Part 4 (2/2)

Soon after the Rock and Roll Revival concert, strange rumors began circulating that Paul had been dead for years, was replaced by a look-alike, and that the Beatles had been giving clues about it since the release of ”Strawberry Fields,” with John supposedly singing faintly at the very end ”I buried Paul.” The Abbey Road Abbey Road cover was rife with these clues. John was the preacher, George the undertaker, Ringo the mortician, and Paul the cadaver, dressed and barefoot. The rumor took on a media and fan frenzy. Everyone was searching for clues. I played ”Number nine, number nine” from the beginning of ”Revolution 9” backwards and definitely heard ”Turn me on dead man, turn me on dead man.” The cover was rife with these clues. John was the preacher, George the undertaker, Ringo the mortician, and Paul the cadaver, dressed and barefoot. The rumor took on a media and fan frenzy. Everyone was searching for clues. I played ”Number nine, number nine” from the beginning of ”Revolution 9” backwards and definitely heard ”Turn me on dead man, turn me on dead man.” The Sgt. Pepper Sgt. Pepper cover was replete with symbolism. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was watching the burial of Paul, along with the old Beatles, and many personalities. I devoured every bit of information, listened to every Beatles record backwards, studied every alb.u.m cover to either verify what others were saying or find my own clues. To make matters more beguiling, the Beatles were not commenting on it, and Paul was nowhere to be found until cover was replete with symbolism. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was watching the burial of Paul, along with the old Beatles, and many personalities. I devoured every bit of information, listened to every Beatles record backwards, studied every alb.u.m cover to either verify what others were saying or find my own clues. To make matters more beguiling, the Beatles were not commenting on it, and Paul was nowhere to be found until Life Life magazine located him and Linda on his Scottish farm. In their November 7, 1969 issue, the cover was a picture of the couple with their two children under the headline ”Paul is still with us.” That did not satisfy everyone, but it underscored what really was happening. Unknown even then to the world, the Beatles had broken up and had all gone their separate ways. We would not find out about it for months, but in the meantime, word spread that another Beatle alb.u.m and a film were imminent. I was elated. Ed Sullivan announced on his February 8, 1970, show that the Beatles would premier two songs on his show the following week, almost six years to the day of that first historic broadcast. I don't think I slept at all that week. magazine located him and Linda on his Scottish farm. In their November 7, 1969 issue, the cover was a picture of the couple with their two children under the headline ”Paul is still with us.” That did not satisfy everyone, but it underscored what really was happening. Unknown even then to the world, the Beatles had broken up and had all gone their separate ways. We would not find out about it for months, but in the meantime, word spread that another Beatle alb.u.m and a film were imminent. I was elated. Ed Sullivan announced on his February 8, 1970, show that the Beatles would premier two songs on his show the following week, almost six years to the day of that first historic broadcast. I don't think I slept at all that week.

The Beatles had sent two videos. They were from what would become the Let It Be Let It Be alb.u.m, and had been recorded before alb.u.m, and had been recorded before Abbey Road Abbey Road but not released. The plan had been to doc.u.ment on film the Beatles rehearsing new material for an alb.u.m and then performing it and recording it live in some exotic location. It was to herald their return to a live concert. Sullivan screened the Beatles performing two songs, ”Two of Us” and ”Let It Be.” The Beatles had clearly gone through dramatic changes. They looked fatigued and weary. Adorable Paul was in full beard at the piano, a striking contrast from the ”Hey Jude” video. John seemed withdrawn, George detached, and Ringo depressed. And yet the songs were beautiful and cla.s.sic, particularly the spiritual ”Let It Be.” I remember loving the songs but being a bit worried that maybe the rumors were true. but not released. The plan had been to doc.u.ment on film the Beatles rehearsing new material for an alb.u.m and then performing it and recording it live in some exotic location. It was to herald their return to a live concert. Sullivan screened the Beatles performing two songs, ”Two of Us” and ”Let It Be.” The Beatles had clearly gone through dramatic changes. They looked fatigued and weary. Adorable Paul was in full beard at the piano, a striking contrast from the ”Hey Jude” video. John seemed withdrawn, George detached, and Ringo depressed. And yet the songs were beautiful and cla.s.sic, particularly the spiritual ”Let It Be.” I remember loving the songs but being a bit worried that maybe the rumors were true.

