The Last Days of John Lennon
Chapter One
He sits in the airplane, inside a cloud of cigarette smoke. He opens his wallet and looks at the permit for his handgun. He was going to buy a .22 when the salesman steered him toward a .38.
Well, if you get a .22 and a burglar comes in, heâs just going to laugh at you, the salesman said. But if you have a .38 nobodyâs going to laugh at you. Just one shot with a .38 and youâre going to bring him down.
The safest way to transport the weapon, the Federal Aviation Administration told him over the phone, was to pack it, along with the ammo, inside a suitcaseâwhich he did. The gun was purchased legallyâpersonal protection, he told the salesmanâin Hawaii.
The ammo is another matter. Hollow-points are illegal in New York. If security decides to search his bag, he could be arrested.
Itâll be fine, he keeps telling himself as he exits the plane. The biggest threat these days is skyjacking. He doesnât look like a terrorist.
He stands at the carousel inside LaGuardia, keeping an eye out for his bag while covertly watching the security people from behind the reddish-brown tinted lenses of his aviator-style eyeglasses.
No one comes looking for him.
The people he passesâbusiness travelers and those who have come to the Big Apple to enjoy a few days of Christmas shoppingâdonât even acknowledge his presence. No eye contact, not a nod hello, nothing.
Itâs like Iâm invisible.
And in a way, he is. Heâs been invisible his whole life. Heâs not remarkable in any way, which gives him a distinct tactical advantage. He can blend in anywhere, and he doesnât look threatening.
And I have to stay that way. I have to appear normal at all times.
Which means staying out of his head as much as possible.
His mind is a dangerous neighborhood.
He steps outside the airport, into the bright sunshine. The air is unseasonably warm. He drops his suitcase at the curb and, sweating and out of breath, hails a cab, his thoughts turning to the five bullets packed next to his gun. The FAA also told him that changes in air pressure could damage them.
He only needs one of them to work.
The five hollow-point Smith & Wesson +P cartridges are designed for maximum stopping powerâand maximum damage. When one hits soft tissue, the tip mushrooms into a lethal miniature buzz saw that spins and bounces its way through the body, shredding tissue and organs.
One shot is more than enough to ensure John Lennonâs death.
A yellow cab slides up next to him. He puts his suitcase in the trunk, then gets into the back seat. He gives the driver the address for the West Side YMCA, off Central Park West. Itâs only nine blocks away from his true destination.
He puts on his best smile and tells the cabbie, âIâm a recording engineer.â
The taxi pulls away from the curb.
âIâm working with John Lennon and Paul McCartney.â
The cabbie ignores him.
He glares at the back of the manâs head. If you only knew what Iâm about to do, you would be paying attention to me. You wouldnât be treating me like some nowhere man.
âNowhere Manâ is a song by his favorite group of all time, the Beatles. Well, they used to be his favorite, until they broke up. And he still hasnât forgiven John Lennon for saying that the Beatles were more popular than Jesus.
That was blasphemy.
The taxi gets in line with the bumper-to-bumper traffic heading into Manhattan. Everyone is rushing to Rockefeller Center. A sixty-five-foot Norway spruce has just been delivered, and electricians are working feverishly to prepare for the annual Christmas tree-lighting ceremony, which is only a few days away.
He takes out a bag of coke. Snorts a line off his fist.
The cabbie is now watching him in the rearview mirror.
âWant some?â
The driver shakes his head and returns his attention to the road.
The coke isnât working its magic. Instead of feeling a wave of intense pleasure, heâs sweating and working himself into a rage, all of it aimed at Lennon.
âBut Iâd plug him anyway,â he mutters. âSix shots through his fat, hairy belly.â
He arrives at his destination. He pays his fare, and as he steps out of the cab, he imagines police swarming him, their weapons drawn, ready to arrest him. He sees himself locked inside a jail cell for the rest of his life.
The thought brings him comfort.
Peace.
He turns back to the driver. âIâm Mark Chapman. Remember my name if you hear it again.â
Chapter Two
Isnât he a bit like you and me?
ââNowhere Manâ
Youâll like John,â Paul McCartneyâs friend Ivan Vaughan says. âHeâs a great fellow.â
Paul knows John Lennon, but only by sight, really. John is olderâalmost seventeenâand the two have never spoken, even though they ride the same Allerton-to-Woolton bus to school.
