The Walrus and the Elephants

by James Mitchell

  They didn’t need him for that, Dellums pointed out, but perhaps a recent-history lesson was in order.

  “I told them we fought that fight fifty years ago,” Dellums says. “If you need someone to validate your right to be at Fourteenth and Broadway, then we wasted fifty years.”

  As long as they did it peacefully: violent civil conflicts—whether bomb-throwing dissidents or soldiers and cops shooting at will—had been tried: “We don’t have to reinvent the barricades; we did that. People died in that. You wanna run around in a ski mask lighting up a car? Come on, man. We went down that road.”

  Dellums’s message remained consistent as a community activist, congressman, and big-city mayor. The core values, he says, were staying true to a cause and getting involved.

  “I think John Lennon was faithful,” Dellums says. “He showed up for the fight.”

  Those who shared the battles of the sixties, the civil rights, antiwar, and pro–social justice battles, have been proven to be on the right side of most issues over time.

  “We were exonerated by history,” Dellums reflects. “Our generation, that time in America, we changed things. Are there struggles that need to be waged and principals to be embraced? Absolutely yes. We did change the world, but we didn’t make it perfect.”

  • • •

  The Movement wasn’t dead after Nixon’s reelection, Paul Krassner says, it simply evolved. Krassner too sees parallels between the sixties protests and twenty-first-century developments like Occupy and the Arab Spring; he admits he was surprised that the Internet and social media evolved into a forum for those very movements: “I’m old enough to remember when media was a plural noun and somehow became singular. I make fun of Facebook and YouTube—you can spend all day watching cats play the piano and never see the same cat twice—but they have changed the world in the sense of communicating a revolution from different countries, influencing them.”

  Ever the realist, Krassner expresses amusement at the accidental nature of how social networks became a forum for online revolution. “It’s not something [Mark] Zuckerberg thought of,” Krassner says. “He thought it was a way to meet girls. It’s encouraging to see how young people get their information from social networks rather than the mainstream media. Or maybe they’re just allergic to paper.”

  Taking a lesson from the era, Krassner points out that “the spirit lived on,” and the issues outlived the fashions. Krassner says that Lennon was an inspiration, more than willing to try new ideas and embrace different causes: he also knew that there was a limit to what pop culture heroes could do.

  “I think he was very savvy,” Krassner says. “It seemed naïve to think it would make a difference if he and Yoko got in bed in Canada to end the war. I don’t know if he was taken advantage of; everybody wanted something from him. They consciously made the decision to use their celebrity to make a better world.”

  • • •

  We know what happened to John Lennon, as we felt we knew the man himself. Forty-plus years after the Beatles ended their run, three and a half decades after a senseless murder, there remains a desire to revisit that friendship. Maybe we’re trying to get to know ourselves a little better, our generation(s), and just what the hell happened back then.

  John Lennon’s years of revolution were born in the sixties and took a rowdy ride deep into the 1970s. There was, he said, a price to pay for doing what he believed, a cost that couldn’t be covered even by the resources of a millionaire rock star. John and Yoko’s search for Kyoko Cox remained an unfinished quest long after his death—Lennon never did see his wife reunited with her daughter. Tony Cox successfully kept the girl from Yoko in spite of the Texas court rulings: months became years, the girl became an adult. But family ties are strong, and in 1997 Kyoko Cox reached out for a reunion so that Yoko could meet her granddaughter, Emi, and not for the last time.

  John and Yoko remained true New Yorkers until his death and found, against so many odds, inner peace and perspective on the past. Such things take time, Lennon knew.

  “People said the Beatles were the Movement, but we were only part of the Movement,” Lennon said. With the same idea shared by kindred souls throughout history who had “leadership” thrust upon them, Lennon said—as he told Rennie Davis about finding peace within yourself—that looking elsewhere for answers doesn’t work: “Leaders and father figures are the mistake of all the generations before us. All of us rely on Nixon or Jesus or whoever we rely on; it’s a lack of responsibility that you expect somebody else to do it. I won’t be a leader. Everybody is a leader. People thought the Beatles were leaders, but they weren’t, and now people are finding that out.”

