Just Like Starting Over - J.L. Anthology with Yoko
John Whelan
For those of us unable to afford the
"Lennon Anthology" (such as myself) here are
extracts from Yoko Ono's sleevenotes
as released from "Electronic Telegraph"
web site (ISSUE 1247 Saturday 24
October 1998):
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/et?ac=000140326706927&rtmo=wMwttjKb&atmo=HHawpxsL
&P4_FOLLOW_ON=/98/10/24/bmjohn24.html&pg=/et/98/10/24/bmjohn24.html
ISSUE 1247 Saturday 24 October 1998
Just like starting over...
John Lennon and Yoko Ono enjoyed a famously tumultuous
love affair. Here, on the eve of release of 100 rare Lennon tracks,
she writes exclusively about their time together and reveals the
real reason behind their trial separation in the mid-Seventies and
John's 'lost weekend'
IN person, John was a much more attractive man than the one
you saw in photos and films. He had very fair, delicate skin and
soft, sandy hair with a touch of red in it when the light hit it in a
certain way. I would kid him and say: "You're a redhead!" He
would say: "Never!"
He had three small but distinct moles straight down the centre
of his broad forehead, ending where the "third eye" was. Buddah
was supposed to have had one mole in the centre of his forehead,
and that was considered, in oriental physiognomy, as a sign of
a very wise man.
He was in his twenties when I met him. I was eight years older.
But I never thought of him as somebody younger than me. When
you were near him, the strong mental vibe he sent out was too
heavy for a young person. Some people are born old. That was
John. His slumming, clowning and acting the entertainer was
just a kind of play-acting he enjoyed. But it was obvious to anybody
around him that he was actually a very heavy dude: not a prince,
but a king.
London, then, was a gathering place of the new aristocrats in
music, art and films. They exuded new energy with a certain
elegance of self-made people who would change the class
structure in England, and would go on to change the world in
a big way. John and I got together in that atmosphere.
So we were very surprised that the so-called hip society of the
times, to which we both belonged, turned against us as soon as
we announced our unity. It seemed as though they had a separate
standard for John, or shall we say that their hipness ended at the
point where John, their ringleader, chose an oriental woman as
his partner. This was in the Sixties in "Swinging London"! It made
us feel as though, suddenly, the wind of the Middle Ages was
blowing around us.
We felt so, so lucky that we fell in love with each other. It was a
blessing neither of us expected at that time in our lives. We couldn't
take our eyes off one another. We couldn't get enough of each other.
But the outside pressure was very strong. It was so strong that
sometimes we had to separate from each other in order to protect
our love.
In 1972, the night George McGovern lost the presidential election,
John and I were invited to a party at an apartment in Greenwich
Village. It was a gathering of New York liberal intellectuals, some
artists, musicians and many journalists.
John became totally drunk and pulled a woman into the next room
and started to make love. Nobody could leave the party because
all the coats were in that room. We were all sitting there, trying to
ignore what was happening. The wall was paper-thin and you could
hear the noise, which was incredibly loud. A considerate musician
put on a Dylan record to offset the sound. But that did not drown out
the sound coming from the room.
In the middle of all this, a New York celeb woman chose to make
conversation with me. "I don't know how you feel about him... but
we love him. He and his friends... what they did... but especially John...
we all respect him tremendously. He's a great man... he is a
wonderful man." It was something like that she kept repeating to me,
with an angry look as if to blame me for not rejoicing for what was
happening in that room.
Then there was a long silence. Some woman quietly went into the
room to retrieve her coat. Others followed. When John finally came
out of the room, he said later, he had never seen me looking so pale.
"I could never forget that face," he used to say for a long while.
Something was lost that night for me. Living with John was very
trying. But I thought I would endure all that for our love. I used to think
that our love was a secret thing between us, so it didn't matter what
people said... let them. Our love was higher than the highest sky, and
deeper than the deepest water. But was it? Now it seemed that there
were some clouds I hadn't noticed and the water looked murky after
the splash.
The host of the party thought it was terrible that I couldn't "forgive"
John: "McGovern lost. All of us were totally devastated. You can
imagine how John felt about it. It was a real blow to us. So he was
drunk, for heaven's sake!" "It's not a matter of forgiving him or not
forgiving him," I said. "I would not use that word. It's more like I can't
forget what happened. Call me a prude, but it just hit me in the
wrong way." Inside, I felt like a shattered raggedy doll.
