"There are many ways of promoting peace. Do everything for peace. p.i.s.s for peace or smile for peace or go to school for peace or don't go to school for peace. Whatever you do, just do it for peace."

Steve laughed, and I was outraged. "It's not you," he said. "It is me! I swear it is! They cut my voice out!" I was fuming when Steve drove me to the Kodak lab to have the film developed. I couldn't pay the rush price and had to make do with waiting a few weeks. We then went to school. Every fifteen minutes, CHUM played excerpts of my interview, all the time cutting out my voice and not giving me credit. Part of me started wondering if it really happened. It was all so crazy. "Wait! If you see Mary Hopkin tonight will you believe me?" It dawned on me that I had a date with her and that if Steve drove me downtown, he would see that she recognized me.

I walked onto the schoolyard greeted by a crowd of kids. Word had spread that I was seen at the King Edward in the evening and had gone past the police blockade. I had the two alb.u.ms-one, Life With the Lions Life With the Lions, no one had seen before. But that's all I had and no clear proof. "Again with the alb.u.m," one nasty boy shouted. "He is full of s.h.i.t."

After school I called CHUM and spoke to someone at the news desk. He hung up on me before I could finish my sentence. I called back. He hung up again. Finally he let me finish what I had to say. "Oh, you're the kid! No problem, call back tomorrow and we'll see what we can do." The fact that I had to wait to get my tape disheartened me. My mother was just coming home from work when Steve and I were heading off. I could see the look of worry in her eyes. "Where are you going now?" she asked. "I told you, Ma, I have a date with Mary Hopkin. Steve is taking me." Steve shrugged and off we went to pick up our cousin Larry who wanted to witness the event too.

Larry got in the car, and I told the story all over again for his benefit. The more I told it, the more I wondered if it really happened. They wanted to believe me but it was too incredible a story to accept wholeheartedly. We stood outside the Electric Circus for about an hour before the designated time eating the hamburgers and French fries we bought on the way. In between slurps of milk shakes, they grilled me about details of my story to see if it held up. Eight o'clock arrived and there was a line up to get in, but no sign of Mary Hopkin. Eight fifteen and Steve started to get restless. By 8:30 I felt gloomy when Steve said, "Let's go." Just then a black limousine pulled up. The driver came around to the rear pa.s.senger side and opened the door. Out stepped Mary Hopkin with a beaming smile. "Hi, Jerry!" "Hi, Mary," I replied, to Steve and Larry's shock. She took my arm, and we were let right into the club. I turned and waved at my brother and cousin as I entered a nightclub, with a pop star, for the first time in my life.

Within twenty-four hours of treating me to an extraordinary day filled with life-altering experiences, John Lennon was unwittingly responsible for setting me up on a date with an Apple recording artist. Mary led me onto the dance floor of the Electric Circus. It was the hippest and newest club in Toronto and had state-of-the-art strobe lights. The place was packed and no one seemed to know that Mary Hopkin was there. I remember feeling goofy dancing to some number, all the while astounded that before me was this beautiful star from across the Atlantic, smiling and swaying to the music. All I could think was, "She knows Paul McCartney."

We were probably dancing to one of the hits of the time, "Hair" by the Cowsills or the theme from Hawaii Five-O Hawaii Five-O, when the music shifted abruptly to "Goodbye." The deejay announced that "Apple recording artist Mary Hopkin" was in the room and a spotlight hit us to the applause of everyone there. There I was dancing, sort of, with a pop star.

At some point the evening wound down, and Mary was being led out by the Capitol PR man, back to the limousine. I followed her and witnessed the crush of people who wanted to say hi and touch her. She had to get in the limo fast because of the crowd outside the club but she stopped to say good-bye to me. "Thank you for coming," she said sweetly and being the real man that I was I kissed her on the cheek. "Good-bye, Mary," I waved as she sat in the limo and the door closed. The window lowered and she waved back to me and to the fans. "Say hi to Paul," I shouted as she took off. Then I strutted away fully aware that people were staring at me wondering who the h.e.l.l I was.

I called CHUM everyday and was told they would call me. But they didn't. I got into such a fit that one day I showed up at CHUM's head office and started yelling in the reception area until someone from the news desk came out to talk to me. I was turning purple and causing a scene. "It's my tape! It's my tape!" I kept shouting. "I'll be right back," he said nervously in front of the other people in the room. About ten minutes later he came back with a box that contained my taped interview. "Here you are." I took it and ran. When I got home I called my Uncle Mike. He had a reel-to-reel tape recorder and promised to come over in the evening.

We were still having dinner that night when Mike waltzed right into the house and into the kitchen. My mother, my father, Steve, and I sat there at the table watching him set up the tape that I'd given him. He pressed the play b.u.t.ton. It was my voice asking a question, a question that was answered by John Lennon. For some twenty-five minutes we sat there. My parents were mystified. Mike kept clapping his hands with enthusiasm. My brother gave me a look of awe. It was the first time I'd impressed him. "Wow, Jerry," he said softly. "You really did it. You really did it."

In the days following my meeting with John and Yoko, they spent a week in bed in a Montreal hotel suite. The door was wide open and anyone could get in. That was where he wrote and recorded "Give Peace a Chance," with Timothy Leary and Tommy Smothers chanting in the great chorus. I watched the news bits-there was no CNN back then-listened to the radio, and read the newspaper accounts of what my hero was up to. I felt part of what was happening even though I was far away. I would have loved to have been there but I would not have traded my experience for that one. I had been in the eye of the storm with John.

The moment it was ready, Steve drove me to the Kodak lab to pick up the film. I bolted out of the car and into the service department, gave the lady behind the counter my two slips, and watched her go through the drawer. The first was the Super 8 reel. My brother opened it up, raised it to the window, and pulled the film in front of his eye. "There's film here. I see John! I see Yoko!" he said. My G.o.d, I thought, I had proof, for the world and for me. Waiting for the photographs, I knew that if the envelope was thin, there was hardly anything there. "Here you go, that will be $15.95 please," she said, handing me the envelope. It was not thin. I paid the money and we went into the car. I sat down, closed the door, and took a deep breath. The film that was in the camera was for slides, and there were many of them. I lifted them to the light and took off my gla.s.ses. One by one I saw pictures of John and Yoko. They were in focus. They were good. Mary Hopkin was there-a picure of her with Sam the Record Man, another with me. Even Engelbert in vibrant living color. "Let's trade," I said and gave Steve the slides. Acting like a projector, I viewed the small frames of the film. Sure enough, John and Yoko. I was there. I have proof. It really happened.

