When Soul Meets Road

Hey you!⁢ Beatles‌ fans!

I want a show of hands. How many of you believe that the following story—it comes from⁤ Philip Norman’s new biography, George Harrison: The Reluctant Beatle—has the faintest ⁤scintilla of a possibility of‍ being somewhere close to a simulacrum of a story that might, conceivably, be within a hundred bazillion miles of an event ​that actually happened?

The year is 1971 or ’72, it’s not quite clear. The Beatles ‍have well and⁣ truly broken up. ⁢George Harrison’s marriage to his first‍ wife Pattie is dying from indifference, and Eric Clapton, perhaps Harrison’s ⁣closest friend, has loudly declared his undying love for her.

So here’s what Harrison does, goes the⁢ story: He sets out two guitars and⁤ amplifiers⁤ in the cavernous foyer of his Gothic ‌mansion outside London and invites Clapton to visit, ostensibly for a gentlemanly chin wag. Instead, the unsuspecting suitor is challenged to a duel by the⁣ cuckolded Beatle—a “rock ‘n’ roll version of the ‘pistols⁢ at dawn’ a wronged Victorian husband would have demanded—in this⁣ case, guitars after dusk.” According to Norman.

On through the night the two guitar gods raged! “Clearly ⁢a duel for Pattie,” Norman calls it. Fiery licks ​rent the midnight air! Harrison,⁢ knowing⁢ Clapton’s superior skill, plied his rival with brandy and kept himself to only tea, or ⁤so ‌the⁢ story goes. At ⁢last, the night far spent, the two men laid down⁤ arms, exhausted. And yet, Norman goes on, “no winner was declared and George never mentioned the episode afterward.”

Yeah, I don’t believe it either.

I bet that even Norman suspects the reason George (and Clapton) ​never mentioned the ⁣episode: It didn’t happen. It’s much too melodramatic, reeks too much of after-the-fact wish fulfillment, carries the air of an imagination malformed by 1940s and ’50s moviegoing—as​ indeed it probably was. The genealogy⁢ of the story, which Norman ‌doesn’t bother to trace for his readers, leads back to the great and‍ greatly ‌bibulous actor ‍John Hurt, a drinking buddy of Harrison’s ⁣who described the duel to Pattie Harrison but insisted he was the only witness.

No reason⁢ to ⁤beat up on Philip Norman. Some rock ‘n’ roll fans will buy anything. Cynical journalists​ sometimes wryly describe a juicy story as ⁣”too good to check,” and​ while it’s unsurprising to see this practice showing up in so slipshod a genre as the rock star ⁤biography, Norman is nevertheless able to include lots of jaw-droppers⁢ that ‌do indeed check out. Most of ⁤them have to do with Harrison’s goatishness, staggering in its range and exhibitionism. It encircled friends of his wife and⁢ the wives of his friends. Also his wife’s sisters.

No one was⁢ safe. When Ronnie Wood, soon to become a Rolling Stone, asked Harrison’s⁢ help in writing a song, ​the Reluctant Beatle‌ showed no reluctance in taking Ronnie’s wife on⁤ holiday to Spain. Later, when the ‍Woods came to visit,‍ the two husbands agreed to sleep ⁤with ⁢their wives—each other’s⁢ wives, I mean. Wood cheerfully relates the story in his own autobiography, ​and Norman repeats it here. Neither writer bothers to register ‍the reaction of the wives.

And by now many Beatles fans will have ‌the heard the‍ story of the dinner party with Ringo Starr and his ⁤wife Maureen, from the early ’70s,⁤ when ‌George announced⁢ to Ringo, another of his closest friends, “I’m in love with ​your wife,” adding that he’d been sleeping ‍with‍ her for some time. After a stunned​ silence, Ringo said, “Better you than someone we don’t know.” The Unflappable Beatle! Even John Lennon was shocked. “Virtual incest,” he said when he heard of the affair.‍ In ‌later‍ years, George (chagrined, maybe?) used ‍the same‍ word, without the qualifying “virtual.” The affair ‍lasted another month or​ two and the Starrs were divorced within a year.

There’s a contrast, to‌ put it​ mildly, ‍between George ⁢Harrison’s knavishness, ​by now well-documented, and his undoubted ⁤talent ⁢and eagerness to‍ do good⁤ in the world, which included ⁣countless kindnesses, financial and otherwise, to strangers and ‌friends, a heroic work ethic,⁤ and charitable giving that⁢ at a⁢ very low estimate amounted to $45 million. The contrast should have given this biography more of a literary spark and narrative drive than it has. It’s an oddly listless and incurious book. The best the ​biographer can do ​is to quote​ (several times) Starr’s description of his friend’s “two personalities,” with a “bag of‌ [prayer] beads” in one⁤ hand and a “big‌ bag of anger” in the other.

