1994: The Very Last Lennon Interview

Authors Note

This is a work of fiction. That means that I made it up! I do not claim that these were the real words or opinions of John Lennon – I have never interviewed him, he died in 1980; very sadly.
However, like a lot of people, I have had a fascination with him, and a great love of his music; and him, actually; and I like to think I know a fair amount about him. All the books and articles I have read, the movies about him and The Beatles, the interviews on T.V, have given me an insight into the man. His music is uniquely personal and honest as well; and reveals how sensitive and vulnerable he was capable of being – as well as being great music in its own right.

I really believe what is written here about him going into hiding; would have been possible – however improbable it seems at first – and it is interesting to speculate how he would have looked back on his amazing life, had he lived to be 54; as I pretend he did here. I have tried to represent his opinions as I believe he had them and would have had them in 1994. Of course, some imagination is involved, this is after all; creative writing, and I have to say that it felt great to imagine that the world had not lost such a great man, in such a terrible and senseless way.
I genuinely hope you will enjoy this book and find it interesting, and that it gives you some genuine insight into a man, who I still believe after so many years of studying him and his life, was in many ways a wonderful, magical person; despite his faults – which let us admit; we all have in one way or another.
I remember his first wife; Cynthia Lennon; once describing John as a ‘flawed genius’; I think that is what made him so intriguing; partly; the genius and the flaws were there for all to see. He was a man who struggled with his tragedies, and in many ways managed to overcome them.  I don’t think I know of a famous person who seemed more honest and courageous. He was a great man; I hope you will be stimulated to find out more about him after reading this; and I am sure you will find much to admire in him; as I do.

Prologue
I met John Lennon in 1994 in Poland. However bizarre or unbelievable that seems; it is true. I physically bumped into him on the street (I am terribly clumsy and dreamy) on one of the few occasions (as it turned out) that he had ventured out of his apartment. He seemed terrified when I identified him; but then relented and invited me up to his place; saying he had an idea to discuss. You don’t say no to John Lennon under those circumstances; so I went. He swore me to secrecy and let me know that he wanted me to do an interview with him for publication – that he would sign the manuscript so that it would be known as genuine. You can imagine my shock and surprise at all this – it was a surreal moment; but I agreed; I had always had an interest and affection for him; as a big Beatles and Lennon fan I could hardly say ‘no’ could I?
I only knew him for a few days and in that time I interviewed him; as he requested; with the view to the interview being published after his death. I didn’t guess initially, that he knew he was dying of cancer. After those few days he started to feel that our new acquaintance might endanger me; and compromise him as well; so we stopped meeting. It emerged during the interview that his death in 1980 had been staged, and that he had gone into hiding in Poland to save his own life.
It has not been easy for me to write this book; to publish this; his last interview. I already revered and idolised him before meeting him, but my reverence for the man, after meeting him, has grown to such an extent that I would rather not have written it and profited from it; just kept it private, as a kind of souvenir of our meeting; but a promise is a promise and that is that. I told him I would put down in words the interviews we had in those final weeks of his life in 1994 and get it published; and I have to be true to that. Actually they were easy to conduct in terms of the questions; I had been wondering about them for years, having had such an interest in him.
Obviously, I had no idea I would ever meet John Lennon – the world believed him dead; and anyway it was just chance that we met. That the world; after 1980; believed him dead, I think bothered him – as you will see, when you read the interview.
It is of course a great sadness to me that he has finally died for real; he actually passed away in Dec 1994; a few short weeks after our meeting. He was dying at the time of the interview (although he didn’t reveal this right away) and I could see he was in pain. As Paul said back in 1980, ‘The world has lost a great man…’ and for all his faults, that is what John was – no doubt. Part of his greatness was that he was not perfect; but worked hard to improve himself; and after all, was not exactly the only great person that had a few faults!
It was a tremendous privilege for me to meet him, just by chance, and be chosen by him to do the last interview. I know he wanted to set the record straight finally; and in a way to apologise to those who had been duped about his death in 1980 – I know he felt bad about that – but I think you will agree after you read the interview that he had no choice but to go into hiding from Chapman; it was either live or die, from John’s point of view.
We are all of us, full of contradictions. For what I have read about him, and after knowing him and interviewing him for those few days in 1994, I would say that was particularly true of John Lennon – but as I hope you will appreciate when you read the interview, I think part of his greatness lay in
fighting against the bad side he had; and, in the main, winning.

The Interview – November 3rd and 4th 1994; Bydgoszcz, Poland
The interviews with John just flowed – he put me at my ease and was charming. I had so many things I wanted to ask him about his life. I admired him so much, knew so much and yet so little about him. There was, for me, always an aura of greatness about him, and meeting him in person was like meeting a giant, there was this hugeness about his personality, along with an obviously acute intelligence and wit, and in fact, kindness – he was clearly a kind, gentle man.
He told me just to ask anything that came to mind; not to hold back; this was to be his last interview and he wanted to get everything said. So I took him at his word and of course, prepared some questions beforehand; and the following interview is the word for word transcript of what was said. I have edited out nothing ; it is all there.
So here it is; the very last Lennon interview; that took place on November 3rd and 4th, 1994, in Bydgoszcz, Poland.
I had to start the interview somewhere and I thought for a moment of one of my favourite Beatles songs; ‘Julia’; that John wrote about his mum. So I decided to ask him about this in the first question of our interview.
What follows is the exact transcript of what was said: I have added nothing (except when there was some action like smiling that conveyed his mood or meaning; which I have put in curly brackets; like so: {smiles} ) and taken nothing out. So here it is: the very last John Lennon interview.
                               *********
Me: Hello John; we are about to talk about your life now; as you requested.
John: Sure. You can ask me anything you want at all. Don’t hold back.
Me: OK. I have a lot of questions prepared. The first one is about one of the most beautiful songs you wrote, in my opinion; ‘Julia’, which I know is about your mum, who died when you were sixteen. It is like a love song addressed to her – is that how you meant it?
John: Well, I loved her very much and she was the king pin of my existence back then you know, for a few years. Losing her was painful beyond description, beyond words; I was in shock for weeks and didn’t really know how to cope. I was still just a kid, you know. I had been getting to know her, after not really having that much contact when I was really small. I was brought up by my aunt Mimi; my mum lived a way away. Then I lost her again, for good. So the song has this bitter sweet, sad tone of loss to it; because that was how I felt about her.
Me: You loved her very deeply?
John: You might say she was the first woman I really loved deeply; there was such a special bond between us, even though I was being brought up by my Aunt Mimi; and my mum lived over two
miles away – I would go there as much as I could in my teens; and it was special between us. She taught me music, she played the banjo and piano and those were some of the happiest times of my life then. Then I lost her forever.
Me: Have you managed to come to terms with her death as you have got older?
John: Not really {smiles sadly}. I don’t think you ever get over a shock like that; the sense of loss is so great. And they’re gone forever, you know. Death is just dreadful in that way – the finality of it; no way to turn back the clock. I think I got a love of music from her and art. She was this free spirit and was the prettiest of her sisters as well. Looking back, I worshipped her. She was just gorgeous to me.
Me: Do you still think about her?
John: Of course I do. I haven’t stopped loving her since she was gone you know. I still love her and think about her a lot. I wish she was here now, right now, with us. But I don’t believe in an afterlife really, I think people just go and that is it.
