ITS A LONG WAY HOME

(& HOW BEATLES

MUSIC SAVED MY LIFE)

A Musical Memoir, Alan L. Chrisman

Copyright Alan L. Chrisman 2013

All rights reserved

Its A Long Way Home (And How Beatles Music Saved My Life)

A Musical Memoir

Published by Alan L. Chrisman c.2013

All Alan Chrisman lyrics c.2012, 2013

For information contact:

www.rockthistownproductions.com

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Information available upon request

Chrisman, Alan L. 1946

Its A Long Way Home (And How Beatles Music Saved My Life)

A Musical Memoir Original edition p. cm

ISBN 978-0-9936032-3-5(MS Word CD) ISBN 978-0-9936032-1-1 (Audio DVD)

ISBN 978-0-9936032-2-8 (e-book version c. 2014) Also Original Songs CD to Accompany Book

1. Ottawa, Canada music 2. Beatles influence 3. Popular culture 4. History 5. Personal Memoir

I. Title

EXCERPTS FROM: ITS A LONG WAY HOME (& HOW BEATLES MUSIC SAVED MY LIFE), A Musical Memoir

CONTENTS Introduction Chapter1: Crossing the Borderline (Paul is Dead rumor) Chapter 2: Midwestern Childhood (Thank God ForThe Beatles lyrics) Chapter 3: University Days (Woman the Muse lyrics) Chapter 4: Canada (Jackie) Chapter 5: IMAGINE (Beatles in Canada; John & Yoko in Ottawa) Chapter 6: Vancouver (J. Lennon shot, Dec, 8, 1980) Chapter 7: Back in Ottawa Chapter 8: Walls and Bridges (Sarah) Chapter 9: Rock This Town! Productions (85-93) Chapter 10: Happy Birthday and Dakota Visit (Auto. McCartney poster) Chapter 11: Connecticut Beatles Convention (Cyn. Lennon, May Pang) Chapter 12: #9 Dreams (P. Sutcliffe) Chapter 13: Ottawa Beatles Convention95(Pete Best, Casbah, Cavern) Chapter 14: Ottawa Beatles Convention96(L. Harrison, Lennon car) Chapter 15: Long Lost Weekend (Lady in Black lyrics) Chapter 16 Lady in Red (P. Best Gets His Due) Chapter 17: Get Back (Gotta Be Strong, Bleeding Heart lyrics) Chapter 18: Clean-up Time Chapter 19: Lady in Red 2 (Annie Hall, Thought of You) Chapter 20: Lister in L.A. (So You Want to be a Rock n Roll Star) Chapter 21: Time for a Change (G. Harrison passes) Chapter 22: Back in the U.S.S.R.(Beatles Bring Down Communism!) Chapter 23: Music Never Dies (AL & THE G-MEN, Still Rockin) Chapter 24: Long and Winding Road (McCartney Plays Ottawa, 2013) Chapter 25: THE STORY OF OTTAWA MUSIC (Harvey Glatt lyrics) (This book published by Alan L. Chrisman 2013; All Alan Chrisman lyrics 2012, 2013; Cover graphic by G-Man. To Order COMPLETE BOOK/CD (MSWord), Audio (narrated) DVD, e book version c. 2014. Hear Songs to Accompany the Book, or contact Alan L. Chrisman: www.rockthistownproductions.com

Introduction

ITS A LONG WAY HOME (& HOW BEATLES MUSIC SAVED MY LIFE)

A Musical Memoir

Alan Chrisman, grew up in the innocence of a small U.S. Midwestern town. But that was soon to change with two world-shaking events, an unpopular war, Vietnam and The Beatles. The 60s were a tumultuous time and their music was a large part of its soundtrack. Propelled by both events, he moved to a cold but welcoming land and its capitol, Ottawa, Canada, a place with similarities and differences from where he was raised. There, inspired especially by The Beatles founder and co-writer, John Lennon, he became involved in various aspects of music, setting up one of its first used vinyl stores, IMAGINE, organizing The Ottawa Beatles Conventions and meeting many in their inner circle. Several of the chapters are named after Beatles and Lennons songs and parallel his own experiences. Later, he would also learn of an intriguing story how this revolutionary music even helped change a repressive system half way around the world.

It was to be a Long and Winding Road with many curves and he describes some of

the characters he met along the way and their sometimes trying, but humorous

stories. He also writes about the joys and pains of relationships and how pop

music and culture affects our views of them and with some of his own song lyrics.

Ottawa, which one of its well-respected musicians called the Liverpool of the

North , had more direct connections to England and felt the British Invasion

earlier than the U.S. and he includes its 60s and 70s scene as well as his own

involvement with musicians for the next several years.

So come along for the journey and see how Beatles music influenced him and

millions of others and why it still resonates decades later.

This book is dedicated to my parents and my muses, musical and otherwise

CHAPTER 1: CROSSING THE BORDERLINE

It is early November, 1969. Im at the Detroit bus station about to head to the Great North. I am a wanted man by the U.S. government. And Im about to leave the country, U.S.A., of my birth. How I, a still-nave young man from a small Midwestern town, came to this point in my life is a long, convoluted tale. Im about to board a bus for Toronto, Canada. Im a bit paranoid, afraid that I could be arrested at any moment. So I board the bus anxiously. I happen to sit next to a young man with short hair. We gradually talk and it becomes apparent that he is doing the same thing Im doing-trying to avoid the Vietnam War. We begin to talk and he reveals that, as a U.S. Marine, he had been sent to Vietnam twice and they are threatening to send him again (illegally). How these two very different people(he, a grade 8, relatively uneducated black man from Georgia and me, a white, lower-middle class and recent college student from Illinois), are basically doing the same thing and are now together on this bus is, as I said, a story. Of course, the Vietnam War and the 1960s were to change a lot of our lives. But I had never thought it would come to this: having to leave my country and family, which I felt I might never be able to visit again. I wasnt political at all, really. I had attended Purdue University in Indiana from 1964-65, having enrolled in pharmacy. It was a conservative, mainly engineering school (the early astronauts were from there) and most everyone there, and most of the country, had supported the war. Change had been happening for a while now in California, but it hadnt much reached where I was yet. But soon after that time, the war was starting to go badly for the U.S- supported side, and it became more and more apparent that the American people werent getting the whole story from their government. More and more U.S. body bags were coming back, and even the media couldnt ignore it. By the next two years, my parents had moved back to Illinois, where I was born, from my childhood home in Indiana and I had decided to switch to Political Science and History. I was now attending the University of Illinois, which was quite a different place than Purdue. It was much more liberal and the late-60s effects were filtering down. It was 1968 now, President Lyndon Johnson had resigned because of the war and there was a cultural divide. And into the middle of all this I was thrown. 1968, was a watershed year: Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy were assassinated; the Paris student movement; the L. A. Watts riots; and The Beatles had released their pivotal Sgt. Peppers (67) and now the White Album. So frankly, my school studies seemed not very relevant anymore and also because of some personal relationship reasons, I dropped out of school. We were supposed to have a student deferment for 4 years and because I had been in science for two before and now I was in my third year in Political Science and History (International Relations), I was thus available for the draft. And sure enough in 1968, I got my notice. I had passed the physical, despite a heart murmur, and even my Conscientious Objector status (you had to prove you were religiously against killing people) had been rejected by my small town draft board, still back in Indiana. There seemed to be few options for me. I had decided I would not go (I was basically a pacifist). I had told my parents

