Coming Together

A ballad for John: Amos Wengler sings and plays a guitar with fans at the "Imagine" memorial dedicated to the late Beatle John Lennon, in the Strawberry Fields section of New York's Central Park. Photo Stan Honda/AFP/Getty Images.

Shortly before 7 p.m. on Thursday, December 8, the street outside the Dakota building had the look of a film premiere or a nightclub opening. There were police barricades, flickering lights, popping flashbulbs and clusters of security guards and NYPD. There was a sense of expectation in the air, as if a celebrity might suddenly appear — or the ghost of one.

This was the place where John Lennon was shot 25 years ago. A steady stream of people inched past, treading lightly over the stretch of sidewalk where Lennon was gunned down by a crazed fan named Mark David Chapman in 1980.

Some visitors snapped photographs of the majestic building entrance, while others placed candles around the outside or wedged bunches of roses and orchids into the wrought iron railing. Yoko Ono was apparently inside, with two candles glowing in her window.

“It would be nice to be a rock star,” sighed a burly fellow on the sidewalk out front.

Most of the tourists and New Yorkers who were there seemed to be heading east along 72nd Street, drawn toward Strawberry Fields, the section of Central Park that was dedicated to Lennon in 1984. The adjacent street was lined with television trucks and relaxed-looking New York City cops. On just about every corner, a TV reporter was describing the scene in front of a floodlit camera. Park officers herded people through a series of metal barricades towards the Lennon memorial, where a lively celebration was taking place.

A man with a furry white beard had a flag billowing over his shoulder that said, “Veterans for Peace,” and a poster on his front that said, “Give peace a chance.”

“John Lennon wasn’t just a great musician, he was a peace activist,” the man said. “He would have wanted to bring the troops home from this crazy war in Iraq.”

Larry Lozier, a tall young man possessed of floppy, Beatle-tastic hair and a pink knitted scarf, said that he’d been conflicted about attending the memorial. He’s a musician himself (his band is called Trust Fund) and he lives about twenty blocks north.

“I’m not sure I want to be here,” Lozier said as he waited in line to get inside. “This country has an unhealthy habit of deifying people, if you know what I mean. Do you know what the word ‘apotheosis’ means? Look it up.” He seemed to be channeling Jim Morrison.

It was 25 years ago today: Fans gather and sing on the anniversary of the late Beatle John Lennon's death at the "Imagine" memorial. Photo Stan Honda/AFP/Getty Images.

It took patience and determination to get inside. But people were surprisingly polite and accommodating, especially given that it was close to freezing, and folks were so bundled up that they tended to bounce off one another like gentle ping-pong balls. Nearing the inner sanctum, it became apparent that Nowhere Man was being belted out by an impromptu band that had formed in the centre of the swelling masses.

At the core was a man on a drum set surrounded by other men with guitars and an assortment of harmonica and tambourine players. A row of park benches — which on a normal Saturday afternoon would house alpha couples with lattes and strollers — served as a makeshift stage for a row of scruffy guitarists, one of whom was holding up a glossy snapshot of Lennon in his signature round sunglasses. The tightly packed mob was singing and bobbing along. The CNN camera guy had trained two powerful lights on the scene, casting it in surreal silhouette. Clouds of smoke and frosty breath whooshed overhead. There were whiffs of clove cigarettes, and perhaps something funkier.

There was no planned program. Rather, each time a song came to an end — which sometimes occurred after a communal struggle to remember the lyrics to the later verses — a confused lull would fall over the crowd. Suddenly, people would start shouting out suggestions for the next number.

“Here Comes the Sun!” yelled one person.

“That’s not a Lennon song!” someone else shouted. “That’s a George Harrison song!”

“I don’t mind if they play George Harrison, ‘cause he died around now, too,” someone else said. (Harrison passed away in November 2001.)

It was 7:30 p.m., and somehow Something emerged as the best available option, which is another George Harrison song. When that petered out, there were further proposals.

“Let It Be!” yelled a man.

“Come Together!” screamed a woman.

“Cold Turkey!”

Fruitful message: Apples and a picture of John Lennon are placed on the "Imagine" mosaic in the Strawberry Fields section of New York's Central Park. Photo Mary Altaffer/AP Photo.

Different factions started singing and banging their instruments until a particular melody would take. All You Need is Love came next, followed by Eight Days a Week. Shuffling a few feet away from the music and closer to the circular “Imagine” mosaic in the ground — long a focal point of Lennon worship — led to a slightly more somber atmosphere. The mosaic was covered in candles and heaps of flowers. There was a mini Christmas tree and handwritten notes: “We all shine on, John, love Josef and Catherine.” There were Granny Smith apples with messages written on them in black marker.

Some time after 8 p.m., for no apparent reason, the authoritarian park police brought in a bunch of metal barricades and cordoned the shrine off from the crowd. The crowd was unimpressed.

“Let it be, man!” someone kept shouting at them.

The temperature seemed to drop precipitously after 9 pm, and people huddled closer together, swaying in unison to Come Together. A severely underdressed gentleman with a pony tail and tan trench coat was handing out business cards that said: “Imagine John Lennon Day An International Holiday Celebrating Peace and Love. Please Sign Our Petition…”

The crowd was getting bigger. People were digging in their heels against the chilly night under a hazy moon, waiting for the candlelight vigil and moment of silence that were rumoured to be coming at 10:50 p.m., the exact time when Lennon was shot, and again at 11:15 p.m., when he is said to have died.

Finally, someone started singing Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds — for at least the fifth time that day.

Sheelah Kolhatkar writes for the New York Observer.