Me: So her death really marred your youth, and your whole life in fact.
John: It marred a part of my youth. I think it made me very bitter in a way and vulnerable too. In spite of Mimi, I felt, after she died, that there was no-one there to really look out for me. I had a chip on my shoulder at school, all the other kids had their mums and dads and I lived with my aunt and my dad had gone away to sea, apparently for ever, and my mum lived away from me. But when my mum died, that feeling of being an odd one out became really big; I felt like maybe I was cursed or something stupid like that {laughs briefly}. Then Stuart died too – that was hard to take.
Me: You mean Stuart Sutcliffe; your friend, who died when you were in your early twenties, just before the Beatles really became successful, before Beatle-mania?
John: {sighs} Yes, well, Stu and I were really close friends you know. We met at the art college we were both going to in Liverpool and we hit it off straight away. He was a real talent, everyone thought so, even the teachers; they were always praising his work so highly: while I was there just to get out of doing a job; I was a layabout with this interest in art and music. But I thought I could just about make a living at music.
Me: You certainly did that.
John: {laughs} Yes, I succeeded in that, but at art he was the king. He started art school at seventeen years old, a year or two early; that’s how good he was.
Me: You lived with him for a while?
John: Yeah, for about a year. We were so poor we had to burn the furniture to keep warm {laughter}. The conditions were pretty terrible in there, but we had our freedom, which was great at about twenty years old, for the first time, you know. Stu helped me get my work done for the college, I could never get anything much done on my own; I was too lazy, but he helped me get by.
Me: And you were in Hamburg together weren’t you?
John: Oh those were some days, folks … {smiles}. Yeah we had a good time doing that, in the main; it was one of the best times of my life, looking back, and we developed and grew as a rock band there, so that by the end of it, no-one could touch us in Britain. The Germans loved us, and we packed the place out, night after night. Musically, it was an education because you had to keep the audience happy for so long. We used to just go crazy and they seemed to love it. ‘Mak show!’ they used to scream. So that was where the head shaking and the ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah’ came from, that we did later. I felt that we could play anywhere and go well, after Hamburg, and that was how it turned out.
Me: Let’s talk a bit more about Hamburg then. Stuart Sutcliffe was actually in the group then wasn’t he?
John: On my insistence, yes. He was playing bass, Paul said he couldn’t play well, but I wanted him in, he was my best friend at the time and I needed him there.
Me: That was where The Beatles became a great group musically?
John: We learned to perform, yes, as I said. Playing for hours a day on stage did that for us. Klaus says he had never heard anyone like us, when he came in.
Me: Klaus Voorman, who later introduced Astrid Kirchherr to The Beatles?
John: Yes, he was wandering around Hamburg and heard us from outside and came in. Then he said he came almost every night and really dug us. He brought his girlfriend, Astrid, to see us, and she dug us too. But she and Stu saw each other on that first night, and that was it. Love at first sight, brother {smiles}.
Me: Were you jealous?
John: I think I was, yes. Stu was very important to me. Of course, men don’t say those things to each other; ‘Did you know you are very important to me, Cedric?’ {laughs aloud}. Anyway, he was like a kindred spirit to me then, my mum having died a few years earlier. We were very close, as I have said, and losing him was one of the worst things that ever happened to me.
Me: Do you feel that it was you who killed him, accidentally of course?
John: At one time yes. It haunted me constantly; the idea that I had killed him. We got in a fight when he decided to leave the group, when we were in Hamburg. He wanted to be with Astrid more. It was my fault, he was a very gentle, mild guy; but I had been drinking and I was hurt and felt abandoned by him. My first instinct was to lash out.
Me: You hit him around the head.
John: That is the thing, I don’t remember what happened. That is the worst thing, the uncertainty. But he got worse and worse, in terms of his headaches and health, not long after that. Was it my fault? Did I hit him to hard? I’ll never know. It still bothers me now. I loved him so much as a friend and a real soul-mate. Losing him was unbearable, but thinking I might be to blame was a thousand times worse.
Me:  How do you deal with it?
John: I might talk to Yoko about on the rare occasions that we talk on the phone these days.  But in general I try and think about the good times we had and how he had such a good influence on me. It is hard though, guilt is the worst. I think his family blamed me for his death and that was hard to take too.
Me: What did, does, he mean to you?
John: That is very hard to put into words, you know. How do you define what someone means to you? He filled a gap, a guess, in my life, after I lost my mother. He was similar to her in some ways, you know, arty and sensitive. He seemed to believe in me and would always try and get me to draw and play music or whatever, but he liked my work and that meant a lot. He was a real talent, as I have said, and I think my interest in art was stimulated by him and set me thinking that the surreal images in my head were not mad, but just creative. We were creative people who respected each other, and he was like a best-loved brother to me. I still miss him.
Me: So, as you admitted, you were jealous when Astrid came along?
John: Yes, I was a pig. I should have been glad for him of course.  I just felt abandoned and I was very sensitive to that, what with my dad going off when I was young, and my mum dying etc. When a girl comes along that a guy is serious about then his friends get side-lined, it happened in The Beatles as well. The women get a hold on the guy and don’t want to let him go. Sometimes they are jealous of his friends.
Me: Did you think Astrid was jealous of you?
John: No, actually; they were too into each other. They were together most of the time, and I only saw him when he was playing with the band, after they met. She was arty too, a photographer, and very stylish and sophisticated, some of their friends…wow! But I kept in touch with Klaus, her previous boyfriend, until I disappeared in 1980. He is one of the many people from my old life in New York that I miss so much; but I have to keep a very low profile for obvious reasons, I am supposed to be dead.
Me: We’ll talk about your faked death a bit later. Aren’t you tempted to give some of those people; like Klaus, a call sometimes?
John: Oh boy, yes! What do you think brother! I think about it all the time; couldn’t I just have a word with Klaus, Ellie or any of the old crew, Ringo, even Paul! Don’t you think I am one of the loneliest people on the planet? I can only speak to Yoko and Sean a few times a year as the powers that be; that got me here, are worried about someone listening in and twigging what is going on. The same with letters, they worry they will go missing and the cat will be out of the bag. Can you imagine if the world got to know I am still alive? What an up-roar there would be?
Me: Yes, I can see that. But you are talking to me now – I presume, with the intention of this being published - right?
 John: Yes, but there is something I haven’t explained to you {smiles sadly}.
Me: What is that?
John: I am dying of cancer.
Me: {long pause}. I’m sorry, I had no idea. I am speechless. I did notice you look unwell and thin.
John: Don’t worry; I should have told you straight away, I was too shy. I am quite a shy bloke, not many people know that, but I don’t like to reveal things at first. Anyway, apparently I have a short time to live, lung cancer. Too much smoking, and this life I have, you know, the loneliness is terrible, difficult to tolerate. It is hard to carry on.
Me: When did you first learn that you have cancer?
John: {Grimaces}. Well, I had been coughing up blood a bit, over a couple of weeks. At first I thought it was just one of those coughs you get out here, where it can be so cold and damp as well. But after a week or so I started to worry a bit. So we got our CIA doctor in, and he did a few test tests at this very private clinic. And we got the results back about six months ago.
Me: I don’t know what to say. So this really is last your last testament to the world.
