Thirty years ago today, I was working in computer operations for the defunct Manufactures Hanover Bank at 55 Water St on Manhattan. I was 22 years old and had the luxury of still living at home and spending most nights out running the streets on NYC. So when I got up on the morning of December 8th 1980 and went into the bathroom for a leak, shower and shave, I switched on the radio which was always set to 102.7 WNEW FM and heard Richard Neer talk about the DEATH of John Lennon, I thought I was still feeling the effects of the past evening.
Unfortunately it wasn’t. It was fact. John Lennon was gunned down in front of his Dakota Apartments home by a fucking lunatic . How could this happen? Lennon was not just a rock and roll icon, he was one of us, a New Yorker and not just any New Yorker but a guy who hung out at the downtown bars and rock clubs just like the rest of us.
It was the coolest thing about Lennon and Yoko, they never thought they were special, they just felt they were one of a few million folks who called the city home. They would walk into Max’s Kansas City and blend in.
It’s still kind of surreal when one night Lennon walked past a group of myself and my buddies,who were there to see the Von Lmo band, of which a couple of neighborhood guys played in, and as he past he looked at us and said “how are you lads”? What? did John Lennon just ask us how we’re doing? HOLY SHIT!!!!