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Mary Hopkin surrounded by admirers after her concert.

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Mary Hopkin surrounded by admirers after her concert.

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Mary Hopkin surrounded by admirers after her concert.

My father was so proud of me. He would introduce me to random people and say in his thick Yiddish accent, "He met the Beatle. My son is not a hippie, but he met the Beatle."

I kept my word to John and played my tape to a school a.s.sembly. A few teachers and the vice princ.i.p.al listened to it first with me in the office to make sure it was appropriate. A woman teacher was flabbergasted and kept saying, "Amazing! Amazing!" The vice princ.i.p.al was circ.u.mspect and was not happy about the "p.i.s.s for peace" or "you can go to school or not go to school.... as long as you do it for peace." He cringed when I asked John if he said f.u.c.k f.u.c.k on "Revolution 9." "We will have to cut some of this out," he said to the uproar of the teachers. "You can't do that," was the response. "It's John Lennon." He acquiesced. on "Revolution 9." "We will have to cut some of this out," he said to the uproar of the teachers. "You can't do that," was the response. "It's John Lennon." He acquiesced.

The next morning, a large tape recorder was placed on the edge of the stage in the auditorium. Next to it was a turntable that I had set up. I sat there dangling my feet as kids entered. I was dressed all in white and wearing sandals. My round gla.s.ses were on. I was proud to wear them. And I could see clearly, the believers and the nonbelievers, let out from cla.s.s to hear the world's biggest star talk to me and to them. When everyone was seated, teachers closed the doors and stood against the wall. My English teacher took to the stage and walked over to the microphone stand behind me. "You all heard the news about Jerry meeting John Lennon. You're all in for a treat, let's hear it for Jerry!" The sustained applause and hooting delayed me from pressing the play b.u.t.ton. I had done the impossible. I met the Walrus. John Lennon.

The kids laughed when John was funny. They were silent and listened to every word when he was talking about peace, about the Beatles, and about Yoko. Some shouted "All right!!" when he suggested they not go to school for peace. As soon as the interview was over, I took out Life With the Lions Life With the Lions and gently placed the needle at the beginning of side one. "This is John and Yoko's latest alb.u.m. They gave it to me." Teachers, administrators, and students alike were incredulous at what they heard. Yoko's dramatic wailing and John's experimental feedback pierced the a.s.sembly hall. I let it play for about five minutes or so. There were stunned and attentive looks and there was laughter. John and Yoko hit all the chords they wanted to. People reacted. "I'm sure you will want to talk to Jerry but let's save that for lunch time," the teacher said. I continued to sit on the stage and watched people leave in an orderly directed fashion. Before they left, many of them crowded around me to tell me how great it was and to get a look at my alb.u.m. and gently placed the needle at the beginning of side one. "This is John and Yoko's latest alb.u.m. They gave it to me." Teachers, administrators, and students alike were incredulous at what they heard. Yoko's dramatic wailing and John's experimental feedback pierced the a.s.sembly hall. I let it play for about five minutes or so. There were stunned and attentive looks and there was laughter. John and Yoko hit all the chords they wanted to. People reacted. "I'm sure you will want to talk to Jerry but let's save that for lunch time," the teacher said. I continued to sit on the stage and watched people leave in an orderly directed fashion. Before they left, many of them crowded around me to tell me how great it was and to get a look at my alb.u.m.

The Capitol PR man had taken a liking to me. I called him a day or two after I got the pictures to give him copies of the ones he wanted. The ones with Sam the Record Man ended up on the store's wall of fame, the wall I peered at time and time again. I had made my mark. The PR man would call me up from time to time to tell me that new records of interest were coming out and give me advance copies while taking me out for dinner.

3.

IN MY LIFE.

Rumors were rampant in September 1969, the week prior to Toronto's Rock and Roll Revival at the Varsity Stadium, that John Lennon was coming. The concert was scheduled for September 13 and the lineup consisted of Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Chuck Berry, the Doors, and a newcomer named Alice Cooper, among others. I called the Capitol man and he told me that it might happen and he would call me as soon as he heard anything. Deejays relentlessly plugged the ma.s.sive concert and each time fueled the rumors that John Lennon would make an appearance. The night before, I got the call. "John's coming with Eric Clapton," the Capitol man said. I shouted with excitement. "Meet me tomorrow morning at the press office at the arena and I'll get you a press pa.s.s."

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The all-day festival started in the morning and was going to go on through the night. I found the Capitol man and he put a chain around my neck with a card that said "PRESS." It was hectic there because of the artists, but the John Lennon rumor was persistent and some were saying all four Beatles would be coming. I made my way to the front row where press and VIPs had designated seats. I was getting used to this.

I sat in the sun watching these legends of rock. Chuck Berry doing his crouching duck walk to "Hoochie Coochie Man," Jerry Lee Lewis jumping on the piano as he sang "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On," and Little Richard screeching and strutting to "Lucille." These were the Beatles' heroes and the artists they covered in their early alb.u.ms. I was having a rock history lesson. I saw Jim Morrison, about a year and a half before he died, sing "Touch Me" with the Doors. Alice Cooper infuriated everyone in the front row, including me, by throwing a full watermelon into the crowd, splashing us all with the insides.

Throughout the day, I would wander backstage and check out the stars wandering around outside in the secure area set up for them. A friend from school was working backstage as a roadie and we started chatting. Jim Morrison walked right by us. His skin was weirdly translucent. Jerry Lee Lewis walked by and I excitedly shouted to my friend, "That's Jerry Lee Lewis!" My friend thinking I was referring to the comic, replied, "That's not Jerry Lewis." Jerry Lee, "the Killer" as he liked to be called, turned abruptly around and walked right up to his face and said, "You better believe it, Buddy!" and then stomped away.