This was the prelude to the famous "lost weekend". The United
States government was trying to kick us out of the country because
of our political stand. John and I had pretty much burned our bridge
to England, with John marrying an oriental, returning the MBE to
the Queen, and being arrested for possession of drugs, though
the drug had been planted. My daughter had been kidnapped by
my ex-husband.
I became a dragon lady in the eyes of the public, and I lost my
platform to express myself as an artist. The tension was compounded
by nets of intrigues spun around us by sources that were sometimes
not too clear. Yet we thought nothing was more important than how
we felt about each other. We can make it. We're making it. Yes, it's
all right! But that night made me think. It took almost a whole year for
me to decide what to do, and I did it. Extraordinary circumstances
call for extraordinary solutions.
There was no fight or anything. We were having a warm conversation
in the afternoon in our bed. I told John that I thought a trial separation
would be a good idea: "We're both still young and attractive - it's crazy
to stay together just because we're married. I would hate that. That's
not what we were about, was it? We should see what happens..."
I tried to make light of it: "What about LA? I remember you telling me
how you had fun on a Beatle tour... " - that sort of thing. "Okay, but I
don't want to lose you," John said. "We'd probably lose each other
if we stayed," I said.
I didn't tell this to John, but I thought I would lose him. Hey, it's John
Lennon. It was obvious to everybody, except to John, that I was the
loser. Every man and woman of our generation was going to be
happy that, finally, I was not around their hero.
John was incredibly ecstatic for four days. He called me to thank
me: "Yoko, you're incredible. This is great! Thank you!" There was
no sarcasm there. I was glad that he was happy. After four days, he
called me with a totally different voice: "I've had enough. I want to
come home." I laughed it off. It was too soon.
Alone, I started to do my work again. My old friends - Andy Warhol,
Allen Ginsberg and Ornette Coleman - took me around a lot. I met
William Burroughs through Allen. It was very different from the rock
scene. I was a person again, not a dragon lady.
A young gallery owner told me that he wanted to include me in his
contemporary art show. I thought it was nice that he asked, and I
put a piece in the show. One day, he asked if I was going to the
Madison Square Garden show that night. "What show?" "You don't
know? I thought you would be going, and, if you were, I was hoping
that you would take me with you."
It turned out that Elton John and John Lennon were doing the show.
"Oh, I don't know... " Obviously, I wasn't too keen on going. "Let me
think about it." I asked my secretary to simply send a gardenia each
to Elton and John, with a note saying "congrats" or whatever. But the
gallery owner did not let go of the idea of going to the show: "Oh,
come on, Yoko, please go."
So, at the last minute, I decided to go as a favour to this guy. It was
Elton's show, and John came out at the end as a surprise guest.
People were so excited that the whole Garden was shaking. I looked
at him and tears ran down my cheek. He was looking lonely. He was
looking scared. He bowed once too often. This was not the John I
knew. When he was with me, he wasn't afraid of anything. I couldn't
stop crying.
Everybody else was ecstatic. After the show, the gallery owner
said: "Aren't you going to take me backstage?" I thought: "Oh,
give me a break!" But I took him. John couldn't believe his eyes.
We looked at each other for the longest time. We were saying
nothings to each other, but we knew what it was. We couldn't take
our eyes off each other. It was terrible. Oh, God, please don't do
this to me, again, I said to myself. I want a life, remember? "You're
looking very good," John said, trying to sound cool. That's how we
came back together again.
With hindsight, I'm glad that John had his "boy's room" stuff
before he passed away. Who was to know that he didn't have
very much time left to enjoy life? I remember John's happy voice:
"Thank you, Yoko"... even if it was for four days... and I'm sure it
wasn't.
John was a war child, born during the Second World War. "The
bombing was going on over our heads when I was born," he used
to say. In his heart, he never grew up from being a boy in England
in the times of No‘l Coward, Tessie O'Shea and BBC radio. His
cynicism was only skin deep, an armour to hide his vulnerable self.