John: Exactly. I want everyone to know, after I am gone, what really happened and how it all ended for me. I just think I should do that, so many people have been fooled into believing I was dead when I wasn’t – I feel bad about it. This is my way of putting it right.
Me: How do you know I am going to get it published?
John: I can’t really say that can I? But what else can I do? I don’t want this going out until after my death. But I will sign the manuscript for you – just do a title page for now. That way it should be no problem getting it published.
Me: Couldn’t Yoko have organised it?
John: She has enough on her plate and has been vilified enough already – I think they would accuse her of doing it for profit and I don’t want that.
Me: OK, let’s move on now. I have to ask you about your drug use over your life and what your attitude is to it now. You started to use drugs in Hamburg didn’t you?
John: Yeah, we took drugs there just to keep us awake. We had to play for up to eight hours at a stretch, which is exhausting. But I would say to any young person – don’t do drugs; don’t try it out and make the mistakes I did; or we did or whatever. It was so common back in the sixties that we didn’t even think about it too much, it was just part of the scene then, you know. But looking back it was foolish, dope was OK for me, but LSD was a step too far and I was lucky to get away with it. Heroine was a nightmare; I went cold turkey a few times and I won’t forget it. It was a mistake I made and continued to make for years in spite of doctors’ advice; and I am glad my blood is clean now. After all I turned fifty-four in October this year, so it would be sad to be an old junky {smiles widely}.
Me: You were busted for drugs in the UK right? And that gave you problems in the US, with residency.
John: Yeah, at least that was the excuse of the administration at the time. They wanted me out because I was anti-Vietnam and a so-called peacenik and I used to hang out with what Nixon considered to be the wrong people. In fact the charge in the first place was trumped up in the UK; the drugs were planted by a policeman who was later discredited himself; but my conviction for possession was never overturned; making me look like an undesirable. I didn’t gain my green card until ‘76; so it took a long time.
Me: Did that process and what happened with Nixon later, create in you a deep dislike and mistrust of government and bureaucracy? And the later revelations of the file the FBI had out on you.
John: It did, yeah. I still have that now. I don’t trust governments or politicians at all. They all become corrupt so quickly once they get into power.
Me: So, tell me the story of why you are sitting there in front of me; how you became a living dead man, with the world believing you were shot dead in 1980 and you living in Poland in 1994.
John: Help everyone! I‘m dead {in a joking tone}! Well it is no laughing matter to be dead; as you can imagine.
Me: I can’t really.
John: One of the worst things was; neither could I. But the truth was that while Yoko and I had not been getting on that well in the preceding months in 1980, you know, things weren’t that good between us, I couldn’t bear the thought of living without her.  I had spent so much time with Sean as well when he was small and I loved them very much and didn’t want to leave them.
Me: Did you dislike the idea of being hidden, like now?
John: I didn’t like the idea, no! But if the guy succeeded in shooting or killing me or whatever, then I would never see Yoko and Sean again; but if the CIA hid me, then I could at least talk to them from time to time and see how Sean grew up. Of course the secret of me being hidden had to be kept just between us three – and that has worked.
Me: I am a little confused. So who did Chapman kill?
John: No-one! That was one of the best things about it. It was a stooge in a bullet-proof vest that he shot; they had been in training to look and walk and talk like me. I stayed at home the whole time over that period. This had all been agreed with Yoko; she was very brave about it because Chapman could have shot her too, he wasn’t planning to, but he could of. But she went through with it, so I could get away safely.
We: Why didn’t the CIA just take Chapman out?
John: They had no concrete evidence against him at that time. They couldn’t just kill him without good reason. Also there is the rumour that he was a CIA trained assassin; so it would have created big waves if he had been taken out or killed; they don’t tend to kill their own unless it is really necessary. So the only way was for me to go into hiding if he ‘killed’ the stooge. If he didn’t try to kill the stooge then they should have at least been able to get enough evidence against him for loitering around me; plotting it maybe; they would have kept him under surveillance etc; then once they had
enough on him they could have arrested him and I would have been free again. But, initially, they just got wind of it and knew he had flown to the US and had a gun, which is not illegal in the US. But the source that warned about Chapman was trusted and reliable within the CIA and Chapman had been to New York earlier on, apparently intending to kill me. So the precaution was taken to have the stooge out all the time in case Chapman decided to strike, when he came back again in early December 1980. I stayed at home and hid there while Chapman was in New York. There was a part of the CIA that really believed he might try and kill me; and of course, they were proved right. They were watching all the time; even the doorman at our flat was CIA. They were supposed to catch him in the act of shooting, if he tried to kill me and stop him then; but the stooge was there in case they didn’t manage; and someone messed up; and the stooge got shot, rather than me.
We: How did they get a stooge for a job like that?
John: {smiles}. They have specially trained people in the CIA that do that kind of thing. He was well paid; apparently. They found this guy about the same height, same kind of looks, did his hair like mine, taught him to walk and talk like me. He even learned my signature, for autograph hunters. People see what they think they see. No-one was thinking there would be a stooge in my place – why should they? I met him, and he was very convincing. Good job. My twin!
Me: So the stooge wasn’t killed.
John: No! He had a bullet proof vest on the whole time. He sprayed out fake blood and staggered. It was well staged. They had a good idea Chapman would strike as they had been trailing him, as I said, and he asked me; or in fact it was the stooge; for an autograph on that day; he was getting as close as he could; ready to strike. The CIA was ready too but for some reason they couldn’t stop him shooting the stooge.
Me: So everyone thought you were shot dead, including Chapman. The only people that know better are a select group in the CIA who were sworn to secrecy and Yoko, Sean and you. Hold on, didn’t Yoko scatter your ashes in Central Park?
John: Yes {laughing loudly}! That was all part of the plan, to make it authentic. In fact, I had always made clear to Yoko that I did not want to be cremated, and I still don’t.
Me: That would explain what some people interpreted as her coldness towards your death; like the Season of Glass album cover with your blood-stained glasses on it. But Yoko also at times seemed genuinely sad when she talked about you?
John: She had to seem sad, to make it believable. Also she was feeling quite sad because she knew that I was in hiding and we wouldn’t see each other, face to face, often, or at all.
Me: But I am sure I heard doctors’ accounts, saying about your body being in the hospital etc.
John: It is not difficult to pay off a few people to talk to the press. In fact, the stooge was taken to St Luke’s Roosevelt and taken in, just in case there were any cameras around, to make it look genuine to the press; but he was secretly stretchered around the back to a private room, and apparently he changed his clothing and walked home from there. I think the CIA got someone in the hospital to talk to the press and tell other staff he tried to operate on me. The hospital authorities were told by the
CIA that I had been taken to a secret intensive care unit in a private medical centre, nearby, due to security reasons and not to tell anything about that to the press as that would put me in further danger; that it was a necessary cover up. Later on they were told that I had died. No-one had reason to doubt any of it, and no-one let on to the press. It was well handled. The stooge had a bit of bruising, through the vest and was a bit shaken, but that’s all.
Me: What if the stooge had not had fatal injuries?
John: Same procedure except the press would have been told I was in a private room at the hospital; and the hospital told I was recovering in a secure place elsewhere and to keep quiet. They would have the told the press I had gone home and I would have given a statement myself in front of the Dakota, with a bandage or two on.