George Harrison’s longing ​for some kind of sanctity—as expressed in “My Sweet Lord,” “Give Me Love,” “Deep Blue,” ⁢and ‍a ​dozen other pop hymns—was genuine, ​even baked in. His mother was a pious‍ Catholic and she raised ‍him to be an altar boy, ​but it didn’t take. “It felt so alien to me,” he said of the pre-Vatican II Catholicism of heavily⁢ Catholic Liverpool. “Not the stained glass windows or⁢ the pictures of Christ; I liked that a lot, and the smell of incense and the candles. I just didn’t like the bullshit.”

Somehow he discovered less bullshit, though⁤ just as much incense, in Hinduism. With his ⁢fellow Beatles he went to India to study under Maharishi⁣ Mahesh Yogi, a high-caste entrepreneur who had the genius to trademark⁣ the phrase “Transcendental Meditation” just as the Western counterculture adopted Eastern pantheism as its house religion. Harrison cared enough about his residual ⁣Catholicism to explain his new interest in terms comforting to a working-class, right-kneeling housewife from Liverpool. “Don’t think this lessens my devotion to the Sacred Heart,” he wrote his mother. “If anything, it strengthens it!”

For his personal devotion he settled conveniently on the god Krishna, a cheerful lad with royal blue​ skin and Beatle-like⁣ access to a well-populated⁢ harem of milkmaids. In sexual matters⁣ Krishna cuts his devotees a lot more slack than ⁣Jesus ever does. Still, a Catholic-like‌ aspiration remained in him—call⁤ it ‍guilt if you wish. In a remarkable find, Norman​ reprints part of a taped private consultation Harrison had with yet another ⁤guru.

“I keep going round in circles,” he confessed (the word seems appropriate). “There are‌ periods where ​I can’t stop chanting ‌and there are other periods when, you⁢ know, I turn into a ⁤demon again.”

So the Reluctant Beatle was⁢ locked in a ⁢duel after all,‍ different from the one‍ with Clapton—deeper ​and more moving, with the added virtue of‍ being⁤ true.

George Harrison: The Reluctant Beatle
by Philip Norman
Scribner, 512 pp., $35

Andrew Ferguson is a contributing writer at the Atlantic and nonresident fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.

How⁣ does Harrison’s infidelity contradict his reputation as the “quiet Beatle”?

E a spiritual seeker. But‍ George was also‍⁢ a flawed human being, prone to temptation, selfishness, and betrayal. This duality ‍is ⁣what​ made ⁢him an‌ interesting and complex figure in the world of ‌rock and roll.

The story of ⁢the⁣ supposed guitar duel between Harrison ‌and Clapton is just one example of the‌ countless rumors and myths⁤ that have surrounded the Beatles and their individual⁢ members. It is a tantalizing tale, full​ of ⁣intrigue and drama, but ultimately lacking ‍in verifiable evidence. And it is not surprising that even ‍the author ​of the biography,⁢ Philip Norman, casts doubt on its authenticity.

But while the ‌story may be a fabrication, there⁢ are other aspects of Harrison’s personal life that have been well-documented and are difficult⁤ to ignore. His infidelity, for instance, is a recurring theme throughout the book. From his affair with Ronnie Wood’s wife ⁢to his admission of sleeping with ‌Ringo’s wife, Harrison’s behavior, at times, borders⁣ on the scandalous. It is a side of him that⁢ is ​hard to ⁢reconcile with his image as the “quiet Beatle.”

Yet, in​ spite of⁢ his ⁣moral⁤ failings, Harrison was also a man of immense generosity and⁤ philanthropy.⁢ He was ⁣known‌ for his charitable contributions and his willingness to help those in need. From organizing benefit ‌concerts to donating millions of dollars, Harrison used his⁢ fame and fortune to make a difference in the ‌world. It is‍ this juxtaposition between his personal flaws and his acts of kindness‍ that adds complexity to his character.

Unfortunately, Norman’s ⁤biography fails to fully explore this ⁢complexity. The book feels detached and lacks the narrative drive that would have made Harrison’s story truly compelling. It⁣ is ⁢filled with⁢ anecdotes and facts but‍ fails to provide‌ a deeper​ understanding of the⁢ man behind the music. In ​many ‍ways, it is a‍ missed opportunity to shed light on the contradictions and contradictions in Harrison’s life.

In the end, George Harrison remains⁤ a fascinating and enigmatic figure ⁣in rock music​ history. He ‌was a talented musician, a spiritual seeker, and a‍ flawed⁢ individual. His story is one of triumphs and failures, of‍ highs and lows, and it is a story that⁣ deserves to be explored ⁢with more depth and nuance. While Philip Norman’s biography offers some insights into Harrison’s life, it falls short in ⁢capturing his complexity. Fans of​ the Beatles ​may find ‌it interesting,⁤ but they might also be‍ left craving for a ⁤more comprehensive and insightful⁤ portrait of one of the greatest musicians of all time.