I Met the Walrus.

How One Day with John Lennon Changed My Life Forever.

Jerry Levitan.

TO MY BELOVED PARENTS,.

CHONON AND JUDITH LEVITAN.

THEY HAD FAITH IN ME,.

BELIEVED IN ME, AND LOVED ME.

My favorite photo. John and Yoko sweetly holding each other's hands and looking at each other's fingers. I was struck by how beautiful Yoko was.

"I REMEMBER FONDLY, HOW YOUNG JERRY CAME TO US AND DID THE INTERVIEW, WHEN SO MANY JOURNALISTS WERE TRYING TO SPEAK TO US. HE WAS NOT ONLY BRAVE BUT VERY CLEAR AND INTELLIGENT. BOTH JOHN AND I THOUGHT IT WAS A VERY PLEASANT EXPERIENCE."YOKO ONO

1.

MEET THE BEATLES.

I was nine years old when the Beatles first performed on the was nine years old when the Beatles first performed on the Ed Sullivan Show Ed Sullivan Show in 1964. It was February 9, and like millions of other families in those days, we sat around the TV each Sunday night at 8:00 in 1964. It was February 9, and like millions of other families in those days, we sat around the TV each Sunday night at 8:00 P.M P.M. to be entertained by that awkward yet strangely captivating impresario. That night there was a special buzz to his show. He was to showcase his latest find, four lads from Liverpool, England, who were taking their country and the music world by storm. The Beatles were something special. Girls screamed and fainted at the sight of them. Their mop-top haircuts made them controversial and gave them a slight edge of mystery and danger. Everyone antic.i.p.ated their appearance for different reasons. I was practically vibrating from all the excitement.

Sullivan came on the black-and-white TV and in his distinct speaking manner said, "This city never has witnessed the excitement stirred by these youngsters from Liverpool who call themselves the Beatles. Ladies and Gentlemen...the Beatles!" With that announcement, my family and a nation were mesmerized as they opened the show with "All My Loving," accompanied by high-pitched, never-ending screams from teenage girls. John, Paul, George, and Ringo were confident and cute as they performed four other songs ("Till There Was You," "She Loves You," "I Saw Her Standing There," and "I Want to Hold Your Hand") between the other acts, including a magician performing a card and saltshaker trick, an impressionist, and a comedy acrobatic troupe. The Beatles took my breath away. I had officially witnessed my first great spectacle.

Ringo kept the happy beat on an elevated stage looking down on his mates on a set that had huge arrows pointing at them. Paul played his distinctive, violin-shaped left-handed ba.s.s; George was on lead guitar. But John-standing in that quintessential Lennon style, defiant, guitar high up against his chest, legs apart-was clearly the band's leader. They bounced to the beat, well dressed in black suits, thin black ties, and pointed Beatle boots. And, relative to most other people at the time, longish wavy hair. This was a new kind of rock and roll star. The camera would cut away to shots of young girls in various fits of ecstasy and insanity, and a smattering of boys, who were in rapt, yet reserved attention. At one point their first names were flashed on the screen under their faces: "Paul," "George," "Ringo," "John: Sorry girls, he's married." The cultural phenomenon that was the Beatles was well underway that night as a history-making seventy-three million North Americans tuned in to see what the fuss was all about.

Something happened to me when I saw the Beatles for the first time. Before then my heroes had been comic book characters like Superman and Batman. But the Beatles were something better. They were superheroes with instruments and great musical powers. They were instantly familiar to me and I trusted them immediately. I had found new heroes to worship.

It couldn't have been a better time for the country to meet the Beatles. Just three months before their introduction to North America, the world was jolted by the a.s.sa.s.sination of President John F. Kennedy. Kennedy represented hope and a new beginning for the baby boom generation.

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When JFK died so violently it shocked the world. Canada was no exception. I remember sitting in my cla.s.sroom in school when an emergency announcement came on from the princ.i.p.al that President Kennedy had been shot and school was cancelled. I left cla.s.s that day and watched teachers and random people on the street weeping for themselves and the fate of the world. I came home to my devastated mother and aunt. It was as though the world had come to an end. For the burgeoning television generation that I was part of, the coverage of Kennedy's a.s.sa.s.sination and its aftermath was overwhelming. That heavy cloud was the backdrop to Ed Sullivan's gift to North America that February night. It has been said so many times before, but the Beatles really were what the Western world was waiting for. Everyone, particularly my generation, needed a reason to believe that the world was a good place, that our lives had meaning, and that our future held promise.

Exposure to pop culture was limited in the early '60s. There was no MTV or VH1-only television variety shows, movies, radio, and print. That meant that if you wanted to know what was happening in the music scene you had to listen to your favorite pop radio station, catch the hottest TV show, and speak to your friends to keep up. My brother, Steve, and sister, Myrna, were older and more in tune with what was happening and I went along for the ride. They had the turntable and the records. I had the comics.

Before the Beatles, the pop charts were filled with bouncy pop tunes like crooner Steve Lawrence's "Go Away Little Girl," the Four Seasons' "Walk Like a Man," "He's So Fine" by the Chiffons, and "Blue Velvet" by Bobby Vinton. These were sweet, nonthreatening songs that the whole family could love. One-hit wonders sung by finely groomed white teenagers filled the airwaves. It was a far cry from the hip-shaking, lip-snarling "Jailhouse Rock" of Elvis Presley just a few years before.

