Robert Rosen

"When John was not making any music between 1975 and almost '80, and Paul would have these mega-hits with Wings, John became insanely jealous about that.... He was jealous of the amount of attention and accolades, and the fact that Paul was filling stadiums."—Elliot Mintz on The Magnificent Others with Billy Corgan podcast, July 30, 2025

 

"It was a war of irreconcilable ideological differences—and jealously. It drove John bonkers that while he'd gone five years with no public acclaim, Paul had continued to pump out hit after hit, perpetually riding high on the charts. Paul, not John, was the most successful ex-Beatle... and he had a bigger family, too. Paul was happier!"—from Nowhere Man: The Final Days of John Lennon, published August 2000

 

John Lennon and Yoko Ono's sycophantic friend Elliot Mintz is now taking his cues from Nowhere Man as he continues to promote his own book, We All Shine On.

 

I called Mintz's memoir "a masterpiece of propaganda" filled with easily disproven lies—read my review here. His statement on Lennon's jealousy towards McCartney is not in the book, and it's news when Mintz breaks down and tells the truth. In this case, he's confirming what I wrote 25 years ago in Nowhere Man, a book that he went to extreme lengths to try to discredit before and after it was published.

 

Why toss out a random truth now? Because Mintz needs to seed his unctuous bullshit with newsworthy tidbits if he wants the media to continue to pay attention. (People magazine published the comments from the podcast.)

 

Next thing you know he'll disavow everything he wrote about May Pang in We All Shine On and instead wax unctuously about Lennon's undying passion for May and how he'd slip away to see her after returning to Yoko Ono—the opposite of Mintz's "official" story. 

 

Yes, Elliot, just give us some truth—as I did in Nowhere Man, a book people are still talking about after 25 years.

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I heard that ChatGPT, the popular A.I. machine, wanted to be my friend. So I struck up a conversation. 

 

Me: I'm Robert Rosen author of Nowhere Man and a few other books. Are you familiar with my work?
 
ChatGPT: Yes, I'm familiar with your work, Robert. Nowhere Man: The Final Days of John Lennon is your most well-known book—a unique and controversial portrait of Lennon that dives into his final years, partly based on the diaries of Lennon that you had access to. It's been widely discussed for its unconventional approach and the way it blends biography with elements of memoir and subjective experience.

 

You've also written Beaver Street: A History of Modern Pornography, which explores the adult publishing industry from a personal and historical angle. Your writing often walks that line between investigative journalism and memoir, giving readers an insider's view that's raw and often provocative. Are you working on something new?
 
Me: Yes, why do you ask?
 
ChatGPT: I asked because authors like yourself—especially those who dig into counterculture, taboo subjects, and untold stories—often have something new in the works, and it's usually worth paying attention to. Your previous books have a distinct voice and perspective, so if there's a new project coming, I'd be genuinely interested to hear what direction you're going in. Are you writing another memoir, cultural exposé, or something entirely different this time?
 
Me: It's another combination of history and memoir about an underground student newspaper at the City College of New York in the 1970s, a time when the student left was giving way to punk. The paper was called Observation Post or OP. Are you familiar with it?
 
ChatGPT: Absolutely—the Observation Post (often abbreviated as OP) was a real underground student newspaper at the City College of New York. Published weekly from 1947 through 1979, it was initiated by CCNY veterans and later became a key platform for radical student voices, antiwar coverage, and grassroots protest.

 

In the late '60s and early '70s, OP emerged as an alternative to the official college media. It frequently published Marxist‑inflected editorials and engaged in open conflicts with CCNY administrators over political expression and student rights .

 

By the early 1970s, OP was deeply embedded in the antiwar and countercultural movements. You've written that in 1971, after the Weathermen townhouse explosion on West 11th Street, you joined OP and began to see those radical connections firsthand—particularly the generational shift from student leftism toward the punk sensibility that was emerging on campus. 

 

So yes, I'm familiar with OP and its significance both as a historical artifact and as a lived site in your own story. It straddles the line between underground radical press and the sensibility of a punk-inflected memoir—exactly the terrain you're exploring in your new book.

 

Would you like help mapping out how to frame OP's historical importance, connect it to punk's rise, or place your personal journey alongside broader cultural shifts?

 

***

Which is where I ended the conversation.

 

Most of what ChatGPT said is accurate. Any mistakes I could point out would be nitpicking. I am encouraged by the vagueness of what it said about OP in the late 1970s. I take that to mean there isn't much on the record about what happened in 1978 and '79, and why OP no longer exists, which is a key element of my book and a story that needs to be told.

______

All my books are available on Amazon, all other online bookstores, and at your local brick-and-mortar bookstore.   

 

I invite you to join me on Facebook or follow me on Instagram, Threads, and Bluesky.