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On April 5, 1970, the Plastic Ono Band was back with the Phil Spector produced, uplifting ”Instant Karma (We All s.h.i.+ne On).” John was consistently releasing songs, creating media events, and staking out an independent position with Yoko on the pop scene. He was not in hiding like Paul. I loved the fact that there were new Beatle recordings, and I was entranced by what John and Yoko were doing and let everyone know about it. I had a lot of defending to do because most people didn't get it and were accusing Yoko of breaking up the Beatles.

Within weeks of the release of ”Let It Be” the single, Paul McCartney announced on April 8, 1970, that he had quit the Beatles. Even though John was the one to bring it to an end after the Rock and Roll Revival, Paul decided to arbitrarily proclaim it in a mock-interview press release that was contained in his first solo alb.u.m, McCartney McCartney, that hit the shelves nine days later. In response to a question as to whether he could foresee Lennon/McCartney being a songwriting partners.h.i.+p again, his answer was a curt ”no.” I could not go to school for days. I did not answer the phone. I locked myself in my room and tried to contemplate a world without the Beatles. Only when I began to realize that they would individually still make music did I come out of my coc.o.o.n and go back to school-albeit dressed all in black.

On May 8, 1970, Let It Be Let It Be, the alb.u.m, was released. It was to be their final alb.u.m together. The cover consisted of four single photos of each Beatle alone, not together as a group. The songs were not supposed to be heavily produced. In part they weren't-it was the four of them playing, sometimes with Billy Preston on piano and organ, as if it were live. Phil Spector was called in after the fact by John and George, to go through the hours of tapes and come up with an alb.u.m. Paul would go so far as to raise this in the future litigation and claim that it was a deliberate attempt to ruin his songs, particularly ”The Long and Winding Road,” with a syrupy orchestral and choral overdub. But the power of the music was undeniable. And the message, as I saw it, was a conscious attempt to have fans come to grips with the end. Spiritual, rocking, and lyrical, it set the right tone for me to lick my wounds and realize that my heroes had not gone away, but were ever present and would be with me forever.

Reality completely set in when I went to see the premier of the film Let It Be Let It Be about a week later. There they were, just as in the Sullivan videos, depressed and detached, but now in deep discord. They were at one another's throats. The film doc.u.mented, unwittingly, their breakup. John clearly in love with Yoko and dependent on her; George alienated and frustrated by the musical restraints on him; Ringo utterly lost; and Paul desperately trying to keep it all together. In one cla.s.sic scene that sums it all up, George in response to Paul's directions on how he should play a lead guitar riff, says, ”I'll play what you want or I won't play at all. Whatever it is that'll please you, I'll do it.” You knew it was over and they had had it. about a week later. There they were, just as in the Sullivan videos, depressed and detached, but now in deep discord. They were at one another's throats. The film doc.u.mented, unwittingly, their breakup. John clearly in love with Yoko and dependent on her; George alienated and frustrated by the musical restraints on him; Ringo utterly lost; and Paul desperately trying to keep it all together. In one cla.s.sic scene that sums it all up, George in response to Paul's directions on how he should play a lead guitar riff, says, ”I'll play what you want or I won't play at all. Whatever it is that'll please you, I'll do it.” You knew it was over and they had had it.