Family birthdays and Christmases were very big on his list. Around
my birthday in 1979, John and I went to a Madison Avenue antique
shop to try a sofa and a few other things. I wasn't aware that John
was also frantically looking for a birthday gift for me at the time. I use
the expression "frantically" not because there was any reason for
him to be frantic. He was just that way... an emotionally charged
person.
The sofa was a genuine art deco period piece. It was beautiful.
But it turned out that the one in the shop was actually not for sale.
"If you like it, we'll make the exact same thing for you." It sounded
like a con to me. "So he's gonna make a new antique sofa for me?
Nice," I thought. "But I like this one," I said. "No, this is not for sale."
"I see." I delicately bounced up and down on the sofa, half hoping
that one of the legs might give way so he would have to sell that
one to me. I heard later from John that, while I was bouncing on
the sofa, he quickly took the man aside and asked to have a white
chess set made out of 18th century Indian ivory chess sets. "And
this is the inscription I want," John whispered to the guy and
scribbled the message on a piece of paper - "Happy Birthday
love xxx From the King to the Queen."
However, the man read it as "Happy Birthday love xxx From the
Kids to the Queen". When John saw that on the chess set, he was
not a very happy man. John: " 'Kids'? What kids?" The man: "Wasn't
it supposed to be from you and your son?" John would have chopped
the guy's head off if he'd been back in England in Elizabethan times.
"It's from the King, silly!" "Oh, the King... "
Both of us were either too busy or together too much to find a
time to secretly go shopping for a surprise gift. So many times we
relied on people around us to get us things.
After that incident of walking into that antique shop, we both started
to rely on that silly man to get things for each other. I got John a
Fifties jukebox for his birthday. He loved it.
Christmas came. This would be the last Christmas we would
spend together. The jukebox was set up in one of the rooms in our
apartment. It was a totally empty room with no furniture, but the
brightly lit jukebox instantly made the whole room look like a
happening disco. Elliot Mintz, the only friend we had left by then,
and John made an elegant invitation card for the Christmas Ball.
John delivered the card to me and a box of gardenias. "Madam... "
"Oh, how beautiful!" I was impressed. John gave me an elegant
kiss, like in the movies. He wore a suit. I dressed up for the occasion,
too, wearing a long, black velvet dress John had bought for me
when we were in England.
John and I danced, and Elliot looked on. Nobody else was invited.
John called it the world's most exclusive club. He was very, very,
very happy. We were about to enter 1980, our last year together.
The intrigues surrounding us were getting thicker, as we stepped
into the new year. We felt it. "But the eye of the storm is very quiet,"
John said. We had great laughs together. We were partners at work
and family at home.
We loved working together and we loved our son, Sean. We
understood each other in such a way that no elaborate explaining
was ever necessary. . . though we liked discussing our ideas and
plans for the near and distant future.
There was an acute sense that time was accelerating, and that we
were caught in a spiral that was moving at the speed of light. Looking
back, it was the happiest and therefore the most tragic period of our
lives.
As John said in his song, "you don't know what you got, until you lose it".
We thought we knew... but we really didn't.
Frankly, I was very reluctant to do this project: The Lennon Anthology.
By now, I was used to listening to John's music (for various projects).
"We want your OK to cover this song." "We want to use this part of a
song for a commercial," etc. But these tracks are different from those
songs. These are never-before-released home tapes and studio
outtakes, showing John at his most relaxed and natural.
I knew it would be hard for me to just go through them, to listen to the
huge volume of tapes. EMI kept suggesting that I do this project. They
were very patient and very sensitive to my feelings. However, it was
"for the millions of fans around the world. It would make them so happy."
I knew that was true. But what about what I would have to go through in
the process? But I said yes.
Sure enough, it was very hard for me. As I listened to John's voice on
the tapes, I felt as though I was going through a time warp, and that
John was actually in the same room with me, sipping coffee as we
used to in the long sessions at home or in the studio. I had to pinch
myself and remember that it was a different time. Whatever that
was - that period in our lives - was over, gone.
I couldn't stop the tears running down my cheek. It was so hard. It was
so sad. I took the first rough stringing to Sean. "Sean, there's something
you might enjoy hearing... " He cried, too.
Then I realised that he was coming from a slightly different place from
me. "Mom, he was so good... " Sean's take was about his dad's
musicianship. "Thank you, Sean. You're making your mom feel better."