  Actually, they were, only not in the way they might have thought. Rarely a day goes by without encountering a reference to the Beatles or John Lennon; a song, an idea, a message bearing their image.

  The spirit of John Lennon long outlived the decade, inspiring thoughts of peace, activism, honesty, and the best traits of kinder, gentler hippie-dom. At the closing ceremonies of the 2012 Olympics in London, audiences were stunned, many moved to tears, by a video performance of Lennon singing “Imagine.”

  His life and music still inspire, and so does his senseless death. In March 2013, on what would have been their anniversary, Yoko Ono tweeted a photo of Lennon’s blood-stained glasses with a note as to how many Americans have been killed by gun violence since that terrible December day. President Barack Obama retweeted the posting.

  The tragedy was understood immediately, the legacy needed a little time. Maybe it takes longer to recognize peace, as a global wish or inside ourselves. First you have to imagine it’s possible.

  Photographs

  Welcome to America: John Lennon and Yoko Ono with their friend, the host of The Dick Cavett Show, in September 1971. (Ann Limongello, Getty Images.)

  Backstage at The Dick Cavett Show in September 1971. John considers a wardrobe choice while Cavett chats with Yoko. (Getty Images.)

  John and Yoko perform at the December 1971 John Sinclair Freedom Rally in Ann Arbor’s Crisler Arena, backed by musicians from David Peel’s Lower East Side. (Getty Images.)

  New Left leader Rennie Davis joined John and Yoko at an informal February 1972 courthouse press conference responding to deportation orders. (Leni Sinclair.)

  A commemorative poster was reprinted after the John Sinclair Freedom Rally concert at Ann Arbor’s Crisler Arena. The names of surprise guests Stevie Wonder and hometown hero Bob Seger did not appear on the original 1971 poster.

  John and the Elephants at the Record Plant while recording Some Time in New York City, 1972. (Mike Jahn.)

  John counseled guitarist Wayne “Tex” Gabriel (left), while keyboardist Adam Ippolito stood ready at the Record Plant for early 1972 sessions for Some Time in New York City. (Mike Jahn.)

  Bassist Gary Van Scyoc jams with John at the Record Plant while recording Some Time in New York City, 1972. (Mike Jahn.)

  Rock royalty entertained the Mike Douglas Show audience in February 1972 as John and Yoko share stage time with Chuck Berry, a band that included Elephant’s Memory founder Stan Bronstein (left), and Yippie leader Jerry Rubin on bongos. (Corbis.)

  Bandsmen noted the bond formed between John and guitarist Wayne “Tex” Gabriel, who spent “hours sitting cross-legged on the floor” during studio sessions. (Bob Gruen.)

  John’s presence in New York attracted many famous guests to the studio, including an impromptu jam with Mick Jagger and Wayne “Tex” Gabriel. (Bob Gruen.)

  John and Yoko rallied the masses during a February 1972 protest in front of the British Overseas Airways office in New York. The protest called for withdrawal of British troops from Ireland in the wake of the “Bloody Sunday” riots. (AP Photo/Ron Frehm.)

  John and Yoko rallied the masses during a February 1972 protest in front of the British Overseas Airways office in New York. The protest called
for withdrawal of British troops from Ireland in the wake of the “Bloody Sunday” riots. (AP Photo/Ron Frehm.)

  Yoko flashing a peaceful wish while John answered reporters’ questions after a May 1972 Immigration and Naturalization Services hearing. (Corbis.)

  Lennon’s “new band” as featured on the Some Time in New York City album in June 1972. From left: Gary Van Scyoc, John, Yoko, Wayne “Tex” Gabriel, Rick Frank, Adam Ippolito, and Stan Bronstein. (Bob Gruen.)

  Gary Van Scyoc, Wayne “Tex” Gabriel, and Rick Frank keep pace with Lennon during August rehearsals for the One-to-One concert. (Bob Gruen.)

  The May 1972 Dick Cavett Show appearance by John, Yoko, and Elephant’s Memory drew considerable attention from the network over the performance of “Woman is the Nigger of the World.” (Bob Gruen.)

  One-to-One: John peforms “Mother” at Madison Square Garden in August 1972. (Corbis.)