And yet to end the film, in a typically inspired act of originality, they gave their last concert on the roof of Apple, to stunned onlookers and the dismay of the London financial district. Hoping to get arrested by the deferential London bobbies, they played like they did in the Cavern, as a group, tight and aiming to please. ”Don't Let Me Down,” ”I've Got a Feeling,” the trippy ”Dig a Pony,” one of the first Lennon/McCartney compositions ”One After 909,” and ”Get Back.” It was John who summed it up: ”Thank you...and I hope we pa.s.sed the audition.” It was as cla.s.sic a line as when he said to royalty at the London Paladium in 1963: ”Will the people in the cheaper seats clap their hands? And the rest of you, if you'll just rattle your jewelry.” John Lennon was the working cla.s.s hero from the meteoric start to the disintegrating end.

Surprisingly, it did not take me long to adjust to the breakup. All of the Beatles produced volumes of solo material to keep me busy. Ringo released his Sentimental Journey Sentimental Journey alb.u.m, covers of love songs, a few weeks before alb.u.m, covers of love songs, a few weeks before McCartney McCartney. George released his spectacular and ma.s.sive All Things Must Pa.s.s All Things Must Pa.s.s in November 1970 and quickly became the best-selling solo Beatle record at the time. In December, John released his in November 1970 and quickly became the best-selling solo Beatle record at the time. In December, John released his John Lennon John Lennon alb.u.m, the product of primal therapy with Dr. Arthur Janov, along with the historic Jan Wenner interview in alb.u.m, the product of primal therapy with Dr. Arthur Janov, along with the historic Jan Wenner interview in Rolling Stone Rolling Stone magazine, in which he debunked the myths and the glitter of the Beatles and vented graphically and brutally. My prediction of the Beatles saga, and records, was coming true. Even in their time of discord, we all followed intently the biggest storybook of all, the story of the Beatles. Their ups and downs, their trials and tribulations, were all part of the greatest pop story of all time. And all the while, rumors continued that they would get back together. What no one knew at the time was that the Beatles' story would not end with a reunion but instead take a dramatic and historic turn. magazine, in which he debunked the myths and the glitter of the Beatles and vented graphically and brutally. My prediction of the Beatles saga, and records, was coming true. Even in their time of discord, we all followed intently the biggest storybook of all, the story of the Beatles. Their ups and downs, their trials and tribulations, were all part of the greatest pop story of all time. And all the while, rumors continued that they would get back together. What no one knew at the time was that the Beatles' story would not end with a reunion but instead take a dramatic and historic turn.

On December 8, 1980, while giving a bottle to my son Daniel at midnight, I turned on the radio. ”(Just Like) Starting Over” was playing from John and Yoko's Double Fantasy Double Fantasy alb.u.m. Released a couple of weeks before, it was John's triumphant return. He had been reclusive, focusing on his family and like me, his young son, Sean. He had been absent from the music world for more than six years, and this was the first alb.u.m of original John Lennon songs since alb.u.m. Released a couple of weeks before, it was John's triumphant return. He had been reclusive, focusing on his family and like me, his young son, Sean. He had been absent from the music world for more than six years, and this was the first alb.u.m of original John Lennon songs since Walls and Bridges Walls and Bridges. It was climbing the charts and I was happy to have John back. ”Beautiful Boy” on that alb.u.m was his song for his young son Sean, and I would sing it as a lullaby to mine.

I was happy and content, looking into Daniel's drowsy eyes. ”Starting Over” was coming to an end. ”John Lennon,” the announcer said, ”Dead at forty. Shot by an a.s.sa.s.sin's bullet.” Stunned beyond words, I held my sleeping son in my arms and wept.

4.

EPILOGUE.

After John Lennon died, life continued with the usual ups and downs. Like always there was good and bad, but the optimism that I felt from the moment I first saw the Beatles on Ed Sullivan was a bit tarnished. Within two years my Dad died. So did my Uncle Mike. In 1994 everything changed. My mother pa.s.sed away after a long illness. I was suffering under the pressures of a busy law practice and my marriage was collapsing. All of it combined proved to be too much for me. Despairing and defeated, I spent my forty-first birthday in a psychiatric ward.

