Once There Was a Way

by Bryce Zabel

  Ringo did a rim-shot off his drums. “What shall we play, boys?”

  “It’s John’s hometown now,” said Paul, nodding to John. “You pick.”

  Of course the song had already been picked. It was John’s new one, “Instant Karma!”

  The Beatles performed fourteen songs that night, almost an entire concert. Their own lineup included something for everyone. Starkey got to sing “It Don’t Come Easy,” while Harrison performed more of his songs like “Beware of Darkness” and “Something.” McCartney scored big with “Back in the U.S.S.R.,” “Get Back,” and a little ditty he had once called “Bip Bop” that took on new words and meaning when the band rocked it up as “Stop War.” It was the only time the song was ever performed.

  At the end, everyone took the stage with the Beatles, including Dylan, Preston, and Russell, who joined George on “Here Comes the Sun.” The encore song of the night was “All You Need Is Love,” which segued into a group version of “Across the Universe.”

  In the end, The Concert for Bangladesh project broke ground as the first major rock and roll humanitarian relief effort. It made the Beatles seem relevant and compassionate. It even raised more money than expected, though whether or not that money ended up in the right pockets was dubious at best, a lapse that bothered George until the day he died.

  That those two concerts were transcendent moments in rock has never been challenged. They spawned a concert film, as well as a three-record album soundtrack that made George a full Beatle in the minds of everyone who heard it, a matter that was not lost on his two feuding bandmates. He had proved that recording artists were more than just celebrities. They could be positive world citizens, too. They could put aside paychecks and egos long enough to help the suffering, a lesson that still resonates today.

  John and Paul both knew that if the Beatles broke up, the legacy of their feud album and George’s triumphant live album would haunt them forever. They decided to do better in 1972, making good on Paul’s request and John’s agreement that they would make at least one more album.

  Another Year Over

  What happened in 1971 cannot be minimized.

  The Beatles, barely hanging on as a musical group, won the trifecta. They had created what would be recognized by the Grammy Awards as the “Album of the Year” with Savile Row. They had starred in and produced the soundtrack to the film of The Lord of the Rings, which would win the Oscar for Best Director and earn multiple nominations and wins for the Beatles in the next year’s Academy Awards. They had reinvented the concert structure that had stolen their love of touring and turned it into something new. The success of The Concert for Bangladesh, a one-off charity concert, erased the sour feelings still lingering from Woodstock.

  Album. Film. Concert. They broke the rules and the records in all three categories in the same year.

  • • •

  George Martin felt a sense of history about 1971 and thought that he should do something about it. Before he took his plan to John and Paul, however, he made sure that Beeching, Klein, and the Eastmans were on board.

  He wondered if, given how intensely the year had begun, it might be possible to throw the world a bone of peace at Christmas. Martin went to John and Paul separately. “Do you feel that you’ve made your point now?” Upon reflection, both seemed to feel that they had done just that.

  Would they consider going back to what had always worked before—Christmas? He asked both Lennon and McCartney to consider contributing a Christmas song to a seasonal single that would be two A-sides. He thought it would give people a breather after the emotion that had started the year. Besides, he reasoned, Christmas releases were something of a tradition in Beatlemania. In a bid to transcend his growing reputation as an angry political radical, Lennon immediately signed on, saying he wanted “to go balls out for Santa.” He already had the song—“Happy Xmas (War Is Over)”—something he and Yoko had performed in a live concert setting almost two years ago. That it did not exactly transcend his “angry young radical” image was not something anyone at Apple felt compelled to point out.

  McCartney had been toying with a song that he would later release on his own. That song was “Wonderful Christmastime,” an entirely pleasant ditty that simply could not hold up to the power of Lennon’s compelling peace tribute. He considered ducking this comparison altogether, believing that one Christmas classic per season was more than enough, even for the Beatles. Still, there was the reality that a new single needed a new song on each side.

  “In the end, I just couldn’t let myself take a pass,” he confessed. “I felt I had to give it a go, but instead of competing with John, I just went off in an entirely new direction.”

  He had successfully turned the trifle “Bip Bop” into “Stop War” at The Concert for Bangladesh, and it had translated well on the album.

  McCartney decided to go with a tune he had been working with already, “Smile Away,” but twisted it into a Christmas configuration. He had tried recording the song, an up-tempo rocker with nonsense lyrics, during the 1970 And the Band Plays On sessions, but Harrison had made a snarky remark, seconded by Lennon, and Paul had sensed it just was not worth fighting for at the time.

  McCartney now re-tooled the song with entirely new lyrics, changing the title from “Smile Away” to “Santaway.” If Lennon’s contribution was anthemic and powerful, McCartney’s, with its truth-talking Bad Santa loose on the streets, was just plain fun.

  “I was looking at the sky the other night

  Who did I meet?

  I met a man in red and white and I did say,

  ‘Man, I can smell your reindeer a mile away’

  Santaway, Santaway, Santaway, yeah Santaway.”

  So it came to pass that the two songs were released just after Halloween. The single became a huge sensation, selling more and more as Thanksgiving came and went, and then even more as Christmas approached. Fans bought them up in unprecedented numbers, as did less avid listeners, and their love for the single did not stop until mid-January of the next year.