Me: So Chapman actually didn’t succeed in murder after all – just attempted murder. But Chapman was imprisoned for murder, wasn’t he?
John: Yeah, I guess it should have been attempted murder, but why should I care; or anyone else. He shot the stooge four times; he intended to kill me. He deserved a murder charge. Why should I feel sorry for him?
Me: OK, that’s an incredible story; so the CIA pulled it off and here you are now. Let’s move on to a different topic. I would like to talk to you about your relationship with Brian Epstein. Are you willing to talk about it?
John: Sure – why not?
Me: What kind of relationship was it?
John: Not a gay one. He took us, The Beatles; from a scruffy bunch of rockers and he put us in nice suits with a squeaky clean image. He was really a guy who loved the theatre and was super- ambitious. He saw some potential in us that no-one else at that time saw – so that is really what his genius was. After all, what did he do before us, he sold records didn’t he? So he knew something about the industry and they say he bought ten thousand copies of ‘Love me do’ to get it in the charts.
Me: Really, is that true?
John: I don’t know, but there were rumours to that effect. I can believe it; that would have been Brian – he was, as I said, the first person who really believed in us as a group who could go somewhere; and I felt he believed in me.
Me: He described you as being a genius.
John: Did he? {Puts on a funny voice} Well thank you so much, Brian!
Me: You were close though, to him.
John: Of course, my dad took off to the merchant navy when I was five years old. I lost my mum at sixteen years old. He started off as a kind of father figure maybe, or a favourite uncle. Then he was more an older friend who looked after us, ‘his boys’ as he called us.
Me: But he was gay wasn’t he?
John: So what? He knew we were all straight, I was married most of the time the Beatles were together, to Cynthia. I couldn’t change the fact he was gay – it was his private matter as far as we were concerned, although he did proposition Pete Best one time we were in the car, back in the very early days; that was embarrassing for me and Cyn in the back of the car.
Me: So nothing happened between you and Brian; you went away on holiday together didn’t you?
John: {sighs deeply} Everyone asks me that. No, it is fine really, I can answer. Something did happen when we went to Barcelona, but nothing major. It was no big deal, there was no ‘affair’ between us. Looking back, I wanted to get closer to him, because he was our manager and I wanted to work him out. It was a little cynical I guess of me, but it worked, and we were much closer afterwards. The thing is, that gays often keep on pestering you, and you have to tell them where to get off. But I couldn’t do that to Brian, he was too important a person to me. I had lost those closest in the past, I was afraid of losing him; which is of course what happened in the end. Brian was also very needy for love, it appealed to me. Then he died, suddenly in ’67.
Me: But his death was not your fault at all. Do you know why he died?
John: No, not really. His death was ruled an accident, but he was on pills, we knew that. I saw in Spain how much he was on; he couldn’t sleep a lot of the time and would wander around at night. Probably it was an accidental overdose. But we will never know for sure.
Me: Did you miss him?
John: Sure, I missed him. There was this feeling of being on a ship without a rudder, once Brian was gone. I had lost someone close to me tragically for the third time in about ten years, and it hurt me deeply. The shock was tremendous. As I said, he was like this older brother, or father figure to us. I knew The Beatles had no real future without Brian, I could lead them as a group, on stage, but off it, and in business, I was lost. We were lost.
Me: So is that what you blame for the breakup of The Beatles?
John: In a large part, yes. But there were so many other factors. We were all married by 1970 you know, how could we take part in it all anymore? How could you go on tour, with all that went along with it, when you were married and were thinking of having a family? It had all become at the end like some kind of parody of itself, a grotesque kind of circus. We couldn’t hear ourselves play, they were screaming so loud. Recording had become a bore really. We had been together for about ten years by the end, you know. I couldn’t wait to get out, but I didn’t know how to do it for a long time.
Me: A lot of people blame Yoko.
John: {Grimaces} She was an easy target: Japanese, foreign, a woman artist; she was different. People don’t like what is different, and she was as different as can be. But she didn’t break us up, I had had enough of The Beatles, long before I met Yoko. Once we stopped touring we died, as far as I could see. I liked playing rock to audiences, particularly in the early days; that was us at our best as far as I was concerned. We were the best around, Brian said so too. But when that was taken away it all became so claustrophobic and paranoid; and I wanted to go off in a different direction.
Me: People were hurt though, by the breakup.
John: You mean the public?
Me: Yes, everyone who loved The Beatles was hurt.
John: Sorry everyone {laughs quietly}. What could we do? The dream was over. The Beatles was like a dream that went on for about ten years or so, and then ended. A lot of people made a lot of money out of us, and lived well off our popularity. Everyone bought into it and everyone who did was hurt when it ended. But we just couldn’t do it anymore. It took so much out of us to be The Beatles, we had to work so hard, put up with so much misery. In fact, the best bit was probably in Hamburg, before we got famous, and I know the others agree with me on that.
Me: OK, back to the present, now. Do you go out of the house at times?
John: Yeah; from time to time, usually, when it is dark. For a walk, sometimes, I have to get out. I have a CIA guy who does the shopping and sorts out other things; after all I have never got to grips with Polish; it’s so hard.
Me: Aren’t you worried that someone will recognise you when you are out?
John: No-one is expecting me to be John Lennon, and I look a lot different now don’t I, than I did? I have this huge beard, and I’m much thinner and I wear contact lenses now rather than glasses. So; no, would you have recognised me if I hadn’t approached you?
Me: I might think you were just someone who looks like you. Of course I believed you dead, until we first met, last week.
John: {smiles widely}. Exactly, like everyone else. No, I never had a problem with anyone recognising me, but on the other hand, some people are really nosey; so I haven’t been out much; I am more of a prisoner in this place than anything else. My Polish name is Jan Brzezkovski, I still can’t pronounce it.
Me: I’m sure you didn’t think of that name.
John: {Laughs}. Like I said, I can’t even pronounce it that well. Although I have made some progress in learning Polish over the last years and I can say a few things now; but not my name.
Me: Why did they bring you to Poland?
John: They thought no-one would recognise me here and I could hide easily. I would be well away from anyone who might want to copy what Chapman did; if they recognised me. Well away from America and its politics as well.
Me: What do you think about rumours that part of the CIA really wanted to kill you; that Reagan had it in for you and turned a blind eye?
John: Well, the CIA saved me actually, but there are rumours that some faction in the government and CIA wanted me dead, and Chapman was in Beirut for some reason, a CIA hotbed. So there are all these questions; what is certainly true is someone wanted to kill me. Chapman may have been
trained to do it by someone else, but who cares? I was always anti-war and said so; that made me enemies. So it is likely that got me into trouble, but maybe Chapman was just a crackpot – it is unclear.
Me: Should they investigate?
John: What for? So what if it was the government or the CIA? Everyone knows they kill people all the time anyway – those who get in their way. But I was lucky to have supporters in the CIA, who heard about Chapman, or the plot centred on him or whatever it was; and they got me out in time.
Me: So the CIA is looking after you here?
John: They do keep an eye on things, yes.  It is in their interest to keep me from making any stupid mistakes and giving myself away. There is this guy who sorts things out for me. The people who got me here would be compromised if my death was discovered as a fake, you know. They thought, OK, let’s take him somewhere he won’t be found; in order to save his life. They are trying to keep it a secret still – only a few people know – some have died since 1980 – I think of natural causes. They just did it to save me. I am grateful, but this is just another kind of death.