In retrospect my breakdown was the sort of catalyst I needed to get my life back on track. And as usual it was music-the Beatles and John Lennon-that was my salvation. My daughter Rebecca brought me my guitar, and I would play Beatle songs. I also began writing some of my own.

When I was released from the hospital I began the difficult task of rebuilding my life. My brother told me about a new Beatles project about to come out that was just the salve I needed. The Beatles had produced a three-volume collection of never-before-released versions of their songs called Anthology Anthology. It would be accompanied by a three-part ABC television special. And two new Beatle songs were on their way: ”Free As a Bird” and ”Real Love,” both written by John and with his voice singing lead.

Four months after being released from the hospital, I watched the first episode on November 19, 1995. There they were, my old friends John, Paul, George, and Ringo, telling their story with rare footage and their personal narratives. It was comforting to see that the surviving Beatles clearly still loved one another, and there was no trace of discord. And the prospect of hearing new Beatles songs did my head and heart a lot of good.

Yoko had given Paul, George, Ringo, and George Martin a few unfinished songs John was working on before he died. They would produce ”Real Love” and ”Free As a Bird” as if ”John was on vacation,” as Paul said. During the telecast, ABC tagged now and then onto the screen the time left to hear the ”brand-new Beatle song,” just like CHUM's ”world premier.” At the end of that first broadcast, they played the ”Free As a Bird” video, a montage of all those familiar Beatle images with the song. Starting from Ringo's familiar solitary drumbeat to the ending clip of John Lennon's voice, it did not disappoint me. To hear Paul and George lovingly add a chorus and complete their mate's song was nothing short of miraculous.

One day, a few weeks before the Anthology Anthology broadcast, my phone rang. It was Pierre Trudeau. We had become friends during my brief foray into politics. I had been courted years before by the Liberal Party to run for Parliament. At that time I made it clear that I wanted to meet him before I made any decisions. It was arranged and when we first met in Montreal I told him, ”Mr. Trudeau, I had two great heroes growing up. The Beatles and Pierre Trudeau.” He blushed and replied, ”I can understand the Beatles, but I'm just an ex-politician.” That day we talked more about John Lennon and the Beatles than about politics. I told him how I felt responsible for his meeting with John and Yoko, and I told him I would send him a copy of the tape, which I did. He was a great lover of the arts, particularly poetry. His knowledge was vast and he could quote verse at the drop of a hat. He told me that what appealed to him most about John was that he was ”a great poet.” I asked him what he thought of Yoko. He told me that he had been in touch with her since John's pa.s.sing and had visited her in New York. ”She is one of the most remarkable women I have ever met.” broadcast, my phone rang. It was Pierre Trudeau. We had become friends during my brief foray into politics. I had been courted years before by the Liberal Party to run for Parliament. At that time I made it clear that I wanted to meet him before I made any decisions. It was arranged and when we first met in Montreal I told him, ”Mr. Trudeau, I had two great heroes growing up. The Beatles and Pierre Trudeau.” He blushed and replied, ”I can understand the Beatles, but I'm just an ex-politician.” That day we talked more about John Lennon and the Beatles than about politics. I told him how I felt responsible for his meeting with John and Yoko, and I told him I would send him a copy of the tape, which I did. He was a great lover of the arts, particularly poetry. His knowledge was vast and he could quote verse at the drop of a hat. He told me that what appealed to him most about John was that he was ”a great poet.” I asked him what he thought of Yoko. He told me that he had been in touch with her since John's pa.s.sing and had visited her in New York. ”She is one of the most remarkable women I have ever met.”

The day he called, he suggested I come to see him and to bring my kids. He had heard that I had been unwell. ”Thank you so much, Mr. Trudeau,” I told him. ”We're friends, Jerry,” he had answered. ”It's about time you called me Pierre.”