It was nighttime and Little Richard had stirred the crowd into a frenzy. The over-the-top icon of early rock and roll finished his set with "Lucille" and strutted his glittered way off the stage. It was getting late and there had been no word yet about John Lennon. I knew something was up when several frowning Toronto police officers stood on either side of the stage. Then an announcer came out and said in a disbelieving voice, "John Lennon and the Plastic Ono Baaaaaannnnnd!" And out came the musicians: Allan White on drums, Klaus Voormann on ba.s.s (the Beatles mate from the early days in Hamburg who designed the Revolver Revolver cover), Eric Clapton, and then John and Yoko to tumultuous applause. I was front row and center. He was thinner than when I'd last seen him and the beard was thicker. Dressed all in white, he seemed unusually awkward and nervous as he approached the microphone while tuning his guitar and said, "Good evening." The crowd wailed reverentially. "We're just going to do numbers that we know. We've never played together before." The crowd didn't care. The twenty thousand fans screamed with approval as John sang into the microphone, "It's a one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready now, go cat go, but don't you step on my blue suede shoes." I had never seen the Beatles live, but barely four months after meeting him, he had come back to Toronto and I was watching him sing and play the guitar. cover), Eric Clapton, and then John and Yoko to tumultuous applause. I was front row and center. He was thinner than when I'd last seen him and the beard was thicker. Dressed all in white, he seemed unusually awkward and nervous as he approached the microphone while tuning his guitar and said, "Good evening." The crowd wailed reverentially. "We're just going to do numbers that we know. We've never played together before." The crowd didn't care. The twenty thousand fans screamed with approval as John sang into the microphone, "It's a one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready now, go cat go, but don't you step on my blue suede shoes." I had never seen the Beatles live, but barely four months after meeting him, he had come back to Toronto and I was watching him sing and play the guitar.

John sang two more rock and roll cla.s.sics, "Money" and "Dizzy Miss Lizzie," his "Yer Blues" from the Beatles' White Alb.u.m White Alb.u.m, and then premiered "Cold Turkey," which would be released at the end of October 1969. For the second time I heard a John Lennon song for the first time, in his presence. He ended that set with "Give Peace a Chance." "This is what we came here for," he said, and got the audience to join in. Yoko was at his side throughout holding a microphone and adding sounds not found in the original recordings or anywhere else.

When John finished his set, everyone left the stage except for him and Yoko. He positioned himself behind her and did odd things with his guitar to the amplifier. It was as if he was stabbing it. It was Two Virgins/Life With the Lions Two Virgins/Life With the Lions experimental music. As one of the few in the audience who had listened to those alb.u.ms, I was familiar with what they were doing. Not everyone was happy. The first song, "Don't Worry Kyoko (Mummy's Only Looking for Her Hand In the Snow)" clocked in at four minutes and forty-eight seconds and was the longest song performed. She topped it with "John, John Let's Hope For Peace" that went on for twelve minutes and thirty-eight seconds. In those days, concerts had nursing stations for people getting sick and having bad reactions to drugs. Throughout the concert an announcer would warn people about "some bad s.h.i.t that was going around." When Yoko did her thing, a guy next to me held his head in his hands and repeated, "b.u.mmer, b.u.mmer." I was ready to strangle him. He was ruining my concentration. I motioned for a policeman who was standing guard. He took one look at him and took him away to larger and more repeated yelps of "b.u.mmer, b.u.mmer." I was relieved. experimental music. As one of the few in the audience who had listened to those alb.u.ms, I was familiar with what they were doing. Not everyone was happy. The first song, "Don't Worry Kyoko (Mummy's Only Looking for Her Hand In the Snow)" clocked in at four minutes and forty-eight seconds and was the longest song performed. She topped it with "John, John Let's Hope For Peace" that went on for twelve minutes and thirty-eight seconds. In those days, concerts had nursing stations for people getting sick and having bad reactions to drugs. Throughout the concert an announcer would warn people about "some bad s.h.i.t that was going around." When Yoko did her thing, a guy next to me held his head in his hands and repeated, "b.u.mmer, b.u.mmer." I was ready to strangle him. He was ruining my concentration. I motioned for a policeman who was standing guard. He took one look at him and took him away to larger and more repeated yelps of "b.u.mmer, b.u.mmer." I was relieved.

I had brought my brother's Super 8 camera with me again. Though it was night, I was so close to the stage that I managed to get shots of John that I spliced together with a rudimentary editing machine (film was cut and then you used glue) and created one of the most unusual pop culture home movies of all time-John and Yoko interspersed with scenes of flowers from my mother's garden, a roman candle going off, and a kitchen light being zoomed in and out became my personal doc.u.mentary of the experience.

At one point John laid his guitar against the amplifier to a sustained feedback and they left the stage. Most of the crowd did not know what to do. They were stunned and had witnessed rock and roll history. John and Yoko treated the audience to rock and roll cla.s.sics, a Beatles tune, "Give Peace a Chance," and "Cold Turkey," and then turned their performance upside down.

Sensing they were not coming back, I bolted for the press area inside the stadium. I had my pa.s.s and walked right in. The Capitol man told me that John was going to give a brief press conference in the locker room and took me there. A crowd of reporters was waiting for the Beatle as I climbed on top of a locker so I could have a good view. John and Yoko came in. He looked terrible. There was a greenish hue to his skin, and he looked frightened. Years later he would say that he was sick to his stomach from nerves at performing without the Beatles. At one point in the middle of a reporter's question, he looked up at me. There was recognition on his face and he smiled. My heart skipped a beat as he whispered something to Yoko. He remembered me.

John left the Rock and Roll Revival exhilarated. He had performed his favorite songs, and some of his own songs, at a concert with his musical heroes. And he had done so without Paul, George, and Ringo. It gave him confidence to shake the burden the Beatles had become to him, and as Ringo later recalled in the Beatles Anthology Beatles Anthology, within days of his return he announced to his brothers at a meeting at Apple, "Well, that's it lads, let's end it." The others convinced him not to go public, that they should wait for Abbey Road Abbey Road's release, which was due September 26. The world had no idea when that cla.s.sic alb.u.m hit the radio waves, the store shelves, and the turntables that it was the Beatles' swan song.

I got the call from Capitol Records a couple days before. Steve drove me to their offices and the Capitol man came down to greet me. He smiled as he handed me Abbey Road Abbey Road. Like so many other Beatles-related moments, I remember how I felt when I saw it for the first time. Unt.i.tled, yet again, the Beatles, like superheroes on a mission, crossing Abbey Road where EMI's recording studios were. They were walking away. George in jeans, casual and independent. Paul in a dark blue suit, cigarette in his hand. Ringo, dressed to the nines and ready for the show. John, all in white, bearded and purposeful. The photo probably had been taken around the time we met. On the back, like a London street sign attached to brick, was written "Beatles." They had followed the minimalist approach from the White Alb.u.m White Alb.u.m. They did not have to say who they were or jazz up the cover. They had been there and beyond with Sgt. Pepper Sgt. Pepper and and Magical Mystery Tour Magical Mystery Tour. They were the biggest rock band ever.