such, but I dont think they believed I would go through with it, and even I wondered sometimes. But my only choice seemed to be 5 years in jail and a $10,000 fine. I wasnt as I say, overtly political. But I had some friends on the left who recommended I go see the only radical on campus. I went to see him and he suggested I could commit sabotage (but I was a pacifist!). But when I asked for any other possibilities he mentioned going to Canada, but didnt recommend it. In passing though, he had given me the address to the Toronto Anti-Draft Program. I wrote to them and received a copy, still never thinking I would use it. But as I was soon to learn, this whole experience only got more scarily absurd as it went on. I asked him how long it would take for the FBI to come after me and he said probably 6 months or so. But only a few weeks after I saw him, he was arrested on campus just for publically burning his draft card. I moved from my apartment and took odd jobs to try to save up for my big trip, as it seemed the only other possibility now. I didnt tell my parents where I was still living in that same university town (as I thought they might be pressured to tell the authorities where I was). I essentially lived underground, like an outlaw, trying to get up enough guts to leave. Just a few weeks before I finally planned on actually doing it, I went to check the mail at my old address. There was a note from my parents that an FBI agent had visited them and wanted to talk to me. I felt totally defeated. I had waited too long and they would very soon find me. So I reluctantly called the agent. He was surprisingly nice and said if I agreed to put myself up for the army, they wouldnt pursue charges. I saw no way out now. But that happened to be the one month in history when President Nixon, under pressure, agreed for a moratorium on the draft. I actually was supposed to appear at an introductory session at an army base in Indianapolis, but I didnt show up. And the whole process was started again. There was now to be a warrant for my arrest. I was never officially in the army, so I was considered a draft dodger which was a civil offence and not as serious as a military one, like the deserting charge my new friend Id met on the bus, now faced. I had read in the Toronto Anti-Draft Program that they couldnt stop me legally coming into Canada as a visitor. Fortunately, this was before computers, as I was technically wanted. The idea was to come into Canada legally for 30 days and find a job offer and re-apply at the border to be a resident. But that meant I might also have to be smuggled back across the U.S. border (which was dangerous to say the least). But I had no choice at this point. They also advised not to bring much money so they wouldnt think I was staying and to have a round trip ticket. My new friend knew nothing of these things. I had planned it so I would cross the border late at night, in hopes, they might not be as thorough. A few hours later, we arrived at the Canadian border and Customs came on the bus. Im sure they knew what my friend and I were doing (we were draft age), but we passed. As the bus pulled away, we almost danced in the aisles! We didnt know what our future held, but for now we were free. And as my hero, John Lennon, had sung on his recent song,Come Together: One thing I can tell you is you got to be free (1). And that is the mantra that had sustained me these past several harrowing months. Also right before I left, another Beatles event helped me to keep my sanity, during this time, the Paul Is Dead rumor.

(1) Come Together, John Lennon, c. 1969 Northern Songs Ltd

Paul is Dead Rumor by Alan Chrisman November, 1969

AN INSIDE STORY: THE PAUL IS DEAD RUMOR - by Alan Chrisman

In late 1969, a rumor went around the world that Paul McCartney was dead. There were supposed to be several

clues on various Beatles albums that gave evidence of this. And there have been two books in last couple of years

that published on this topic.

I have some inside knowledge of the whole affair because in September '69, I was living at the University of Illinois

which happened to be one of the earliest campuses where this rumor began to spread. And this is the way I

remember it happening: My younger brother, who also went to school there, had a friend who was related to a

fellow at the university in Michigan who supposedly had first discovered it. One night I was visiting my brother

when the friend told us of this theory. We didn't take it too seriously, but decided to test it by calling England late

one night (there was a phone number hidden on the cover of Magical Mystery Tour and the time to call was

located on the back of Sgt. Peppers album cover: "Wednesday morning at 5 a.m."). To our surprise, it actually

was a phone number in England, although it was busy. So we tried again for the next two weeks and kept getting

busy signals. This just wetted our appetite and soon we were looking for more clues. As we learned more about

this rumor, we began to find more and more evidence. We found many hints on Sgt. Pepper, Magical Mystery

Tour, The White Album, etc.

Actually, at first we thought the clues might have been about John (in keeping with his sometimes dark humor)

because, after all, he had sung I Am the Walrus. I had seen the North American premiere of the film Magical

Mystery Tour in 1968 and had failed to notice that the little girl on John's lap had said "No you're not," which is

stressed in the liner notes too. It was actually left-handed Paul dressed as the Walrus (something Lennon was to

confirm in the White Album's Glass Onion: "here's another clue for you all, the Walrus was Paul.") We played

backwards and slowed down such songs as Strawberry Fields Forever, which said "I buried Paul". We were just

Alan Chrisman is an American who, for political

reasons, decided to come to Canada in the fall of

1969. But before he came to this country, he was a

student living on the campus of the University of

Illinois. Alan wrote an article concerning the "Paul is

Dead Hoax" shortly after the first Ottawa Beatles

Convention and is presented here for the first time

on the internet at the Ottawa Beatles Site. Alan

Chrisman was the event organizer and producer for

the first and second Ottawa Beatles Conventions

held respectively in 1995 and 1996. He is also past

proprietor for several years of a vinyl shop entitled

"Get Back Records" that was located in the cozy

Westboro area of Ottawa.

- John Whelan, Ottawa Beatles Site, December 26, 2003

getting into it deeply when The Beatles released their new album, Abbey Road, in early October. And who's on the

cover, but Paul barefooted as he was a year earlier on Magical Mystery Tour crossing the street with George in

denim (a grave digger), Ringo in black (undertaker), and John in white (minister or angel). The new single from

the album was, for the first time, to not include a McCartney song but John's Come Together (over me) and

George's Something. In fact, the whole second side could be interpreted as, perhaps, about the life of one

person: Here Comes the Sun King; The End is equal to the love you make. When we heard this we believed we

were really on to something. Supposedly it was Paul and he had been killed in a car crash ("he blew his mind out

in car" lyric from A Day In the Life) and had been replaced by an imposter. An article in our campus newspaper

was soon reaching to other campuses and before long we were holding regular meetings in a large lecture hall.

Now we had no idea then, just how far this would go around the world.

And for me, this happened at an especially significant time in my life. It came just as I was about to be drafted into

the American army for the Vietnam War. I had already decided that I wouldn't go and was trying to get enough

nerve to possibly come to Canada (as the only logical choice rather than going to jail). So in a strange way, (as

Beatles music and occurrences have somehow seemed to fatefully guided me throughout my life), this Paul is

Dead thing allowed me to get my mind off the momentous decision I was about to make. At these meetings I was

involved in, more and more people attended and several people told things that had happened to them or their

friends. Some had supposedly gotten through the phone number and had to answer three questions and been

whisked away to a secret island, etc. (Yes, it was the 60's after all!). Now what did this mean? Was McCartney

really dead (one of the questions supposedly asked to the callers)? I won't go into all the clues and theories here,

but all I can say is that at that final meeting I attended (I had to leave to Canada soon after), the guy who had

supposedly started the whole thing showed up and said there were indeed clues and The Beatles were trying to

tell us something.

When I arrived in Ottawa in November '69, on the magazine stand were to my amazement -- several international

magazines( Look Magazine, with McCartney on the cover) and stories on the rumor that only a few of us had first

heard and with several clues listed (even a voiceprint in Time Magazine, which showed McCartney's voice was

different). So make of it what you will. Was Paul really dead? The Beatles were soon to break up with the other

three siding against Paul and some would argue that he was to later only make Silly Love Songs. Was it perhaps

just a joke by John saying, as he later wrote about Paul when he said: "Those freaks were right when they say

said you was dead, the sound you make is muzak to my ears". Or was he fed up with the Beatles as was

evidenced on The White Album and Let It Be and saying they were just falling apart. Why would The Beatles do

such a thing, just to sell albums, as some have accused? They certainly didn't have to. Was it just a product of the

times? At the very least, it shows the power that the Beatles had over us and still do. Or as the founder" of the

theory hinted at that last meeting I attended, were The Beatles trying to get across something more important? We

may never really know. Intriguing anyway, over 25 years later. I have my own theories about what it all meant. As I

said in my last article about The White Album, very few people according to Lennon, have understood what that

was about (and I believe it's all tied together). You can search and listen for the "clues" yourself. Think about it.

They are still there for those smart enough to discern them.

TURN ME ON, DEAD MAN by Andru J. Reeve (a review).

After I had written my above article, I ordered and read over Christmas this excellent book that focuses mainly on

how the rumor got started and how it had spread in the media. I wanted to see if it had actually happened the way

I had remembered it all those years ago. I discovered first of all that I probably had been in on the early beginnings

of such. As the first radio station in Detroit was not to publicize it until October 12, 1969, and I had remembered

hearing of it in September almost a full month earlier just as it first surfaced. The author, in fact, interviewed

several of the key participants and did exhaustive research on its evolvement.

The book unfolds almost as a mystery as he tries to find its origins. And the development of the rumor becomes

almost as interesting as the rumor itself. I won't give away the contents of the book but before it was over, it led to

thousands of calls a day to Apple, the Beatles' record company, over 300 newspaper reports and coverage by all

the major networks. And such unlikely occurrences as special meetings between the starters and Beatles insiders

and the Beatles' new manager, Allan Klein; a TV courtroom trial with F. Lee Bailey (yes, of O.J. Simpson fame)

and even a call by Paul (or his double?) to the Detroit radio station. And most intriguing of all, a mysterious single

by a Detroit singer that first hinted of Paul's death (and owned by the Beatles' own publishing company, Maclen

Music !). Quite amazing for something that only a handful of college kids had first "discovered". So it's a

fascinating story and the phenomenon is still studied as an example of a spontaneous rumor and how the "clues"

remained remarkably consistent and spread so fast (this was before the internet!). So as I said above, believe

what you want. But almost 30 years later people are still fascinated with it and lecturers such as Joel Glazier, who

provides an afterward in the book, are still given on it at Beatles conventions and colleges. The author does list

many of the major clues and evaluates them systematically and some like the spoken ones in Revolution #9 and

I'm So Tired are hard to refute. And after reading the book and thinking about it all these years later, I don't think it

can all be dismissed as some might think. Do I think, as everyone asks, that Paul is Dead? After all we've seen in

the past few decades (and with the Kennedys deaths and John Lennon's assassination) anything is possible. But

yes, as I've always thought, there were some "clues" there. Who put them there, we may never know, but I

suspect they were put there for a purpose that few have still yet understood. It all fits in with my theory on what

The Beatles have been trying to tell us all along. Anyway, you can read the books and see for yourself. I would

recommend Reeve's book (published by Popular Culture, Ink) or for more on the clues try The Walrus was Paul by

Gary Patterson (published by Simon & Shuster).