Then I cried again, because it was so beautiful. John would have liked
that his grown son, a musician himself, liked what Dad did.
This is the John that I knew, not the John that you knew through the
press, the records and the films. He was brilliant, he was happy, he
was angry, he was sad. Above all, he was a genius who worked hard to
give his best to the world. I loved him. It was nice to know that such a
person was part of our generation, our century, and the human race. It
was an incredible honour for me to have been with him.
These are edited extracts from Yoko Ono's sleevenotes to 'The John Lennon
Anthology' (Capitol/Parlophone), a four-CD boxed set of 100 previously
unreleased tracks by John Lennon, released on Nov 2.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Take a very "Magical Mystery Tour" trip on the Beatles
and their history at:
http://www.ncf.ca/beatles/timeline.html
Feel free to bookmark or create a link!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nyarlathotep
>
> Alone, I started to do my work again. My old friends - Andy Warhol,
> Allen Ginsberg and Ornette Coleman - took me around a lot. I met
> William Burroughs through Allen. It was very different from the rock
> scene.
Don't forget David Spinozza, the appearances at Kenny's Castaways,
or the tour of Japan!
Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/
Before you buy.
Derek J. Larsson
Yoko's remarks (below) are very articulate and eloquent.
Probably the best commentary I've ever seen from her.
What becomes clear is that this was a complex and special
relationship that deserves true sensitivity and non-judgemental,
balanced objectivity when it is discussed or "portrayed".
It is sad that too many biographiers have just sought to trash
their relationship, their marriage, their identities, their intentions.
That must be sad for Sean and Julian.
Yoko's eloquence on the ups and downs of their lives together
show just how phony and hollow the two-dimensional smear job books are.
You cannot just invent such detailed sentimentsas this ....
This was their relationship ...
-- Derek
_______________________________________________
John Whelan wrote:
> For those of us unable to afford the
> "Lennon Anthology" (such as myself) here are
> extracts from Yoko Ono's sleevenotes
> as released from "Electronic Telegraph"
> web site (ISSUE 1247 Saturday 24
> October 1998):
>
JLW44
> This was their relationship ...
>
>-- Derek
Not that I'm saying that she did or not, but what do you mean you can't make
this stuff up? People do it all the time. You are projecting again.
Derek J. Larsson
JLW44 wrote:
> > You cannot just invent such detailed sentimentsas this ....
> > This was their relationship ...
> >
> >-- Derek
>
> Not that I'm saying that she did or not, but what do you mean you can't make
> this stuff up? People do it all the time. You are projecting again.
______________________________
Stuff that is "made up" generally sounds fake or "made up"...
(Goldman: "he set her hair on fire", etc.)
The sincerity and 3-dimensional complexity of emotions & moments
that she describes here have a certain depth and authenticity to them.
What a cyncial leap to think that all of that very sensitive and intimate
expression is all just mere "spin". For example, how could someone
capable of such sensitive expression also have been simulataneously
this cold, manipulative witch who "never loved John"?
The dirge of accusations leveled at Yoko & John haved reached
such an absurd point where any trash & burn distortion of any
aspect of their life is just believed at face value and marketed for profit
(the credibility and motives of the sources nonwithstanding).
That is both very sad and also horribly unfair (as well as historically
inaccurate).
Yoko's very personal and sensitive comments show that these were, in fact ,
real people, with real lives, with genuine happiness, hope, and sadness
and struggle, that lived their lives with an enduring mutual intimacy and
mutual respect that was genuine in the face of occassional difficulties.
-- Derek
======================================================
Derek J. Larsson EMail: derek_...@3com.com
======================================================
D 28IF
>JLW44 wrote:
>
>> > You cannot just invent such detailed sentimentsas this ....
>> > This was their relationship ...
>> >
>> >-- Derek
>>
>> Not that I'm saying that she did or not, but what do you mean you can't
>make
>> this stuff up? People do it all the time. You are projecting again.
>
> ______________________________
> Stuff that is "made up" generally sounds fake or "made up"...
> (Goldman: "he set her hair on fire", etc.)
>
You're not really *that* naive, are you?
JLW44
>> (Goldman: "he set her hair on fire", etc.)
>>
>
>You're not really *that* naive, are you?
