On Thursday, December 7, 2000 at 3:00:00 AM UTC-5, veritas...@cotse.com wrote:
> The Sunday Mirror (London), 17th September, 2000
> BEATLE JOHN NEVER STOPPED LOVING YOKO ONO. BUT IN THE YEAR BEFORE HIS MURDER
> SHE WAS A HEROIN ADDICT WHO HAD GROWN TIRED OF HIM. NOW THE MAN WHO KNEW JOHN
> BEST REVEALS FOR THE FIRST TIME HOW YOKO HAD A SECRET PASSIONATE AFFAIR WITH
> ANOTHER MAN ... AND PLANNED TO DIVORCE JOHN SO SHE COULD MARRY HER LOVER.
> By Fred Seaman
> Lennon's personal assistant and friend
> From the first day I started work for John Lennon, I found it difficult to
> distinguish the bizarre from the merely eccentric. I was employed as an
> assistant, not just because my Uncle Norman and Aunt Helen were old friends of
> the Lennons but, crucially, because my astrological charts indicated I would be
> highly compatible with John, who was born on October 9. I was born on October
> 10. Another favourable omen was my name, given that John's father, Freddie,
> was a seaman. John and Yoko attached great significance to this coincidence.
> The way they saw it, I was predestined to work for them.
> For two all-consuming years I had a tremendous time, enjoying the trappings of
> a celebrity lifestyle, until December 8, 1980, when Mark Chapman shot John.
> Barely an hour after John was shot dead I was back inside the Lennons'
> sprawling New York apartment. I was in shock and in tears, as well as feeling
> a tremendous sense of anger.
> Yoko was talking to detectives and looked very upset. But the Lennons'
> accountant Richie DePalma was already there and the moment the police left she
> went into business mode, giving the staff orders and speaking to lawyers on the
> phone.
> Amazingly, Yoko was granted probate for John's estate on December 9, 1980, the
> morning after he was gunned down. This can take weeks or even months, so the
> astonishing speed raised a lot of eyebrows.
> What purpose could it have served? I can only speculate that perhaps Yoko was
> concerned that John's British relatives might make a claim of their own, or
> possibly there was a previous will kicking around. Whatever it was, taking
> control of John's estate was her priority.
> I cried for the man I had worked for as a personal assistant for two years, but
> grown to love as an older brother. But I never saw Yoko shed a tear. She
> ordered me to take down all his photographs, but then had second thoughts and
> told me to put them back.
> To this day I wonder how somebody could be so emotionally under control in such
> bleak circumstances.
> In 1980, the year John died, Yoko had fallen in love with someone else. She
> had even moved John's clothes out of their apartment, planning to divorce him
> and marry for the fourth time.
> While this obsessive affair was going on she had to keep John out of the way.
> So she came up with a catalogue of reasons why he should go on journeys without
> her.
> In that last year of his life, John and Yoko spent nearly four months apart,
> and until shortly before John's death she was having secret afternoon trysts in
> hotels with her lover. He was a handsome and cultured art curator called Sam
> Green who adored powerful women. He was 40 then, an intimate friend of Greta
> Garbo who like to sunbathe naked in his garden.
> As he was single, it was sometimes wrongly presumed that he was gay.
> Since 1976 he had been close to the Lennons and was a great fixer with
> excellent connections. The Kennedys and Rothschilds were friends.
> Sam acquired exquisite works of art for Yoko, including a Renoir and an
> Egyptian sarcophagus which had contained the remains of a princess that Yoko
> was convinced had been her in a past life. He fixed it for the Lennons to
> attend the inauguration party for President Jimmy Carter in 1977 when they
> decided on a whim at the last minute they had to be there.
> As a token of their appreciation for all he'd done, they gave him a concert
> grand piano with a plaque which read: "For Sam — Love From Yoko and John —
> 1979."
> At the end of that year, when John was making out his will, he trusted Sam so
> much that he specified that if he and Yoko died together Sam should be Sean's
> guardian and custodian of his entire fortune.
> It was in April, 1980, when Yoko's relationship with Sam became more than
> friendship. Her heroin addiction was out of control and she had begged him to
> help her to detox secretly without John's knowledge.