ONE FINAL NOTE ON PAUL IS DEAD:

From the Official Beatles fanzine, the Beatles Book Monthly, Feb., 1967:

Stories about the Beatles are always flying around Fleet Street. The seventh of January was very icy, with

dangerous conditions on the MI motorway, linking London with the Midlands, and towards the end of the day, a

rumor swept London that Paul McCartney had been killed in a car crash on the MI. But, of course, there was

absolutely no truth in it at all, as the Beatles' Press Officer found out when he telephoned Paul's St. John's Wood

home and was answered by Paul himself who had been home all day with his black Mini Cooper safely locked up

in the garage. No comment! See Ottawa Beatles Site : http://beatles.ncf.ca/alan_chrisman.html

HERES ANOTHER CLUE FOR YOU ALL, THE WALRUS WAS PAUL, John Lennon, 1968.

CHAPTER 2: MIDWESTERN CHILDHOOD

My parents, L (Chris) and June, came from similar backgrounds. He was from a small farming

town in Illinois and she was from a small farming town in Indiana. But they met in Washington,

D.C. during W.W. 2, he was in the army and she was working there. At the end of the war, they

settled in a place on the edge of Chicago called Harvey. My older brother, Gerry, had been

born and I arrived about a year and a half later in 1946. I was named Alan Lamonte. My

parents seemed to have had this habit of naming their kids after movie stars.

I was named after Alan Ladd, a 40s film noir star, and my middle name was after Lamonte Cranston, who was The Shadow on the radio. Gerry had been named after actor Gary Cooper. But for some reason my mother had spelled his name in a way that most people would pronounce Jerry, something that would confuse people long afterward. My sister, Kaye Laraine, named after actress Laraine Day, was born a couple years after me. And the youngest, Richard, broke the mode and I dont think he was named after a star. But as I was entering the first grade, my parents decided to move back to the small town of

Arlington, Indiana where my mother had grown up. My grandfather, Carson (my Grandma

called him Fuzzy), who like my fathers dad had been a farmer in the 30s, was now a

carpenter(I remember his skin looking bronzed from working outside) and he had offered to

help them build a house there. Arlington was a very small village of only a few hundred in the

center of the state. The whole high school only had about 90 kids plus the grade school, all in

one brick building; the same one my mother had attended. My class was only 21 students (15

boys, 6 girls). My lasting memory of that first grade is the time, I wet my pants and having to

wait embarrassed in the cloakroom, while my underpants dried on the radiator (something my

classmates never seemed to forget, years later either). Almost all were the children of farmers.

But we lived again just at the edge of town, up the hill. The school was about a 20 minute

walk over open fields. Some of the townspeople were relatives and even some of my teachers.

This was the mid-fifties and pretty innocent, almost like something out of Happy Days TV.

There were no blacks or minorities. The whole school seemed to center around basketball. In

this idyllic environment I grew up. But my family didnt really fit in. My dad was now driving

to Indianapolis about an hour away to work at a car factory and my mother got a job in an

office there. My mother was determined that her kids would have a chance to go to college,

something as the girl in her family, she hadnt been allowed to do. It was instilled in us at an

early age that was what we were to do. I dont remember it being directly spoken of; it was just

assumed that we would and, unusual for that place, academics became our goal. But

basketball was King. There were only four in my class, all male, who were thought to be college

material. The girls, if lucky, hoped to get married to a well-off farmers son (or got pregnant

and quit school). Most of the youth would become farmers like their parents.

There was a 50s diner, like out of Fonzies time, called Jointers, where everybody would

congregate after the basketball games and dance to the jukebox, doing the latest craze like The

Twist. One of the running jokes there was the coach would treat the new team members to a

pine float; a regular float being root beer and ice cream. The unsuspecting freshmen on the

team would order it and it turned out to be a toothpick floating in a glass of water and then

everyone would laugh. In the summers there wasnt much to do, besides mowing yards for

cash, so we had to create our own entertainment. We played basketball on the school outside

lighted night court, where some even well-known college stars would play just for fun.

Sometimes their girlfriends would come along too and I got to play tennis with them.

But there was some outside darkness too, for it was the Cold War with the Russians and the Cuban Missile Crisis when Kennedy and Khrushchev almost went to war in 62. We were told to hide under our desks, in case of a nuclear attack. But this idyllic, isolated bubble was about to burst even more. It was Nov. 22, 1963 and over the schoolrooms loud speaker came the announcement that President John F. Kennedy had been assassinated. The TV was on the whole weekend with the funeral and it was like a black shroud had been put on us all. Camelot

was over. And the only thing that pulled us out of it was the next big world event- THE BEATLES! They appeared on the Ed Sullivan show the next Feb.64. Actually, I didnt get that much into them right at that time (being suspicious of fads, as I still am). My cousin, David, down the street had tickets for them in Indianapolis, but I turned down the offer as I didnt like all the mindless screaming. But that was soon to change as I went away to university the following year. And they were to have a lasting influence on me and millions of others.

TRIP BACK lyrics by Alan Chrisman (country song)

Took trip back in time to where I was born A patchwork land green fields of corn Hot summer days dusty country roads small town ways childhood memories getting old Hometown roots warm family stories generations before, some to come past failures and glories universitytimes romantic dreams expanding minds escape plans and schemes Chorus: Time, we can't go back but never gets totally away fades white to black but follows us every day Now long way away but the man still the same Past leads the way the boy inside the name

c. 2012

"Thank God For The Beatles" Lyrics by Alan Chrisman (Beatlely Rocker) c. 2012

Intro

Growing up in the 60's It was all Top 40 Straight middle-aged pop And watered-down folk Then They were on the Sullivan show Shaking their long hair There was nothing like it Since Elvis had been there

Chorus Chorus: Dylan went electric Thank God for The Beatles Despite the purists' boo And that back back back beat But he knew full well We all wanted to rock rock rock what he must do And to dance dance dance in the street It was never the same We could not sit still We had to get up and join in the thrill

Chorus

Instrumental It still stands up even till this day and makes us want to still get up and play

chorus

repeat last verse

chorus

Dance dance dance-2 times

She loves you, Yeah Yeah Yeah-3 times

Dance dance dance-2 times

CHAPTER 3: UNIVERSITY DAYS

I started at Purdue University in Indiana and it was quite a shock. Suddenly there were 20,000

people from all over (a far cry from my small town and school). As I said, it had come fairly

easily academically before. I had graduated 2nd in my class and received a small scholarship, so

I could afford to go to the state-supported school. But now I was competing with lots of smart

students and they were much more sophisticated than me. I enrolled in pharmacy; Im not sure

why, because I had no real idea what I wanted to be. I was no good at chemistry. One time

they had to evacuate the whole lab because I had mistakenly made poison bromine gas. Also I

hated organic chemistry. We had a final test that counted 50% of our grade and almost all the

class failed it, but they couldnt, not pass, that many people because the state needed more

pharmacists. Somehow I got accepted into the School of Pharmacy the second year, but I

wasnt happy.

But my cultural education was now starting to happen, through pop music especially. I had

always liked records and had collected them since I was a kid. Probably my first music was

country which my parents liked, like Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline, then Elvis and Buddy Holly in the

50s. In the early 60s it just seemed to be watered-down folk music, and later Bob Dylan and

Joan Baez. But unlike my later political friends, I never really cared that much for them. I had

briefly taken drum lessons for the school band. They had given me a test which said I had

natural rhythm; I didnt keep it up, but I always loved music. But I had changed and so had pop

music. Dylan had influenced The Beatles and they him, and in 1965 they released Rubber Soul,

different than their early teen-aged Yeah Yeah songs. These were more mature and a

combination of folk, rock and other influences. Now I realized just how good they were. And it

was John Lennon, especially, whom I identified with from the very beginning, both for his

brashness and softness too, such as on these new songs as Girl (Did she understand it when

they said that a man must break his back to earn his day of leisure?) Ah Girl! Girl! Girl! as

the other Beatles sang, Tit Tit Tit in the background) (1). And on top 40 radio-WOW!!! I

became a life-long fan from then on. 1. Girl, John Lennon, c. Northern Songs Ltd, 1965

My dad had gotten an offer to help set up a new plant back in Illinois for Chrysler Corp. he

worked for, so my parents moved to a town of 13,000 called Belvidere, northwest of Chicago,

near the city of Rockford (where the band, Cheap Trick, was discovered in a bowling alley).