Elvis had been drafted into the army in 1958, sent to Germany, and rock and roll had taken a turn for the worse. During his absence the charts were littered with fluff like "Venus," "Alley-Oop," "The Chipmunk Song," and "Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini." When Elvis and his particularly "deviant" music left the scene, the moguls of the recording industry-with some prodding from parent groups and congressmen-encouraged a cleaner, whiter diet of all-American pop.

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Some musical gems managed to sneak through, however, and many of these reached the Beatles when the Atlantic ships docked in the port of Liverpool bringing goods from America, including records like "Kansas City," "Will You Love Me Tomorrow," "Mack the Knife," "Hit the Road Jack," and "Please Mr. Postman." It was these songs plus those by Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry, Little Richard, and of course, pre-Army Elvis that had the greatest influence on the Beatles.

The day Elvis was inducted into the Army, March 24, 1958, John Lennon was seventeen years old and Paul McCartney just fifteen. The world's greatest songwriting team had met less than a year earlier, on July 6, 1957. That day, Paul McCartney impressed John with his ability to sing all the lyrics to Eddie Cochrane's "Twenty Flight Rock." Within a day, he was invited to join Lennon's group, then called the Quarrymen after John's high school, Quarry Bank. Within weeks, Paul's younger mate George Harrison came on board. A few years later, the ill-fated Pete Best was dumped to make room for Ringo Starr, and the Fab Four as we know it was created. Within five years they would be on the cusp of history-making stardom with the release of "Love Me Do" in the UK on October 5, 1962.

Right around the Sullivan broadcast I remember working on a school project on the Guttenberg Bible one Sunday with a cla.s.smate at his place. We were teamed up and I was fixated on cutting and pasting text and photos onto the bristle board. He was busy spinning records, one in particular, Meet the Beatles Meet the Beatles. He played it over and over again. At first he was annoying me because I was doing all the work. But the distraction slowly became fascinating. "Listen to this one," he would say. "Paul sings lead." "That's John on the harmonica." Increasingly my attention was drawn away from what I was doing and I was standing side by side with him at the hi-fi in his parents' recreation room watching the record spin and examining the alb.u.m.

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Most of the songs were familiar to me. You had to have been on the moon not to have heard "I Want to Hold Your Hand," "I Saw Her Standing There," or "All My Loving." The less-played songs were visions into the group's future. George's "Don't Bother Me" with the bongo beat. The minor chord in "Not a Second Time." The affectations had already become pop legend: "Yeah, yeah, yeah." The harmonica. Inventive harmonies. Ringo shaking his head and all those crazy rings. Examining that alb.u.m and listening to the songs over and over while we neglected our project was like going through a portal to a new dimension.

Meet the Beatles was released on January 20, 1964. The release of the singles "Please Please Me," "From Me to You," "She Loves You," and "I Want to Hold Your Hand" was already causing sensations everywhere with their distinctive, joyous sound. The harmonies and hooks were different and enticing. The Dave Clark Five, Freddie and the Dreamers, Gerry and the Pacemakers, Herman's Hermits, the Animals, and the Rolling Stones would all travel the intercontinental road to America paved by the Beatles. North America's appet.i.te for a new style of pop and rock had become insatiable. was released on January 20, 1964. The release of the singles "Please Please Me," "From Me to You," "She Loves You," and "I Want to Hold Your Hand" was already causing sensations everywhere with their distinctive, joyous sound. The harmonies and hooks were different and enticing. The Dave Clark Five, Freddie and the Dreamers, Gerry and the Pacemakers, Herman's Hermits, the Animals, and the Rolling Stones would all travel the intercontinental road to America paved by the Beatles. North America's appet.i.te for a new style of pop and rock had become insatiable.

By 1964 the charts were being filled with a different range of music than the safe and clean tunes of just a year before. "I Get Around" by the Beach Boys, "Pretty Woman" by Roy Orbison, and alb.u.ms by Bob Dylan, Dusty Springfield, the Yardbirds, and the Rolling Stones broadened the range of music for young people and the possibilities for change. These songs left the increasingly ba.n.a.l and novel songs of the early '60s in the dust and the Beatles were leading the way, even writing chart toppers for other bands (the Stones' first big hit, "I Wanna Be Your Man," was a Lennon/McCartney original).

It didn't take long for the Beatles to infiltrate the pop lexicon. There were numerous references to them in situation comedies and films and parodies on variety shows. Comics would wear wigs and mimic the Liverpudlian accent. They would sing badly and goof around. Peter Sellers recorded "She Loves You" (inspired by Dr. Strangelove) reciting the lyrics in a German accent. That is how the establishment saw them-fun loving, harmless, and cute. But kids at the time knew differently. They understood that the Beatles were leading the vanguard of a new era of music and pop culture.

I was not a stranger to music and performers. My father played the mandolin with pa.s.sion and style. He had a discerning taste for talent. In fact, the night the Beatles were on Ed Sullivan Ed Sullivan he taught himself to play "All My Loving" perfectly. He would often say that had he been dropped off in Hollywood as a young man he would have fit right in. That my father so overtly liked the Beatles that first night reinforced my instincts. he taught himself to play "All My Loving" perfectly. He would often say that had he been dropped off in Hollywood as a young man he would have fit right in. That my father so overtly liked the Beatles that first night reinforced my instincts.

My parents were the first generation of my family in North America. They had left Europe a few years after the ravages of World War II and found themselves with their young daughter in Canada. They were en route with other refugees to New York City, but the quota system detoured them to Halifax, Montreal, and then Toronto. Steve and I were born in the New World. When I was ten, we moved to a middle-cla.s.s suburb called North York. It was an area mostly populated with concentration camp survivors. Looking back, I would place my friends' parents in two categories: the Bitterly Affected and the Hopeful Rebuilders. My parents were in the latter category. They had their dark moments, particularly my father, but they worked hard to build a family and give their children a promising future. My mother loved to sing and write; my father loved to dance, play the mandolin, and tell stories. My Uncle Mike told jokes, squeezed the accordion, and belted out either a song he wrote or a popular tune. Our home was a variety show, and whatever gave us kids joy, my parents supported.