Me: Didn’t you worry at one time the secret might get out from within the CIA? And someone else might try and kill you?
John: That worried me a first. But that was one reason why they bought me here, to Poland. Well out of the way of trouble, well away from the USA. I don’t think anyone would fear my influence here; they may have feared my connections in New York, with the peaceniks and so on. I couldn’t reveal myself as such a phoney figure; going along with a faked assassination anyway; so if I emerged from this, I would be weakened in their eyes. They don’t fear me now – and I don’t fear them. It’s just this loneliness of anonymity, and the irrational fear that someone will spot you all the time you are out – though it has never happened, as I said.
Me: So you do go out regularly.
John: Yes, otherwise I would go mad. I don’t go shopping; too many people; but I walk in the forest here where there are miles and miles of paths where you hardly see a soul - that is a release for me. I have the CIA contact here who I see sometimes, who gets the shopping sorted and any repairs; or legal matters about the place.
Me: The one who sorts things out then?
John: Yes, that’s right. We have to agree what I can do and not do. He was the one who, when found out about you; said we could do the interview under certain conditions, which is why we are doing this in my place and in a couple of takes, so there is no risk of anyone finding out. I don’t think that after thirteen years or so here there would be a problem, but he is extra careful, it’s his job.
Me: I’m glad you think we are safe at least.
John: {grins}. Me too!
Me: Let’s move onto other people’s music now. What is your favourite song of all time?
John: Now that is really hard – you’ve got me there! It would have to be some rock ‘n’ roll song, as that is what changed my life back then, the first time I heard it. Maybe ‘Johnny B Goode’ by Chuck Berry, or ‘Whole Lotta Shakin’ – there are so many. But it would have to be an early rocker like those. That is what music should be to me, elemental and from the gut, just talking to you straight.
Me: Why did, does, rock ‘n’ roll speak to you so deeply, and to so many others?
John: I think it comes from the gut, the real rock ‘n’ roll that started in the South of the USA, you know. Elvis really brought it to a white audience, but it was originally black. People like Little Richard and Chuck Berry were there near the start of it and helped make the sound. It really gives a basic rhythm, like a heartbeat. We all hear our mother’s heartbeat in the womb; maybe that is what it reminds us of. Rock ‘n’ roll though means a man and woman rocking and rolling in bed, so that is what it was about to begin with, in terms of subject matter. The early lyrics were quite suggestive, you know. So I think it is quite sexual as well, but for me it is a celebration of life, and it spoke to me like nothing else.  Still does.
Me: Do you think it went deep with you because you were hurting about your mother and felt alienated in some way?
John: Yeah, maybe. I was always looking for something to get me to escape. I used to daydream a lot and go off on my own for hours, sometimes to the local quarry. And just sit. Music just spoke to me, and yes, I think it spoke louder after my mother died. You look for that healing anywhere you can find it. Looking back I was angry that life had treated me like that, and rock ‘n’ roll just sounded rebellious and fresh. A beat speaks to you, like jungle drums, it is communication on a basic level and you need that if you are hurting, it definitely brings comfort and escape. It really did for me.
Me: What music do you like to listen to?
John: Everything and nothing. Pop music; I have mixed feelings about. I like reggae and Bob Marley and disco. Rod Stewart is a great voice too.
Me: Do you like Oasis for example?
John: They’re OK. But like so many bands, I just get the feeling that it has all been done before. There is nothing out there at the moment that really excites me at all. But they say that music goes in cycles; so maybe that is just the way it is; The Beatles borrowed from rhythm and blues to music hall, everyone is influenced by what came before. But I think we added something; that is what is missing today. Where are the original ideas? I feel the last progress was with reggae; in that it seemed to be a new style of music in its own right; that had grown out of previous forms. Just like rock ‘n’ roll grew out of rhythm and blues and maybe country and hillbilly, you know?
Me: You think that music has gone as far as it can go?
John: For now yeah. Or if you look at what has been coming out for the last few years it looks that way.
Me: What about U2; what do you think of them?
John. Again, they’re OK. They are one of the few bands I feel is really sincere about what they’re doing and I respect that a lot. They have made a few great songs. Their music comes from the gut – you can tell they mean it; it is quite elemental as well, like some of The Beatles’ stuff.
Me: What else do you think is wrong with pop music today, then?
John: Pop music is what is playing on the radio, what is popular. If I would pick anything out, it might be some of the subject matter, I don’t think gangsters and killing and prostitutes are the best topics for a song – but then maybe I am just being old fashioned. After all, rock ‘n’ roll wasn’t exactly popular with the older generation when it first arrived.
Me: People are often amazed at the variety of music The Beatles brought out. Where did that variety, that creativity, come from, do you think?
John: Like all good music I think it came from within us. We were rather like little kids playing around in a playground, our playground was music. You see, we were so confident in some ways, everyone was always saying we wouldn’t last another six months, but we knew we were the best and we could take it higher and higher; and we did. There was a feeling between us as musicians, at the beginning, that we could create together. We complemented each other well and there was chemistry there too.
Me: Where did it peak then, for you?
John: Where or when?
Me: When.
John: I think around Pepper time. I think Sergeant Pepper was the peak – we were really on top of the world then, it was just before we started to come apart at the seams. Although I have always loved straight rock and I thought some songs might have been better as straight rock. But it was a great record anyway.
Me: So you are proud of the music The Beatles made?
John: Now, yes. Right after we split up, in fact for quite a few years after, there were all these undercurrents, between Paul, me and George as well. Then there were all the quarrels about these huge sums of money, who owned what etc. It took years and years to sort it all out. That tarnished how I felt about The Beatles as a group and also our music. Also I was making my own music and I didn’t want just to rest on my laurels, you know? But now, listening to it again, gives me great pleasure, and yes, I am proud of what we did, I think we made some great records that will last forever.
Me: Are you proud of the Beatles overall?
John: Yes, I think I have the right to be. We ruled the world, or at least the music world; for quite a few years, not many people do that. We sang about love and some mystical things, we were never nasty or inciting anything bad, I am proud of that. So; in general; yes. But I had to kill it off. There were so many horrible things about being a Beatle. From the outside it looks so fantastic, all the fame and the money and so on. But we were like the biggest freak show on Earth. We were in this
prison of our fame and everyone wanted a piece of us as if we were exotic creatures in a cage to be stared at and discussed. The worst were the middle class mayors and the mayor’s wife who would throw a fit if we didn’t agree to meet them; then they would patronise us, it was dreadful. But I am proud of our music, and I think we spread a message of love around the world.
Me: Why do you think the Beatles were so successful?
John: Well we were a great band, you know. We wrote great songs. What I think we did, looking back, was take American music and repackage it and sold it back to them, and to everyone else. I always thought rock ‘n’ roll was maybe the greatest art form, you know. It can reach young people. I think together we were able to take that and push it a bit further, elaborate on it. I think we made some great music together and we always tried to be original. In a way I think we were all just lucky, that there was this magical kind of synergy between us, even when we were not getting on, there was chemistry there. Each one brought his own genius to it, and it seemed to work like that. We were true to ourselves; and made music because we loved it and it was all we could do. In a way we represented the freedom of a child; to do what they like. That is partly what attracted people to us. And we gave it one hundred per cent all the time; we gave it everything we had.