  “Happy Xmas (War Is Over)” became the instant radio hit, dominating the airwaves. It was catchy, hopeful, and popular. Yet, even with the success of “Happy Xmas,” McCartney’s “Santaway” was not buried. Many fans loved it, and it, too, found its way into heavy radio rotation, played for years almost as frequently as Lennon’s classic. In the end, these two recordings became the third best-selling single in the entire Beatles catalog.

  The ultimate irony is that Lennon almost preferred McCartney’s song to his own. His partner’s entry was witty and observant but still in love with the holiday. “Santaway” took itself far less seriously than “Happy Xmas,” something that bothered Lennon all his life, if his interview comments are to be believed.

  “When Paul rocks out, there’s nobody better,” he admitted. Then he added, “To hell with him.”

  • • •

  In 1964, the Beatles were at the forefront of the music world and inspired Beatlemania. Seven years later, the band and its members had radically changed, but they appeared to be as relevant and creatively vibrant as ever, and probably more so.

  They had planned to leave each other. They wanted to leave each other. But their pledge to wait for the release of their new film had turned them into the greatest success story of the new decade.

  Chapter Five:

  IMAGINE ANOTHER DAY (1972)

  A New One Just Begun

  Early in the year, George Harrison found himself surrounded by reporters at one of his rare appearances at Apple. He was supposed to be supporting both the Beatles album and the upcoming Beatles film of The Concert for Bangladesh. While the concert had been a creative success, both the film and the album were hampered by technical issues, and legal entanglements were affecting the need to get money to the troubled country that spawned the concert in the first place.

  Harrison, appearing gaunt, sounded as exhausted as he looked. “The biggest break in my career was getting into t
he Beatles,” he told the men and women in the press. “These days it feels like the biggest break might be getting out of them.”

  Harrison had, in fact, put far more energy into The Concert for Bangladesh than any of his bandmates, and the exertions of the benefit had taken a toll. He was in need of recuperation and retreat, goals that proved elusive, given that, at home, he and his wife had become increasingly estranged.

  As it turned out, however, it was more than Harrison’s lack of energy and the continuing differences between the four Beatles that threatened the group’s cohesion. It was also the perceived threat that they posed to President Richard Nixon’s re-election effort.

  As the year began, White House counsel John Dean began subscribing to underground newspapers to keep tabs on radical activities that might threaten the coming Republican National Convention, scheduled for Miami Beach in August. One quote got his attention:

  [New York Free Press] “There is something in the air to give the radical movement hope again after a tough two years. Here in New York City, many people think it started with the arrival of John Lennon and Yoko Ono. By keeping the Beatles together, rather than walking away from them as he might have wanted to do, he has kept them as a potent political force if he chooses to use them that way.”

  Dean was not the only Republican soldier paying attention. Just three weeks into the new year, presidential assistant for Congressional Relations William E. Timmons received a letter from conservative Senator Strom Thurmond with an attached memo prepared by the Senate Internal Security Subcommittee. The memo was shocking in that it directly targeted the most popular rock band on Earth for surveillance and harassment by agencies of the United States government.

  • • •

  Memo from Senate Internal Subcommittee Staff

  Re: The Beatles and the Radical Left

  Date: January 23, 1972

  John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Richard Starkey are British citizens who collectively form the musical group known as “The Beatles.” All have visited the United States for both personal and professional reasons beginning eight years ago. All of the members of the group are currently in the United States filming a motion picture. That production, known as The Hot Rock, features the band members portraying common criminals.

  John Lennon, in particular, is the only member of the group currently attempting to stay in the United States as a permanent resident and is currently residing in New York City. He has claimed a date of birth of October 9, 1940, and he is presently married to a Japanese citizen, one Yoko Ono.

  The December 12, 1971 issue of the New York Times shows that Lennon and his wife appeared at a December 11, 1971 rally held in Ann Arbor, Michigan, to protest the continuing imprisonment of John Sinclair, a radical poet. Although his Beatles group did not perform, he explained that “they are with us in spirit and may be coming back to America sooner than you imagine. Dump Nixon!”

  Radical New Left leaders Rennie Davis, Jerry Rubin, Abbie Hoffman, and others have been observed in the New York City area with Lennon. According to a confidential source, they have devised a plan to hold rock concerts in various primary election states for the following purposes: to obtain access to college campuses; to stimulate eighteen-year-old registration; to press for legislation legalizing marijuana; to finance their activities; and to recruit protestors to come to Miami Beach during the Republican National Convention in August 1972. Several of these individuals are the same persons who were instrumental in disrupting the Democratic National Convention in Chicago in 1968.

  This same source, whose information has proved reliable in the past, states that Davis and his cohorts intend to use John Lennon to influence his band, the Beatles, to promote the success of the rock festivals and rallies. The source feels this will pour tremendous amounts of money into the coffers of the New Left and can only inevitably lead to a clash between a controlled mob organized by this group and law enforcement officials in Miami Beach. This would tarnish the Republican party with the same brush that protestors used against Democrats back in 1968.

