I am a Beatlemaniac, which is saying a lot because I was born after The Beatles era. The lads from Liverpool will get some love from Paste in our upcoming July issue, in which we ask: “Can Rock Save the World?”
One of the articles in this issue will look back at John Lennon & Yoko Ono‘s ”Bed-Ins." I blame this on my latest bizarre dream.
My dream takes me to 1972. I am in New York City, where John Lennon is the musical guest on Saturday Night Live. I am charged with writing an article about the event.
I arrive at 30 Rockefeller Center on Saturday afternoon, before the evening dress rehersal. There I pick up my media credentials and head over to my hotel to check-in. I am shocked to find out that I will be sharing a room with John & Yoko, and their publicist. It seems John & Yoko have brought their “Bed-In” to Manhattan, but that John will get out of bed in order to play SNL. His publicist is there to make sure of it. But no one is in the room when I open the door. There are posters for the “Bed-In” but nothing else. I shrug and return to SNL studios.
The SNL cast is there, ready to practice. (Since SNL did not air until 1975, I made up my own cast). John Belushi, Dan Akroyd and Amy Poehler pass by me. The producer looks frantic because John Lennon is nowhere to be found.
“I think he is at dinner,” I tell the producer. “His publicist mentioned something about it.” So I offer to locate John ("investigatory journalism") for the SNL crew. My first step is to call the hotel and see if the concierge knows where John & Yoko went. He tells me they are at a restaurant on the West End, near Central Park. I call the restaurant and ask to speak to John Lennon. I suddenly get nervous, wondering what I should call him—“John”? “Mr. Lennon”?
John answers the phone and seems peeved that I am interupting his meal.
“Excuse me Mr. Lennon, I’m the reporter sharing your hotel room. Saturday Night Live is looking for you.”
John tells me that he is at dinner with some old friends who have just moved to New York from San Francisco. His friends are very sad and disheartened in New York. “It doesn’t have the same energy, you know?” Seems his friends wanted to start a big peace movement in New York, but have had little success. John has offered to help them (thus explaining the “Bed In").
“You have to be at the studio, though. Can’t they come with you?”
John is mad that I am trying to rush him, but the publicist agrees with me. We decide to meet at the studio.
The show goes live at 11pm. John Lennon performs “Give Peace a Chance.” He is scheduled to perform another song but leaves the studio before his curtain call. The producer is freaking out again and decides to take the cameras outside. They will tape the Metropolitan Opera performing outdoors since John has disappeared. Opera singers and some ballerinas congregate in the plaza and perform “Beauty in the Beast”—the Disney version.
John Belushi is standing next to me. “What the hell is this?” he asks.
“Beauty and the Beast! But Disney doesn’t make it until the 1990s!”
“You’re from the future?!” he screams.
With my cover blown, I make a dash for the hotel. No one is in the hotel room when I get there. I decide that I should watch the last bit of SNL on TV but can’t find the remote control. I turn over all the pillows and sheets looking for it. Unfortunately, there is no way to turn on the TV without this remote.
I call the West End restaurant again, in case John has gone back. The hostess says he is having drinks with friends, and brings him the phone.
“What is it this time?” he asks me.
“Did you take the remote control for the TV?”
“Yes,” he says.
“Can I have it back? I need to watch the rest of SNL so I can finish the story about you.”
“No, TV is bad for you.”
“But you were just on TV.”
“I know.” Click. Our interview is clearly over.
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