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My mother Judith and my father Chonon.

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The Levitan clan with my uncle Mike.

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Me at 14. Photo by Haim Riback As I approached my early teens, I had fully embraced everything the Beatles represented. From music to clothes to hairstyle to outlook on the world, they were the standard bearers. Before then I was familiar with their songs and had seen the films Help! Help! and and A Hard Day's Night A Hard Day's Night. Adults talked about them all the time, mostly with alarm, so I knew they were important. For most people, the phenomenon that was the Beatles became very much an individual identification with each member of the group and wanting to please them. When George said jelly babies were his favorite candy, the Beatles were showered with them on stage and in the mail. Starting in 1963, the Beatles made it a practice to send a six-or seven-minute Beatle Christmas record to fans of the official Beatles fan club. The recordings were improvisational and comedic and once included an appearance by Tiny Tim.

Paul had this to say in a 1963 Christmas record the Beatles sent to their fans: Oh yeah, somebody asked us if we still like jelly babies? Well, we used to like them, in fact we loved them and said so in one of the papers, you see. Ever since we've been getting them in boxes, packets, and crates. Anyway, we've gone right off jelly babies, you see, but we still like peppermint creams, chocolate drops, and dolly mixtures and all that sort of things. (Yes! Yes! Oh yes!) Girls would go to concerts and wave signs that read "I Love You Paul." It took a bold boy in those days to let a specific alignment to his favorite Beatle be known. But as time went on, even boys would "choose" the Beatle they liked best and have arguments and discussions about why. Paul was the cute, lovable one, always aiming to please. George was reserved and mysterious.

Ringo, fun loving and forlorn. John, witty, wry, and otherworldly. The four personalities that were the Beatles were under such scrutiny individually and as a band that the screaming fans and the relentless marketing of Beatlemania unwittingly contributed to the group's disintegration by the end of the decade. No other rock group, not even the Rolling Stones, ever experienced anything like that.

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Though I loved them all, and was particularly reverent of the songwriting partnership of Lennon and McCartney, I idolized everything about John: his courage and c.o.c.kiness, his humor and whimsy. Intelligent, always on a quest, and fiercely original, John was who I wanted to be. He had an imagination that captivated me. There was honesty and real pain in his songs, no matter how upbeat the sound was. I think I related to that. John confronted the hardship of life and morphed it into messages of hope and joy.

Early on I developed a pa.s.sionate identification with John, though I could never have predicted where that pa.s.sion would eventually take me. One of my friends was adamant that George was the best in the group. We would argue vehemently about that to the point where I would not speak to him for weeks. The truth is that I would have proclaimed my admiration and loyalty for each of them to the outside world. I loved George and Ringo and idolized Paul. But I had to let it be known, in a missionary way, that John was unquestionably the leader, that he was the best, and that the other Beatles knew it too.

As I got older I was witness to the evolution of the Beatles and their constant preeminence in pop. My siblings would buy the new alb.u.ms, and I would sneak into their rooms and listen to them when they weren't there. They did a lot of covers in their first few records-tributes to their favorite artists-like "Baby It's You," "Chains," "Twist and Shout," "Long Tall Sally," "Money," and "Roll Over Beethoven." In the summer of 1964, when I was ten, my sister took my brother and me to see A Hard Day's Night A Hard Day's Night. That film was a sensation in glorious black and white. The Beatles at their mischievous, musical, and marvelous best.

A Hard Day's Night, the alb.u.m, had bouncy interesting tracks starting with the jarring guitar chord that opened the t.i.tle song. "Can't Buy Me Love" always brought me back to my favorite scene in the movie where the Beatles ran around a field in fast motion playing silly soccer like the happy brothers they were. John gave "I Should Have Known Better" its hook with his harmonica playing. Both John and Paul wrote beautiful ballads-the acoustic-guitar-driven "And I Love Her" and John's "If I Fell." This was a special alb.u.m because of its connection to the movie and because of the increasing complexity of the songs. And for the first time, there were no cover songs. All songs, except one by George, were written by Lennon and McCartney. That was virtually unprecedented in pop music.

By the end of the year, the Beatles had produced another alb.u.m, Beatles '65 Beatles '65. As I got older, these new songs increasingly appealed to my adolescent emotions. John had two songs of hurt, "No Reply" and "I'm A Loser." Within six months the group had released, Beatles VI Beatles VI, with the songs "Eight Days a Week" and "What You're Doing." And within two months, Help! Help! Help! Help! the record, came out on August 13, 1965, twelve days before the film. It slashed its way into the charts. Just the idea of the t.i.tle track was odd enough for the biggest pop group of them all. John would later say that it was his unhappiness with the Beatles' fame and its effect on his personal life that was behind the lyrics. The ads for the film were everywhere. the record, came out on August 13, 1965, twelve days before the film. It slashed its way into the charts. Just the idea of the t.i.tle track was odd enough for the biggest pop group of them all. John would later say that it was his unhappiness with the Beatles' fame and its effect on his personal life that was behind the lyrics. The ads for the film were everywhere.

STOP WORRYING!.

HELP!.

IS ON THE WAY!.

THE COLORFUL ADVENTURES OF THE.

BEATLES.