Trudeau died in 2000 and I realized then that my heroes had mostly all pa.s.sed away. I was fatigued with the life I led. Not being able to hear a new song from John or have a chat with Trudeau made the world a dimmer place. Increasingly, I turned to the creative things that inspired me as a child. Most importantly, I decided to do something artistic, as a tribute, with my story. For years I had been approached to sell or exploit my John Lennon material. I had never been happy with the ideas. Finally, I decided it was time. I started to talk to local artists about doing a short film using my original material. I was not a filmmaker but I threw myself into the process. It was the same determined approach that led me to John and Yoko's hotel room. I had decades before thought of a t.i.tle for anything I would do about my experience: I Met The Walrus I Met The Walrus. It always had such meaning for me.

I began to work with a young Toronto animator named Josh Raskin on the film. He introduced me to the work of a young Montreal ill.u.s.trator, James Braithwaite, whose work I loved. His drawings had the wit and aesthetic of John Lennon. The three of us met and began planning the immediate production of I Met The Walrus I Met The Walrus. Best of all, these young fellows loved the Beatles, were captivated by my story, and brought great enthusiasm to this crazy idea.

A makes.h.i.+ft studio was set up over a paint store in downtown Toronto. Once a week or so I'd check in with them. From the first of James' drawings I was amazed at my great luck. They were compelling, made with respect for John, his words and my experience. Within a year, the film was finished and I got the nervous call from Josh. ”Jerry, it's done,” he reported to me. ”We want you to see it.” I rushed over to the studio and sat down with my young and nervous friends. I was astonished. It was beautiful, provocative, funny, and a fitting tribute to my hero. ”If this is all that happens to the film, guys,” I told them teary-eyed, ”I am a happy man.”

It did not take long for the accolades to come in. We submitted Walrus Walrus to film festivals. I made it clear from the outset that I would not commercialize or exploit it, and we were careful where it went and how it was presented. Soon after it was completed, I sent it to Yoko Ono and told her it was a loving tribute to John. I hoped that she would look at it, that she would like it, and that I would hear from her. We began to win top awards around the world. The Middle East International Film Festival, an Arabic festival in Abu Dhabi, honored a film produced and directed by Jews and about John Lennon, whose music was banned in many Middle Eastern countries, talking about peace. In the summer of 2007 we received word that the American Film Inst.i.tute Festival had chosen our film as Best Animated Short. The significance of this did not escape us. We were in the running for an Academy Award nomination. to film festivals. I made it clear from the outset that I would not commercialize or exploit it, and we were careful where it went and how it was presented. Soon after it was completed, I sent it to Yoko Ono and told her it was a loving tribute to John. I hoped that she would look at it, that she would like it, and that I would hear from her. We began to win top awards around the world. The Middle East International Film Festival, an Arabic festival in Abu Dhabi, honored a film produced and directed by Jews and about John Lennon, whose music was banned in many Middle Eastern countries, talking about peace. In the summer of 2007 we received word that the American Film Inst.i.tute Festival had chosen our film as Best Animated Short. The significance of this did not escape us. We were in the running for an Academy Award nomination.

And then the news came. We were short-listed for an Oscar nomination. Out of thousands of short animated films from around the world, we were one of ten chosen. That meant we had a 50 percent chance of being nominated. My life, which had been so complex and unusual, had now entered the realm of surreal. The Oscar nominations were announced in the early morning of January 22, 2008. I was driving my daughter Jaime to her first-grade cla.s.s on a snowy, frigid day. My car got stuck on a hill beside the school, as other parents were skidding and cursing trying to get their children to cla.s.s on time. My cell phone rang. It was my girlfriend Anisa. She softly said to me, ”Oh my G.o.d, Jerry, you're nominated. You're nominated for an Academy Award.” ”I can't believe this,” I said, and told her I would call her back. Jaime asked me what was wrong. I pulled the emergency brake and stopped the car. I turned around and said to my six-year-old, ”A wonderful thing has happened to your Dad today and a wonderful thing for our family.”

