James A. Mitchell offers us a previously underreported chapter in the John and Yoko saga. THE WALRUS & ELEPHANT’S MEMORY: JOHN LENNON’S YEARS OF REVOLUTION (Seven Stories Press, 2013) delves into the years after the Beatles, and before ‘Double Fantasy’. The tome shows John and Yoko running with the leaders of the Far Left, and funding projects aimed at displacing President Nixon from office in the 1972 election. The Lennon’s would bring Black Panthers and Jerry Rubin onto the Mike Douglas Show and middle class homes over a week of broadcasts. Before or since, no “pop star” has ever tried to parlay his fame into such a radical avenue. The efforts landed the Lennon’s in the eye of a heavy surveillance campaign, and found John nearly deported. 1. When John left the Beatles, he certainly seems to have shed a lot of
restraint. Can you speak a bit about the novelty of one of the
biggest celebrities of the 20th century taking such a radical stance
on a wide variety of issues? Some of that restraint had been broken even prior to the Beatles’
break-up – nude album covers and “bed-ins” weren’t
exactly “normal” pop star behavior. Lennon and the
Beatles had a habit of pushing the boundaries artistically,
culturally and even spiritually when they visited India. He wasn’t
the first to set political thoughts to music – the late, great
Pete Seeger certainly fought the good fight – but he set the
gold standard for what is meant by “rock star.” Then,
too, it was a matter of timing. Emotions ran high in a country torn
across generational lines with internal conflicts that included war
vs. peace, feminism, minority rights, and government corruption at
the highest level. Rare was the level of fame and influence held by
the Beatles, and Lennon was way ahead of his time in defining what a
celebrity could do. This was the type of stunt that cast Lennon as the “weird one”
of the group. Not everyone dug what he was doing, to include fans,
sympathizers and even fellow Beatles. What he did, however, was a
pretty impressive display of media manipulation. He knew that he and
Yoko would be followed by flocks of photographers. Rather than resist
he invited them into a room filled with “peace” posters.
“If I’m going to get on the front page I might as well
get on the front page with the word ‘peace,’” he
explained to the New York Times. He looked
pretty far-out at the time, but since then Bob Geldof, Bono, Angelina
Jolie, George Clooney and others have made good use of that very same
blueprint. A lot of both: Lennon very much wanted to help The Movement – the
coverall phrase for anti-war/pro-civil rights causes – and made
it known in lengthy Rolling
Stone and Red Mole interviews. He
was also very accessible, and in New York was courted by …
well, pretty much everyone who sought friendship or favors. (Among
many others, Jackie Onassis dropped by the studio to meet him –
Jackie’s place on the social ladder usually meant people went
to see her.) Radicals were as easy to find in Greenwich Village as a
dime bag of weed, and “Yippie” leaders Jerry Rubin and
Abbie Hoffman of the famed “Chicago Seven” were quick to
pounce. The rest is – literally – history. That’s
the heart-and-soul of the story: After the success of the December
1971 John Sinclair Freedom Rally – and they did “set him
free” as Lennon’s song demanded – Washington eyes
were on Lennon and his new friends in the revolution. When plans were
announced for a political-rock-tour to coincide with the 1972
campaign, a memo from Sen. Strom Thurmond told the oval office gang
that “many headaches” could be avoided if Lennon were
deported. “This guy could sway an election,” H.R.
Haldeman reportedly said of Lennon. As history shows, that particular
crew left nothing to chance heading into the ’72 election.
Nothing.
Author James A. Mitchell was gracious in providing an interview, and describing the efforts of John and Yoko in trying to bring an end to the Vietnam War. Many have written on the Beatles as a band, and their solo years. Few have gone into the story of Lennon’s political years in such depth, and the tale leaves readers with a deeper understanding of just how far the Lennon’s went to shake up the status quo.
2.
At the "Bed In For Peace", some in the press were
expecting John and Yoko to put in a public display of their intimacy.
Can you set the event into perspective a bit in terms of the
time period and circumstances?
3.
John and Yoko arrived in New York City, and they met up seemingly
immediately with leaders of the 'far left'. Was this by design,
or was it circumstance (or a little of both)?
4.
What effect did the prospect of a John Lennon leading a tremendous
concert tour basically against the Nixon Administration do in terms
of shock waves within the administration?
5. Can you please speak a bit on the level of surveillance that was set up to monitor John and Yoko?
It
was pretty intense. In early 1972 the FBI began monitoring Lennon
in-person and via telephone wire taps, with particular interest in
time spent with Hoffman, Rubin, Rennie Davis and other “New
Left” leaders. Some of that was an extension of existing
efforts – undercover agents had already made themselves part of
Yippie circles. The spotlight increased when they asked New York cops
to try and bust Lennon for drugs, an arrest that could pave the way
toward quicker deportation. (Yeah, they were getting desperate. It
surprised them that Lennon fought back rather than go away quietly.
Guess they didn’t know him too well.) It remains questionable
how hard they tried, though: Difficult to believe they couldn’t
put a joint in Lennon’s hands. Then again, field agents claimed
they needed help obtaining a picture of John Lennon – one of
the world’s most photographed men. Drama aside, parts of this
story are hilarious.
6.
Can you describe John Sinclair, and the involvement of John and Yoko
in his situation?
