Had he lived, John Lennon would have turned 85 tomorrow, October 9. To commemorate the day, I'm sharing the complete birthday chapter from my book Nowhere Man.
October 9
Libra: Now is a time for action, not deliberation. You have had the whole of 1980 to decide what you want out of life and how your talents and skills can best be employed. Now you must act. This is a period of expansion and fulfillment, and you must not fail to see that it is up to you alone to decide what is right for you. Now it's not really money and security that count but your own self-esteem and spiritual growth.
Aquarius: Mars is too close to Uranus, your ruler, in that part of your solar chart related to prestige and standing. This will affect how people in positions of authority consider you. Either apologize and retract this October or you could be out in the cold.
It was John's and Sean's birthday. Last year there were no deadlines, only time. Having just returned from another extended stay in Japan, John spent the morning alone in his bedroom. He was 39, getting ready for life to begin at 40. Since 1967, when he recorded Sgt. Pepper, everything had passed in the blink of an eye, and that was frightening. It was a dozen years ago today.... Staring aimlessly out the window at Central Park West, he recalled a quote that he attributed to George Orwell, author of 1984: "At 50 everyone has the face they deserve." He was looking forward to 50.
That afternoon there was a blow-out bash for John and Sean at Tavern on the Green, the opulent, overpriced tourist restaurant in Central Park that John could see from his bedroom window. He was grateful to Yoko for arranging the party. Everybody was invited, including half the neighbors from the Dakota, one of whom, Warner LeRoy, owned the restaurant. Clowns, magicians and fire-eaters circulated through the crowd, under fantastic emerald-green, ruby-red, and sapphire-blue chandeliers. As the entertainers delighted the children with their well-rehearsed antics, John thoroughly enjoyed pigging out at the buffet table on the wide assortment of cakes and pies. It was a perfect afternoon, he decided.
John went home feeling good. Awaiting him was a telegram from George Martin, the former Beatles producer, and a letter from his aunt Mimi. John was pleasantly surprised that Martin remembered his birthday. But elation turned to rage as he read the letter from Mimi; as usual, it was filled with criticism. Though their tempestuous relationship had mellowed now that they were separated by an ocean, it could still, at the drop of a hat, explode with violent emotions. Ever since John was a teenager, living with Mimi at Mendips, his aunt had adamantly disapproved of his lifestyle. When upset, she had had a nasty tendency to throw things at him.
John dashed off a reply. Complaining that Mimi never liked any of his friends, he informed her that he'd not lost his common sense and that his songs weren't written for Victorians. He said that he was glad he didn't have to count on people like her to buy his music because if he did, he'd be broke and probably still living with her in Liverpool. (He never mailed the letter.)
Again Lennon began to dwell on how quickly his life was flying by, and it filled him with despair. So he snorted some heroin to kill the pain, then prayed to God for the willpower not to do it again. The lyrics for a song, "Life Begins at 40," poured from him. Later, he'd sing it with Yoko, recording the duet on tape.
Now it was October 9, 1980, the "BIG 4-O." (The little 5 for Sean.) John woke up feeling deadline pressure over Double Fantasy. He sat in bed listening to birthday announcements on the radio, surprised that both John Entwistle, the bass player from The Who, and Jackson Browne shared his birthday.
The Lennons and their staff celebrated quietly in the Dakota kitchen. Playing the holy fool, John put on a dunce-like birthday hat that said "40" in block letters. He sat at the table with Sean, cutting the cake, blowing out the candles, making wishes, opening presents. Then they both kissed Yoko, who had remained on the telephone the entire time, monitoring the progress of Double Fantasy's editing and mixing.
Outside on Central Park West and on 72nd Street, the fans had massed early, as they did every October 9. Spurred by the knowledge that a new album was due imminently, the crowd, bigger and noisier than usual, chanted "Happy birthday, John! Happy birthday, Sean!" and even "Happy birthday, Yoko!"
John sent them candy and balloons. Later in the afternoon, Sean went with his nanny, Helen, to the roof of the Dakota to watch the spectacle. The fans spotted him.
"Where's John?" they shouted.
"He's sleeping," Sean replied. "He can't come."
John watched from his bedroom window as skywriters wrote across the cloudless sky: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOHN + SEAN LOVE YOKO."
For reasons obscure even to John, Yoko had decided to move the Double Fantasy operation from the Hit Factory to its arch-competitor, the Record Plant. That night the Lennons went to the Record Plant and worked till dawn on the final editing and remixing. They learned that Double Fantasy had been chosen by Rolling Stone as one of the top ten albums for 1980. John was pleased. Never before had one of his LPs been honored before it was even completed. Now he just wanted to make sure that it was out before the end of the year.
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