ARE MORE COLORFUL THAN.

EVER.... IN COLOR!

Colorful, cartoony, zany. It was exactly what I wanted to see. James Bond spoofs, pratfalls, jokes galore, I was on the edge of my seat the whole time. The songs were as vivid and melodic as ever with "Ticket to Ride," "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away," and "You're Going to Lose That Girl." How could an eleven-year-old boy not love that the Beatles slept together in the same apartment? John in his pit reading his own book, Ringo with his food dispenser, Paul playing the lighted organ, and George keeping to himself. Mad scientists, strange people from exotic lands, skiing, the Bahamas, bombs, lasers, the Queen. It was so much fun.

Remarkably, within four months, Rubber Soul Rubber Soul was released in December 1965. The Beatles were serious now. "Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)," "Mich.e.l.le," "Think for Yourself," "The Word," "I'm Looking Through You," and the spectacular "In My Life." I spent a lot of time, without success, trying to figure out what the phrase "rubber soul" meant. was released in December 1965. The Beatles were serious now. "Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)," "Mich.e.l.le," "Think for Yourself," "The Word," "I'm Looking Through You," and the spectacular "In My Life." I spent a lot of time, without success, trying to figure out what the phrase "rubber soul" meant.

I was twelve when Yesterday...And Today Yesterday...And Today came out in June 1966. "Drive My Car," "Yesterday," "Nowhere Man," "We Can Work It Out," "Day Tripper." John blew me away, yet again, with the lazy, crazy "I'm Only Sleeping" that combined backward loops and poetic lines. Each of these songs hinted at adventures to come, for them and for my remaining teenage years. I increasingly related to the personal stories the Beatles told in song, especially when John sang lyrics like: "When I'm in the middle of a dream, stay in bed, float upstream." Because the songs were so honest and revealing, I connected to them deeply. They started to feel like trusted friends who understood and accepted me. When I listened to Beatles songs, I finally felt like I fit in somewhere. But even though I loved the alb.u.ms it was clear that something was changing. The Beatles were growing and so was I. When came out in June 1966. "Drive My Car," "Yesterday," "Nowhere Man," "We Can Work It Out," "Day Tripper." John blew me away, yet again, with the lazy, crazy "I'm Only Sleeping" that combined backward loops and poetic lines. Each of these songs hinted at adventures to come, for them and for my remaining teenage years. I increasingly related to the personal stories the Beatles told in song, especially when John sang lyrics like: "When I'm in the middle of a dream, stay in bed, float upstream." Because the songs were so honest and revealing, I connected to them deeply. They started to feel like trusted friends who understood and accepted me. When I listened to Beatles songs, I finally felt like I fit in somewhere. But even though I loved the alb.u.ms it was clear that something was changing. The Beatles were growing and so was I. When Revolver Revolver appeared in 1966, my imagination hit its trajectory. First, the alb.u.m cover was an ill.u.s.trated whirlwind of joyous personality. Their hair like twirling spaghetti surrounded photos and images of what the Beatles were becoming. You did not just listen to records in those days. You consumed them, poring over the alb.u.m covers, inserts, and liner notes. Like all things, the Beatles set the standard in covers and appeared in 1966, my imagination hit its trajectory. First, the alb.u.m cover was an ill.u.s.trated whirlwind of joyous personality. Their hair like twirling spaghetti surrounded photos and images of what the Beatles were becoming. You did not just listen to records in those days. You consumed them, poring over the alb.u.m covers, inserts, and liner notes. Like all things, the Beatles set the standard in covers and Revolver Revolver's-designed by Klaus Voorman, a German friend from their days in Hamburg-was an iconic standout, still instantly recognizable forty years later. An alb.u.m cover as bold and adventurous as the songs-"Taxman," "Eleanor Rigby," "She Said She Said," "For No One," "Tomorrow Never Knows." So melodic. So much fun. So mysterious. They told me about the Beatles' lives. What they were experiencing. How grand life could be. They were showing me a world that was magnificent, wondrous, and exciting, even more so with them in it.

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The number one hits of 1966 around the time of Revolver Revolver's release were "Hanky Panky" by Tommy James & the Shondells, "Strangers In the Night" by Frank Sinatra, "Cherish" by the a.s.sociation, and "Paint It Black" by the Rolling Stones. Though great songs and catchy tunes, the Beatles' Revolver Revolver eclipsed them all with experimentation and artistic depth. Each of the Beatles made the listener witness to the changes and growth he was experiencing. These were not the love songs of the Beatles' other alb.u.ms. They were complicated musically and lyrically. The sitar that was just an affectation in "Norwegian Wood" was now part of a full Indian ensemble in George's "Love You To." The lead guitar (Paul's contribution) on "Taxman" was jarring and fantastic. Beautiful and haunting, "Eleanor Rigby" spoke of loneliness and empathy. "Tomorrow Never Knows" took us through a time warp converging the past and the future. I listened to eclipsed them all with experimentation and artistic depth. Each of the Beatles made the listener witness to the changes and growth he was experiencing. These were not the love songs of the Beatles' other alb.u.ms. They were complicated musically and lyrically. The sitar that was just an affectation in "Norwegian Wood" was now part of a full Indian ensemble in George's "Love You To." The lead guitar (Paul's contribution) on "Taxman" was jarring and fantastic. Beautiful and haunting, "Eleanor Rigby" spoke of loneliness and empathy. "Tomorrow Never Knows" took us through a time warp converging the past and the future. I listened to Revolver Revolver incessantly. My musical tastes, my values, and my conscious life were in no small part being structured by the Beatles and this alb.u.m in particular. It was at this moment that I believe I appropriated the Beatles completely for they could do no wrong. They felt the pa.s.sion I felt for life. We were in it together. incessantly. My musical tastes, my values, and my conscious life were in no small part being structured by the Beatles and this alb.u.m in particular. It was at this moment that I believe I appropriated the Beatles completely for they could do no wrong. They felt the pa.s.sion I felt for life. We were in it together.