>
Only when it comes to John and the Kennedy assasination.
Derek J. Larsson
JLW44 wrote:
1. You have to be totally *naive* to think that John Lennon set
Yoko's hair on fire - just because some malcontent wrote it in
a book.
(evidence please -?)
2. And you have to be totally *naive* to think that 1 single shot
( bullet) caused all seven [ -7-] non-fatal wounds (each with
different
angles and trajectories) to John Kennedy & Gov. John Connelly
.... which is what the "Oswald did it" myth (CIA-FBI lie) is
based upon.
Derek J. Larsson
D 28IF wrote:
>
> >
> > ______________________________
> > Stuff that is "made up" generally sounds fake or "made up"...
> > (Goldman: "he set her hair on fire", etc.)
> >
>
> You're not really *that* naive, are you?
You have to be totally *naive* to think that John Lennon set
Yoko's hair on fire - just because some malcontent wrote it in
a book.
(evidence please -?)
Derek J. Larsson
JLW44 wrote:
> >> Stuff that is "made up" generally sounds fake or "made up"...
> >> (Goldman: "he set her hair on fire", etc.)
> >>
> >
> >You're not really *that* naive, are you?
> >
>
> Only when it comes to John and the Kennedy assasination.
1. You have to be totally *naive* to think that John Lennon set
Yoko's hair on fire - just because some malcontent wrote it in
a book. (evidence please -?)
2. And you have to be totally *naive* to think that 1 single shot
caused all seven [ -7-] non-fatal wounds (each with different
angles and trajectories) to John Kennedy & Gov. John
Connelly
.... which is what the "Oswald did it" myth is based upon.
(CIA-FBI lie)
JLW44
> Yoko's hair on fire - just because some malcontent wrote it in
>a book.
> (evidence please -?
they cut their hair short for awhile, didn't they?
D 28IF
>D 28IF wrote:
>
>>
>> >
>> > ______________________________
>> > Stuff that is "made up" generally sounds fake or "made up"...
>> > (Goldman: "he set her hair on fire", etc.)
>> >
>>
>> You're not really *that* naive, are you?
>
> You have to be totally *naive* to think that John Lennon set
> Yoko's hair on fire - just because some malcontent wrote it in
> a book.
> (evidence please -?)
>
>
>-- Derek
No, no, I'm not saying the setting hair on fire story is true. I'm referring
the beginning of your statement.
"Stuff that is 'made up' generally sounds fake or 'made up'."
I didn't think anyone was still that naive, is all.
Derek J. Larsson
JLW44 wrote:
> > 1. You have to be totally *naive* to think that John Lennon set
> > Yoko's hair on fire - just because some malcontent wrote it in
> >a book.
> > (evidence please -?
>
> they cut their hair short for awhile, didn't they?
They both did this .. as a protest and a charity event
back in 1970 ... not because one of them BURNT the other...
...idiot....
Derek J. Larsson
D 28IF wrote:
> >From: "Derek J. Larsson" derek_...@3com.com
>
> >D 28IF wrote:
> >
> >>
> >> >
> >> > ______________________________
> >> > Stuff that is "made up" generally sounds fake or "made up"...
> >> > (Goldman: "he set her hair on fire", etc.)
> >> >
> >>
> >> You're not really *that* naive, are you?
> >
> > You have to be totally *naive* to think that John Lennon set
> > Yoko's hair on fire - just because some malcontent wrote it in
> > a book.
> > (evidence please -?)
> >
> >
> >-- Derek
>
> No, no, I'm not saying the setting hair on fire story is true. I'm referring
> the beginning of your statement.
>
> "Stuff that is 'made up' generally sounds fake or 'made up'."
>
> I didn't think anyone was still that naive, is all.
That is a generalization that applies very well to the type
of garbage hurled at John Lennon. You even admit
you don't believe - the "setting hair on fire" story..
Neither do I...
It simply is too absurd to be believeable to begin with ....
JLW44
> back in 1970 ... not because one of them BURNT the other...
>
> ...idiot....
>
>-- Derek
That's what they SAID they did, but who knows? Were you there? (By the way,
idiot, I don't believe that story either, but just trying to point out that
anyone can say or write anything and it doesn't necessarily have to be true)