And one day in 1967, when I was away at the University of Illinois in the central part of the

state where I had transferred, somebody told me at school that my new town had been hit by a

tornado. I called home and the phone rang, so I didnt worry. My sister was watching the

house while my parents were on vacation in Florida. But later that night, my dads supervisors

daughter called and said my house had been hit, but that my family was alright. My sister had

heard it coming and had just made it down the stairs at our neighbors when their roof blew off.

And our house was destroyed. But we were lucky because several people in the town had been

killed, including some kids whom were just boarding the buses when it arrived. Also

fortunately, my younger brother, Richard, was a bit late leaving school or he might have been

walking home. My parents were just returning that afternoon, and as they drove into our

neighborhood, they saw all the destruction. But you never think it will actually be your house.

They arrived just in time to save some of their personal possessions as it was then beginning to

rain and hail. We had often had scares in Illinois and even Indiana, as we were in the tornado

zone from Kansas to the Great Lakes. But as I say, we were very lucky and the insurance

covered most of the damage. My parents stayed a couple months in a motel, while the house

was rebuilt.

The next few summers I returned to Belvidere to work and save money for the next years

college. One summer I worked at the Green Giant Canning factory in town, the 12- hour

nightshift (at, believe it or not, $1.26/hr.!). They hired college kids for cheap labor and when

the kids went back to school in September, they hired Mexican workers and sometimes even

winos from Chicago. They processed and canned peas and corn. My job consisted of pushing

the corn cobs, if they got stuck, through sharp blades that cut the corn. College girls were

hired to handle the corn machines and actually got paid an extra penny for every insect (and

there were lots) they found in the corn. And to push it through with my finger, I had to wear on

it, what looked like a rubber condom. The girls got a kick out of that.

Another job I had there was to un-jam the corn at the end of the conveyer belt with a stick. But

one night I saw the whole place was shut down, so I knew something was up. Well, the guy

who did my job on the day shift had used only his hand instead to move the jam and had lost

his hand. Id seen a jar with a finger in formaldehyde when Id started (so I guess that was their

idea of a safety warning!). Remember that, when you buy Green Giant.

Now back at the University of Illinois, I was required to take a foreign language so I took French

as I had had it 2 years in high school (taught by my great aunt and had gotten As). But this was

college French and language and typing had never been my best. I was now in my third year of

college (two at Purdue and one at Illinois). The only thing that kept me going to French class

was I noticed a pretty young girl there. I finally got up enough nerve to ask her out and she

accepted, but for some reason it didnt work out. I arrogantly found her to be too young and

immature; she was a first year student and I was, as I said, a third. Her name was Diane, but

our paths were to cross in the future again.

When I had transferred to Illinois, it had been late, and almost all the students were forced the

first few years to live in student dorms. But there were no spaces left so they let me live in a

private house. The only place my parents and I found was a house called The Executive Arms,

owned by a missionary. It looked fine and he offered me a discount rent in exchange for being

the janitor. But I learned later it was anything but what the name implied. For while the

missionary was away in Africa saving lives, his rooming house turned into (now the mid-late

60s) a place of sometimes drugs and prostitutes even. But I kept to myself. There was a black

guy living there who always seemed to be studying (most of us didnt do any more than we had

to). One day I asked him why. He replied, I have 200 years of lies to relearn.

The following year I had to take a French final at an auditorium with lots of other French

classes. I was dreading it. I could read it somewhat but still wasnt very good at saying it or

hearing it. And sure enough, with the blaring, unclear speakers for the test, I knew I must have

failed the final. I came out of the building very depressed. But whom do I see but that girl,

Diane, whom I hadnt seen since that early French class together a year earlier and our bad

date. Surprisingly, she was actually quite friendly. And for some reason (I figured what had I to

lose after the day Id had?), I blurted out and asked her if shed like to go see this film people

were talking about, The Graduate. The Beatles had also released their classic Sgt. Peppers

and it was 1967, the Summer of Love. To my astonishment she said, Yes. It was a great

film, and all about a young mans love for a girl, against their parents wishes and the

Establishment. We both loved it and she came back to my room after and we got along great.

We had both matured and she had gotten even more beautiful, my ideal-petite, dark haired.

But she had since moved to a sorority. If you were a woman who lived in a regular dorm

residence, you had to be in at night in by 11 p.m. And that particular sorority, Phi Mu, where

she lived, was the most prestigious one on campus and only the most beautiful girls were asked

to join and she certainly was now. But she was now dating a fraternity member, as sororities

looked down on having their girls trying to date anyone not in a fraternity (like me). So once

again, class raised its ugly head. And worse than all that, the guy she was dating had been to

Vietnam and supported the war! I was becoming increasingly against the war, and with that

French final and my probable failure from school, my life was soon about to change and I would

soon face the draft. But Diane and I pledged to remain close. It turned out she was living just a

few blocks from me and I had to pass her house every day right on my way to classes; my heart

ached. But I continued to see her as I carried on my battle with the draft. And when I knew I

would be leaving for somewhere before long, I asked her if there was anything special I could

give her. She had especially liked a certain antique chair my roommate had left me and so I

carried it over to her house in the snow and said goodbye for the last time. Finally, when the

FBI was likely to catch up with me again in late 69, I decided I had to make a decision and go. I

sold off my few possessions, packed a bag with a couple of my Beatles albums (like the recently

released Abbey Road and my favorite record, by anybody of all time, the White Album) and

boarded a bus for Canada. I didnt tell anyone including my parents where I was going (except

my brother, Richard, who was also attending the U. of Illinois). I carried my dreams of Diane

with me. And I was off to an unknown fate.

WOMAN THE MUSE Lyrics by Alan Chrisman c. 2012

If youd lived in ancient times Men would have come from a distant land

Youd have occupied their minds Just to fight for your hand

Like a Goddess from above

Id have brought you all the gifts of gold Worshiped you as the Queen of Love

Just to see your face, fore I got old

And if youd come from a star All the way from outer space

Id have traveled from afar Just to visit your alien place

Chorus:

Youre Woman, the Muse, throughout time Artists have made their art

And poets written their rhyme

Just to try and capture your heart

Even in jeans and cowboy boots

With only an innocent but sensual smile

And still your small-town roots

You can still drive, all men wild

CHAPTER 4: CANADA

My new friend and I arrived in Toronto. I only had an address for the Toronto Anti-Draft Program on Yonge St. But it was now a year or two since they had sent it to me, and when we got there, it was empty. We didnt know anyone and we didnt have much money or a place to stay. But I called the phone operator and she managed to find the new address. We arrived there and they asked several questions and advised us to go on to Ottawa, the capitol of Canada. They said Canadian Immigration would be based on points for having a job offer, education, and skills. I almost had a college degree, but my friend would have more difficulties, with his low education. Also they said there was more discrimination against blacks in Toronto than Ottawa, because the few blacks at that time in Ottawa were connected with embassies. We knew nothing about Ottawa or even Toronto for that matter, but they seemed to know what they were doing. They arranged for us to get a lift with a deserters wife going to Ottawa the next morning. It was almost like the Underground Railroad during the Civil War slavery days. Over 100,000 draft-age Americans would come to Canada. They said it could take several months to be accepted. But fortunately, there was a sympathetic immigration officer in Hull, Quebec across the river from Ottawa. We had to find a Quebec address to apply from and I and another guy found a big rooming house on Eddy St. run by a French couple. It could hold several men and soon it became a sort of half-way house for deserters and dodgers. But there were a lot of tensions with all these guys just waiting around to hopefully be accepted. We had no money and I lived on, besides food tickets, basically Habitant pea soup. But I had it lucky, compared to my bus friend, because as I said, I was being fast tracked. Unfortunately, in all this moving around, I lost touch with him, and I heard later that he had given up and had returned to the States. I had noticed that, even in those few first weeks in Ottawa, he was so paranoid that if he saw an Ottawa police car, he would run. But finally, in mid- January, 1970, my Canadian residency was accepted (luckily they had changed the rules and we could apply from within Canada, and not have to be smuggled across the border, as I had first feared). Now I had to find a steady job and find a better place to live. On one of my temporary jobs I had met a French-Canadian guy named Pierre, working as a janitor like me, and we became friends. We were opposites really. He was working class and I wasnt, but after work we would go to his mothers house and play chess. He seemed more British than French, and as I would learn later; he always had another identity (he called himself, Peter), than what he appeared. But we got along and we found a small apartment, in exchange for being the janitors there. We moved in on April 1 in Sandy Hill, a student area near the University of Ottawa. The night we moved in, Ottawa had one of its late, big snow storms and we had to get up and shovel the parking lot for the tenants early the next morning. The place was tiny; one small bedroom and an ever smaller front room. We soon learned that the Polish landlord was so cheap that he barely heated the place. In fact, the only warm air vent for the whole apartment was right above my face where I slept, so you would get this blast for only a few seconds, once in the morning and once at night. He certainly got his moneys worth out of us.