Today Johnâs singing with his band, the Quarry Men, at the St. Peteâs Church fete, and fifteen-year-old Paul and Ivy have bicycled over to check them out. Well, Ivyâs interestedâPaul wants to check out the girls.
Itâs Saturday, July 6, 1957, and already hot when the Quarry Men take the outside stage.
Johnâs wearing a âshortieââa knee-length coatâover a checkered red-and-white shirt and black drainpipe jeans. He starts to cover the Del-Vikingsâ doo-wop tune âCome Go with Me.â Paul has heard the American song only a handful of times, on the Decca Records show on Radio Luxembourg and playing in one of the record-shop booths.
Paul half listens and goes back to scouting the crowd. Heâs thinking about which girl to approach first when he hears John change the lyrics without skipping a beat. Paul knows a lot about the guitar, and he canât figure out what style John is playing as he breaks into a rockabilly cover of Gene Vincentâs âBe-Bop-a-Lula.â John dominates the stage. Owns it.
Which isnât much of a surprise. Everyone knows John Lennon is cocky and confidentâand a local Ted, or Teddy Boy. Here in Liverpool, the Teds, with their long sideburns and oiled-up hair swept together in the back like a duckâs arse, are hard, rebellious working-class men and boys who love getting into fights.
Paul follows Ivy inside the St. Peterâs church hall, where the bandâs setting up to play another set. John is widely considered a hoodlum. He lives with his aunt instead of his mum. The talk around town is that Johnâs father abandoned him, and now Johnâs mum lives in sin with another man. They had two daughters out of wedlock.
The memory of Paulâs own mother suddenly crowds his thoughts.
This past October, on the twenty-ninth, Mary McCartney went into the hospital. She didnât tell him or his brother, Mike, why. Then, two days later, on Halloween, she diedâfrom breast cancer, Paul found out eventually. Eight months have passed, and the loss still pierces him.
And thatâs when he became consumed by music. As his brother puts it, âYou lose a motherâand you find a guitar?â
If you can sing or play an instrument, Paul, youâll always be invited to the party, his dad, Jim, a jazz musician in his youth, tells him. Paul starts on the trumpet, but after hearing Elvis Presley and Lonnie Donegan, the so-called King of Skiffle, he takes the horn back to the Rushworth and Dreaper music shop and swaps it for a Zenith guitar.
The problem is heâs left-handed, and guitars are made for right-handers. So heâs learned to play the guitar in reverseâright hand working the fret board, shaping the chords, while strumming with his left.
Paul picks up one of the guitars in the hall and starts to play âTwenty Flight Rockââa song Eddie Cochran performed in the movie The Girl Canât Help Itâwhich he only learned a few days ago. Itâs an immensely tricky song to play, even more so if youâre forced to play wrong-handed. But Paulâs only ambition in life is to be like Elvis, so he puts a lot of swagger into his impromptu performance. John stands nearby, his eyes narrowed, almost slanted. Itâs the same look he had earlier while performing onstage, as though he were looking down on the crowd.
And now heâs looking down on me. Thinks Iâm just a fat schoolboy.
*Â Â *Â Â *
Paul finishes the song, then starts to tell John about how he works out his own lyrics: âLike Iâm writing an essay or doing a crossword puzzle.â
John nods, uninterested.
Paul goes over to a nearby piano. He sits and starts to play Jerry Lee Lewisâs hit song âWhole Lotta Shakinâ Goinâ On.â Paul really gets into the music, even pounding the keys like Jerry Lee does.
Paul feels Johnâs arm on his shoulder. John leans over, contributing a deft right hand in the songâs upper octaves. Heâs drunk, Paul realizes.
When they finish playing, John announces that itâs time for the pub. Paulâs heart thunders with excitement. The coolest kid in Liverpool has just invited me.
Bubbling beneath it is another feeling: apprehension. Every adult, including Paulâs dad, says about John, Heâll get you into trouble, son. John Lennon, with his intimidating glare and his sideburns and upturned collar. You saw him rather than met him.
Now that Paul has, heâs sticking around.
Chapter Three
Wonât you join together with the band?
ââJoin Togetherâ
John doesnât care that Paul is only fifteen. Musically, heâs as serious as John is about rock ânâ roll. Paulâs already composing songs and knows how to play the piano.