After I dropped Jaime off and got back in the car, my cell phone rang again. It was a member of the Academy, Ron Diamond, who was a great supporter of the film. I had heard of him but had never talked to him. He called to congratulate me and told me about the screening he attended that led to the nomination amongst members of the animation section of the Academy. He told me there were tears in the eyes of the people in that room when they heard John's voice, talking about peace to a fourteen-year-old. Choking up, he said, ”I can't tell you what it meant to hear our old friend John talking to us again, especially now, and talking about peace.” I thanked him profusely and hung up the phone. The adventure I embarked on that Sunday night so long ago had come to this. I thanked G.o.d, whom I thought had abandoned me so many times before, and I sent a prayer to John Lennon.

At the 2008 Academy Awards, Anisa and I walked the red carpet a bit disoriented. Penelope Cruz was in front of us, Cate Blanchett behind. When I walked to our seats, I pa.s.sed George Clooney, Harrison Ford, Daniel Day-Lewis, John Travolta, and even Mickey Rooney. Everyone said h.e.l.lo as though we were part of a club. I guess we were. Our seats were seven rows behind Jack Nicholson. And then the extravaganza began. As the show progressed, it was bizarre to say the least as I heard Jerry Seinfeld's voice announce I Met The Walrus I Met The Walrus as the first nominee in the short animated film category. In fact the image they flashed on the screen was James' drawing of me as a fourteen-year-old with a reel-to-reel tape recorder. Many moments of my life were truly exceptional but I could not begin to describe the stunning, humbling feeling as I waited to hear the winner. I had gotten to know the director and producer of as the first nominee in the short animated film category. In fact the image they flashed on the screen was James' drawing of me as a fourteen-year-old with a reel-to-reel tape recorder. Many moments of my life were truly exceptional but I could not begin to describe the stunning, humbling feeling as I waited to hear the winner. I had gotten to know the director and producer of Peter and the Wolf Peter and the Wolf and personally thought it to be the best film in our category. I smiled when they were chosen, tapped Josh on the knee to comfort him, and rose to embrace the winners. I sat down and for the first time, started to enjoy, really enjoy, my experience. and personally thought it to be the best film in our category. I smiled when they were chosen, tapped Josh on the knee to comfort him, and rose to embrace the winners. I sat down and for the first time, started to enjoy, really enjoy, my experience.

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Shortly before the end of the show, I whispered to Anisa that I had a great line for Jack Nicholson. She gasped, and I said, ”Trust me.” As soon as the show ended, I took her by the hand and led her down the carpet to the front row. I walked up to Mr. Hollywood, sungla.s.ses and all, took his hand, shook it, and nose to nose said, ”Hi, Jack. I'm an Oscar loser.” He smiled and raised his sungla.s.ses. ”You know,” he said, ”I was telling my friend Tommy Lee Jones, have you ever been to one of these and lost? And have you noticed how your friends can't look at you? So let's take a look at you?” Peering me up and down, he wasn't finished. ”And who is this?” he asked, checking Anisa out. ”It's my girlfriend, Anisa,” I proudly answered. ”Well, you don't look like a loser to me,” he said and firmly planted a big Hollywood kiss on her astonished lips.

My life is as complex today as it ever was. It is filled with love and challenge, hopes and fears. I met my heroes-all of them. I got to know two of them. One of them gave me a gift that has taken me through the mountaintops and valleys of my life. He was one of the most important figures of the twentieth century. He was John Lennon. He was the Walrus. He has been with me in my pools of sorrow and my waves of joy. My memories of him drift through my open mind, possessing and caressing me.

For John [image]

A final shot of my hero, The Walrus, John Lennon. Jeff Goode/Toronto Star.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

Within a day of attending the Academy Awards, I received a wonderfully succinct e-mail from Julia Abramoff at Collins Design expressing interest in my story, and she has been responsible for keeping that crazy train rolling all along. She was a prelude to my introduction to the magnificent Marta Schooler, vice president and publisher at Collins Design. Every communication, thought, and direction from Marta was filled with integrity, intelligence, determination, and the joy of giving stories life in books. I am so grateful that she was taken by my tale and that she unwaveringly guided this book through to fruition. She understood everything and introduced me to the incredible team at Collins Design, including a.s.sociate editor Dinah Fried, art director Ilana Anger, and designer Agnieszka Stachowicz, all of whom made the pieces come together in a beautiful way.

