Give Me a Chance Read online

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  It was like being in a competition to see how many people could squeeze into a room. I could barely hear the phone callers and kept having to ask them to speak up. One person I spoke to claimed he was Paul McCartney! He demanded to be put through to John at once – but he sounded awfully American to me. I replied cheerfully, “Sure, Paul! But what happened to your Liverpool accent?”

  “Blast!” he said and hung up.

  It wasn’t long before I took another call, this time from “Ringo”, with an accent that had never been within a thousand miles of the Mersey. He wanted to speak to John. I asked “Ringo” where he was calling from. “London,” he said.

  Fortunately, Derek had told me earlier where Ringo was holidaying. “That’s too bad,” I told the caller. “You’re supposed to be in the Bahamas.”

  “Blast!” said the man as he slammed the phone down again. I had to give him an “A” for effort.

  We were running out of Beatles when almost immediately the phone rang again. I was beginning to enjoy this; I knew I could keep up the game as long as this guy could. The caller said politely, “It’s George; can I please speak to John?”

  I thought this was the man’s weakest attempt yet, so I told him, “Oh, pull the other one.”

  Of course, it really was George Harrison. I ran to tell John as quickly as possible!

  While all this mayhem was happening, more and more people kept arriving. Where from, I wondered? Was there anyone left in Montreal? In the world? Derek came across a letter left by two fans who had travelled 650 miles from Cleveland the day before to see the Lennons, but hadn’t been able to get into the hotel. They’d had to return home. Derek wrote a letter of apology and asked me to get John and Yoko to sign it, which they did. But there just wasn’t enough of the Lennons to go round.

  John and Yoko were pros, and tried to share their peace message with everyone and anyone who wanted to talk to them. Their campaign was very important to them – but they weren’t getting a moment between reporters to catch their breath. It grew more and more stressful. Camera crews were crowded around the Lennons’ bed, filming constantly with their hot lights, which was clearly both tiring and sweltering. The cameras and microphones were never off them. Not only that, but John and Yoko hadn’t been able to have even a short break and were really hungry. Derek ordered them some food from room service, but we had no idea how and when they were going to eat it.

  It turned out Derek wasn’t the only person ringing downstairs for food. The hotel informed him that people were anonymously ordering whatever they liked and sticking it on the Lennons’ bill. We didn’t know who was enjoying the steaks, lobsters and fine wines, but it certainly wasn’t us!

  I was cross because people were abusing the Lennons’ kindness and hospitality. The fact that they were rich was no excuse for people taking advantage of them, especially when they were trying to do such unselfish work. I remembered what John had said about people always wanting things from them.

  On top of all that, a lot of this food and drink was being spilt, staining the Queen Elizabeth’s expensive carpets and damaging the furniture. Litter was piling up everywhere, and even the hotel’s hard-working cleaners couldn’t keep up. The suite was getting to be a pit. Kyoko had finally had enough and burst into tears. As I cuddled her, I couldn’t blame her; I was near to tears myself. Did celebrities ever get used to this pressure?

  As Derek made his way through the muddle, he signalled for me to come and have a word. It was so overcrowded, the only room where we could get any privacy was the bathroom – an unusual place to meet. We perched on the sink and bathtub, as Derek tried to figure out a solution.

  Suddenly John stormed into the bathroom to join us. He was angry. “There are too many people in the bedroom, Derek!” He had had enough. There was so much going on in the bedroom. “I don’t know what day it is any more!” He asked Derek if he could do something as quickly as possible.

  We could see John meant it. It was funny to think that just a few short days ago, he and Yoko had been worried whether anyone would even come to their Bed-In; now they were overwhelmed.

  John and Derek also had safety concerns. There were so many people jammed into such a small space, they were afraid someone might get hurt, which would have been unthinkable. Not only that, but the hotel’s other guests weren’t thrilled by the hubbub at this usually dignified, prestigious hotel. Derek hurried to see if he could find the hotel manager, to sort out some extra rooms, hoping that more space would make the Bed-In seem less of a pressure cooker.

  As John and I headed out of the bathroom, Kyoko raced over, all smiles again. I was relieved she seemed happier – until she opened her hands and showed us a gift a fan had given her: a live white mouse. Urgh! That was all we needed. John was as thrilled about it as I was. Backing away, he gently told Kyoko, “I like it only at a distance!”

  I wondered what we could do about it, before Kyoko got too attached. She decided to call the mouse Baby – not a good sign. She put it down on the floor to play with and it scampered away. A moment later, with exquisite timing, the hotel manager arrived to speak to Derek; his eyes almost popped out of his head as he spotted the mouse.

  The manager drew himself up to his full height and explained, with great dignity, that the Queen Elizabeth was one of the finest hotels in the world. It wouldn’t do his reputation any good to have mice running around his rooms (I myself thought it would make a unique selling point). He made it clear that either the mouse would have to check out of his hotel or we would. John and I agreed to relocate Baby.