Me: Why did, and do, people love you personally – as a person; and the other Beatles, do you think?
John: I’m not sure. I think a lot of it comes through the music, they love that. People need something to idolise, and we happened to be the biggest band in the world. Each of The Beatles was unique, we were all individuals and we weren’t pretending to be anything we weren’t, we just got on with it. We were probably the gang of loveable kids in the neighbourhood, but on a global scale.
Me: Who was most important in the Beatles success?
John: No-one can be singled out. There were a lot of people involved, like Brian and George Martin, who did a lot for us. In the group itself, as I said, I wouldn’t single anyone out, we were a collective in that way; we just worked together. Yes, there was rivalry, but not to be the most important, just to make the best song or whatever. So, that kind of brotherhood and rivalry together was part of what made the Beatle magic. But towards the end it got stale and like all things it had to end.
Me: Do you like Paul?
John: Yeah, he was a friend of mine before I disappeared; always was. But friends can fall out, they often do. And then later they become friends again. That is where we were at in 1980; we were together again as friends. Of course there are things about him I don’t like, it is rare to like everything about one person I think, there are always things you don’t like. I’m sure he would say the same about me. In fact he has {laughs}. But we have no contact now; only Yoko and Sean know I am alive, plus a few CIA people who are sworn, most seriously, to secrecy and would not dare tell. I have followed Paul’s career with interest.
Me: Yes, what do you think of Paul’s music since he left The Beatles?
John: Well, now… that would be telling {smiles}.  Some of it is good. I liked ‘Coming Up’ a lot. No-one produces magic all the time, you know. It is really hard to make a classic. Few people do, if you think about it. Paul can write a great melody, sometimes his lyrics are a bit weak, but he never says ‘kill’ or
anything negative – I really like ‘Pipes of Peace’ – great song and great lyrics too! He is a genius in his own way. Paul is very commercial and knows how to write so that it will sell. I prefer music that comes from the gut; as I said earlier, that is why rock and roll got to me when I first heard it. I thought, this is something real, this speaks to me. Paul has done some good work though. He can find something really simple that sounds appealing and he has a lot of talent as a musician. Let’s not forget he wrote ‘Yesterday’, one of the greatest songs of all time. I liked ‘Mull of Kintyre’, that was poetry.
Me: But quite a lot of his work leaves you cold?
John: Yes, to be honest. It doesn’t come from the heart, sometimes it sounds like lift music. Paul needs a good collaborator to do his best work; he needs someone to push him.
Me: Someone like you?
John: Well, yes. We pushed each other in The Beatles and it worked well most of the time. I think a lot of his best work was done then, probably me too. Afterwards, I had Yoko to push me and Phil Spector to guide me in the studio. I don’t think Paul has found that person he needs to push him to do his best stuff since The Beatles split up. But I liked ‘Live and Let Die’ and some others of his. As I said, he is a talent, always was.
Me: If you were able to, would you work again with Paul, or the other Beatles?
John: I played with George and Ringo, on ‘I’m the Greatest’ in 1973, from one of Ringo’s albums. They have both contributed a few parts to various songs I have released. Of course, we have had no contact since 1980. There is no chance now. Maybe it is better to let sleeping dogs lie.
Me: And Paul?
John: I did jam with Paul in ’74 when we were doing ‘Pussy Cats’ for Harry Nilsson. It was alright, someone recorded it, but it was just messing around. Maybe there is too much history between me and Paul; there is probably a feeling that we should let sleeping dogs lie, you know. Now it is not possible. People always wanted The Beatles to get back together.
Me: But if you all had had the chance to get together, would you have?
John: People kept offering us millions for that, as you can imagine. But we were off on different paths and didn’t want to relive what was past. I had enough of that in the 60’s and I had no interest in going back. I know the other three played at Clapton’s wedding in ’79, but no-one told me about it, otherwise, for that occasion; I might have made an exception and done it. But I don’t want any more excitement related to re-living the past, it has gone and we have to move on. I have always believed in living now and looking to now and the future; the past never had that much for me.
Me: If you could do a different job to being a musician, what would you do?
John: I have no idea {laughs}. I wouldn’t have a clue what to do. I was born to be a musician, I guess.
Me: Do you think you, personally, have made great music since you left the Beatles?
John: Yeah, some. I have missed having someone like Paul, with all his skill and ideas, to work with, although I enjoyed working with Yoko. I have worked with various people but Paul and I grew up together and went through it all together; and as I say, he has a kind of magic about him; that he can come up with something special just like that. That kind of close friendship doesn’t happen too often between men, I missed that as well.
Me: How do you feel about your most famous solo work, ‘Imagine’?
John: I am proud of it. I should have given Yoko more credit at the time, because she really inspired it with one of the poems from ‘Grapefruit’. When I was younger I had this macho thing, ‘Why should I give her any credit?’ I was stupid in that way – half of the song is hers really.
Me: Do you still have that kind of idealism?
John: Yes; although it has changed a little. Maybe I am a bit more cynical about things, but I don’t think that we should let idealism die – it can be a force for good. If we all abandon our hope, and ‘Imagine’ if you look at the lyrics, is really a song of hope – if we imagine this, then maybe it can happen. Or at least the world could be a bit better than if we all imagine horrible things, because what starts in our imagination often ends up being reality. That is one thing Yoko taught me, the power of the mind, of positive thinking, of wishing for the right things to come true.
Me: Do you still believe in peace then?
John: How could I not? What else do I have to believe in? This is idealism again, isn’t it, that we are talking about? Of course peace does not always happen in reality, but we can go on hoping for it, and believing in it. The church has been telling people to believe in love for thousands of years; is the world full of love? No it isn’t, but it is still a great idea to believe in it, because just because things are not ideal, it doesn’t mean they can’t be, or they won’t be. We have no choice but to go on hoping. I hate to see people who have given up – that is really sad. That is anti-life and we mustn’t let that happen.
Me: ‘We all wanna change the world…’ you sang in ‘Revolution’.
John: Yeah, exactly. Even then I didn’t know how to solve those problems any more than anyone does. I just thought, this is going on, in ’68 there were riots and so on in places, and the students were up in arms. I believe in peace and still do, but things can be so wrong that I understand that people want to rebel, but it doesn’t have to be violent, Gandhi showed that. It still has an effect if you just come out on the streets in numbers; as politicians are afraid of losing their appeal to the masses, who voted them in in the first place, right?
Me: Like Nixon?
John: Yes, like him, and many others. Power corrupts, but no-one has the right to wage war where there is no reason for it. I was labelled a peacenik, a peace lover or whatever, in the USA. Well, so label me. Go ahead, if it makes someone even think about peace then fine.
Me: But it didn’t do you any favours with the Nixon administration, did it?
John: No, {short laugh}, so much so they tried to deport me. That went on for a long time until I got my green card to stay in the USA, as I said earlier. It caused me a lot of trouble.
Me: You are the hero of a generation, so you are powerful in that way.