And he plays the guitar perfectlyâupside down.
Should I ask Paul to join the band? What if he tries to take over? John ponders these questions as he stands on the cobblestones outside the Cavern Club, in central Liverpool, where the Quarry Men played their first gig. The club, located under a fruit and vegetable warehouse, is a well-known jazz venue. âWe never get auditions because of the jazz bands,â John says, but now jazz is on the way out, replaced by skiffle, a British version of jug-band music that the Quarry Men play.
But Johnâs true love is American rock ânâ roll, and tonight he wants nothing more than to get onstage and bend the crowdâs ears back with its raw rhythms. Except the Cavern Club doesnât allow that type of music. No place does.
Rock ânâ roll has had a bad reputation ever since the American film Rock Around the Clock came to Britain last year and waves of teenagers ripped up their cinema seats so they could dance to the title track, by Bill Haley and His Comets. Now the old guard is terrified of the musicâs destructive power. The BBC wonât play it on radio or TV.
But rock ânâ roll isnât going away. Until just recently, the number-one song in the country was Elvis Presleyâs âAll Shook Up.â John first heard about Elvis from a schoolmate quoting a music magazine. New Musical Express featured this strangely named American singer who had women screaming and fainting when he sang âHeartbreak Hotelâ and thrust his hips onstage.
John bought the record and rushed home with it. He lives with his aunt, Mimi Smith, not his mum, Mimiâs sister Julia. At night, John gets underneath the bedcovers with his portable radio and turns the volume down low to listen to medium-wave Radio Luxembourg, which plays all the American rock ânâ roll hits.
Mimi does not approve of rock ânâ roll. She thinks people who listen to it are âlow classâ and wants him to stay focused on his schoolwork. Mimi doesnât know that heâs formed a band, let alone that he has a gig tonight.
âA guitarâs all right, John, but youâll never earn a living by it.â
But Johnâs sure sheâs wrong. âI wanted to write Alice in Wonderland and be Elvis Presley,â he says, and as far as heâs concerned, he canâand willâdo both. A few days ago, heâd discovered that Mimi had yet again âcleanedâ his room, tossing out all his drawings and poems. He was furious and didnât hold back: Youâve thrown my fuckinâ poetry out, and youâll regret it when Iâm famous.
John wonders what Mimiâs reaction would be if she found out that the source of his forbidden Ted clothes is Julia, who loves Elvis just as much as he does. Julia, unlike puritan Mimi, has a record player and loves to sing and dance and toss about her gingery hair. She even bought him his first guitar, an acoustic Spanish flamenco-style model with steel strings that have cut painful grooves into his fingertips from his constant practicing.
By the time John meets up with his mates at the Cavern Club that evening, heâs come to a decision about Paul McCartney. âIt went through my head that Iâd have to keep him in line,â John later reveals. âBut he was worth having.â John seeks out a mutual friend, Pete Shotton, to extend the invitation.
*Â Â *Â Â *
A four-string guitar strapped around his shoulder, John stares out at the middle-aged audience. God, they look stiff. He turns to the band and cues them.
Rod Davis, the banjo player, sidles up next to him, frantic. âYou canât do that,â he says. âTheyâll eat you alive if you start playing rock ânâ roll in the Cavern!â
John ignores him and turns back to the crowd.
Letâs give âem a taste of the King.
John belts out Elvis Presleyâs âDonât Be Cruel.â The Quarry Men follow.
The manager hears the chorusâDonât be cruel to a heart thatâs trueâand rushes to the stage with a note.
Cut out the bloody rock ânâ roll.
John tosses the note aside and channels Jerry Lee Lewis and his new favorite, Buddy Holly and the Crickets, as he tears into another rock ânâ roll number from the American pop charts.
*Â Â *Â Â *
John invites Paul to play a gig with the Quarry Men at New Clubmoor Hall in Norris Green, the northern part of Liverpoolâa good distance by bus from where they all live.
They open with âGuitar Boogieâ by Arthur Smith and His Cracker-Jacks. The guitar solo is easy to play, a simple twelve-bar. But not only is this Paulâs first time playing with the band, itâs also his first guitar solo ever.