> First she had to get rid of the family. On April 9 she sent John, Sean, his
> nanny (my Aunt Helen, who helped get me my job) and me out to their mansion in
> Cold Spring Harbour on Long Island for two months.
> Her masterly stroke was convincing John to take a vow of silence for 10 days,
> specifically designed to increase his self-discipline and will-power.
> During those 10 days she didn't visit — her absence explained by a dose of
> Russian flu. This paved the way for Yoko to go "cold turkey" in her bedroom at
> the Lennons' apartment in the Dakota building with Sam moving in to help her
> through the agonies of heroin withdrawal.
> The doctor supervising her detoxification warned Sam that junkies usually
> replace one addiction with another, but he didn't take seriously the suggestion
> that her next craze would be him.
> As Yoko recovered, her sexual appetite, long-suppressed by heroin use, quickly
> returned. And there at the end of her bed, keeping a friendly eye on her, was
> Sam — who up to then had never been physically attracted to the woman he saw as
> a client.
> But as he explained after he had been dragged into bed: "Yoko, she always got
> what she wanted. She harangued me."
> Meanwhile John, a natural chatterbox, wasn't happy about his silent vow, which
> started on Saturday April 19 with a ban on coffee and TV thrown in for good
> measure. He became increasingly irritable and at one point hurled a glass into
> the sink and shards flew across the kitchen.
> When his mute ordeal was over, Yoko announced she was coming for a visit and
> John was beside himself with excitement.
> I helped John videotape himself playing a new song he'd just written for her,
> Dear Yoko. We had a huge brunch on the lawn running down to the water. Sean
> was delighted to see her and hung on to her as she smiled weakly for the
> Polaroid shots John was taking.
> The next day she was gone — back to the Dakota and Sam Green. John and I spent
> May sailing in a little boat I'd bought. The more time he spent on the water
> the more he talked about wanting to go on an ocean voyage.
> As the idea took hold, he discussed it with Yoko. She consulted her
> directionalist Takashi Yoshikawa — directionalism is the ancient Oriental
> science of controlling one's destiny by defining which route is better for
> someone to travel in. He advised her that John had to sail south-east from New
> York.
> That meant Bermuda was the obvious destination. Yoko couldn't believe her luck
> because it meant John would be out of the way while she continued her affair.
> Two amazing things happened next. John's boat nearly sank in a fierce storm,
> and Yoko consulted lawyers about divorcing John to marry Sam.
> The lovers spent an unforgettable evening at his parents' 32-room mansion in
> Connecticut while John was out of the way. They had rented a convertible car
> and were driving along when she asked: "Don't your parents live near here?"
> He was appalled at the idea of taking home such a famously married woman, but
> couldn't talk her out of it. When they arrived, they were seated at a candle-
> lit table on an evening arranged for Sam's sister and her boyfriend, who were
> expecting to announce their engagement.
> Sam's mother was fascinated by Yoko, as her confirmed bachelor son had rarely
> taken a woman home before and his new "girlfriend" gave every indication she
> was meeting her prospective in-laws. As Sam sat rigid, she leapt to her feet
> and gave a flowery little speech on the family.
> When it was time for bed, Yoko was given the grandest guest bedroom. But she
> didn't bother to make her bed look slept in or even try to be discreet.
> Instead she made a terrible racket as she bounded along the creaky old
> floorboards to join Sam in his room.
> Yoko also plagued Sam with incessant phone calls when she wasn't with him.. One
> morning she called him 41 times. Eventually he hung up on her.
> To appease him she sent a courier by seaplane who handed over a package
> containing a 4.5 carat yellow diamond which he had made into a lapel pin.
> Then Yoko issued instructions for all of John's belongings to be moved from
> apartment 72 at the Dakota Building, where they lived, into apartment 71, which
> was mainly used for storage. Stunned employees followed her orders, but when
> Sam found out he went into shock. After a row, John's things were brought back.
> I found a completely different man when I went to join John in Bermuda after
> his five-day voyage. I was startled by how much healthier he looked. He was
> tanned and talked enthusiastically about his sailing trip, which had taken a
> dangerous turn when the boat ran into a powerful Atlantic storm and all hell
> had broken loose. Everybody was sick and John had to steer the boat through
> 20ft waves by himself.
