Opinion: Decades after his death, Lennon’s music endures

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Thirty years have rushed past and the world still can’t quite get over it.

Three decades later and the realization is just as painful.

John Lennon is dead.

Lennon was murdered on Dec. 8, 1980. The 30th anniversary of that terrible day is Wednesday.

Like millions of other Beatles and Lennon fans, it’s not a date I will celebrate. I am sure we will hear his music on the radio and TV and that’s a very good thing.

But it will also serve as a reminder of what the world lost that cold December night in New York City.

Lennon was only 40 when he was killed by a deranged former admirer. I won’t bother to mention his name and frankly never care to hear it again.

He killed Lennon six hours after asking for an autograph and Lennon, who loved living relatively openly in New York City, signed the album and handed it back to the man who would later fire four bullets into his back.

Another fan snapped a photograph of Lennon with his future killer. Like most of his life, Lennon’s death was recorded and shared with his public.

When Lennon returned home that night to his apartment in The Dakota, a historic building named upon its opening in 1884 for the territory, the killer lay in wait for him.

He fired five shots from a high-powered handgun. Four struck Lennon. The musical icon died a few minutes later, most of his blood drained from the gaping wounds made by the hollow-point bullets.

Like many Americans, I learned the news in a bizarre way. Howard Cosell announced Lennon’s murder in the closing seconds of a “Monday Night Football” game between the New England Patriots and Miami Dolphins.

I was 22 at the time and was at the SDSU Student Union, working on that week’s edition of the school newspaper. We moved from our cluttered office to a break room to catch the final plays when Cosell broke into the play-by-play with the shocking announcement.

He briefly summarized what was known of the attack on Lennon at that stage and capped it with these words, which still send chills down my back: “Dead on arrival.”

We stumbled away from the TV, ignoring the final play. I still don’t know who won, nor do I care.

A few friends gathered at my girlfriend Beth’s house that night to somehow come to grips with the death of John Lennon. We played Beatles records and listened to the radio, where his songs were interspersed with details of his death.

It seemed surreal then and still does today. Why kill a Beatle? Why prevent more music from this talented man who preached love and peace? That’s the only word that made sense that night and today: Why?

I didn’t sleep. The next morning, I bought every newspaper I could, somehow hoping the news would be different. But it wasn’t.

I went to the Collegian office to help finish the paper. The editor asked me to write something, anything I wanted, on the impact of Lennon’s death.

Whatever few abilities I have, I have always been able to crank out a story or column on demand. Not that day.

My coworkers and friends Al and Pat and I went uptown after the paper was completed. We played Lennon records on jukeboxes and attempted to drown our sorrows.

Finally, Walter Cronkite came on and led the news with the death of a man who “sang and played the guitar.” I had not heard the report since that night until I found it on YouTube, but I recalled the words exactly.

That seemed to make it official, and we returned to our homes. The shock was still setting in, and I still feel it as I write these words.

The death of anyone is a tragedy. The execution of an artist who moved millions is a travesty and a crime against mankind.

What’s so regrettable in hindsight is the realization that Lennon was emerging from a long, unproductive time in his life and career with new ideas and new energy. The break-up of The Beatles, substance abuse and lifelong emotional issues had taken their toll, and he didn’t record or perform for five years.

But a new album he recorded with his wife, Yoko Ono, had met with chart success and critical acclaim. It was called “Double Fantasy.”

That was the album Lennon signed for his killer.

Lennon was working on another record when he was murdered. He was also planning a world tour and was filled with hope and optimism.

His genius and playfulness and insight had played a key role in altering the direction of the country and the planet. Lennon hoped to lead people to better days as he gained peace.

And he was going to rock the world with his songs. But none of that happened, and we’re all the less for it.

In a statement released the day after her husband was killed, Yoko Ono offered these words, which still apply: “John loved and prayed for the human race. Please do the same for him.”

That’s something I will remember to do on Dec. 8.

Tags: tom lawrence, opinion