Onstage, John and Paul take turns singing. When one leads, the other harmonizes. Johnâs strength is holding the lower key; Paulâs voice is more suited for the higher range.
Paul starts his guitar solo.
His fingers wonât move. Itâs like theyâre stuck to the fret board.
Paul fights his way through it until his round face is flushed. Wet.
After the show, everyone is looking at him, and heâs frightened. Yet heâs resolute on one point. âIt wiped me out as a lead guitar player, that night,â Paul says. âI never played lead again onstage.â
*Â Â *Â Â *
John is in his bedroom, composing a poem on his portable typewriter, when he hears a knock on the back door, off the kitchen.
Mimi calls up the stairs: âJohn, your little friendâs here.â
She uses this patronizing tone with all his friends. âI thought John and Mimi had a very special relationship,â Paul later says. âShe would always be making fun of him and he never took it badly; he was always very fond of her, and she of him.â Even though she âwould take the mickey,â Paul says, âI never minded it, in fact I think she quite liked meâout of a put-down I could glean the knowledge that she liked me.â
Mimi thinks Paul is the one âtaking the mickey outâ of her with his posh accent. âI thought, âHeâs a snake charmer all right,â Johnâs little friend, Mr. Charming. I wasnât falling for it.â
John enters the kitchen and finds Paul McCartney standing there, Mimi eyeing the guitar in Paulâs hand and reminding them both to keep the noise down and not bother her student lodgers.
The University of Liverpool students Mimi takes in to supplement her widowâs state pension donât interest John, though heâs also earned a place at the Liverpool College of Art after a portfolio review of his cartoons and caricatures. Maybe I can get a job drawing gorgeous girls for toothpaste posters is his thought.
âWeâve got this song, Mimi, do you want to hear it?â John asks his aunt.
âCertainly not,â Mimi scoffs. âFront porch, John Lennon, front porch.â
John closes the door, telling Paul that he likes it out on the porch âas the echo of the guitars bounce[s] nicely off the glass and the tiles.â
The moment Mimi leaves the house, they race upstairs and play Little Richard records. They both worship the singer from Macon, Georgia, and Paul can even mimic those trademark hollers and screams on âTutti Fruttiâ and âLong Tall Sally.â
But Elvis Presley is God, and they are his acolytes. They donât just play Elvis recordsâthey also analyze them, trying to figure out the chord progressions, every single sound. All the rock songs they know are played with C, F, and G or G7. Theyâre determined to crack the chords to Elvisâs âBlue Moon,â but itâs not until early winter that they discover that C, A minor, F, and G are the exact same chords Paul Anka used in his hit âDiana,â recorded in 1957, when he was fifteen, the same age as Paul.
Johnâs excitement is so fierce, so intense, that itâs nearly blinding. It confirms what heâs known all along: music is the reason he was put on this earth.
And heâs going to do music with Paul McCartney.
Help me get my feet back on the ground.
ââHelp!â
Paul walks home, still riding the high of finally cracking the chord progression for âBlue Moon.â He prefers riding his bicycle, but he canât do that when he brings his guitar, since it doesnât have a case.
His father still has no idea heâs hanging out with John Lennon, but it doesnât matter, really, whether his dad likes John. Theyâre friends now. Musical brothers in arms.
John, of course, knows how Jim McCartney feels about him. John gives Paul some cleverly worded advice:Â Face up to your dad! Tell him to fuck off!
Heâs thinking about it.
Paul wishes he could find a way, some combination of words, to explain to his father just how deep John is. Not only in his passion for music but also in his art. That John composes poetry; that he could be a great writer.
Paul takes a shortcut via the Allerton Municipal Golf Course, which is closed for the season.
Paul is good at the guitar. And heâs pretty good at singing. But playing and singingâŠthat takes practice. And what a better place than the middle of an empty golf course?
Paul stops walking to listen. A couple of times, people have caught him, and when they do, he immediately stops playing and starts walking.
But right now, in the pitch black, heâs pretty sure heâs alone. He straps the guitar over his shoulder and, in his mindâs eye, sees himself stepping onstage, in front of thousands of people. The crowd goes wild, clapping and screaming his name.
Paul steels himself. Summons his nerves.
He starts to play.
Sings.
The crowd roars in approval. The women are hysterical. Some have fainted.