  The source feels that if Lennon’s current visa is terminated, and any application by McCartney, Harrison, and Starkey is refused, it would be a strategic counter-measure to these conditions. The source also noted the caution which must be taken with regard to the possible alienation of the so-called eighteen-year-old vote if Lennon is expelled from the country and his bandmates are refused entrance.

  • • •

  While the memo worked its way through the West Wing staff at the White House, President Nixon, a lifelong cold warrior, went to China on February 21, 1972, and talked to Communist leader Mao Zedong, who the United States had pretended for more than two decades did not exist. It was a delicious irony that John Lennon had already dissed the powerful world leader in “Revolution” when he sang, “If you go carryin’ pictures of Chairman Mao, you ain’t gonna make it with anyone, anyhow.”

  In the eyes of the world, Nixon’s visit to China was the beginning of a cold peace between the giants of the West and the East. Fans might be forgiven for wondering that if Nixon could go to China, what was stopping John, Paul, George, and Ringo from getting their own acts together and making more music?

  As personal and sometimes heated as their differences were, neither Lennon nor McCartney had the emotional capital to continue an energetic feud. They both publicly walked back some of their earlier statements from the Savile Row period. John’s explanation was the craziest: he had written “How Do You Sleep?” as much about himself as anyone else (meaning Paul). No one believed him, of course, but as far as “never minds” go, it was one of the boldest denials ever lodged with a straight face until the Trump Administration’s Sean Spicer.

  After Nixon’s triumphant return from China, presidential assistant Timmons wrote to Senator Thurmond, informing him that “the Immigration and Naturalization Service has served notice on him (Lennon) that he is to leave the country no later than March 15. Additionally, Mr. McCartney, Mr. Harrison, and Mr. Starkey have all been put on the INS watch list, and any visa applications they file will receive enhanced scrutiny.”

  The Immigration and Naturalization Service then began moves to keep all the Beatles from the United States by deeming them to be “undesirables.” John had a 1968 drug conviction from the UK. So, too, did McCartney and Harrison. That gave the INS an official reason for what was ultimately a political act.

  While McCartney, Harrison, and Starkey, who were living outside of the United States, could all take their time to consider their relationship to the country, Lennon and Ono, who were living in New York, had to make a decision, and soon.

  They committed to the fight by hiring successful immigration attorney Leon Wildes, a man who, incredibly, didn’t know who his new client was, let alone that the Beatles were still the most famous band in the world.

  The first thing that Wildes argued was that the Lennons needed to stay in the United States as long as they could continue to get court-ordered delays due to the appeals process. Lennon, who loved New York, was on board with the plan.

  Wildes, however, also argued for Lennon to stay involved as a member of the Beatles because he would look better in the group than as some malcontent crazy renegade who could not get along with anyone.

  “It’s always one more thing before I can get out,” complained Lennon. “First, I had to stay in the group for the fucking Hobbits, and now I have to stay in so Tricky Dicky can’t throw me out of his Fourth Reich.”

  So the Beatles remained a group, but there was grave doubt about getting them in the same recording studio together. Lennon could not leave the United States, and his bandmates were being told not to push their luck by trying to overstay their current visas. For the moment, it was the government, not their own issues, that was keeping them apart.

  • • •

  On January 30, in the Bogside area of Derry, Northern Ireland, British soldiers shot twenty-six unarmed civilians during a peaceful protes
t march. Thirteen people died that day, many while fleeing from the soldiers or trying to help the wounded. Other protesters were injured by rubber bullets or batons, and two were run down by army vehicles. The massacre became known as “Bloody Sunday.”

  As it happens, both Paul McCartney and John Lennon carry Irish roots in their lines of descent. Both men were moved to express their anger and explore their heritage in song. Lennon booked space at the Record Plant in New York, and McCartney headed for Abbey Road in London. Lennon cut two songs: “Sunday Bloody Sunday” about the incident itself and “The Luck of the Irish” about the Irish conflict in general. McCartney recorded his own political anthem: “Give Ireland Back to the Irish.”

  Even though they each were driven to song by the events, neither man knew about the other’s work. It’s not clear if they even thought of what they were doing as something that should involve the Beatles. John worked with Yoko on his songs, and Paul worked with Linda on his.

  As had happened during the Savile Row sessions, the two recordings placed producer George Martin squarely in the middle of a negotiation.

  [George Martin] “All three of the songs were good in their own right. My first thought was that Yoko’s and Linda’s tracks should be plucked out of their respective tunes, and the Beatles should be tracked in their place. But, of course, that never happened.”

  Lennon dug his heels in first, insisting that Yoko was an integral part of the creative process for both of his songs. In a now familiar scenario, he wanted an immediate single pressed and released, and if the songs were too political for the Beatles to affix their name to them, so much the better. He was shocked to hear that Martin had received another song about the Irish Troubles from McCartney on the same day.

  All three songs were circulated between the two men, their spouses, the other Beatles, and the Apple management and creative teams. When McCartney heard about Lennon’s insistence that Ono’s tracks should remain, he insisted that his wife’s tracks should remain as well and be expanded.