One Saturday morning, Im finally able to sleep in and I hear his voice calling me, Mr. Khisman Mr.Khisman. I couldnt see where it was coming from when I realized he was above me in the air duct above my bed, wanting something! Peter worked very early at a sock factory and every morning hed turned on the radio to listen to a fundamentalist host say the end is near. While I would go to a temporary hiring place to hopefully get a manual labor job that day. Often there were none and Id collect bottles for cash and then visit the library to check the want ads. At one point we even put up some more Americans, as many as four living in that tiny basement apartment. Each would move off sleeping on the floor to the only two single beds as someone would leave for work. One was a character from Las Vegas, Bruce. He reminded me of Jack Nicholson in, One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest, always with a cigarette and pacing back and forth. He never had a job but the girls seemed to like him and hed get invited to embassy parties even. One day, Bruce comes back to our place with a steak, eating at our table, while weve only got baloney sandwiches. The final straw for Peter was when Bruce actually used Peters toothbrush (and Peter couldnt stand smokers as it was). As I said, Peter always had a front. Hed try to pick up Ottawa University girls and bring them back to our place. He wore a fake Carleton University jacket with Engineeringon the back, whereas hed dropped out of high school. One girl, who he brought back, asked me if he really was a student. Peter still combed his hair back like he was in the 1950s. He had a bookshelf with all the classics in pseudo-fancy bindings (Readers Digest versions), but he had never actually read any of them. Peter was always about atmosphere. We could be in the middle of a slum and Peter would set up a tablecloth and tea. Peter somehow convinced a 2nd hand bookstore owner to let him manage a store on Elgin St. But Peter had to call me in to help run it. We had this idea of changing it into an astrology store. We even had plans to set up an occult coffeehouse in the back (we were going to have people come up from the bathroom in the basement, through an open coffin). But one night a cute girl walked in and she and I seemed to click. The next time she came by, I walked her home to the Y, where she was staying, just a couple blocks from the store. She would often drop by, and one night I had a dream she was in trouble, so I called her and told her. But I think it made her realize just how much I cared for her. She said she had to go visit her mother in Montreal, as it was a holiday. She had told me she had worn a uniform in high school so I assumed she was French Catholic. But it turned out she was Jewish and she wondered if I might be anti-Semitic. But as I said before, where I had grown-up, there werent any minorities at all, so I didnt even know enough about Jews to know what it was to be anti-Semitic. Gradually she began to trust me and soon we went to visit her mother in Montreal. Her mother and I got along very well (as I always seemed to do with my relationships mothers). We began to spend more and more time together. I had finally met my first real girlfriend, Jackie, since I had been forced to leave my university heartthrob behind. And she reminded me of her too.

CHAPTER 5: IMAGINE

There are actually several connections with The Beatles and Canada: John and Yoko held their Bed Piece event at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Montreal May 26-June 2, 1969 where they recorded live their anthem Give Peace a Chance. But a lot of people dont know John and Yoko, and her daughter, Kyoko also came to Ottawa briefly for a Peace Conference at Ottawa U. at that same time. I discovered there were photos of that visit in the Quebec archives which I displayed at my 2nd Ottawa Beatles Convention in 96. In fact, they stayed at the Chaplaincy on Laurier Ave. (where my friend, Peter, and I used to play chess at the Wasteland Coffeehouse). And of course, they famously met with Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau on Dec.23, 1969. Years later, Trudeaus personal assistant, Tim Porteous, the only other person attending that meeting, came into my store and described it and them to me. Lennon also played at the Live Peace in Toronto Concert Sept 13, 69 (the first time hed played live in North America since Beatles tours in 64 & 65). Also not many people know that George Harrison visited Ottawa secretly in Feburary,69. He was here to check out Eric Anderson, a N.Y. folksinger, for the Beatles own new record label, Apple, and heard him at Ottawas Le Hibou Coffeehouse. And could it even have been that the world famous term, BEATLEMANIA may have been coined by an Ottawa writer? For Sandy Gardiner, of the Ottawa Journal, had seen them in Scotland early on in 63 and wrote a new disease is sweeping through Britain-its BEATLEMANIA! And this quote is credited to him on the 1st Beatles album released in North America and with that same title. Sandy Gardiner also managed several successful Ottawa 60s bands like The Staccatos The Esquires and the Townsmen. I saw George Harrison perform in Montreal in 74 (and he played While My Guitar Gently Weeps better than Eric Clapton on the White Album) and Paul McCartney in Montreal in 89.

I had just arrived in Ottawa the month before John and Yoko met with Trudeau. But I was

pretty preoccupied, just trying to survive. I actually wasnt a big fan of Canadas hippie P.M.

For in 1970, during the October Crises, Trudeau had declared martial law because a small

group of radicals called the FLQ had kidnapped a British envoy and a Quebec cabinet minister.

Canadians supported it (they told me it would keep the frogs (French-Quebecers) in place. But

I was horrified; I had just fled my country where if Nixon had tried that, there would have been

massive demonstrations. But Trudeau and the Chicago Daly-like, Montreal mayor Drapeau

used it to their advantage to stifle their own political opponents. It backfired and within 6 years,

the Separatist PQ would be elected the Quebec government under the charismatic Rene

Levesque. That rooming house where I had lived before in Hull had actually been right above

the then outlawed P.Q. office there. But in Canada, its still Two Solitudes to this day. Pierre

Berton, Canadian writer and historian, said that the difference was that Americans would round

up a posse and apply rough justice, whereas Canadians just had the RCMP do the dirty work,

and liked big government to run their lives.

The Beatles had broken up in 1970, and the 60s had ended. A lot of fans lamented it. But if you

watch the making of the film, Let it Be, you can see the tensions (and it wasnt Yoko who did it)

as well as some great songs still. John released his masterpiece, POB with Working Class Hero

and God (the dream is over). George surprised everyone with his spiritual All Things Must

Pass record. McCartney had his first solo LP with one of his best songs, Maybe Im Amazed,

and Ringo, an album of standards for his mom and also the excellent country album, Beaucoups

of Blues. For as Ringo said, Now there are four Beatles albums. The 60, as I said, had come

to a close but it was to influence us all for decades to come. But after Woodstock the excesses

(drugs, money, egos, etc.) had finally caught up; the superficial parts, like fashion, carrying

on. The hippies, who had been mainly white middle-class, found it wasnt so easy to go back to

the land. Lennon had taken criticism from the left during calls for violent revolution, for

advocating pacifist ways. He said we should free our minds instead in his song,

Revolution.

But there was still hope. Lennon released his signature song Imagine and album in 1971.

And that was the beautiful summer I met Jackie. I think I understood what he might have felt;

he had been hanging around with the guys since he was a teenager and it was time to move

on and with a woman. My own friend, Peter, wasnt too happy about it, but its what I had

been waiting for. It had been both fun and crazy.

So Jackie and I moved into together. My parents came up to see me for the first time and met

her. I still wasnt allowed back in the States and might never be. I had found a job cleaning but

was laid off at Christmas. Jackie was working as an assistant manager at Classics Books at the

Arts Centre. We had just moved to a new apartment. On the bus one day in our neighborhood,

I noticed a small used bookstore and decided to ask them for a job, but they said they were

closing soon. But for some reason, I turned and asked them if theyd be willing to sell it.

I was unemployed and had no money, but they said maybe. I told Jackie and she said go for it

(she believed in me!). They decided to move and not sell. But I approached the landlord and

he agreed to rent it to me for only $215/month. I noticed there were two small rooms in the

back that we might be able to live in too. But I had to convince a recent friend, Gary Moffat, to

move in too, to help cover the cost. I managed to find a guy who was closing one of his three

stores on Bank St. and he sold me 1000 books at 10c ea. We had to move them in a snowstorm

and we had no money left for the shelving.