Just like the others before it, I listened to that alb.u.m all day and all night, feeling a part of it all. John breathing "shoot me" started it all on "Come Together." Like the airplane on "Back in the USSR," the opening sound of the alb.u.m was wildly original and set the tone with John at his lyrical best. "One and one and one is three.... Hair down to his knee.... Hold you in his armchair you can feel his disease.... He shoot Coca-Cola.... Come together, right now, over me." Phrases to last an eternity. Paul playing ba.s.s wrapped around Ringo's rolling drumbeat. George harmonizing his lead and John grunging out the chords on his guitar. It was scary, it was funny, it was street theater. And it was pure John.

George's "Something" was beautiful. John thought it was the best song on the alb.u.m. He wailed his sliding lead guitar throughout defying any duplication. What I loved most about it was how sweetly Paul accompanied George on ba.s.s and in the chorus harmonies. The master of ballads knew that his younger mate had written a love song to match anything he had ever created. Yet Paul clearly held nothing back. It was the music after all. Even at this time of terrible discord and alienation, they were mates who loved each other and supported each other to achieve artistic perfection.

Side one was John's idea. He did not want another thematic Sgt. Pepper Sgt. Pepper. Just straight ahead rock and roll songs. "Oh! Darling," Paul's screaming tribute to Little Richard was so pure rock and roll that John always said he should have sung it. The Beatles rallied around Ringo and his "Octopus's Garden" to give the least likely songwriter of the group his moment of independent fame. To end it, John's haunting and primal love song to Yoko, "I Want You (She's So Heavy)." Soul, rock, jazz, and orchestral, the Beatles demonstrated how contemporary they were, always with a foot planted in the future.

"Here Comes the Sun" was a perfect uplifting opener for side two after the climactic ending of "I Want You." "Because," the Yokoinspired backward Beethoven harmonic masterpiece, followed, leading into Paul's vision, the Abbey Road Abbey Road medley: "You Never Give Me Your Money," Paul's fragmented lament for what the Beatles had become (a song he has to this day not performed publicly); "Mean Mr. Mustard"; "Polythene Pam"; and "She Came In Through the Bathroom Window." John and Paul were two super mutants battling each other with blasts of musical genius. They did this to "The End" where they dueled lead guitars with George right down to the finish. But the Beatles never took themselves too seriously. The last cut was Paul singing to Queen Elizabeth on the acoustic and raunchy "Her Majesty": "...someday I'm gonna make her mine, oh yeah, someday I'm gonna make her mine." medley: "You Never Give Me Your Money," Paul's fragmented lament for what the Beatles had become (a song he has to this day not performed publicly); "Mean Mr. Mustard"; "Polythene Pam"; and "She Came In Through the Bathroom Window." John and Paul were two super mutants battling each other with blasts of musical genius. They did this to "The End" where they dueled lead guitars with George right down to the finish. But the Beatles never took themselves too seriously. The last cut was Paul singing to Queen Elizabeth on the acoustic and raunchy "Her Majesty": "...someday I'm gonna make her mine, oh yeah, someday I'm gonna make her mine."

In October 1969 I heard an amazing thing on the radio. John Lennon had recorded a new song-one he had tried to unsuccessfully convince the Beatles to record-under a new name, the Plastic Ono Band. Within seconds of the deejay sharing that news, he played it for the first time. Unlike any Beatle song before, it began with a piercing, unmistakably Lennon lead guitar. It was "Cold Turkey," the song I heard John perform live at the Rock and Roll Revival. He openly talked about kicking heroin addiction. Was he using heroin when I met him, I wondered. He would later say that the stress of introducing Yoko to the Beatles contributed to his use of the drug. Cla.s.sic, honest John, "Cold Turkey" had him singing and screaming about pain and hardship. It was the heaviest pop song ever. Shortly after its release he returned his MBE (Member of the British Empire) medal to Queen Elizabeth with this letter that he circulated to the press: Your Majesty, I am returning this in protest against Britain's involvement in the Nigeria-Biafra thing, against our support of America in Vietnam, and against Cold Turkey slipping down the charts. With love. John Lennon of Bag.

In December 1969 John and Yoko came back to Toronto. They launched their War Is Over campaign in Canada and posted billboards in eleven cities around the world proclaiming that indeed war was over "if you want it." I was proud that they chose Canada to be the center of their campaign and was over the moon when he met my other hero prime minister Pierre Trudeau for fifty-one minutes and described him as "a beautiful person." Trudeau felt likewise and put his arm around Yoko for their photo. I felt in some way responsible for that meeting and was gratified that my heroes were fans of each other.

Soon after the Rock and Roll Revival concert, strange rumors began circulating that Paul had been dead for years, was replaced by a look-alike, and that the Beatles had been giving clues about it since the release of "Strawberry Fields," with John supposedly singing faintly at the very end "I buried Paul." The Abbey Road Abbey Road cover was rife with these clues. John was the preacher, George the undertaker, Ringo the mortician, and Paul the cadaver, dressed and barefoot. The rumor took on a media and fan frenzy. Everyone was searching for clues. I played "Number nine, number nine" from the beginning of "Revolution 9" backwards and definitely heard "Turn me on dead man, turn me on dead man." The cover was rife with these clues. John was the preacher, George the undertaker, Ringo the mortician, and Paul the cadaver, dressed and barefoot. The rumor took on a media and fan frenzy. Everyone was searching for clues. I played "Number nine, number nine" from the beginning of "Revolution 9" backwards and definitely heard "Turn me on dead man, turn me on dead man." The Sgt. Pepper Sgt. Pepper cover was replete with symbolism. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was watching the burial of Paul, along with the old Beatles, and many personalities. I devoured every bit of information, listened to every Beatles record backwards, studied every alb.u.m cover to either verify what others were saying or find my own clues. To make matters more beguiling, the Beatles were not commenting on it, and Paul was nowhere to be found until cover was replete with symbolism. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was watching the burial of Paul, along with the old Beatles, and many personalities. I devoured every bit of information, listened to every Beatles record backwards, studied every alb.u.m cover to either verify what others were saying or find my own clues. To make matters more beguiling, the Beatles were not commenting on it, and Paul was nowhere to be found until Life Life magazine located him and Linda on his Scottish farm. In their November 7, 1969 issue, the cover was a picture of the couple with their two children under the headline "Paul is still with us." That did not satisfy everyone, but it underscored what really was happening. Unknown even then to the world, the Beatles had broken up and had all gone their separate ways. We would not find out about it for months, but in the meantime, word spread that another Beatle alb.u.m and a film were imminent. I was elated. Ed Sullivan announced on his February 8, 1970, show that the Beatles would premier two songs on his show the following week, almost six years to the day of that first historic broadcast. I don't think I slept at all that week. magazine located him and Linda on his Scottish farm. In their November 7, 1969 issue, the cover was a picture of the couple with their two children under the headline "Paul is still with us." That did not satisfy everyone, but it underscored what really was happening. Unknown even then to the world, the Beatles had broken up and had all gone their separate ways. We would not find out about it for months, but in the meantime, word spread that another Beatle alb.u.m and a film were imminent. I was elated. Ed Sullivan announced on his February 8, 1970, show that the Beatles would premier two songs on his show the following week, almost six years to the day of that first historic broadcast. I don't think I slept at all that week.