Even during controversy, I was behind my heroes all the way. During their final 1966 tour, word spread rapidly about an interview John Lennon gave to the Evening Standard Evening Standard in England that was published on March 4, 1966. In that interview, and in the context of commenting on the fame of the Beatles, he said: in England that was published on March 4, 1966. In that interview, and in the context of commenting on the fame of the Beatles, he said: Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink. I needn't argue with that; I'm right and I will be proved right. We're more popular than Jesus now; I don't know which will go first-rock and roll or Christianity. Jesus was all right, but his disciples were thick and ordinary. It's them twisting it that ruins it for me.

That comment exploded in the States. Record burnings, protests, the Ku Klux Klan, death threats-all those things happened during that tour. It frightened the Beatles and their handlers. The outcry was so great that John was pressured to hold a press conference on August 11, 1966, to explain himself. Looking pained, but with his Beatle brothers at his side, he was reservedly contrite.

I suppose if I had said television was more popular than Jesus, I would have gotten away with it. I'm sorry I opened my mouth. I'm not anti-G.o.d, anti-Christ, or anti-religion. I wasn't knocking it or putting it down. I was just saying it as a fact and it's true more for England than here. I'm not saying that we're better or greater, or comparing us with Jesus Christ as a person or G.o.d as a thing or whatever it is. I just said what I said and it was wrong. Or it was taken wrong. And now it's all this.

I remember how frightening that was. Some members of the media were beginning to turn on the Fab Four. Those who always saw them as a threat were using this as proof of their insidious influence. First long hair. Then lasciviousness. And now blasphemy. John's experience during that time in no small part laid the seeds of the peace campaign that would be the catalyst for a revolution for many people and in my life particularly.

Nineteen sixty-six was a time of many formative pop influences on me in addition to the Beatles, and yet they all seemed to go together. The Batman Batman TV show with its campy, pastel-color aesthetic. Peter Sellers. James Bond. Burt Bacharach. TV show with its campy, pastel-color aesthetic. Peter Sellers. James Bond. Burt Bacharach. Star Trek Star Trek. All contributed to the fabric of my emerging consciousness with the Beatles conducting the show.

The first record I ever owned was Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. It was a bar mitzvah gift. I was already fully aware of the alb.u.m. Both my sister and brother had copies, and it permeated the times. But having my own copy was a thrill. Nothing had sounded anything like it before. The level of production was rich and innovative. Each song was a complex story told with flair and style. The Beatles had spent some six months recording the alb.u.m, which was unprecedented for the time. But again, it was the alb.u.m cover that perhaps made the biggest statement. It was a bar mitzvah gift. I was already fully aware of the alb.u.m. Both my sister and brother had copies, and it permeated the times. But having my own copy was a thrill. Nothing had sounded anything like it before. The level of production was rich and innovative. Each song was a complex story told with flair and style. The Beatles had spent some six months recording the alb.u.m, which was unprecedented for the time. But again, it was the alb.u.m cover that perhaps made the biggest statement.

This was the Beatles deconstructing themselves. Dressed in spectacularly colorful satin uniforms, they were depicted attending their own funeral. With knowing smirks on their faces, the Beatles surrounded themselves with life-size cutouts of seventy of the most famous and infamous people in the world-including the Fab Four themselves in wax, on loan from Madame Tussauds. This rebirth was overseen by iconic images of W. C. Fields, Bob Dylan, Marilyn Monroe, Sigmund Freud, Karl Marx, and Edgar Allen Poe. They knew it was zeitgeist time and they had broken the barrier. Everyone talked about that alb.u.m. When Sgt. Pepper Sgt. Pepper came out, the Beatles owned the world. came out, the Beatles owned the world.

Following the Beatles' story became the driving force of my young life. I was their fiercest defender and proponent and made it clear to everyone and anyone that they were my number one heroes. And they never, ever let me down. After Sgt. Pepper Sgt. Pepper came came Magical Mystery Tour Magical Mystery Tour. How fantastical was that? The alb.u.m from their self-produced TV film proclaimed that the Beatles of old were gone, that Sgt. Pepper Sgt. Pepper was not a fluke, and that they were truly G.o.ds walking the earth. At least that's how I saw it. On that 3-D alb.u.m cover were the Beatles in animal costumes amidst stars and psychedelic colors. On the inside was the song that became the soundtrack of my life: "I Am the Walrus." John's powerful epic poem that hovered around a constant wailing siren made my heart beat fast and furious. Every word and thought, every enunciation overwhelmed me. Still does. was not a fluke, and that they were truly G.o.ds walking the earth. At least that's how I saw it. On that 3-D alb.u.m cover were the Beatles in animal costumes amidst stars and psychedelic colors. On the inside was the song that became the soundtrack of my life: "I Am the Walrus." John's powerful epic poem that hovered around a constant wailing siren made my heart beat fast and furious. Every word and thought, every enunciation overwhelmed me. Still does.

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The alb.u.ms never grew old. I listened to them so often that I must have owned three or four copies of each t.i.tle over the years because of the wear and tear. The Beatles released at least two alb.u.ms a year, and if that was not enough, they always treated their fans with singles in between: "All You Need is Love," "Penny Lane" and "Strawberry Fields," "Lady Madonna." These singles had lives of their own.