  Yoko takes a vocal turn at Madison Square Garden, backed by John and the Elephants. (Bob Gruen.)

  Attorney Leon Wildes with John and Yoko in April 1973 for the declaration of “Nutopia,” of which the Lennons were ambassadors seeking diplomatic immunity. (Corbis.)

  A short-haired John with Yoko during the Watergate hearings in June 1973. The Lennons were invited to watch the proceedings by Democratic Senator Sam Ervin. (Corbis.)

  Ready for a show: For Lennon’s first—and only—full-length solo concert in August 1972, additional musicians joined the Plastic Ono Elephant’s Memory Band lineup to better fill the Madison Square Garden arena. From left: bassists John Ward and Gary Van Scyoc, Wayne “Tex” Gabriel, drummers Jim Keltner and Rick Frank, Adam Ippolito, and Stan Bronstein, along with Some Time in New York City album producer Phil Spector, reclining before John and Yoko. (Bob Gruen.)

  Famous faces seen at the Record Plant included ballet master Rudolf Nureyev and reporter-friend Geraldo Rivera, who spearheaded the One-to-One concert at Madison Square Garden. (Bob Gruen.)

  John displays his long-sought green card, issued in July 1976. (Bob Gruen.)

  Acknowledgments

  “Thank you on behalf of the group and ourselves.”

  Wayne “Tex” Gabriel and I only spoke a few times before his diagnosis in March 2010. The project continued as he’d hoped it would, with encouragement and support from Marisa LaTorre, Bob Prewitt, Gary Van Scyoc, and Adam Ippolito. Thanks also to my agent, Eric Myers of the Spieler Agency. No better home for this exists than Seven Stories Press and I thank Sophia Ioannou for seeing the story first. Editors Veronica Liu, Gabe Espinal, and Jesse Lichtenstein helped shepherd the project, and publisher Dan Simon went above and beyond as he patiently turned a reporter into a storyteller. The pictorial section of this book is as much the creation of Silvia Stramenga and Stewart Cauley as the talented photographers on display.

  No island, this man: I humbly note the encouragement through a decidedly bumpy road from friends and family in their own way: Phil Allmen, Naresh Gunaratnam (“M. D.”), Bruce Goldberg, Cheryl Huckins, Lynn Helland, Lindsey Kingston (go get ’em, Tiger), and Tamra Ward (Dear Lady).

  My father, Eldon Mitchell, would have smiled in spite of himself. My mother, Ruby Mitchell, was able to know we made it this far, and always knew we would. Glad the journey included my Marine Corps–worthy son, Alex. This journey and all else I share with Linda Remilong, my longtime co-passenger, together for the long ride. The trip was well celebrated in family toasts with her daughters, beautiful bride Jenny and her equally gorgeous sister, Lisa. If I weren’t lucky enough, my favorite four-legged fur-balls were always nearby while I was typing: Josie—too cute for words—and Abbey (yes, as in “Road”). There were doubts, of course, but like the man said: “There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done.”

  Author’s Note: Sources and Methodology

  The foundation of this story was built on my interviews with Elephant’s Memory bandsmen Wayne “Tex” Gabriel, Gary Van Scyoc, and Adam Ippolito. Theirs was a perspective, supported by newspaper and magazine accounts, which chronicles Lennon the musician during an often-overlooked yet productive period of recording and performing.

  Lennon’s associations with prominent activists of the day were the subject of my conversations with Tariq Ali, John Sinclair, Rennie Davis, Leni Sinclair, and Jay Craven, who provided insights beyond the voluminous FBI reports featuring their names. Lennon’s ensuing legal battle was best explained by his attorney, Leon Wildes, who in turn guided me to further documents I might not have found without his help..

  The issues raised by Lennon—and a generation—were not limited to opposition of a war or a president. Conversations (rather than “interviews”) with feminist leader Gloria Steinem and Representative Ron Dellums provided an informed then-and-now perspective on, respectively, the women’s movement and civil rights struggle. Satirist Paul Krassner and former Peace Corps director Joseph Blatchford had brief yet revealing encounters with Lennon that added immeasurably to the story.