John: Yes, and I hope I made a generation think about peace. All we were saying, as the song goes: {sings} ‘is give peace a chance.’  That was what the bed in with Yoko was about and what I have always believed. We can only encourage people to think, and I am sure if people think, they will see that peace is the only way. We can’t go to Vietnam and kill families and children and women because they want to follow Communism – that is madness, evil madness. Anyone can see that, just the politicians want to follow an agenda that involves power and is corrupted by money and they try and fool everyone.
Me: Just like you said about the Maharishi in ‘Sexy Sadie’?
John: Exactly, he was no politician but he tried to fool us all into thinking he was something he wasn’t – just like a politician would do.
Me: Do you follow anyone; or any religion now?
John: Not really. I went through a Christian phase in the USA. I am agnostic now. I think Jesus was alright you know, he tried to do good things and said good things. But the church has just become a political institution now; I don’t know where they are going. I don’t think I really believe in God or whatever that is; it doesn’t make sense to me. I think, we evolved like other creatures but we are very intelligent and sensitive creatures with complex needs and feelings. We are alive for a few decades and that is all we have, tough, what can we do?
Me: So, no Church of Lennon then?
John: {laughs aloud} No way and no thanks! I don’t want to be worshipped, I just want people to listen and use their brains a bit more; that’s all. There is so much good in people, but life doesn’t let it out – that is sad. I wish we could change that.  
Me: Can we change subject completely now?
John: Sure.
Me: Can we talk in more detail about the women in your life?
John: OK {grins}.
Me: Can we start with the first one – Cynthia?
John: Yeah, we can talk about Cynthia {pauses}. She was the first one, as you said. We met at the art school in Liverpool where we were both studying. We were only seventeen I think {sings} ‘we were just seventeen, you know what I mean, when I saw her standing there,’ {laughs}. Yeah, we were young and it seemed like love, you know. I was very much into the Teddy Boy thing with the hair, like a duck’s backside, we used to call it a D.A ; and she was actually quite prim and proper. She was engaged to someone else when we started going out.
Me: What was the attraction then?
John: It is hard to say exactly. She was quite attractive, I thought she looked a bit like Bridget Bardo, with whom I was obsessed then, and I made her dye her hair blond as well, so she looked even more like her.
Me: She has said that you had a look that said, ‘kill’.
John: {laughs aloud} Maybe, but I probably didn’t feel that way inside. I had a big chip on my shoulder  as I grew up; because of my dad leaving when I was small and my mum not really being in my life much either. I think there was anger there on my part, particularly towards women, I felt betrayed and when you feel that way it makes you touchy, you know. I was touchy and couldn’t stand anyone getting the better of me. That feeling got much worse when my mother died; but on the other hand I think it also created a need in me; to replace what I had lost.
Me: Cynthia says she loved you; did you love her?
John: I wasn’t aware that she loved me during the early Beatle years – we were too busy. We had married in ’62, a shotgun wedding they call it don’t they? She was pregnant with Julian and I thought I had to do the right thing by her. We were working twenty hours a day to be The Beatles, it was hard, hard work; when everyone else was taking it easy. It had an effect of making me and Cyn more and more distant.
Me: And there were the groupies as well?
John: Yes, of course there were; there always are. I must have been with hundreds of different women over that period, it was like they were on tap you know, even from Hamburg onwards.
Me: Are you proud of that?
John: No. Of course I’m not proud. I was married with a child, you might say I shouldn’t have done it. But it was temptation, all the time, I was a young man and young men tend to take the opportunities they get.
Me: Do you think you treated Cynthia badly?
John: Looking back I think I did. I was a macho pig at times and I hit out at women, including Cyn. I was frustrated with the whole Beatle thing and exhausted as well, although I know that is no excuse. I hadn’t wanted to marry her really, and I also felt trapped. There was this huge gap in me, gaping open all the time, a kind of festering sore; after losing my mum and then Stu. I think that was working its way out. But there is no excuse for hitting a woman, I would never do it now. But at that time I probably thought it was tough, or something stupid like that; it is not tough, it’s cowardly and wrong.
Me: Then, while you were still married to Cynthia, you met Yoko?
John: Yeah, it was actually in ’65. She was over in London wanting to look at some music scores and I gave her, ‘The Word’ which was the song The Beatles were working on at the time. Then we met again at the Indica Gallery where she was having an exhibition; that was late ’66, over a year later.
Me: Was it love at first sight?
John {smiles}. Not really. I found her fascinating, that is true, and I was intrigued by her art. It said something positive to me; and I have always loved positivity. Remember that I went to art-college and that Stu was my best friend, I was always interested in art and always drew silly sketches and things. So when I met Yoko I was, as I say, intrigued.
Me: Cynthia says that Yoko made a major play for you; calling at your house and phoning you etc.
John: Yes, that is true, she did. I guess we were really into each other from the start, but I was married and so was Yoko. I think we both knew that it was not going to be easy. Love is a difficult thing usually, and people get hurt; Shakespeare said that the course of true love never ran smooth, didn’t he?
Me: Cynthia was hurt, so was Yoko’s husband. And Julian, your son, was hurt too.
John: Unfortunately yes. That is true too. But it was love, and love is unstoppable, it cannot be prevented, it just is. Trying to stop love is like trying to stop the sun from rising in the morning, you know. When love happens for real then everything else stops and has to fit in with that. Yoko quickly became the centre of my universe, and that was how it stayed.
Me: What do you say to the people who still criticise Yoko and say she is manipulative and she has a bad aura and so on?
John: I say to them; ‘Go to hell!’ People that don’t know her say that. The people that know her usually like her. She is a woman of another culture and in addition an artist. I think a lot of people were, and are, threatened by her, by her strength and intelligence. Men don’t like women who seem to be in control, it scares them.
Me: Do you think she has a bad side to her character?
John: Who doesn’t? I do, so do you. We all have a bad side don’t we? But we work on it.
Me: Do you still love Yoko?
John: Yes, although we had our problems, serious ones, I still love her. It may be more of the kind of love you have for a sister now, than for a wife or lover, I haven’t seen her in over ten years. We talk on the phone a few times a year; we talk about Sean and many things. They, the CIA, will not allow us to meet. But she is the only woman I ever loved, apart from my mum, and that never goes away.
Me: Looking back on your meeting and life with her, how would you sum up her influence on your life?
John: You mean Yoko?
Me: Yeah.
John: Again, it is hard to put into words. She changed my life for ever, of course. That is what happens when you love someone, your life changes in the instant you realise you love them,
because that is suddenly the most important thing in your universe. And that is what she was to me. Still is.
Me: You said you were already married to Cynthia when you met Yoko, is that right?
John: Yes. You might say I acted like a pig over that period. I treated Cynthia badly and I was unkind to Julian as well. I hated myself for that, but as I say, love took over, I couldn’t stop it. It just happened and that is that. I couldn’t get a divorce in private, it had to go through the press and it was hell for everyone, they picked on Yoko mercilessly. But I didn’t love Cynthia like I loved Yoko. This happens all the time to other people, but we were under the microscope of our fame, which made it much worse, you know.
Me: You didn’t see much of Julian after you moved to New York with Yoko, did you?
John: No, and that is yet another thing I feel guilty about {smiles ironically}.
Me: Does he know you are alive?
John: No! Neither does Cynthia! We had to keep the number of people who knew down to just Yoko and Sean, otherwise it would have got out that I was still alive, sooner or later someone would have let it slip, and what then?
Me: Surely, you regret that.