> He told me: "At first I was terrified but I knew it was do or die. Once I
> accepted the reality of the situation something greater than me took over and
> all of a sudden I lost my fear. I started to sing and shout old sea shanties
> in the face of the storm and felt total exhilaration.
> "The only time I felt as centred was in 1961 when The Beatles were at their
> peak as a live band and I knew nothing could stop us."
> We rented an amazing seaside mansion called Villa Undercliff for six weeks,
> which cost around £15,000. It had a piano and a sailboat for us to play in.
> We had a day out in Hamilton watching a parade on the harbourfront to mark the
> Queen's birthday. We stood Sean on a windowsill so he could see. John said
> the marchers in their pith-helmets and all the pomp made him feel patriotic and
> he loved it because nobody bothered him.
> He sent me out to buy two large radio cassette recorders and set up a makeshift
> recording studio. He began to feverishly write and record song after song.. It
> was as if the artistic floodgates had opened.
> It was more than five years since he had last made an album. He had just
> passed his hours sitting in the Dakota watching TV, reading books and killing
> time in his bedroom. It seemed unlikely his creative side would ever resurface
> but his near-death experience changed that.
> Yoko made plans to visit us, but constantly cancelled. By the time she finally
> visited us late in June he had completed half a dozen demos for what was to be
> his comeback album, Double Fantasy.
> He serenaded her with his entire new repertoire. All the while she sat cross-
> legged and impassive in front of him. Unbeknown to John, Yoko had been working
> on her own songs. She was determined to share the record with him. He wasn't
> happy about it, but as always he gave in.
> She further infuriated him by cutting short her visit, saying there was
> business to do at home.
> "What's so important it can't wait?" he yelled and warned her that her neglect
> of Sean would come back to haunt her.
> She stayed in bed for most of her 48-hour courtesy call. She was welded to the
> phone, engrossed in selling a prize cow for a record £160,000 and virtually
> ignored Sean. Before we knew it she was on her way back to Sam, leaving John
> angry and frustrated.
> He complained that he didn't get laid and discussed doing something about it.
> In the past, Yoko had tolerated him going to brothels or having masseuses
> calling at the Dakota. He told me: "At least Yoko gives me elbow room.
> "She wouldn't mind if I fooled around a bit as long as I'm discreet. I've been
> thinking of finding a real dish for us and bringing her back to the house.. We
> could pass her off as your girlfriend."
> Of course it never happened because he was afraid that our very traditional
> Japanese cook and housekeeper, Uda-san, would phone Yoko immediately.
> We discussed getting a car so that we could cruise around the island and pick
> up hookers but never did. Even worse was when we went to a disco and failed to
> chat anyone up. Nobody knew who he was, and teenage girls weren't interested
> because he was too old. He always used to say: "Anonymity is like virginity.
> Once you lose it you can't get it back." But I think he regretted being quite
> so anonymous then.
> We spent a lot of time shopping. He even bought new clothes for me when he
> kitted himself out with a new wardrobe.
> One day he bought six Wedgwood china sets, one for each of their homes and two
> to give away. It was his Aunt Mimi's favourite and he talked of sipping tea
> with Yoko from lovely cups.
> He also got a bee in his bonnet about Sean helping himself to food from the
> fridge. He seemed to forget how much growing children can eat, and objected
> when Sean wanted ice cream or some other snack.
> He was a health-food fanatic who was constantly berating Aunt Helen and Uda-san
> for feeding him junk food, so they used to hide it. Then he would turn food
> detective, find it and throw it away. He was neurotic about his diet and his
> idea of a treat was vegetables and brown rice, dried bananas or carob-covered
> peanuts.
> He ordered me to buy a padlock so he could lock the fridge. He said: "And
> make sure you give me all the keys. I'm serious about this." The fridge was
> duly locked but the regime only lasted a couple of days. John was in the
> makeshift studio trying to lay down demo tracks for Double Fantasy, and every
> five minutes he would be interrupted because somebody wanted the key.