The Beatles stopped touring after their Candlestick Park concert in San Francisco on August 29, 1966. As George would later say, "The audience gave their money...we gave our central nervous systems." Instead, they focused on the recording studio. To keep in touch, they pioneered the music video, sending film to accompany their singles to Ed Sullivan Ed Sullivan and other top variety shows. That in itself was an event that would be advertised: "See and hear the Beatles' latest single on the next and other top variety shows. That in itself was an event that would be advertised: "See and hear the Beatles' latest single on the next Ed Sullivan Show Ed Sullivan Show." "Paperback Writer" and "Rain" had the Beatles cavorting about in a garden. Increasingly they became more comfortable and carefree on screen. Paul showed off a chipped tooth from a car accident. John wore groovy sungla.s.ses. Hip, sporty, and casual. "Penny Lane" had the Beatles mustached, dandied up, walking through childhood routes in Liverpool. A candelabrum was placed on their table by Victorian servants as they dined in the park with their instruments.

For "Strawberry Fields," we witnessed the arrival of John's trademark granny gla.s.ses, his eyes ever-peering, glazed, and all-knowing. Psychedelic pop was born. "h.e.l.lo Goodbye" had the Beatles in party overdrive, dancing with hula girls and sporting their Sgt. Pepper Sgt. Pepper outfits. The antic.i.p.ation of watching these gifts from the Beatles on TV was electric. outfits. The antic.i.p.ation of watching these gifts from the Beatles on TV was electric.

When "Hey Jude" premiered on the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour on October 6, 1968, it displaced Jeannie C. Riley's "Harper Valley PTA" from its number one spot. The opening frame was Paul at the piano, John on ba.s.s, George on guitar, and Ringo on drums. All close together, supporting Paul, with those big brown eyes, singing away. When the great chorus kicked in, the Beatles let a crowd of people off the streets in to swarm them, touch them, and belt out the chorus. Wow! The video for "Revolution" was aired one week after "Hey Jude," again on the on October 6, 1968, it displaced Jeannie C. Riley's "Harper Valley PTA" from its number one spot. The opening frame was Paul at the piano, John on ba.s.s, George on guitar, and Ringo on drums. All close together, supporting Paul, with those big brown eyes, singing away. When the great chorus kicked in, the Beatles let a crowd of people off the streets in to swarm them, touch them, and belt out the chorus. Wow! The video for "Revolution" was aired one week after "Hey Jude," again on the Smothers Brothers Smothers Brothers. Every song they released wasn't just a hit; it was an event constantly topping the one before it.

For the first time, the Beatles' own record label logo, Apple, appeared. On one side, granny smith green. On the other, white and sliced with the seeds on display. "Revolution" was the sliced apple and was as edgy and rocking as anything the Beatles had done before. "If you go carrying pictures of Chairman Mao, you ain't gonna make it with anyone anyhow." Only John Lennon could get away with lyrics like that.

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Since they were no longer touring, they weren't forced to be prisoners to nerve-wracking world tours. And so the Beatles began searching for meaning in their art and in their lives. As their personal horizons expanded-drugs, meditation, exposure to other musicians-so did their music, the presentation of it and their aesthetic. George Harrison's wife Patti told them of this wonderful mystic from the East, the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. They attended a lecture he was giving in Wales, and it was on the second day of that retreat, August 27, 1967, that they learned that their manager Brian Epstein had died due to drugs and mysterious circ.u.mstances. Epstein was twenty-seven when he found the Beatles at a club called the Cavern. He championed them from the beginning, when he still worked in his father's appliance store in Liverpool, all the way to the behemoth they had become. It shocked them, and as John would later say, he thought the Beatles were finished after that.

Scared and directionless, they continued their infatuation with their guru, a word that became known to millions of kids, including me. It seemed to cut across religious differences and the Beatles were now exploring spirituality and involving all of their fans in that quest. The Beatles went to Rishikesh, India, in February 1968, not to tour but to study for weeks with the Maharishi. It was so exotic, so fascinating, and I could not wait to hear what they would say when they emerged. It was during that pilgrimage that they produced some of their finest, most personal and biting songs, songs that would form the content of the White Alb.u.m White Alb.u.m.

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When word spread that a new release from the Beatles was coming, it was shrouded in secrecy, and arrived on the pop scene like a bomb. Getting an alb.u.m was not the easiest thing for a suburban kid in those days. They were not available everywhere. The place of choice in Toronto was Sam the Record Man. Three creaky wooden floors of vinyl. When you walked in, it felt like you were entering a temple of music and pop culture. I would spend hours there, even if I did not buy anything. The first floor was rock and pop. The second floor was show tunes, adult contemporary, and jazz. The top floor was cla.s.sical. The ceilings were low and the rooms were connected by narrow aisles and square pillars. The rim of the ceiling and walls were lined, throughout the store, with 8 x 10 framed photos of recording artists from Judy Collins to Jimmy Durante, all with Sam "the Record Man" Sniderman hugging them or mugging with them. I knew every one of those hundreds of photos. That's what it was like, for me, going to Sam's in November 1968 to get the White Alb.u.m White Alb.u.m.