Paul is getting into a good rhythm, singing at the top of his voice, when he hears someone behind him shout:Â âHey!â
Paul stops playing.
Whips around and sees a manâa policemanâapproaching him.
Oh, God, Iâm going to get arrested for a breach of the peace.
âWas that you I heard playing the guitar?â
Paul considers lying, even though itâs crystal clear heâs been caught red-handed.
Even as his heart pounds, he decides to go with the truth.
âYes, sir.â
The policeman, tall and burly, towers over him. If he gets arrested, what will he tell his dad?
âCan you give me guitar lessons?â the man asks.
Chapter Four
I was so much older then
Iâm younger than that now.
ââMy Back Pagesâ
John and Paulâs new project is to crack the intro to Buddy Hollyâs âThatâll Be the Day.â
Theyâve been going at it for weeks.
The friends sit in chairs, practically toe to toe, and watch each other play guitar. Itâs like âholding a mirror upâ between the left-handed Paul and the right-handed John.
John rarely goes to class. When he does, heâs outspoken. Rebellious. Argumentative and stubborn.
âI was aggressive because I wanted to be popular,â John later says. âI wanted to be the leaderâŠI wanted everybody to do what I told them to do, to laugh at my jokes and let me be the boss.â
At Liverpool College of Art, some classmates and teachers like him, though many despise him.
But no one ignores him.
Still, he is most in his element at the âeyeball to eyeballâ sessions he and Paul undertake at Paulâs empty home. Every weekday except Mondays, Paul cuts school at the Liverpool Institute High School for Boys, and they take the green double-decker 86 busâsitting up top, outside, so they can smoke.
John finds the well-worn furniture, with its protruding springs hidden by cotton covers, comforting and warmâmuch more like his mumâs than Mimiâs more austere house. John takes a seat and removes his glasses from his pocket.
Paul is staring at him.
You never knew I wore glasses because I never wear them. When he started having vision problems, Mimi took John to the eye doctor. The other kindergartners ridiculed the thick lenses needed to correct his severe nearsightedness, though, and he still refuses to wear his glasses in public.
But he feels comfortable with Paul, whoâs like a younger brother. One whoâs insanely talented, ambitious, and determined.
They go at the chords over and over.
John works his guitar until he nails the intro.
To celebrate, Paul lights up his dadâs spare pipe with a pinch of tobacco they find in the tea caddy.
John takes a puff and thinks, Practically every Buddy Holly song is three chords. We should write our own.
Though John ignored Paul the first time he talked about his songwriting techniques, now heâs curious and draws him out.
Paul starts at the beginning. âIâd either sit down with a guitar or at the piano,â he says, âand just look for melodies, chord shapes, musical phrases, some words, a thought just to get started with.â
John wants in on this creative process, but it doesnât take long for him to discover that songwriting is hard.
Their first collaboration, âToo Bad About Sorrows,â remains incomplete, as does their follow-up, âJust Fun.â The next one they work on, âBecause I Know You Love Me So,â has a Buddy Holly feel to it. Theyâve already worked out the harmony.
Paul turns to a fresh page in his notebook to start a new song. Up at the top, he writes, âAnother Lennon-McCartney Original.â
Order Now
The Last Days of John Lennon
by James Patterson
With Casey Sherman
With Dave Wedge
With the Beatles, John Lennon surpasses his youthful dreams, achieving a level of superstardom that defies classification. âWe were the best bloody band there was,â he says. âThere was nobody to touch us.â Nobody except the original nowhere man, Mark David Chapman. Chapman once worshipped his idols from afarâbut now harbors grudges against those, like Lennon, whom he feels betrayed him. Heâs convinced Lennon has misled fans with his message of hope and peace. And Chapmanâs not staying away any longer.Â
By the summer of 1980, Lennon is recording new music for the first time in years, energized and ready for it to be â(Just Like) Starting Over.â He canât wait to show the world what he will do.Â
Neither can Chapman, who quits his security job and boards a flight to New York, a handgun and bullets stowed in his luggage.Â
The greatest true-crime story in music history, as only James Patterson can tell it. Enriched by exclusive interviews with Lennonâs friends and associates, including Paul McCartney, The Last Days of John Lennon is the thrilling true story of two men who changed history: One whose indelible songs enliven our world to this dayâand the other who ended the beautiful music with five pulls of a trigger.
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