  We took Kyoko and the pet back into the waiting room to see if she could point out the generous fan who had given it to her. He’d gone. I would have gone too, if I’d just been able to offload a mouse. A young Hare Krishna man kindly offered to take Baby and promised Kyoko he’d give it a good home. At first Kyoko wasn’t sure she wanted to part with her new pet, but John consoled her, saying, “We’re giving the mouse to the Church, to Hare Krishna and to God.”

  As John and I headed back into the press room, he sighed, “We’re all doing our own thing for peace.”

  “I know,” I agreed. “Mine, at the moment, is pest control!”

  FOUR

  WITH A LITTLE HELP

  FROM MY FRIENDS

  Early next morning when I arrived at room 1742, I heard Derek on the phone making an appointment for Tommy Smothers. My heart stopped. Surely there couldn’t be two Tommy Smotherses? It wasn’t exactly a name you heard every day. I jumped on Derek the moment he came off the phone and asked if this Tommy Smothers was The One. And by that I meant the famous one. Derek smiled and nodded. The Bed-In just kept getting better and better.

  Tommy was only my favourite American comedian of all time. He and his brother, Dickie, were a duo calling themselves the Smothers Brothers. They had their own TV Comedy Hour, which I watched zealously every Sunday evening at nine, along with millions of others. I even took the phone off the hook when they were on so I wouldn’t miss a word.

  Not only did the brothers write a lot of their own comedy material, but they were also musicians, playing guitar and double bass, and they sang and wrote their own songs too. I was in awe of such multi-talented people. And now Tommy was coming to the Bed-In. It was as though I was checking off a list of my Top Ten favourite people in the world. I followed Derek around, firing off a million questions. “When’s Tommy coming? How long’s he staying? Can I talk to him about comedy?”

  The Smothers were intelligent and original, and made people not only laugh but think too. They weren’t afraid to tackle any subject, no matter how serious; nothing was off limits. Tommy and Dickie satirized politics, racism and war – and even made jokes about the American President, Richard Nixon, which people didn’t do much in those days. Their TV show told the truth and influenced a lot of people; it was their way of trying to change the world, only with humour. As John had told me, we all had to do our own thing for peace. The Smothers Brothers were doing theirs, and I
was learning how to do mine.

  But I was excited for another reason. I wasn’t the only one who worshipped Tommy Smothers; my best friend in the whole world, Susy, had been in love with him for years. But since Tommy lived in California and Susy in Montreal, she’d never imagined she would meet him. I seized the phone to give her the mind-blowing news that Tommy was coming. I was sure I could smuggle her into the hotel to see him.

  But when I got Susy on the phone, she sounded really weird, as if she had the most terrible cold in the universe, with hay fever on top of that. I could barely make out what she was saying as she spluttered that she had just come back from hospital, after surgery on her sinuses. Her face, she told me, was bruised and swollen, and just to finish her new look she had two black eyes as well. It wasn’t exactly high fashion.

  Even worse, Susy had been ordered to stay in bed for a week and her mother wouldn’t let her out. Susy was beside herself. Her one chance to meet her heart-throb and this had to happen! She was going to miss him when he was in Montreal, right on her own doorstep. How unfair was that?

  Frantically she started plotting to sneak out and, as a good friend, I colluded. After all, I seemed to be an expert at getting in and out of tight places. But Susy’s mother overheard us planning her escape and put a stop to the whole thing. She wasn’t letting Susy go anywhere; from now on, her mum would be standing guard.

  I tried to calm Susy, but I knew nothing I could say would help. How could she be happy about missing her life’s dream? I felt even worse because I myself was living mine. I promised her I’d take lots of photos of Tommy and get his autograph for her; it was the best a friend could do. I was now celebrity-hunting for two.

  I’d just hung up when Tommy walked in. I tried not to gawp at him but failed miserably; I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He looked exactly as he did on the telly: tall and blond, with twinkling blue eyes. No, I take that back – he looked even better, because he was standing right there in front of me. As Derek introduced us, I shook Tommy’s hand, and had to remind myself to let go.

  Derek asked me to take Tommy in to see John and Yoko. I would have rather kept him all to myself, but of course I knew that wasn’t going to happen. While showing him in, I asked him how long he was staying. When he said a few days, I was relieved; that would give me plenty of time to get souvenirs for Susy.

  Comedian Tommy Smothers with John, giving interviews for peace. The strange gun-like object being held in front of them is a microphone!

  John and Yoko were glad to see Tommy, as were all the reporters and photographers. His arrival meant that the press would be able to get some new photos and material for their pieces, which would help to keep the Bed-In alive in the public eye. That was why John and Yoko were so eager to have visits from lots of celebrities; as far as the Lennons were concerned, the world couldn’t hear enough about their Bed-In. They knew what they were doing.

  Tommy spoke about peace powerfully. He was against war and said so on every possible occasion. Then, after he had finished giving interviews, he confided that he wanted to speak to John privately for some advice. I was touched that Tommy didn’t mind my staying to listen too.

  John and Tommy Smothers being interviewed. You can also see the “All You Need Is Love” bedspread a fan made for the Lennons, complete with YELLOW SUBMARINE characters. It’s now on display in the Liverpool Museum.