I am so happy Marta found Aaron Kenedi to be the editor for this project; his instinctive and insightful attention to all things related to Walrus Walrus made me confident that I was in good hands. made me confident that I was in good hands.

Not that I am a stranger to big cities, but New York is as big a city as it gets and my agent Victoria Skurnick was my protector, advisor, supporter, confidant, and humorist. She allayed every fear, every insecurity, with honesty, directness, and compa.s.sion.

Susanne Boyce, president of Creative, Content and Channels of CTVglobemedia Inc., championed my film with remarkable devotion and genuineness and led the amazing CTV team that touched so many Canadians with my narrative. I would like to thank J. D. Cargill, CNN's entertainment producer, who embraced my story all the way to the limo ride he arranged for the Oscars and the simulcast at red carpet time with enthusiasm and great professionalism.

Sara Angel was responsible for instilling in me a sensibility for the craft of writing and the publis.h.i.+ng world. She told me in a moment of self-doubt that I should find my voice and just write it. When I showed her the first draft, she said, ”You found it!” My friend Jeff Sackman kept me sane during the Oscar deluge and its aftermath with his great knowledge of the film business and precise rationality. He has been a loyal and true friend. Carmen Dunjko took me under her creative wing at a time of difficulty for me and encouraged and applauded my artistic forays with the cert.i.tude of mind that is her hallmark. Her husband and partner, Barnaby Marshall, kept me on track with his pa.s.sion for rock and roll and the great insight he has for the facts and mythologies that surround it. A very special mention goes to the spectacular sculptor Sorel Etrog who saw a kindred spirit in me, opened my eyes and rejoiced in my artistic endeavors.

Much thanks to Byron Wong, who kindly took my reel-to-reel audio-something so precious to me-and spent so much time and care in bringing it to life, and Doug Laxald and his team at Gas Company who meticulously and tenderly restored my photos and images to their present glory. Justin Broadbent, who worked on the film and other projects with me, lent his magnificent talent and whimsy to the design of the DVD insert-it was a happy bonus to have him be part of this project. The brilliant Ruben Huizenga, my friend and musical collaborator, spent countless hours showing me the DNA behind Beatle music. We talked at length over the last few years about the impact of my story and the music I loved. He understood every idea and emotion.

CHUM Radio is a big part of my story, and I had great help from CHUM producer Doug Thompson (who was at CHUM when I met John) and program director Brad Jones. I also want to thank my friend Peter Miniaci, one of the world's great Beatle experts, for years of sharing Beatle stories.

Yoko Ono is well served by her lawyers Peter Shukat and Jonas Herbsman. Their civility, directness, and accessibility throughout the Academy Awards process and this book have been nothing short of remarkable. I should know. I am a lawyer.

What a twist of fate that I found Josh Raskin, who had such great ideas and such a zest for creating the film that he animated and directed. He spearheaded the finished result that is acclaimed around the world. He also introduced me to the gloriously talented James Braithwaite, who brought life to our film with his striking ill.u.s.trations. The first drawing I saw of his sold me on making the film. That we collaborated yet again on this book gives me great satisfaction.

My brother, Steve, was there when it all happened. He was there when I first listened to Beatle records and when I walked on the clouds on May 26, 1969. He has been my supportive rock during the Oscars and this book. He guided me with insight and affection and I have been so taken by his dedication and attachment to my story. My sister, Myrna Riback, was responsible for me listening to the Beatles, it was her record player and her records, and she took Steve and me to Help! Help! and and A Hard Day's Night A Hard Day's Night. She helped me piece together the history of our family and I am so thankful.

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