The Beatles had sent two videos. They were from what would become the Let It Be Let It Be alb.u.m, and had been recorded before alb.u.m, and had been recorded before Abbey Road Abbey Road but not released. The plan had been to doc.u.ment on film the Beatles rehearsing new material for an alb.u.m and then performing it and recording it live in some exotic location. It was to herald their return to a live concert. Sullivan screened the Beatles performing two songs, "Two of Us" and "Let It Be." The Beatles had clearly gone through dramatic changes. They looked fatigued and weary. Adorable Paul was in full beard at the piano, a striking contrast from the "Hey Jude" video. John seemed withdrawn, George detached, and Ringo depressed. And yet the songs were beautiful and cla.s.sic, particularly the spiritual "Let It Be." I remember loving the songs but being a bit worried that maybe the rumors were true. but not released. The plan had been to doc.u.ment on film the Beatles rehearsing new material for an alb.u.m and then performing it and recording it live in some exotic location. It was to herald their return to a live concert. Sullivan screened the Beatles performing two songs, "Two of Us" and "Let It Be." The Beatles had clearly gone through dramatic changes. They looked fatigued and weary. Adorable Paul was in full beard at the piano, a striking contrast from the "Hey Jude" video. John seemed withdrawn, George detached, and Ringo depressed. And yet the songs were beautiful and cla.s.sic, particularly the spiritual "Let It Be." I remember loving the songs but being a bit worried that maybe the rumors were true.

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On April 5, 1970, the Plastic Ono Band was back with the Phil Spector produced, uplifting "Instant Karma (We All Shine On)." John was consistently releasing songs, creating media events, and staking out an independent position with Yoko on the pop scene. He was not in hiding like Paul. I loved the fact that there were new Beatle recordings, and I was entranced by what John and Yoko were doing and let everyone know about it. I had a lot of defending to do because most people didn't get it and were accusing Yoko of breaking up the Beatles.

Within weeks of the release of "Let It Be" the single, Paul McCartney announced on April 8, 1970, that he had quit the Beatles. Even though John was the one to bring it to an end after the Rock and Roll Revival, Paul decided to arbitrarily proclaim it in a mock-interview press release that was contained in his first solo alb.u.m, McCartney McCartney, that hit the shelves nine days later. In response to a question as to whether he could foresee Lennon/McCartney being a songwriting partnership again, his answer was a curt "no." I could not go to school for days. I did not answer the phone. I locked myself in my room and tried to contemplate a world without the Beatles. Only when I began to realize that they would individually still make music did I come out of my coc.o.o.n and go back to school-albeit dressed all in black.

On May 8, 1970, Let It Be Let It Be, the alb.u.m, was released. It was to be their final alb.u.m together. The cover consisted of four single photos of each Beatle alone, not together as a group. The songs were not supposed to be heavily produced. In part they weren't-it was the four of them playing, sometimes with Billy Preston on piano and organ, as if it were live. Phil Spector was called in after the fact by John and George, to go through the hours of tapes and come up with an alb.u.m. Paul would go so far as to raise this in the future litigation and claim that it was a deliberate attempt to ruin his songs, particularly "The Long and Winding Road," with a syrupy orchestral and choral overdub. But the power of the music was undeniable. And the message, as I saw it, was a conscious attempt to have fans come to grips with the end. Spiritual, rocking, and lyrical, it set the right tone for me to lick my wounds and realize that my heroes had not gone away, but were ever present and would be with me forever.

Reality completely set in when I went to see the premier of the film Let It Be Let It Be about a week later. There they were, just as in the Sullivan videos, depressed and detached, but now in deep discord. They were at one another's throats. The film doc.u.mented, unwittingly, their breakup. John clearly in love with Yoko and dependent on her; George alienated and frustrated by the musical restraints on him; Ringo utterly lost; and Paul desperately trying to keep it all together. In one cla.s.sic scene that sums it all up, George in response to Paul's directions on how he should play a lead guitar riff, says, "I'll play what you want or I won't play at all. Whatever it is that'll please you, I'll do it." You knew it was over and they had had it. about a week later. There they were, just as in the Sullivan videos, depressed and detached, but now in deep discord. They were at one another's throats. The film doc.u.mented, unwittingly, their breakup. John clearly in love with Yoko and dependent on her; George alienated and frustrated by the musical restraints on him; Ringo utterly lost; and Paul desperately trying to keep it all together. In one cla.s.sic scene that sums it all up, George in response to Paul's directions on how he should play a lead guitar riff, says, "I'll play what you want or I won't play at all. Whatever it is that'll please you, I'll do it." You knew it was over and they had had it.

And yet to end the film, in a typically inspired act of originality, they gave their last concert on the roof of Apple, to stunned onlookers and the dismay of the London financial district. Hoping to get arrested by the deferential London bobbies, they played like they did in the Cavern, as a group, tight and aiming to please. "Don't Let Me Down," "I've Got a Feeling," the trippy "Dig a Pony," one of the first Lennon/McCartney compositions "One After 909," and "Get Back." It was John who summed it up: "Thank you...and I hope we pa.s.sed the audition." It was as cla.s.sic a line as when he said to royalty at the London Paladium in 1963: "Will the people in the cheaper seats clap their hands? And the rest of you, if you'll just rattle your jewelry." John Lennon was the working cla.s.s hero from the meteoric start to the disintegrating end.