I would call Capitol Records as soon as I heard of a new Beatles recording to get the release date and then the delivery date. Without fail, from Sgt. Pepper Sgt. Pepper on, I was in the alley behind Sam's waiting for the Capitol truck. I did the same that November, shivering behind the store until it pulled up. The driver unloaded boxes with the Capitol Records logo and I watched as the first box was opened on the floor in the back of the store. Everything was white inside. It was as though someone had dumped paint into the box and it had hardened. I was given one of them and clutched it in my hands. It was pure as pure could be. It was the ant.i.thesis of the colorful and exuberant alb.u.m covers that preceded it. Faintly, I could see the Beatles name embossed on the bottom right of each alb.u.m. I remember that wondrous moment clearly. on, I was in the alley behind Sam's waiting for the Capitol truck. I did the same that November, shivering behind the store until it pulled up. The driver unloaded boxes with the Capitol Records logo and I watched as the first box was opened on the floor in the back of the store. Everything was white inside. It was as though someone had dumped paint into the box and it had hardened. I was given one of them and clutched it in my hands. It was pure as pure could be. It was the ant.i.thesis of the colorful and exuberant alb.u.m covers that preceded it. Faintly, I could see the Beatles name embossed on the bottom right of each alb.u.m. I remember that wondrous moment clearly.

A few songs were getting airplay about a week before the alb.u.m's release. In the car one night, I heard "Back in the USSR" on the radio for the first time. It started with the sound of a jet plane. And then it landed, full force with a thumping beat. That specific emotion is forged into my memory. So when I ultimately bought the White Alb.u.m White Alb.u.m and held it in my arms, I knew something of what I was about to experience. But I had heard only a few songs on the radio and this was a double alb.u.m with thirty new Beatle songs! I stared at the cellophane-wrapped and held it in my arms, I knew something of what I was about to experience. But I had heard only a few songs on the radio and this was a double alb.u.m with thirty new Beatle songs! I stared at the cellophane-wrapped White Alb.u.m White Alb.u.m for the ride home. I did not want to open it yet. It had to be done right. for the ride home. I did not want to open it yet. It had to be done right.

We did not have headphones, so I put my small, portable hi-fi on my night table. I lay on my bed, facing up, with the speakers on either side of my head to get the full effect. When the needle hit the outside of the record, even a new record, you heard the comforting mellow sound of friction. I heard the slowly approaching airplane. By the time my uninterrupted adventure ended with Ringo singing "Goodnight," I was in transcendent splendor. Listening to it over and over again, all night, made me feel important, part of a special club selected by the Beatles to change the world. I studied those alb.u.ms, word for word and sound by sound. Not a nuance pa.s.sed me by. Having listened to Beatle records so often, I could discern who played what instrument, who made what sound, and who harmonized with whom. To this day, I hear a Beatle song as if it was in many different layers, songs within songs: Paul's melodic and imaginative ba.s.s lines, John's sharp guitar chords and Donovan-style finger picking, George's unique lead guitar, and Ringo always keeping it together with his simple yet brilliant hits on the drums. Every breath, sigh, grunt, and whistle was imprinted in my memory cells. The White Alb.u.m White Alb.u.m was a gift. That was how I saw it. With the was a gift. That was how I saw it. With the White Alb.u.m White Alb.u.m, or as I liked to call it, the double White Alb.u.m White Alb.u.m because they'd given us an impressive two alb.u.ms in one, the Beatles had gone beyond the bold experimentation of because they'd given us an impressive two alb.u.ms in one, the Beatles had gone beyond the bold experimentation of Sgt. Pepper Sgt. Pepper and and Magical Mystery Tour Magical Mystery Tour. They were now supreme craftsmen of expression, innovation, and presentation. And with the alb.u.m came tangible goodies. Four 8 x 10 close-up portraits of each Beatle. No mugging for the camera anymore. No psychedelic art. Paul, with stubble, up close and personal. George, direct and purposeful. Ringo, stylishly eccentric. John, trans.m.u.ted and disconnected. The Beatles seemed to have had a direct hand in preparing a poster of Polaroids, proofs, and photos. These were not posed publicity shots but personal giveaways to the fans. The Beatles as they had become. In the bath. Contemplative. Naked. Stoned. And for the first time, Yoko Ono made her formal and dramatic appearance.

Stories of John's relationship with Yoko had started to surface. They met on November 9, 1966, at the Indica Gallery in London where Yoko's exhibition of Unfinished Paintings and Objects Unfinished Paintings and Objects was on a private preview display. John climbed the ladder, gazed through a magnifying gla.s.s hanging from the ceiling, and read the word "YES." Later he would refer to that as being the moment of instant connection. Yoko Ono had already created a buzz in the art worlds of London and New York by staging such performance art events as sitting on a stage inviting the audience to cut her clothes until she was naked, covering the lion statues in Trafalgar Square with white sheets, and filming 365 naked behinds, one for every day of the year. John, the Philosopher King of Rock, had met his match. was on a private preview display. John climbed the ladder, gazed through a magnifying gla.s.s hanging from the ceiling, and read the word "YES." Later he would refer to that as being the moment of instant connection. Yoko Ono had already created a buzz in the art worlds of London and New York by staging such performance art events as sitting on a stage inviting the audience to cut her clothes until she was naked, covering the lion statues in Trafalgar Square with white sheets, and filming 365 naked behinds, one for every day of the year. John, the Philosopher King of Rock, had met his match.

Much of the newspaper and magazine coverage of Yoko was merciless and racist. She was ravaged and ridiculed-as was John-for the relationship, though scorn was added to him for having gone mad and breaking the Beatle mold. Rumors of discord amongst the band members started percolating and the usual focus was on Yoko. Fans did not know what to make of it. Her photo was in the poster. And her voice appeared three times. She sang backup vocals on "Birthday" with Maureen Starr. It was Yoko who answered John in the "Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill." "The children asked him if to kill was not a sin?" John sang. "Not when he looked so fierce," his "Mommy b.u.t.ted in." In "Revolution 9" she softly p.r.o.nounced, "We stand naked."

