can’t identify, she shared  to laughter at the lunch table.

Remote places in New Zealand were a paradise of natural beauty, but neither she nor any of the other ex-pats.  had formed serious romantic relationships, or expected to marry. Educated, well traveled unmarried men were few, but it was always a pleasant  surprise to shake  a sheep shearer’s hands, softened from years of  lanolin in the wool.  Most were either owners of, or workers on sheep stations.  Wool was the main export of  a country where sheep outnumbered humans ten to one. 

  Training in smaller radio stations preceded any career advancements to jobs in cosmopolitan cities like Wellington or Auckland.  Life,for her,  in the South Island, although loving the job, she could never quench the feeling of stranger in a strange land.  

The third of New Zealand’s islands. Stewart Island, at the very tip, known colloquially as the arse end of the Universe, proved even eerier, akin to falling off the face of the earth.

Ulva island,  off the coast of Stewart Island, covered in white sandy beaches felt like the primeval world,  verdant rain forests yielding to and rising from sea level, the only spot in the world guaranteed to give sightings of kiwis. Approachable only by boat, Mary and Hilda took the earliest morning water taxi. 

 Driving through the last remnants of a beautiful sunrise, and later  entering the forest was magical, a full orchestral blend of different bird songs.  After about three quarter hours of walking slowly, as advised,  they heard ruffling in the bushes.

“Is that one.”  No, “a weka”, the guide said. Similar,with a  big brown body but shorter beak.   Another half hour,  a rasping sound  like snorting, the bushes shaking violently they had to literally jump out of the way of two kiwi birds coming right at them, fighting. this went way above their expectations.  Just in time to get cameras ready, even the guides were impressed, and the photos remain on the wall of the only jetty, Post Office Bay.

As promised, the rest of this story comes with a nostalgic beat in Mary’s heart. 

Let’s return to the Ballroom in Dunedin:

The three announcers from 4ZA decided to let the free for all play out,   and wait for a lull to begin their interviews.  Mary quietly surveying the room plotting her scheme to get to George. With the barricades and bodyguards it looked impossible.

Allowing her two colleagues to chat with Ringo, she edged around the barricade , miraculously  no one stopped her.

Positioning the hand microphone,  and a smile from George, she got the interview of a lifetime.   

Was the interview with the  Beatles of historical importance?  It was to Mary and everyone in the family, especially children and grandchildren. Did she know at the time. Absolutely not.  

What would she say if she had those few moments to re-live.?

George Harrison, you will not only be famous as  the Beatles’ lead guitarist. You will become a gifted artist in your own right.  Millions will listen to your songs. Your legacy cemented for all time, with great music  and songs - Here Comes The Sun,   My Sweet Lord, and Mary’s particular favorite, While My Guitar Gently Weeps.

Thank you, and  rest easy,  George Harrison!

supporting photo

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