The area was later to become Chinatown, but at that time there was only one Chinese

restaurant there and they gave me some wooden shipping boxes and we stacked them up to

put the books in (everything smelled like Chinese food). I had had to sell my record player to

raise money, so I came up with this idea to put some of my old records in the window to see if

anybody would buy and sell them secondhand too. That was Feb. 1972 and it was one of the

first used record stores in Ottawa. We called the store IMAGINE after Lennon and our

dreams and hopes. It was then an Italian immigrant neighborhood on Somerset W. near Booth

St. And very poor; the laundromat actually had a sign NO running on top of machines! We

became involved in the community. We would borrow a projector and films from the library

and show them to the neighborhood kids. Some people thought we showed porn films because

there was only a blanket separating the store and where we lived. And how else could have

survived in that neighborhood, they thought?

I eventually bought a record player from the guy upstairs who was up on charges of

manslaughter. I also took a part-time job cleaning popcorn off the floor at movie theatres. But

people seemed to like the idea of used records. I started out with only 25, but traded 2 for 1,

and soon had more. In the mist of all this, we started a little community newspaper called

SHOESTRING PRESS. One day in 1972, a hockey player came in and wanted Beatles 45s; he

was going to play in the later famous CANADA-RUSSIA hockey game in Moscow and he said you

could get anything in Russia with Beatles records and panty hose. Another time, a cousin of

John Lennons from Montreal, who must have recognized the store name, and was on her way

to Liverpool to see the original Cavern before they tore it down, came in. So we got all kinds.

In 1979, Gary and I heard of a great location right downtown near Sparks St, a block from

Parliament Hill with all the politicians and tourists; a deal of a lifetime really. But there was a

real fly in the ointment. Jackie had decided to leave me. I knew that we had been having

problems. It had always been hard financially and there had been pressures from her family.

Her mother had always liked me but her older brother had returned from Germany and I wasnt

Jewish. Jackie had recently joined a religious group and was on a macrobiotic diet. I was still

running the store, newspaper, and doing cleaning jobs. We were trying to still save the world.

It all just caught up with us. But I thought, finally with this great new location, we could finally

make it and I had already signed the lease. I just hoped, if I made it a success and this was the

best location Id ever had, she might come back.

This religious group, I began to realize, was really more like a cult. Years later, my old friend,

Peter, also revealed to me, that around that time, his wife had run into Jackie at a doctors

office and she said she was pregnant. Maybe she had an abortion with my child, I dont know.

She just disappeared. Looking back now, I think maybe she had had a breakdown, but I didnt

know enough about relationships then to prevent it. But I always knew Id sometime run into

her again. I was devastated and its one of the saddest things that ever happened to me. And

like having to leave my heartthrob before I came to Canada, it took its toll. I blamed myself.

JOHN & YOKO AT OTTAWA U. PEACE CONFERENCE, June69; Met P.M. TRUDEAU, Dec. 1969

CHAPTER 6: VANCOUVER 1980 (J. LENNON SHOT)

Gary and I moved into our new location. Gary set up his science fiction and comics store and I had my records. As I said, Gary was a character too; hed been in the ban the bomb marches in the early 60s, but he was really a big kid at heart. He loved opera but hated rock n roll, which I mainly sold, but we got along well. One day, these bikers showed up at the store. They looked like they could rob the place. It was a Saturday, so Gary was watching cartoons. And before I knew it, the bikers were on the floor with him watching too! Gary and I had also expanded our little neighborhood Shoestring Press into a bigger across-the-city alternative

arts and community newspaper, SPECTRUM, with grants from the City and ads. Despite the store and newspaper doing okay, I missed Jackie and I wasnt happy and I needed a change. So I decided all at once to just get away-anywhere. I brought in some of my old records from home to try and sell off. Among them was an unknown band from Boston called, Stainless Soul. Later that afternoon, a guy comes in and I asked him if he wanted to hear anything, and to my amazement, he requests this unknown band. I asked him why (that same unknown band which I had just brought in that very day) and he says hes playing the keyboards on it, which was the part I liked. I asked him what hes doing in town and he says hes playing that night with THE BEACH BOYS. He was from California and had played in all kinds of famous bands like Joe Cocker, etc. He bought the record and then offers to leave two tickets for me at the box office. So I called this French girl, Marie I knew, whom I hadnt talked to in while (but I knew loved The Beach Boys) and she said yes. And sure enough, there were two third-row tickets for us. It was actually the first time Brian Wilson had toured with the Beach Boys in years. We had an extra room in the back of the store, and had rented it to a theatre group. And one day that same week I had planned to leave, I heard this female singer rehearsing there for the John Gray country musical, 18 Wheels . I thought it was a record, her voice was so good. Her name was Diane Gentes and her voice haunted me. I would meet her again too. I sold off all my personal possessions, except for my Beatles Collection, which I stored at the store. I told a guy who sometimes would watch the store, that I needed to get away and I didnt know how long Id be gone, but Id be back. I was in such an emotional state, I didnt even sign a contract with him. The next morning I decided to take whatever train was available; the Montreal one had gone and Id already moved out of my apartment. They said there was one soon for Calgary, where I didnt want to go to, but they said I could catch a train to Vancouver from there. I knew Jackies younger brother was in Vancouver so maybe hed know where she was. I boarded the train with just a backpack, 10 years since Id first arrived in Ottawa, and my life, I felt, was a mess. I walked down the train aisle, and whom do I see, but a woman who had worked on my newspaper. She had no idea I was leaving, nor did I her. She told me later, her father had recently died and she was doing the same thing I was- trying to run away from her pain. Id always liked her; an aspiring writer and poet, in fact, we had the same birth date. She was going to Vancouver too. Now at least I had a travelling companion, and we got along great on the trip. When we arrived in Vancouver we stayed the first night at a hostel, and I remember

thinking, maybe I could start over here. She was supposed to stay at a house out there, but we decided to look for a place to share. We saw an empty place the first day but It was more like a store. We even talked about setting up a store together; shed run the bookstore and I the records. I figured I could ship some records from my store back in Ottawa, but keep both places. Soon we found a small apartment; I gave her the bedroom and I slept on the pull-out couch. Then we found a job so we could save up to open a store. We got this job together putting flyers around door to door. Wed show up early every morning in the dark and hope wed get picked that day by the van drivers. My lady friend was pretty, so that helped. We got $25 per day cash each. Most of the crews were Sikhs and Native people. I found out later that we were one of the few who didnt get welfare on the side. We lived on egg salad sandwiches and carrot sticks. One guy never spent money on lunches; he wore a rag around his waist but hed save his money and go on safaris in Africa. So all kinds of strange people, but by the two of us sticking together, we could be safe. It would rain all day in the winter and it was dark again by the time we got home. But we had someone to share it with. One day, I heard one of the guys in the truck point as we went by a gray building; he said that was his old home (I thought he meant his old school), but it was the prison! We watched our back that day, because wed be out in the middle of nowhere, by ourselves.. And you had to be careful the dogs didnt bite you. I really didnt like Vancouver though; almost everyone I met was from back East and trying to flee something too. It was like California, with the lemmings heading towards the sea. Like something out of Grapes of Wrath One day, I was just thinking nobody knows me here and I can reinvent myself, when a guy yells out my old stores name. And there was the same guy who would try to bum money off me back in Ottawa. But there were also building tensions between the girl and I. We were living in the same apartment, but platonically. I liked her, but didnt want to endanger our friendship. Everybody assumed we were a couple. But I was getting frustrated. Id always been attracted to her, but I wasnt sure how she felt. And it led to little fights. I think shed had a crush on a musician in my coffeehouse; another reason shed fled. On Thanksgiving weekend, by coincidence, that store we had first seen on arrival was available; all we had saved for. But I broke down and cried. John and Yoko had just released their first album Double Fantasy in 5 years, since hed dropped out of the music business. Their single Starting Over was moving up the charts. And I was hopeful of starting over. Maybe even with Jackie still. Lennon and Yoko had plans to tour again, maybe come to Canada and Montreal, where I figured she might be. I hadnt found her in Vancouver. So when I announced to my lady friend, my plans to return, she was rightly hurt. And it led to our biggest fight yet on that fateful night: Dec. 8, 1980.

