The Night John Lennon Died
by Kathy O’Connell, Host of Kids Corner for WXPN
The events of the night John Lennon died occurred within a matter of minutes. Yet, it seems like it was happening in slow motion. I was at WBAI (Pacifica radio) in New York that night, babysitting a taped jazz program. Growing up in “the battling O’Connells” prepared me well for WBAI, where ugly altercations in the halls were a regular event. On December 8, 1980 my friend John Fisk asked me to fill his engineering shift so he could attend a staff meeting concerning some now-forgotten burning issue at the station. I settled in to an uneventful air shift, a nice contrast to the high-octane emotions of a WBAI staff meeting.
Halfway through the jazz show “Salt Peanuts,” two phone lines started blinking. It was my friends Max and Bob, calling simultaneously to alert me to a TV news report that John Lennon had been shot outside his home at the Hotel Dakota. Each of them held the phone to the television so I could hear the news report. The press wires at WBAI were silent. There was no “dingdingdingding” indicating a news story, so at that moment my source of information was those phone calls. I interrupted the staff meeting (to the glares of those who had not yet begun to fight) to say “uh guys, TV is reporting John Lennon got shot.” Amazingly, only a couple of staffers came back with me to the news wire room to wait for the ding. We made the decision that I should stop the tape to announce the news. So, I did, ending with “stay tuned to WBAI as we learn more details. Until then, we return to ‘Salt Peanuts.’” Immediately, the hotline rang, and WBAI’s public affairs director started haranguing me about putting out a story before it was confirmed. I pointed out that it had been reported on television, an invention he didn’t own. He responded, “I live near the Dakota, and I haven’t heard anything.” That was when we heard that awful set of dings indicating a breaking news story. Not only had John Lennon been shot. He was dead. The next on-air host took over, and I headed home.
In the streets of Manhattan, people walked around, asking total strangers “did you hear?” My tears started the moment I got home, through a fitful sleep where I’d wake up, remember nothing will ever be the same, and start sobbing again. One of the beauties of living in Manhattan was the chance maybe you’d see John and Yoko in the streets. That chance, and a whole lot more, was gone after that night.
This is very hard to watch. It’s news reports from 12/8-9, 1980:
Indeed, for me, this was the Day that the Music Died.
August 3rd, 2007 at 4:51 pmI was in my attic garret, typing a college paper when I heard. I had MMR on at the time and they immediately played nothing but John and the Beatles.
Out of all of the rcok and roll tragedies, wasted lives, thwarted talent, crashes, burns, suicides, and ODs, the assassination of John Lennon is by far the saddest, most tragic loss of all. He had just come out with sparkling new material and moved with grace and joy into fatherhood. I miss the music he heard only in his heart and the man of peace and wit.
What would the the past 6 years have been like if John Lennon were alive? How would he have motivated the masses with music? How would hsi wit have skewered vanities and exposed lies?
In music - especially rock - so many are like meteors, flashing and falling. It is certainly a treacherous calling, and music lovers have suffered many senseless losses.
But w/ John Lennon, something far greater than a rock star was taken from us - a beacon of love and peace, a musical genius snatched from our sky.
I can take a lot of these losses in my stride, but I am STILL not over this tragedy.
I, too, feel that the loss of John Lennon was the most profoundly tragic and sad of all our rock n’ roll deaths. The night he was shot, I happened to go to bed early and missed the news (Oh, boy!)
October 21st, 2007 at 12:24 amThe next morning, I turned on the radio and kept switching stations. Every single one was playing Beatles music, and I got a chill….I knew something was terribly wrong. When I heard the news, I was stunned and couldn’t stop crying. That day, I had to teach a class to a group of older women. I wore a black armband. One of the students asked if someone in my family had died. I said, “Yes.”
I attended the vigil on the Art Museum steps that weekend, in shocked silence with many compatriots who all gathered there, in desperation.
The only thing that made this period of time bearable was listening to Helen Leicht on WIOQ and her show, Breakfast with the Beatles. She was my guiding light. Thank you, Helen!
I was only 14-years-old at the time, but I remember the night well. ABC’s Monday Night Football was being broadcast on channel 6. When the announcement was made by Howard Cosell, I turned to my father asking, “Who is John Lennon?” He replied, “He was in a band called the Beatles.” Interestingly, my father despised rock n’ roll; he was a devout fan of classical music. But my father’s tone was gentle, and I knew that I was witnessing something profoundly sad and deeply disturbing. As a direct result, I turned on WMMR and listened, intently. Then I wept as I was held captive by the music. Musical memories can haunt us and heal us…
October 22nd, 2007 at 11:09 pm