Sinclair
was a Michigan poet-activist, prominent in the explosive Detroit and
Ann Arbor political scenes. Sinclair had been busted for pot under
circumstances that meet most definitions of “entrapment,”
and sentenced to ten years for two joints. (Even simple possession
was a felony at the time, although those laws were being revised in
the wake of the lowered voting age to 18.) Rubin and Hoffman were
familiar with Sinclair, and Lennon was asked to perform at a December
1971 rally in Ann Arbor. He did, and a few days later Sinclair was
released. Lennon was awarded equal amounts of credit/blame.
7.
The Elephants Memory forever etched a niche in the story of the
Beatles (albeit in the breakup years). Can you tell us a bit
about John's new band?
Elephants Memory was a solid blues-rock group formed by saxophonist Stan
Bronstein and drummer Rick Frank – the kind of guys who played
strip clubs and hung out with the Hell’s Angels. They’d
had many lineup changes – at one point Carly Simon was lead
singer – and had two songs on the Midnight Cowboy soundtrack. In
late 1971 the group included bassist Gary Van Scyoc, Adam Ippolito on
keyboards and fresh-from-Detroit Wayne “Tex” Gabriel, a
gifted 20-year-old guitarist. Many footnotes dismiss them as a
“street band,” but they were more than that. (The phrase
accurately described David Peel and the Lower East Side –
players from which backed Lennon in Ann Arbor with less than
impressive results.) Lennon needed a band, and the Elephants were a
helluva good group. After several hours of jamming together, it
proved a pretty good match. All told, they recorded three albums
together – Some
Time in New York City,
Yoko’s Approximately
Infinite Universe, and
an Elephant’s
Memory LP – made
numerous TV appearances and shared the only full-length concert
Lennon performed solo.
8.
John and Yoko took over the Mike Douglas show for a week. When
the 'far left' met the afternoon middle class TV viewing public it
was a bit surreal. Any thoughts?
To be fair, Mike Douglas had over the years welcomed an impressive roster of political and cultural leaders – to include Martin Luther King Jr. – to his self-described “TV Lite” talk show, but guys like Jerry Rubin or Bobby Seale of the Black Panthers were rarely given such exposure. It certainly demonstrated the “clout” held by a Beatle in terms of what Douglas and the network accepted just to have him on. In hindsight, the conversations were civil and even polite: None of the chair-tossing-fake-fights of Springer; none of the shouting contests that make up most cable news forums, none of the staged conflicts of reality shows. The most surreal part may have been the undercover FBI agents in the audience who had to watch this parade of hippies and weird art: Nice karma, that.
9. Later John became somewhat disenchanted with his radical politics. Was some of that an attempt to distance himself from the pressures that came upon him form that?
One thing that became clear the more I researched the story and put a
timeline to the events and activities was that he didn’t
abandon his principles. Lennon found himself at odds with Rubin’s
“any means necessary” approach – he was on the
record and noted by the FBI as saying he would only participate in
“peaceful” demonstrations – but he still
participated in a variety of protests even in the midst of
deportation hearings. After Nixon’s re-election, Watergate and
the end of Vietnam, the “Movement” itself receded …
although seeds had been planted that kept right on growing over the
years. Taking a few years off to raise a child didn’t mean he
was finished with using his art to make statements, he just took a
break. Had Lennon been alive it’s easy to picture him onstage
at Live Aid, perhaps even with a little help from his friends.
(Sigh.) No question he was there in spirit. Still is.
10.
John fought off deportation after a long battle. What
transpired to open the door in his favor?
The surveillance faded after the death of J. Edgar Hoover, and any
investigation fizzled with the second coronation of King Richard the
Nixon. The Immigration issue, however, was in legal limbo that could
have dragged on for years and years. Instead, Lennon and attorney
Leon Wildes took the offensive and filed suit against the government.
They proved that Lennon had been subjected to “selective
prosecution,” and in 1975 he was given his “Green Card.”
Ironically, he was then free to travel/tour, but the birth of Sean
understandably claimed his priorities for a while.
11.
Life is often a mixed 'bag'. What were some positives, and some
negatives about John and Yoko's political efforts?
At the time, the negatives may have been that Lennon somehow tarnished
his image with people who thought he was acting a bit too strange,
what with bed-ins and conceptual art and taking a seemingly naïve
approach to complex issues. A very real negative was personal to John
and Yoko: Deportation would have threatened Yoko’s attempt to
reconnect with her daughter – a human cost the government often
ignored. That said, I don’t see any negatives now. Lennon said
that peace is better than war, and love is better than hate. He was
right. So was John Kerry, who at the time headed the Vietnam Veterans
Against the War and continues trying to bring peace here and there;
so was feminist leader Gloria Steinem; so were the civil rights
champions who fought for an integrated society. The negatives belong
to the Nixon administration, to those who wanted to prolong the
Vietnam War, and those who preferred a segregated America. It was
Nixon’s staff – not the peace activists – who went
on to write books of apology for being on the wrong side of
things.
12. Your
book expounds on John, Yoko, and the Elephant's Memory in greater
detail than any other work I have come across. What made you
choose this topic?
The topic chose me. Although I’d written on music before – a result of which was having met Wayne “Tex” Gabriel – I’ve equal passions for activist work and free speech fights. Safe to say this story came fully equipped with those elements in a really cool two-for-one: Musically there was Lennon and the “what might have been” ride he took with the Elephants; the same journey included a battle between two of the century’s most notable cultural figures – Lennon v. Nixon. (Spoiler alert: Lennon won.) Both aspects were far more complex than I’d realized. Fresh interviews brought a roundtable’s worth of contemporary perspectives from Sinclair, Rennie Davis, Gloria Steinem and others. It’s a look at where we were then, and how far we’ve come. Pretty far, actually, which makes a mostly happy ending.