I, however, adored it. First of all, John was in love. What was wrong with that? Second, they seemed to be of the same mindset. Positive. Experimental. Political. Funny. Finally, it was clearly what John needed to free himself from the monster that the Beatles had become. I was loyal to the bone. No matter what you thought of Yoko, the songs were so good, so new, so innovative that it was impossible to deny their genius.

There were songs of power, pain, and politics. Paul's "Blackbird" is his message of support to black women in America. George's "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" laments the alienation and detachment many people felt at the time. John throws a dagger at pop culture with the fragmented "Happiness Is a Warm Gun." A dramatic departure from their previous alb.u.ms, there were only two romantic love songs in the thirty tracks, Paul's "I Will" and George's "Long, Long, Long." John would later single out the White Alb.u.m White Alb.u.m as the beginning of the end of the Beatles. They argued and recorded many songs on their own, John in one studio working on his tune, Paul in the other. Ringo tried his best to feel part of it all. It was his voice we heard at the end, singing a lullaby in "Goodnight," written especially for him by John. Parodies of themselves in "Gla.s.s Onion," pulling out the stops to entice "Dear Prudence," making the rowdiest rock song ever in "Helter Skelter," struggling with violence as a political tool in "Revolution," the double as the beginning of the end of the Beatles. They argued and recorded many songs on their own, John in one studio working on his tune, Paul in the other. Ringo tried his best to feel part of it all. It was his voice we heard at the end, singing a lullaby in "Goodnight," written especially for him by John. Parodies of themselves in "Gla.s.s Onion," pulling out the stops to entice "Dear Prudence," making the rowdiest rock song ever in "Helter Skelter," struggling with violence as a political tool in "Revolution," the double White Alb.u.m White Alb.u.m was breathtaking in its scope and the degree to which each of the Beatles exposed his personal life. was breathtaking in its scope and the degree to which each of the Beatles exposed his personal life.

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It took a few days for my copy of the double White Alb.u.m White Alb.u.m to get dirty. That probably was the point of it. Fingerprints-mine and others-were everywhere. I took it to school with me everyday and lectured about it on my soapbox. Having read everything I could about the making of it, I dazzled and bored kids and teachers with my knowledge. "Martha My Dear" was about Paul's sheepdog. "Dear Prudence" had its genesis in India with John and Paul trying to coax Mia Farrow's sister out of her cabin in the Maharishi's ashram. And "s.e.xy Sadie" was about John's eventual disillusionment with the Maharishi. "I'm So Tired" had John singing about trying to quit smoking and "Back In the USSR" gave loving tribute to the Beach Boys, Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis. The pinnacle for me, though not for everyone else, was "Revolution 9." It did not take me long to be able to mimic John's eight-minute-and-thirteen-second apocalyptic vision of the future. I can do it to this day. There was not a note, a sound, an image, tone, or word that I did not worship about the double to get dirty. That probably was the point of it. Fingerprints-mine and others-were everywhere. I took it to school with me everyday and lectured about it on my soapbox. Having read everything I could about the making of it, I dazzled and bored kids and teachers with my knowledge. "Martha My Dear" was about Paul's sheepdog. "Dear Prudence" had its genesis in India with John and Paul trying to coax Mia Farrow's sister out of her cabin in the Maharishi's ashram. And "s.e.xy Sadie" was about John's eventual disillusionment with the Maharishi. "I'm So Tired" had John singing about trying to quit smoking and "Back In the USSR" gave loving tribute to the Beach Boys, Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis. The pinnacle for me, though not for everyone else, was "Revolution 9." It did not take me long to be able to mimic John's eight-minute-and-thirteen-second apocalyptic vision of the future. I can do it to this day. There was not a note, a sound, an image, tone, or word that I did not worship about the double White Alb.u.m White Alb.u.m.

The world had barely a week to digest this ma.s.sive pop release when John and Yoko released through Apple Unfinished Music No. 1: Two Virgins Unfinished Music No. 1: Two Virgins. The front and back covers featured John and Yoko naked. The photos were taken by themselves and not manipulated in any way. No pop artist since has come anywhere close to such a dramatic, uncompromising act of defiant courage and audacity. John Lennon, emboldened by his new partner in love and art, took his stardom and twirled it in the air. As John said in his liner notes, he and Yoko "battled on against overwhelming oddities." John's friend and collaborator Paul McCartney lent a gracious quote that appeared on the front cover: "When two great Saints meet, it is a humbling experience. The long battles to prove he was a Saint." Paul was supportive of John but even then confused by his partner's latest venture. George Martin, the Beatles' legendary producer, was more to the point: "No comment." One does not need to be a student of rock history to imagine what the Beatles really thought about what their leader was doing, where he was going, and what was happening to their band.

Like my trek downtown to get the double White Alb.u.m White Alb.u.m, I did the same for Two Virgins Two Virgins. I called Capitol Records and found out the delivery date, and I called that same day to find out when the truck was leaving for Sam's. There I was again, within a week, in the alley watching the truck pull up and unload the box. I knew that John and Yoko were naked on the cover. I knew that the alb.u.m featured their all-night recording session, which had culminated in their making love for the first time at dawn. The box was carried into the store and put on the floor. It was opened with the usual sight of me peering over the shoulder of one of Sam's employee. I saw the cover for the first time. WOW! I got the first alb.u.m and raced to the cash register, too excited and distracted to be bothered by the sound of the police confiscating the rest of the alb.u.ms.