Surprisingly, it did not take me long to adjust to the breakup. All of the Beatles produced volumes of solo material to keep me busy. Ringo released his Sentimental Journey Sentimental Journey alb.u.m, covers of love songs, a few weeks before alb.u.m, covers of love songs, a few weeks before McCartney McCartney. George released his spectacular and ma.s.sive All Things Must Pa.s.s All Things Must Pa.s.s in November 1970 and quickly became the best-selling solo Beatle record at the time. In December, John released his in November 1970 and quickly became the best-selling solo Beatle record at the time. In December, John released his John Lennon John Lennon alb.u.m, the product of primal therapy with Dr. Arthur Janov, along with the historic Jan Wenner interview in alb.u.m, the product of primal therapy with Dr. Arthur Janov, along with the historic Jan Wenner interview in Rolling Stone Rolling Stone magazine, in which he debunked the myths and the glitter of the Beatles and vented graphically and brutally. My prediction of the Beatles saga, and records, was coming true. Even in their time of discord, we all followed intently the biggest storybook of all, the story of the Beatles. Their ups and downs, their trials and tribulations, were all part of the greatest pop story of all time. And all the while, rumors continued that they would get back together. What no one knew at the time was that the Beatles' story would not end with a reunion but instead take a dramatic and historic turn. magazine, in which he debunked the myths and the glitter of the Beatles and vented graphically and brutally. My prediction of the Beatles saga, and records, was coming true. Even in their time of discord, we all followed intently the biggest storybook of all, the story of the Beatles. Their ups and downs, their trials and tribulations, were all part of the greatest pop story of all time. And all the while, rumors continued that they would get back together. What no one knew at the time was that the Beatles' story would not end with a reunion but instead take a dramatic and historic turn.

On December 8, 1980, while giving a bottle to my son Daniel at midnight, I turned on the radio. "(Just Like) Starting Over" was playing from John and Yoko's Double Fantasy Double Fantasy alb.u.m. Released a couple of weeks before, it was John's triumphant return. He had been reclusive, focusing on his family and like me, his young son, Sean. He had been absent from the music world for more than six years, and this was the first alb.u.m of original John Lennon songs since alb.u.m. Released a couple of weeks before, it was John's triumphant return. He had been reclusive, focusing on his family and like me, his young son, Sean. He had been absent from the music world for more than six years, and this was the first alb.u.m of original John Lennon songs since Walls and Bridges Walls and Bridges. It was climbing the charts and I was happy to have John back. "Beautiful Boy" on that alb.u.m was his song for his young son Sean, and I would sing it as a lullaby to mine.

I was happy and content, looking into Daniel's drowsy eyes. "Starting Over" was coming to an end. "John Lennon," the announcer said, "Dead at forty. Shot by an a.s.sa.s.sin's bullet." Stunned beyond words, I held my sleeping son in my arms and wept.

4.

EPILOGUE.

After John Lennon died, life continued with the usual ups and downs. Like always there was good and bad, but the optimism that I felt from the moment I first saw the Beatles on Ed Sullivan was a bit tarnished. Within two years my Dad died. So did my Uncle Mike. In 1994 everything changed. My mother pa.s.sed away after a long illness. I was suffering under the pressures of a busy law practice and my marriage was collapsing. All of it combined proved to be too much for me. Despairing and defeated, I spent my forty-first birthday in a psychiatric ward.

In retrospect my breakdown was the sort of catalyst I needed to get my life back on track. And as usual it was music-the Beatles and John Lennon-that was my salvation. My daughter Rebecca brought me my guitar, and I would play Beatle songs. I also began writing some of my own.

When I was released from the hospital I began the difficult task of rebuilding my life. My brother told me about a new Beatles project about to come out that was just the salve I needed. The Beatles had produced a three-volume collection of never-before-released versions of their songs called Anthology Anthology. It would be accompanied by a three-part ABC television special. And two new Beatle songs were on their way: "Free As a Bird" and "Real Love," both written by John and with his voice singing lead.

Four months after being released from the hospital, I watched the first episode on November 19, 1995. There they were, my old friends John, Paul, George, and Ringo, telling their story with rare footage and their personal narratives. It was comforting to see that the surviving Beatles clearly still loved one another, and there was no trace of discord. And the prospect of hearing new Beatles songs did my head and heart a lot of good.

Yoko had given Paul, George, Ringo, and George Martin a few unfinished songs John was working on before he died. They would produce "Real Love" and "Free As a Bird" as if "John was on vacation," as Paul said. During the telecast, ABC tagged now and then onto the screen the time left to hear the "brand-new Beatle song," just like CHUM's "world premier." At the end of that first broadcast, they played the "Free As a Bird" video, a montage of all those familiar Beatle images with the song. Starting from Ringo's familiar solitary drumbeat to the ending clip of John Lennon's voice, it did not disappoint me. To hear Paul and George lovingly add a chorus and complete their mate's song was nothing short of miraculous.

One day, a few weeks before the Anthology Anthology broadcast, my phone rang. It was Pierre Trudeau. We had become friends during my brief foray into politics. I had been courted years before by the Liberal Party to run for Parliament. At that time I made it clear that I wanted to meet him before I made any decisions. It was arranged and when we first met in Montreal I told him, "Mr. Trudeau, I had two great heroes growing up. The Beatles and Pierre Trudeau." He blushed and replied, "I can understand the Beatles, but I'm just an ex-politician." That day we talked more about John Lennon and the Beatles than about politics. I told him how I felt responsible for his meeting with John and Yoko, and I told him I would send him a copy of the tape, which I did. He was a great lover of the arts, particularly poetry. His knowledge was vast and he could quote verse at the drop of a hat. He told me that what appealed to him most about John was that he was "a great poet." I asked him what he thought of Yoko. He told me that he had been in touch with her since John's pa.s.sing and had visited her in New York. "She is one of the most remarkable women I have ever met." broadcast, my phone rang. It was Pierre Trudeau. We had become friends during my brief foray into politics. I had been courted years before by the Liberal Party to run for Parliament. At that time I made it clear that I wanted to meet him before I made any decisions. It was arranged and when we first met in Montreal I told him, "Mr. Trudeau, I had two great heroes growing up. The Beatles and Pierre Trudeau." He blushed and replied, "I can understand the Beatles, but I'm just an ex-politician." That day we talked more about John Lennon and the Beatles than about politics. I told him how I felt responsible for his meeting with John and Yoko, and I told him I would send him a copy of the tape, which I did. He was a great lover of the arts, particularly poetry. His knowledge was vast and he could quote verse at the drop of a hat. He told me that what appealed to him most about John was that he was "a great poet." I asked him what he thought of Yoko. He told me that he had been in touch with her since John's pa.s.sing and had visited her in New York. "She is one of the most remarkable women I have ever met."