> Sometimes John and I would sit on the terrace overlooking the harbour and get
> stoned while we played Bob Marley tapes.
> Once we went to the Bermuda Botanical Gardens and as we looked at some fragrant
> fresias John bent down and saw that they were called Double Fantasy. His face
> lit up and he said: "I can't wait to tell Mother (his pet name for Yoko) I've
> found the perfect album title."
> Yoko appeased John with frequent phone calls and they sometimes spent several
> hours at a time talking and playing songs to each other. But we had no idea
> she was at Sam's Fire Island Beach House, where she'd had her own line
> installed.
> Another assistant, Sam Havadtoy, a flamboyant Hungarian-born decorator who
> still shares Yoko's life to this day, phoned us in Bermuda to say he couldn't
> find Yoko and he urgently needed to discuss the colour of bathroom tiles he was
> installing in the Dakota. John was livid. He suspected Yoko was carrying on
> with Sam Green but conveniently convinced himself that both Sams were gay..
> He wasn't able to locate Yoko and he expressed his impotent rage in a heart-
> wrenching song entitled I'm Losing You, which appeared on Double Fantasy.
> John sent me back to New York for a couple of days to deliver an antique
> cedarwood box to Yoko with a lock of his hair in it. But the main reason for
> my trip was to find out what she was up to.
> I found out Sam Havadtoy had cleared some of the contents of apartment 71 and
> put stuff in storage. Yoko's intention was to move in all of John's things
> from apartment 72.
> Her plan was to divorce John and live in apartment 72, while John lived in the
> less luxurious space next door.
> I didn't have the heart to tell John when I got back to Bermuda because I
> thought he would go into a terminal depression. I hoped it was another of
> Yoko's fantasies which would pass. He knew something was going on and told
> me: "She's playing the two Sams off against each other."
> When we returned to New York in late July, Yoko had already hired producer Jack
> Douglas, who had worked on some of John's previous recordings, a band of top
> session musicians and a recording studio called The Hit Factory on West 48th
> Street.
> Her idea of a nice place to rehearse was Sam's seaside house where she'd
> shipped a grand piano as well as a Yamaha electric grand. No mean feat
> considering its remote location and the fact that there wasn't a road. The
> plan was to have John work there while she played with her lover.
> But John refused to stay, and got me to set up a rehearsal studio in apartment
> 71 before they started recording at The Hit Factory on August 6. The dizzying
> pace of the recording sessions was fuelled by liberal amounts of cocaine, which
> John sent me out to buy and write off on my expense account as "candy".
> Yoko often slept on the couch in the studio — John's cue to get out the Jack
> Daniels and tequila which he and Jack kept hidden in the recording console.
> Sometimes Yoko disappeared and John's frequent refrain was: "Has anybody seen
> my wife?"
> I later discovered that she was meeting Sam in a hotel room booked under the
> name of Mrs Green. During September, the second month of the recording
> sessions, Yoko had six secret hotel assignations with Sam. Upon their arrival
> in the luxury suite caviar, champagne and vodka were laid out for their
> enjoyment.
> Sam was sickened by her demands for him to turn up at a moment's notice and he
> insisted the affair should end. She punished him by severing all ties at the
> end of October, when she refused to make good a promise to cover a £65,000 bank
> loan.
> It was a convenient time to switch allegiance, as John was back in the
> limelight and required all her attention. She also had to concentrate on her
> recordings, believing she would finally achieve the same fame as John — a
> status she had always envied. Everything the Lennons could wish for was
> installed at the Hit Factory. Their favourite biscuits, booze, coffee and
> tea. He was in his element playing and sitting at the 24-track recording
> console. Yoko was so nervous before doing I'm Your Angel, she whispered to me
> to get her a glass of vodka. "It'll relax my voice. Make it look like water,"
> she said.
> I got it but it didn't help. Her voice repeatedly cracked in the upper
> register.
> By the time John's 40th birthday came around on October 9, the album was nearly
> finished.