DECEMBER 8, 1980: JOHN LENNON SHOT

(AND IM NOT MAKING THIS STORY UP!):

On that very night of December 8, 1980, we had a fight and she moved out of our apartment. The next morning I still had to go to work with her. I noticed they were playing lots of Beatles music on the radio in our truck that morning. I didnt know why. Someone said, Didnt you hear John Lennon was killed last night? I hadnt heard because my lady friend and I had split exactly around that time (11p.m). I was just in shock; it felt so personal. Lennon had guided me since I was young. Hed been largely the reason Id refused to go in the army; had come to Canada; set up my IMAGINE store etc. I, as I said, took it very personally; I didnt really realize fully just how many around the world would too, even with all the outpourings of emotion later. I just wanted to be alone in the truck, but they left the radio on. My lovely lady friend came back to the truck to console me. She knew how much Lennon meant to me. She asked if they knew who did it. I said it didnt matter. But just then, the radio said the killers name. And it was her name too! She turned white as a sheet. A month before I had read an interview in Playboy magazine with John Lennon and upon putting it down, had strangely told her, Lennon has told me everything he can. He had said then, Theres nothing to be scared of, Its all an illusion. Everybody of my generation remembers for their whole lives, two tragic dates and events: John Kennedys assassination and John Lennons, for they defined our hopes and our own mortality too. For at the end of that Playboy interview, ironically, John Lennon had said it all: Well, you make your own dream. Thats the Beatles story, isnt it. Dont expect John Lennon or Yoko Ono or Bob Dylan or Jesus Christ to come and do it for you. They can leave signposts and little instructions in various books that are now called holy and worshipped for the cover of the book and not for what it says. People cant provide it for you. You can wake you up. I cant cure you. You can cure you. Its our fear of the unknown. The unknown is what it is. And to be frightened of it is what sends everybody scurrying around chasing dreams, illusions, wars, peace, love, hate, and all that-its all an illusion. Accept that its unknown and its plain sailing. Everything is unknown-then youre ahead of the game. Thats what it is, right? (1) John Lennon and Yoko Ono interview, c. Playboy Magazine, Jan. 1981.

John Lennon Strawberry Fields Memorial: The Dakota, Alan NYC visit, 94

But it was time for me to go back and face my own dream. Friends had been writing me that the guy I had trusted with my store in Ottawa was ruining it. I had some money saved and still hoped to find Jackie. So I headed back to Ottawa to try and pick up the pieces. When I left I asked my lady friend if there was anything I could give her. She asked for Lennons POB album, my favorite. I took the train back to Montreal hoping Jackie was perhaps there. I spent the weekend there walking the streets in the rain, not knowing how to approach her family. Her brother, who didnt like me, lived upstairs in the same house. Finally, I realized I had only one choice, to return to Ottawa and try and salvage my store. For I had learned you cant run away from yourself. I discovered they had moved my store across the street when the Rideau Centre was built while I was away. As I walked, unannounced, in my store, the guy who was supposed to keep an eye on it ran out, never to be seen again. I soon found out why. He had destroyed most of my business. Even my own private Beatles Collection; he had sold it off at high prices after Lennons death. But in a few months I had re-set it all up again; the store, newspaper, coffeehouse, etc. One day, I was thinking about my lady friend back in Vancouver. George Harrison had just released All Those Years Ago, and had said it better than anybody could You said it all when you say All You Need Is Love, but not many had ears (2). So that day I had mailed the song to her. Later that same afternoon, who walks into my store, but her! She would later teach overseas and meet her husband there and have children and become an artist. I was grateful for her kindness. I was Starting Over and as I was about to find out- the Magical Mystery Tour would continue

(2) All Those Years Ago, George Harrison, c. Ganga Publishing B.V., 1981.

CHAPTER 7: BACK IN OTTAWA

We named the new location, IMAGINE-ALTERNATIVES. It was on the 2nd floor again, above a

new record store, Treble Clef, which Harvey Glatt owned, and where, later CHEZ-FM host, Brian

Murphy was manager. I had my used record part and Gary, his science fiction and comic store.

Again in the back of the store we had this extra area so I thought of putting the bookshelves flat

along the wall and that would give us some open space to have live music perhaps. So we built

there a little coffeehouse and called it OPEN SPACE. And we published our SPECTRUM

newspaper once a month. It was a co-operative, alternative community, non-profit 8 page

paper. We distributed it free each month, to over 100 places, all over town. Anybody could

join or submit articles. Gary and I were the founders and Co-editors. We covered everything

from political and local events to arts. There were usually about 15-20 volunteers at any one

time. We did everything on it; wrote articles which Gary typed usually (this was before

computers), graphics, cartoons, poetry, etc. One of the highlights was a calendar of free events

each month. We even pasted all the typed pages down ourselves and then we would send the

layout by bus to Smith Falls to be printed and then we would all fold it together and distribute

it. We did this for 8 and years. We set up the coffeehouse as a place, where every Saturday

night local musicians of all styles could get up and play. It only held about 20-25 in the audience

and we only charged $1 at the door and sold coffee for 50c. A lot of talented artists who might

not get a chance at some of the other places in town got to perform. Some later well-known

Ottawa musicians played there.

But a lot of the time, besides trying to keep it on track, and maintain our City grant, and sell ads

to small shops to support it too, I had to do damage control sometimes. You see, Gary liked to

create reactions in people. For example, he wrote a regular column on films. He bragged that

he could review them without seeing them. When people asked how, he would say, Anybody

can review one theyve seen, but it takes a real genius to review one they havent. We shared

the store hours, and I also had a cleaning job at night. One morning, Gary calls me and wakes

me up and says to get right down to the store because were in a scandal. And sure enough, we

had caused a little one; even Ottawa Mayor Dewar had to defend us and CJOH-TV was coming

to interview me about it. Someone had evidently submitted a political article against U.S.

Cruise missiles in Canada. As I said, we printed pretty well anything that anyone in the

community provided, as long as it wasnt cause for libel. And I told the reporter that. After, I

just wanted to hide, thinking nobody would probably see the interview anyway. But that night

it made both the 6 p.m. and 11 p.m. National news even and they edited it to make it even

more controversial. Of course, Gary loved it.

An incredible guitar player was Shawn OConnor (stage name SHAWN ECANO). He would

hook up a synthesizer to his acoustic guitar, and out would come these electronic sounds. And

when he picked up an electric guitar, his fingers would fly like Jimi Hendrix. His masterpiece

was Heartbreaker, originally by Grand Funk Railroad, but in Shawns hands he turned it into a

10 minute extravaganza. He would dress up in a fedora and suspenders and wraparound

sunglasses. He was unlike anything Ottawa had seen before or since. I was later to put on

several concerts for him and others.

About a year after I was back, I noticed that this singer, I had only heard rehearsing in the back

of my store that week I left for Vancouver, was playing San Antonios Downstairs Club on

Rideau. I asked another female musician if she would go with me to see her. My friend asked

what her name was and I said, Diane Gentes. And she said she was her best friend. We

walked in the door that night, and Diane was on stage singing and when she saw me and her

friend together, she stopped in the middle of the song. As I say, Id been haunted by her voice

just by hearing it only once before. She blew me away again. She was a country singer from

Winnipeg originally, but with a blues accent and soul. Pretty soon I was going to all her shows.

She had in her band this great young guitarist too, Danny Artuso. I met with her and told her I

wanted to help her and I did, putting on shows and promoting her for the next 8 years.

Id met an interesting woman in a park near Elgin St. and told her about our coffeehouse. One

Saturday, she showed up with a male friend. We got along fantastic and after, I walked her

down Elgin St. where we both lived. The guy followed along a few blocks behind us talking to

somebody else. She and I went to a 24-hour restaurant and talked all night. And she held my

hand the whole time. Finally, I asked who that guy was. And she said, I kinda live with him.

She revealed to me that he had told her she didnt know how to love. I couldnt believe it; she

was kind and warm and beautiful. After, we hung around together for the next weeks. The guy

went to Toronto over Christmas.

I was now living off Elgin in a rooming house, and the superintendent wouldnt let you have

female visitors overnight (you would be kicked out), so I couldnt have any lady visitors there. It

was a strange place; everyone had a story. There was a guy from India who still wore paisley

shirts from the 60s (even though it was the 80s) and said Daddio from the 50s a lot. My

musician friend, Bryan, also lived there. I remember one time we and another tenant pooled

our money together to make a big stir fry and we were starving. But just as it was finished

cooking, Bryan tripped and it all fell on the floor. We all just looked at each other and then we

scraped it off his dirty floor and ate it. It was that type of place. The superintendent had an

artificial leg but rode a bike. Whenever he talked, you were distracted by his constant cigarette

butt, where the ashes just seemed to hang on there forever.

Late one night Im thinking about that girl Id met and I get stuck in the bathroom because the

doorknob fell off, and Im yelling for someone to let me out. Finally somebody opens the door.

I fall asleep in my clothes to be awakened early the next morning and I feel something walking

on my face; its a cockroach! Im so depressed I run to a phone booth to call that girl, as I didnt

have a phone. She tried to reassure me that it will get better. It has to, I thought.