The day he called, he suggested I come to see him and to bring my kids. He had heard that I had been unwell. "Thank you so much, Mr. Trudeau," I told him. "We're friends, Jerry," he had answered. "It's about time you called me Pierre."

Trudeau died in 2000 and I realized then that my heroes had mostly all pa.s.sed away. I was fatigued with the life I led. Not being able to hear a new song from John or have a chat with Trudeau made the world a dimmer place. Increasingly, I turned to the creative things that inspired me as a child. Most importantly, I decided to do something artistic, as a tribute, with my story. For years I had been approached to sell or exploit my John Lennon material. I had never been happy with the ideas. Finally, I decided it was time. I started to talk to local artists about doing a short film using my original material. I was not a filmmaker but I threw myself into the process. It was the same determined approach that led me to John and Yoko's hotel room. I had decades before thought of a t.i.tle for anything I would do about my experience: I Met The Walrus I Met The Walrus. It always had such meaning for me.

I began to work with a young Toronto animator named Josh Raskin on the film. He introduced me to the work of a young Montreal ill.u.s.trator, James Braithwaite, whose work I loved. His drawings had the wit and aesthetic of John Lennon. The three of us met and began planning the immediate production of I Met The Walrus I Met The Walrus. Best of all, these young fellows loved the Beatles, were captivated by my story, and brought great enthusiasm to this crazy idea.

A makeshift studio was set up over a paint store in downtown Toronto. Once a week or so I'd check in with them. From the first of James' drawings I was amazed at my great luck. They were compelling, made with respect for John, his words and my experience. Within a year, the film was finished and I got the nervous call from Josh. "Jerry, it's done," he reported to me. "We want you to see it." I rushed over to the studio and sat down with my young and nervous friends. I was astonished. It was beautiful, provocative, funny, and a fitting tribute to my hero. "If this is all that happens to the film, guys," I told them teary-eyed, "I am a happy man."

It did not take long for the accolades to come in. We submitted Walrus Walrus to film festivals. I made it clear from the outset that I would not commercialize or exploit it, and we were careful where it went and how it was presented. Soon after it was completed, I sent it to Yoko Ono and told her it was a loving tribute to John. I hoped that she would look at it, that she would like it, and that I would hear from her. We began to win top awards around the world. The Middle East International Film Festival, an Arabic festival in Abu Dhabi, honored a film produced and directed by Jews and about John Lennon, whose music was banned in many Middle Eastern countries, talking about peace. In the summer of 2007 we received word that the American Film Inst.i.tute Festival had chosen our film as Best Animated Short. The significance of this did not escape us. We were in the running for an Academy Award nomination. to film festivals. I made it clear from the outset that I would not commercialize or exploit it, and we were careful where it went and how it was presented. Soon after it was completed, I sent it to Yoko Ono and told her it was a loving tribute to John. I hoped that she would look at it, that she would like it, and that I would hear from her. We began to win top awards around the world. The Middle East International Film Festival, an Arabic festival in Abu Dhabi, honored a film produced and directed by Jews and about John Lennon, whose music was banned in many Middle Eastern countries, talking about peace. In the summer of 2007 we received word that the American Film Inst.i.tute Festival had chosen our film as Best Animated Short. The significance of this did not escape us. We were in the running for an Academy Award nomination.

And then the news came. We were short-listed for an Oscar nomination. Out of thousands of short animated films from around the world, we were one of ten chosen. That meant we had a 50 percent chance of being nominated. My life, which had been so complex and unusual, had now entered the realm of surreal. The Oscar nominations were announced in the early morning of January 22, 2008. I was driving my daughter Jaime to her first-grade cla.s.s on a snowy, frigid day. My car got stuck on a hill beside the school, as other parents were skidding and cursing trying to get their children to cla.s.s on time. My cell phone rang. It was my girlfriend Anisa. She softly said to me, "Oh my G.o.d, Jerry, you're nominated. You're nominated for an Academy Award." "I can't believe this," I said, and told her I would call her back. Jaime asked me what was wrong. I pulled the emergency brake and stopped the car. I turned around and said to my six-year-old, "A wonderful thing has happened to your Dad today and a wonderful thing for our family."

After I dropped Jaime off and got back in the car, my cell phone rang again. It was a member of the Academy, Ron Diamond, who was a great supporter of the film. I had heard of him but had never talked to him. He called to congratulate me and told me about the screening he attended that led to the nomination amongst members of the animation section of the Academy. He told me there were tears in the eyes of the people in that room when they heard John's voice, talking about peace to a fourteen-year-old. Choking up, he said, "I can't tell you what it meant to hear our old friend John talking to us again, especially now, and talking about peace." I thanked him profusely and hung up the phone. The adventure I embarked on that Sunday night so long ago had come to this. I thanked G.o.d, whom I thought had abandoned me so many times before, and I sent a prayer to John Lennon.