> The first single, Starting Over, was released on October 14. Double Fantasy
> followed about a month later and included I'm Your Angel which everyone
> presumed Yoko wrote for John. In fact, it had been a birthday gift to Sam
> Green the previous May. His sudden downfall has been attributed to Sam
> Havadtoy telling tales about the man he considered a rival. Havadtoy rapidly
> established himself as a key member of her inner circle...and he moved in only
> days after John's death. Now 20 years later he and Yoko are still a couple.
> What was to be John's last birthday was a double event as Yoko had made sure
> Sean was born on the same day.
> According to a Hindu superstition a child born on its father's birthday will
> inherit his soul when the father dies and Yoko's goal was to bestow John's
> genius upon her child.
> My birth date was also crucial to my job. My Aunt Helen's husband Norman knew
> Yoko during the 60s and they had all remained friends, mentioning me when John
> needed a personal assistant. But just as important was my birthday which fell
> on October 10, the day after John's, and he and Yoko attached great
> significance to this as it meant my and John's astral charts were compatible.
> They believed I was predestined to work for them.
> Sean was five on October 9, 1980, and the little party for family and staff was
> the best. It was in the kitchen at the Dakota where John and Yoko liked to sit
> at the butcher's block table, drink tea, smoke and read the papers.
> John's birthday was on a different scale. Yoko announced there would be an
> outdoor event — a plane skywriting Happy Birthday over Central Park and an
> indoor event, the cake-cutting and presents.
> But when I asked her if she would be going up on the roof to watch the plane
> she looked at me as if I was mad and demanded: "Are you kidding?" John didn't
> bother either because he wanted to sleep and ignore the fuss over his 40th.
> Sean wanted to know when he would get his presents. I explained he would have
> to wait until John got up. At 4:30pm it was time for the inside event. John
> hadn't shaved in a day or two and wore a party hat made by my Aunt Helen from a
> brown paper grocery bag. She stuck the figure 40 on it in orange tape. There
> was a cake with five candles which Sean blew out. John stood behind him and
> held his hand when they cut the cake together.
> Sean ripped open his presents which John had asked me to buy — mostly cartoon
> videotapes.
> The official birthday party was a few days later at the Tavern On The Green.
> John was in a stunningly good mood and credited it to Double Fantasy. He was
> also flirting with some of the women there, not surprising as he hadn't had sex
> during the three months it took to record the album.
> My girlfriend Victoria made up my face with black eye-liner and mascara. John
> caught sight of me and sidled up and said: "Love your make-up, honey!"
> This was just as Peter Boyle was waving his camera and told his friend Marnie
> Hair he would give her $10 to kiss John so he could take a snap. John was
> laughing and said: "Here's a picture that's worth a lot more," and kissed me
> full on the lips.
> Yoko dislike her own birthday partly because of her own fear of ageing, but
> also because she would have to give the impression she was enjoying it when
> people made a fuss over her.
> She was seven years older than John and while she had complete disregard for
> her physical well-being in some respects, particularly her chain-smoking and
> heroin habit, she was obsessed about her skin.
> She went to incredible lengths to get anti-ageing potions illegal in America
> but available in eastern Europe. Her bathroom at the Dakota, which naturally
> had a phone by the loo — was full of cosmetics promising youthfulness. More
> than once she told me she felt her skin was dying.
> For her, birthdays were no cause for celebration but John made a big production
> of them, especially her 47th in February 1980, which they celebrated at their
> villa El Solano in Florida.
> John wanted her to wake up to the perfume of 1,000 gardenias, her favourite
> flowers. Money was no object but I soon found out they weren't in season so we
> had to settle for what I could get my hands on — 100 very expensive blooms.
> When she woke up she kept murmuring, "They're so beautiful," but she said it in
> such a way as John serenaded her with love songs that I sensed something was
> wrong.
> When he left the room, she turned to me and said: "Thank you for the flowers,
> but they're just not right for the occasion. In Japan, gardenias are the
> flowers of death. They're for funerals."
> Then I was just embarrassed by our ignorance. But now I'm sure that John, who
> had spent the previous three summers in Japan, knew exactly what he was saying
> with flowers. They represented a relationship which was passionless.
> He was sending Yoko a message in the guise of being romantic but what he was
> really saying was that their relationship was dead.