A new woman joined my paper and I didnt realize at first that she lived just around the corner

on Elgin St. from my rooming house. My superintendent had told her that some artsy guy lived

there. I didnt type then, so she offered to type my hand-written (my handwriting was terrible)

articles. So I told her about my lady friend. It was unclear what that girl and mine status was.

She had gone back to the guy- maybe? They were as opposites as could be. As I say, she was

kind and very positive and he was sarcastic and negative. They say opposites attract, I dont

know. They both had the same birthday, two days before mine. She was very smart and would

go on to work for Prime Ministers. My new friend next door said that she would never leave

me uncertain, like that. She even helped me type up a letter to the girl.

But I was spending more time with this new lady. I had broken my toe working at a part-time

job in a warehouse when a heavy pallet fell on my foot. It was my birthday and there was a

knock on the door; I hobbled to answer it with my foot in a bucket of water. It was the woman

next door. She had a birthday card for me and she kissed me on the cheek. It was the first time

I realized that she cared for me, or that anybody did in long time. Her name was SARAH.

Id long wanted a personal life, most of all, and I might just be able to have one with this

woman next door, SARAH. Sarah had joined the newspaper and the coffeehouse and we

started spending more time together. One night I was over at her apartment and we were

working late, so I just stayed over. She had had her dad buy her bunk beds so she wouldnt be

tempted into another relationship. She had moved to Ottawa recently, partly to escape an

unrequited one in Toronto. So Im up on the top bunk bed. I had gotten a piece of celery from

her fridge and bit down hard on it. It made a crunch sound so she asks what that was. I had

told her I had a bad back, so said it was my back. And then I took an even bigger, louder bite.

She said, My God that must be painful and felt sorry for me. I told her the truth and we both

roared in laughter. I think it was the first time we both realized just how much we liked each

other. And Sarah and I soon moved into together in her apartment.

Her family had come from Winnipeg; I seemed to like everybody from Winnipeg like Diane and

the The Guess Whos (Canadas best band) Randy Bachman, whom I later met, and Neil Young,

I guess its kind of like Chicago and the Midwest where I grew up. The first time I met her

parents was at their condo on The Driveway. We ate hot dogs and beans on fancy plates. I

think it pretty well sums up her family- a combination of well-off but still very down-to-earth.

Her father had been a Minister in the Federal Government in the 50s and had lived part time at

the Chateau Laurier. Theyd had a house in Rockcliffe Park, where all the embassies were. He

had just retired and moved to Ottawa from Toronto where he had been the CEO of a major oil

company. So it wasnt my usual crowd. But I think, as was the pattern, with my relationships,

her mother had liked me immediately. Sarah was the youngest of four children. She had grown

up in a big house in Toronto. So I was right when I had first said when I met her at my store,

You arent one of those rich girls trying to look like a hippie, are you? She was very artistic

and had worked with children in Toronto as a teachers assistant and was a puppeteer and

made her own puppets. But Sarah hadnt had it easy; she was bipolar, like her mother, as it

often ran in families. Sarah was fortunate in that she tended to get more manic than

depressive or suicidal usually. And when she was manic her mind would just speed up and she

might run around and spend money. But she could usually control it with medications like

lithium but, as I was to later learn, it could sometimes be triggered by stress and emotional

events. But I didnt know that then. We were still young and innocent.

CHAPTER 8: WALLS AND BRIDGES

The store, newspaper and coffeehouse were doing well now. More and more musicians were

coming to play. Diane Gentes, whom I was promoting now, came to perform, and wowed

everybody. But we still underground, compared to the regular Ottawa music scene. We had

started the newspaper and coffeehouse as an alternative to the mainstream cliques, of whom,

we werent a part.

Everything was going pretty well for once. But that was all about to change. For my old

friend/nemesis, Peter, from that very first bookstore on Elgin St. where I had met Jackie,

reappeared. I naively let him back in my life. As I say, the coffeehouse was becoming more

popular (and this is before Starbucks and their $4 coffee). One of the newspaper and

coffeehouse members was willing to invest a little money to build tables and fix it up and Peter

had construction skills, so he started helping. But Peter could be both very charming and

manipulative too. So soon he had convinced the investor of his big plans. He had even

persuaded Gary somewhat, to his side (something Gary would soon regret). Also I was

becoming less interested in it all, except for my store.

And I also had discovered music for the first time outside of my place: I started going to all of

Dianes shows. She was special; she had this warm effect on people, and she had accepted me

into her musical family. I would go every weekend and see her play. Some of Ottawas best

musicians, like Terry Gillespie (another American, originally) from Heavens Radio, and her

acting friends, would get up and sing with her. She had this way of bringing people together.

She had, as I say, an amazing voice and would draw both country and blues crowds. I wrote an

article on her in Spectrum called Even Cowgirls Sing the Blues.

One night I was sitting at her table in a bar, and this drunk guy was trying to pick her up (she

was attractive). I didnt like him and was getting bored so I started talking about astrology to

the girl next to me. He piped up and said, I dont believe in that shit; guess my sign.

Sometimes I could, if I didnt think about it too much, so I did guess and got it right! That shut

him up. Pretty soon everybody at the table wanted theirs and I got all six signs around the table

right! (I couldnt do that again, believe me), but suddenly I was the life of the party.

But at the store and coffeehouse, it was all coming to a head. I had, of course, named my

store IMAGINE years ago, because of John Lennons influence on me. Now my old friend,

Peter, had to have his own space there called Penny Lane because he preferred McCartney.

As I said, we had always been both friends and, in his mind, rivals. One Saturday night right

before the coffeehouse was to open (Peter was nothing, if not dramatic). He decides to build a

Berlin Wall across it and close it off. Gary, finally realizing Peters plot, refuses to leave from

the coffeehouse. And it ends with Peter dragging Gary by the feet out of the coffeehouse with

Gary, an old anti-war protester, singing We Shall Overcome. I thought of calling the police,

but knew that would be the end of our illegal coffeehouse. Later, I did consult a lawyer friend

but he said there were no contracts to prove it and it could take months (although the lease

was in Garys and my names).

So the rot had begun to set in. Much as The Beatles had found with their own company, Apple,

which they had set up to help other artists, a few freeloaders were out to destroy what we had

set up. The Beatles themselves had broken up and had sued each other. And it wasnt just my

once friend, Peter, either. Some new people had come to the newspaper and they decided to

stage a coup. We had always run it co-operatively, but it was Garys and my idea and we did

most of the work on it. I had decided I was going to pull back from Spectrum anyway, and just

write an occasional article.

But frankly, I didnt care much anymore. I was having more fun going to see Diane and her

band. Diane said to me that it was clear that it was me (and Gary, and Jackie before) who had

created all these things and perhaps I didnt need all these people any more. Diane understood

people (I think shed been a social worker back in Winnipeg), and having to run a male band as

a single female leader, couldnt have been easy. She was a tough working-class, but very

compassionate, woman artist.

And all this turmoil was now going on at the coffeehouse, etc. and I just wanted out. So it was

with relief for me when I heard Mc Donalds was going to buy the building. Some on the paper

wanted to try and fight it, but we didnt own the place and wouldnt get any money anyway.

And as I said, as far as I was concerned, it had become a mess. The new members had tried to

run the newspaper and had failed after a few months. So Garys and my dreams, like Apple,

had fallen apart and I was ready for a new beginning. Gary would later open a bookstore in

Toronto and even let punk bands rehearse there, even though he couldnt stand rock music. He

remained an anarchist to the end. We held no grudges against each other; for he had been

duped by Peter, as had the others. And I cut off from my old friend/nemesis, Peter. After

running SPECTRUM and SHOESTRING PRESS for 8 years, and the coffeehouse, we ended it.

And I lay IMAGINE to rest, for now anyway, and moved out.

But I would later actually reopened my secondhand record store but under the name Rock This

Town! on Elgin; it was right above the very same address where I had first worked at Peters

bookstore and met Jackie back in 1971, (and where I had lived next door at an apartment with

Bryan and Joe in 80, before I went to Vancouver). It was again on the 2nd floor, so I had to

carry my crates of records downstairs and sell them every Saturday on the street, because few

Ottawans would go upstairs or to basements, unlike Montreal where it was cool. Also my

guitarist friend, Shawn Ecano, from the coffeehouse, set up a small recording studio there and

he hired a 16 year-old musician and later classical and film soundtrack composer, Alyssa Ryvers.

Already there was there a trendy used clothing store upstairs. I wondered why so many

customers came up to the clothing store when I had so few and later learned it was a drug

front. One day though, this Canadian serviceman comes in and wants 45s for his jukebox. I

gave him several real cheap, so in exchange, he gives me free these photos he had taken of The

Beatles in Germany. He had interviewed them there in 1966,