John: I do, but I have so many regrets, as I said I am not really alive here in Poland, just waiting to die really.
Me: OK, let’s move onto May Pang.
John: You might say I had a love affair with May. It lasted a couple of years. We were lovers, yes, for quite a long time.
Me: While you were still with Yoko?
John: Yeah, we were still married but we were having some serious problems in our marriage at that time, around early ’73. Yoko threw me out. She said it was too claustrophobic and I was even literally following her to the toilet. Maybe it was just the seven year itch. She wanted a break from us. Things weren’t working out at that time between me and Yoko. As always she was the boss and kind of decided that me and May should get together. May had been our assistant, so we knew each other well and I didn’t object, as she was gorgeous {smiles}.
Me: Some people would see that as a strange arrangement, Yoko organising a girlfriend for you.
John: I suppose they would, yes. Looking back it was strange, but Yoko was a fixer and to me it seemed natural enough. Yoko just didn’t want me there anymore and got someone else to look after me; I think she was worried that I would fall off the edge of the world without someone to watch over me – she was probably right.
Me: So in ’73 you started an affair with May Pang – and your so-called ‘Lost Weekend’.
John: Yes, and it was so much fun {grins}. Looking back at it, I loved that time, but part of me was aching to be with Yoko, and I felt that rejection and abandonment again, in spite of May being there. I tried to call Yoko every day over that period, sometimes a few times a day. I still missed her you see. I needed all the time to be loved by her, and she had thrown me out, which hurt me.
Me: Did you, do you, love May Pang?
John: For sure I did. I haven’t seen her now for years of course. She doesn’t know I am alive, so I can’t really say if I love her now or not. But she was, and I am sure, is, a beautiful person and we were very happy for a year or so.
Me: There is a story that you once tried to strangle her; is that true?
John: I am ashamed to say, yes. I had been drinking hard, but that is no excuse. I was a pig, and mad in my head too at that time. I can’t forgive myself for that. My friends pulled me off her, I thought she said something about my mum, it is a blur now. But as I say, I am ashamed of that episode.
Me: May Pang helped you get back in touch though, with Sean, your son.
John: Yeah, like I say, she is a beautiful person.
Me: Why do you think Yoko didn’t do that for you?
John: Umm. I think that Yoko was probably threatened a bit by Julian, because he was from a previous marriage. She wanted to keep him away.
Me: But he had a right to see you. And you him.
John: That’s right. But Yoko is hard to shift; she is the fixer and the boss in general and hard to get around.
Me:  Why did you leave May Pang in ’75 and go back to Yoko?
John: Uhh… I don’t know.
Me: Did and does Yoko have some kind of hold on you?
John: Yes, it is called love! But love is painful and awkward and hurtful a lot of the time. There are all these miseries and confusion.  We had our problems and there are still things about her I would change; but she would say the same about me. When we talk now, it still seems like love between us, even in these strange circumstances. You see, I was always looking for love, and I think I found it with Yoko; but love is never easy. I guess Yoko was like Julia, my mother – arty and unconventional in her approach to life. When my mum died there was like, this huge gap, and Yoko was the first, maybe the only woman, who could really take her place.
Me: So, you went back to Yoko in ‘75 and had Sean, your second son and became a house husband.
John: Yes I did. It was a conscious decision on my part as I knew Yoko couldn’t really look after Sean and the job fell to me. But I was glad to do it, I had had enough of parties and drugs and drink and
making music in studios and the whole thing. Just being with my child and making bread was what I wanted to do; and that is what I did.
Me: OK onto the next topic. Were you touched by the outpouring of feeling that the world showed after your fake death?
John: Of course I was. I never thought I was that loved by so many people – it was wonderful; but of course I felt guilty that they were being fooled in a way. I guess now I am on my way out in a few weeks, I feel that less.
Me: Sorry – what do you mean – ‘I am on my way out in a few weeks?’
John: I only have a few weeks to live, according to the doctors.
Me: {long silence}. I thought you said you had a short time; earlier on, but I didn’t realise it was that short. When did you find that out?
John: A week ago. I went for some more tests. I have been a heavy smoker most of my life. I didn’t want to shock you too much, early in the interview. I thought it might spoil it.
Me: I am shocked; and saddened too. {Long pause} Are you afraid of dying?
John: Not really. I have had time to get used to the idea. I was afraid when I was younger but now I believe it is just nothing after death, so it will be like before I was born. The hard thing is not seeing your loved ones, Sean and Yoko, again – that is hard to take but we have to say the final goodbye and that is it. At least we can do that, I never had the chance to say goodbye to my mum or Stu. We don’t know what is coming next, after death, how can we? But I think it is just nothing.  In my case, I don’t like my life here that much, but I will miss Sean and Yoko, even though I never see them, they are still in my life and in my heart. But I really think it is just nothing when you go, blood stops circulating to the brain, like a blackout that lasts for ever. Eternity can be terrifying because we like a sense of scale. We are terrified of what we don’t understand or can’t grasp. The changeover is the hardest part so I hope it doesn’t take too long, that they dose me up with morphine and I can just slip away then.
Me: You are being brave about it. Do you regret you came here to Poland; that they put you into hiding?
John: No, because, while it has been at a distance it has enabled me to watch Sean become a fine young man, and to keep in touch with Yoko. Also I have carried on working; that is writing, at least until recently.
Me: Books or music?
John: Both in fact. But of course I can’t put them out. I just do it for my own satisfaction.
Me: I would love to hear some of the songs.
John: To be honest I don’t want to play them to anyone. They were just for me. I might send them to Yoko before I die, but I am not sure, again, she has enough to deal with as it is.
Me: You said, ‘until recently’. So you have no plans to make any more music before you pass away?
John: No. That is all over for me. My creative juices have run dry now I am facing the end.
Me: Do you think the world is a better place than when you were younger?
John: Not really, no. Because it is always the same kind of people who get into positions of power, either that, or they’re corrupted by it all. So, we have wars, like The Falklands and others, that are unnecessary, rather like Vietnam was in the ‘70s. We are still waging wars where peace would do, you know.
Me: So, is there a solution, like another bed-in?
John: I don’t think the bed-in with Yoko was a solution; but it wasn’t intended to be. We made a few people think hard about peace, at least we did that, we tried. Ultimately the people have the power to vote for politicians, so if we can make at least some people think about peace then, great.
Me: Do you think you are naïve about peace?
John: I hope not. Wanting something is not necessarily naïve. I would like to aspire to peace, to everyone having it. We have to keep trying, it is too important a cause to give up.
Me: So you really think peace is possible?
John: I don’t want to live in a world where it isn’t; so, yes.
Me: Would you describe yourself as a genius?
John: When I was younger I used to think that. Now I don’t care much. I have made some good music and I am happy with that. I wanted recognition and I got it. So now it doesn’t matter to me if I am a genius or not. It is flattering to be thought of as one though.
Me: One final question; what would be your final message to the world?
John: Just to think about the good things; like peace and love and try to believe in them. Hard as it is, I think the world would be even worse without some people who believe that good things are at least possible. I still think if we all want it, we can have a better world. There is always a chance that it might work. We have to think positive, or we have nothing.
Me: John Lennon, thank you, it has been fascinating talking to you.
John: {Smiles} Thank you.

Source: www.goodreads.com