At the 2008 Academy Awards, Anisa and I walked the red carpet a bit disoriented. Penelope Cruz was in front of us, Cate Blanchett behind. When I walked to our seats, I pa.s.sed George Clooney, Harrison Ford, Daniel Day-Lewis, John Travolta, and even Mickey Rooney. Everyone said h.e.l.lo as though we were part of a club. I guess we were. Our seats were seven rows behind Jack Nicholson. And then the extravaganza began. As the show progressed, it was bizarre to say the least as I heard Jerry Seinfeld's voice announce I Met The Walrus I Met The Walrus as the first nominee in the short animated film category. In fact the image they flashed on the screen was James' drawing of me as a fourteen-year-old with a reel-to-reel tape recorder. Many moments of my life were truly exceptional but I could not begin to describe the stunning, humbling feeling as I waited to hear the winner. I had gotten to know the director and producer of as the first nominee in the short animated film category. In fact the image they flashed on the screen was James' drawing of me as a fourteen-year-old with a reel-to-reel tape recorder. Many moments of my life were truly exceptional but I could not begin to describe the stunning, humbling feeling as I waited to hear the winner. I had gotten to know the director and producer of Peter and the Wolf Peter and the Wolf and personally thought it to be the best film in our category. I smiled when they were chosen, tapped Josh on the knee to comfort him, and rose to embrace the winners. I sat down and for the first time, started to enjoy, really enjoy, my experience. and personally thought it to be the best film in our category. I smiled when they were chosen, tapped Josh on the knee to comfort him, and rose to embrace the winners. I sat down and for the first time, started to enjoy, really enjoy, my experience.

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Shortly before the end of the show, I whispered to Anisa that I had a great line for Jack Nicholson. She gasped, and I said, "Trust me." As soon as the show ended, I took her by the hand and led her down the carpet to the front row. I walked up to Mr. Hollywood, sungla.s.ses and all, took his hand, shook it, and nose to nose said, "Hi, Jack. I'm an Oscar loser." He smiled and raised his sungla.s.ses. "You know," he said, "I was telling my friend Tommy Lee Jones, have you ever been to one of these and lost? And have you noticed how your friends can't look at you? So let's take a look at you?" Peering me up and down, he wasn't finished. "And who is this?" he asked, checking Anisa out. "It's my girlfriend, Anisa," I proudly answered. "Well, you don't look like a loser to me," he said and firmly planted a big Hollywood kiss on her astonished lips.

My life is as complex today as it ever was. It is filled with love and challenge, hopes and fears. I met my heroes-all of them. I got to know two of them. One of them gave me a gift that has taken me through the mountaintops and valleys of my life. He was one of the most important figures of the twentieth century. He was John Lennon. He was the Walrus. He has been with me in my pools of sorrow and my waves of joy. My memories of him drift through my open mind, possessing and caressing me.

For John [image]

A final shot of my hero, The Walrus, John Lennon. Jeff Goode/Toronto Star.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

Within a day of attending the Academy Awards, I received a wonderfully succinct e-mail from Julia Abramoff at Collins Design expressing interest in my story, and she has been responsible for keeping that crazy train rolling all along. She was a prelude to my introduction to the magnificent Marta Schooler, vice president and publisher at Collins Design. Every communication, thought, and direction from Marta was filled with integrity, intelligence, determination, and the joy of giving stories life in books. I am so grateful that she was taken by my tale and that she unwaveringly guided this book through to fruition. She understood everything and introduced me to the incredible team at Collins Design, including a.s.sociate editor Dinah Fried, art director Ilana Anger, and designer Agnieszka Stachowicz, all of whom made the pieces come together in a beautiful way.

I am so happy Marta found Aaron Kenedi to be the editor for this project; his instinctive and insightful attention to all things related to Walrus Walrus made me confident that I was in good hands. made me confident that I was in good hands.

Not that I am a stranger to big cities, but New York is as big a city as it gets and my agent Victoria Skurnick was my protector, advisor, supporter, confidant, and humorist. She allayed every fear, every insecurity, with honesty, directness, and compa.s.sion.

Susanne Boyce, president of Creative, Content and Channels of CTVglobemedia Inc., championed my film with remarkable devotion and genuineness and led the amazing CTV team that touched so many Canadians with my narrative. I would like to thank J. D. Cargill, CNN's entertainment producer, who embraced my story all the way to the limo ride he arranged for the Oscars and the simulcast at red carpet time with enthusiasm and great professionalism.

Sara Angel was responsible for instilling in me a sensibility for the craft of writing and the publishing world. She told me in a moment of self-doubt that I should find my voice and just write it. When I showed her the first draft, she said, "You found it!" My friend Jeff Sackman kept me sane during the Oscar deluge and its aftermath with his great knowledge of the film business and precise rationality. He has been a loyal and true friend. Carmen Dunjko took me under her creative wing at a time of difficulty for me and encouraged and applauded my artistic forays with the cert.i.tude of mind that is her hallmark. Her husband and partner, Barnaby Marshall, kept me on track with his pa.s.sion for rock and roll and the great insight he has for the facts and mythologies that surround it. A very special mention goes to the spectacular sculptor Sorel Etrog who saw a kindred spirit in me, opened my eyes and rejoiced in my artistic endeavors.

Much thanks to Byron Wong, who kindly took my reel-to-reel audio-something so precious to me-and spent so much time and care in bringing it to life, and Doug Laxald and his team at Gas Company who meticulously and tenderly restored my photos and images to their present glory. Justin Broadbent, who worked on the film and other projects with me, lent his magnificent talent and whimsy to the design of the DVD insert-it was a happy bonus to have him be part of this project. The brilliant Ruben Huizenga, my friend and musical collaborator, spent countless hours showing me the DNA behind Beatle music. We talked at length over the last few years about the impact of my story and the music I loved. He understood every idea and emotion.

CHUM Radio is a big part of my story, and I had great help from CHUM producer Doug Thompson (who was at CHUM when I met John) and program director Brad Jones. I also want to thank my friend Peter Miniaci, one of the world's great Beatle experts, for years of sharing Beatle stories.

Yoko Ono is well served by her lawyers Peter Shukat and Jonas Herbsman. Their civility, directness, and accessibility throughout the Academy Awards process and this book have been nothing short of remarkable. I should know. I am a lawyer.

What a twist of fate that I found Josh Raskin, who had such great ideas and such a zest for creating the film that he animated and directed. He spearheaded the finished result that is acclaimed around the world. He also introduced me to the gloriously talented James Braithwaite, who brought life to our film with his striking ill.u.s.trations. The first drawing I saw of his sold me on making the film. That we collaborated yet again on this book gives me great satisfaction.

My brother, Steve, was there when it all happened. He was there when I first listened to Beatle records and when I walked on the clouds on May 26, 1969. He has been my supportive rock during the Oscars and this book. He guided me with insight and affection and I have been so taken by his dedication and attachment to my story. My sister, Myrna Riback, was responsible for me listening to the Beatles, it was her record player and her records, and she took Steve and me to Help! Help! and and A Hard Day's Night A Hard Day's Night. She helped me piece together the history of our family and I am so thankful.