  To my horror, he said that The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour was being taken off the air! Their TV network was under pressure from the powers that be, who didn’t like the brothers making controversial jokes about the American President and the war. They were trying to censor them. But as Tommy put it, “The only valid censorship of ideas is the right of people not to listen.”

  Tommy and Dickie believed in freedom of speech and expression, and thought the public should be able to hear both sides of a story, so they could make up their own minds. The brothers wanted to keep on doing what they did on their show.

  Both Tommy and I were surprised by John’s reaction: he totally disagreed with Tommy’s all-or-nothing point of view. He thought Tommy should ease up for a bit, to save his show. John explained logically, “You can’t be a spokesman without any spokes.”

  It was important to the brothers’ cause that they be seen and heard by as many people as possible. John went on, “Get on TV any way you can and stop splitting hairs.”

  I don’t think Tommy expected that answer. I certainly didn’t. He thought for a moment, then said sulkily, “I hate long-haired people.” We all laughed and Tommy added, “It’s really a drag to be losing your hair when all the groovy people are hairy.”

  Though he was joking, I knew he’d taken John’s words to heart and would think about them seriously. After all, John was the master of getting messages across. He told Tommy that no matter what, he should keep at it and make the people who were pro-war laugh. “They don’t know how to handle non-violence and humour.”

  Tommy managed to have the last word: “When you don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s hard to know when you’re finished!”

  Soon afterwards, we all took a break for a meal. As I was finding out, Tommy was even funnier in real life than he was on TV, if that were possible. The Lennons were vegetarians, but Tommy claimed, “Red meat is not bad for you. Now blue-green meat, that’s bad for you!”

  Tommy also told us that he’d managed to give up smoking by taking a cigarette and saying, “I don’t need this. This is harmful. It’s poison.”

  I asked Tommy if it had worked and he said yes, only now he followed buses to inhale the fumes. We laughed until we hurt. I knew then that I wanted to become a writer. What better job than making people laugh?

  At one point, I was finally able to have a private word with Tommy and I told him all about my friend Susy. “She’s your biggest fan, except for me, but she’s had an operation and can’t be here today. She feels terrible. It’s killing her!”

  Tommy listened sympathetically. “What can I do?”

  I knew Susy would like him to elope with her on a white horse, but I also knew that wasn’t going to happen. I decided to try for something possible: “Could you please sign an autograph for her?”

  Tommy said gladly, and that he’d go one better; he sat down and wrote Susy a “get well” note on the hotel stationery. I then asked Tommy if he’d mind having his photo taken with me. He put his arm around me and hugged me as Derek snapped away – but suddenly I worried that when Susy saw it, she might burst her stitches! She’d been through enough already. So I took some photos of Tommy by himself, just in case. After all, I still wanted to be best friends with Susy when the Bed-In was over.

  Me, with the funniest man in the world, Tommy Smothers.

  “Downtown” singer Petula Clark joining us at the Bed-In.

  I was just getting used to being around Tommy when another celebrity arrived: the singer Petula Clark. The petite blonde pop star had had many Top Ten hits, including “Downtown”, which had sold millions of copies – including the one I’d bought. She was here to do her bit for peace, but she was also upset and wanted to speak to John about a problem. It was funny how everyone was drawn to him. Petula said she had never met John before but was attracted by his kindness.

  I was just amazed that so many celebrities seemed to have problems. Petula was rich, famous and attractive and I thought that was about as good as it got. What more could anyone want? But I was fast learning that life wasn’t like that.

  Petula needed advice about a concert she’d given in Montreal, which hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped it would. John told her to forget it and move on, and Petula decided to do just that – especially since so much more was happening all around her.

  A steady stream of celebrities kept arriving. I couldn’t believe my luck when we were joined by the brilliant black comedian Dick Gregory. He was active in the civil-rights movement, which was potentially dangerous as those who were against its beliefs often turned violent, and many good people
were murdered. I admired his commitment.

  Dick had even run – unsuccessfully – for President of the United States the year before, as a candidate for the Freedom and Peace Party. He joked that if elected he would “paint the White House black”. He lost, but along the way he drew people’s attention to important issues such as racism and bigotry. Like the Smothers Brothers, Dick used his comedy to try to make the world a better place. He wanted to hold up a mirror to society, to get people thinking. Or, as he said, “I never learned hate at home, or shame. I had to go to school for that.”

  Kyoko taking a break with Petula Clark. You can see there was never much room to move around.

  I was having the time of my life, but I also had the sense to know I was surrounded by courageous, special people who stood up for what they believed in. Each hour I felt more and more privileged to be there. I mentioned to Derek how incredibly helpful everyone was – but he was reading something that had just arrived, and frowning, which wasn’t like him. I asked if anything was wrong.

  Derek showed me a badly typed letter, with lots of mistakes. It called John and Yoko horrendous names and threatened the Lennons, saying they should get out of Montreal or else.

  I shivered as I read it and quickly handed it back; I had never seen anything so full of hatred. Derek asked me what I thought and I said that the writer was a terrible typist. I asked if John had seen it.