  Along with this author’s interviews and conversations, research included several key published accounts to whose authors I offer due respect and gratitude, including Stu Werbin (and so many others) from Rolling Stone, talk-show hosts Dick Cavett and Mike Douglas, and author Jon Wiener, whose battle to make public the FBI’s John Lennon documents was an admirable example of activist journalism. Along with the sources cited throughout the book, the author relied primarily on the following materials:

  Chapter One was built on my conversations with Tariq Ali in January 2012, Rennie Davis in October 2011, Peter Andrews in November 2011, and time spent in Detroit with John Sinclair in October 2011 and Leni Sinclair in November 2011. Accounts of John Lennon’s early days in New York were supported by Stu Werbin’s 1972 Rolling Stone article, “John & Jerry & David & John & Leni & Yoko,” Henrik Hertzberg’s “Talk of the Town” article from the New Yorker, and Red Mole interviews with Lennon by Tariq Ali and Robin Blackburn. Additional insights were found in footage by French TV reporter Jean-François Vallee, and interviews by Apple to the Core authors Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld.

  Lennon’s experiences with Elephant’s Memory in Chapter Two were based on my talks with Bob Prewitt in January and June 2010, Gary Van Scyoc in January and May 2010 and June and September 2011, Adam Ippolito in July and September 2011, and Wayne “Tex” Gabriel in 2009 and 2010. My interviews with Rennie Davis in October 2011 and Jay Craven in November 2011 provided details on Lennon’s involvement with the Yippies. Additional information was obtained from viewing Lennon’s appearance on the David Frost Show. (Conversations with the Elephants, Davis, Craven, Ali, and Sinclairs also informed subsequent chapters.)

  Chapter Three’s observations on Nixon’s White House were informed by my interview with Joseph Blatchford in August 2011; accounts of the Nixon-Elvis meeting were confirmed by the National Security Archive of George Washington University. Lennon’s cohosting of the Mike Douglas Show was described in the host’s memoir, I’ll Be Right Back: Memories of TV’s Greatest Talk Show, and through my viewing of the episodes. FBI documents related to the John Lennon investigation were obtained online (www.vault.fbi.gov). Another source for the FBI documents was Gimme Some Truth by Jon Wiener.

  Lennon’s legal case, first explained in Chapter Four, was recounted during my interview with Leon Wildes in November 2011. Lennon’s diverse encounters included those described during my talk with A. J. Weberman in October 2011. Lennon’s feminist politics were the topic of my February 2012 conversation with Gloria Steinem. Additional materials on the court case were obtained from the New York Times, and Jon Wiener’s Come Together: John Lennon in His Time.

  Portions of Chapter Five deal with Lennon’s use of a controversial word, the definition of which framed my February 2012 talk with Ron Dellums. Lennon’s appearances on The Dick Cavett Show were viewed, with additional observations found in Cavett’s memoir, Talk Show. Additional materials on the court case were obtained from
the New York Times, notably the work of law columnist Grace Lichtenstein.

  The West Coast trip described in Chapter Six included Lennon’s time with Paul Krassner, which he discussed when we spoke in November 2011. Additional information was obtained via WABC-TV Eyewitness News footage of Geraldo Rivera’s interviews. Concert preparations and Rivera’s investigation of Willowbrook was documented by the Atlantic magazine and in Lennon Revealed by Larry Kane. Along with my viewing of the videotape of the concert, Lennon’s postshow interview with New Musical Express provided further insight.

  Press accounts in Chapter Seven of Lennon’s work with the Elephants were reported in music magazines including Cash Box, Melody Maker, New Musical Express, and Billboard, along with interviews in Rolling Stone and the Village Voice. Lennon’s thoughts on the ongoing INS struggle were well covered by Rolling Stone in Joe Treen’s article, “Justice for a Beatle.” Accounts of election night were told by bandsmen and recounted in Wiener’s Come Together. Lennon’s post-Elephant’s work was chronicled in the book Lennon in America, by Geoffrey Giuliano, and other sources including John Lennon: One Day at a Time by Anthony Fawcett, and McCartney by Christopher Sandford.