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- - - - - - - - - - - - Dec. 8, 2000 | Nearly everyone of a certain age remembers where they were on Dec. 8, 1980, when they learned of John Lennon's murder. That's hardly surprising. Whether or not you were a fan of the Beatles, of Lennon or of his bare-assed antiwar antics, his murder at the hands of a pathetic, deranged nebbish motivated by, of all things, J.D. Salinger's "The Catcher in the Rye," marked the beginning of a long, bitter winter of liberal discontent in America. Ronald Reagan had just been elected, and the '70s were most certainly over. Lennon's demise at the age of 40 seemed to augur the death of all those hopes based on the premise that "love is the answer." No wonder it knocked the wind out of so many. Adding to the pain and anger was the irony that Lennon had only recently emerged from several years of withdrawal to produce a new album, "Double Fantasy," the initial track of which was titled "(Just Like) Starting Over." The record contained a number of superlative songs, such as "Woman," "Watching the Wheels" and "Beautiful Boy." Lennon was still involved in a media blitz on its behalf when he was shot by Mark David Chapman at the entrance to New York's Dakota Building at 1 W. 72nd St., where he was living with his wife, Yoko Ono, and their son, Sean. Friday is the 20th anniversary of Lennon's death. I asked a number of people to recall their memories of the event. Not all are Lennon fans, but their recollections reveal the significance of the former Beatle's death as one of those mental milestones by which we measure our lives. - - - - - - - - - - - -
Robert Altman, film director "Nashville" was sort of a harbinger of it. When John Lennon got assassinated, I got a call from a reporter at the Washington Post, and he asked, "Do you feel responsible for this?" I said, "How do you mean?" He said, "Well because in your film 'Nashville' you did an assassination of a celebrity." I told him, "That's what the film is all about -- do you feel responsible for not heeding my warning?" Lucianne Goldberg, syndicated talk show host and publisher of lucianne.com I live a few blocks from the Dakota on the Upper West Side. I first heard that John Lennon had been shot while I was sitting in a taxi. It was on the radio. The taxi was less than a block from the Dakota at the time. My first thought was, "Why would anyone want to kill John Lennon? He's just a West Side househusband." Yoko, I could have understood -- her music was awful. But John, then, was just the druggie Beatle who sat around a West Side pediatrician's office with his baby son and could be seen pushing a stroller in the park or schlumping out of the deli at West 72nd Street and Columbus Avenue. I can remember being more curious about who could have wanted to shoot him. On the way back across town a couple of hours later, the people were lined up in the dark on both sides of West 72nd Street. They all had candles and were trying to sing "Give Peace a Chance." I thought that was an odd thing to sing at a murder scene. I rolled down the window and smelled a lot of pot in the air. I wondered what in the world was going to happen to his kid. Larry Flynt, publisher, Larry Flynt Publications Inc. I was in Los Angeles, and I was shocked in the same way that I was when John Kennedy got shot. I thought, "Here's a young man who has made such a substantial contribution to our culture, and he has been taken from us in such a senseless way." I was pretty much numb to respond beyond that. Catherine Zeta-Jones, actress I was 11 years old. I was actually in London, in a musical, and I remember all the grown-up people in the cast running through the corridors, shouting, "John Lennon's dead." It's funny because our apartment in New York is two buildings away from the Dakota Building and right opposite Strawberry Fields. It always chills me when I see tourists pointing their cameras up to Yoko's apartment or photographing the gate. Michael and I actually went there the other day for a dinner party. We were waiting for the elevator to go up to our friend's apartment, and Michael said, "Right here." He was standing at the elevator once, going up to see a friend, and John Lennon walked out. He said, "I know you," in his Liverpudlian accent, and they had a quick conversation. That was the last time Michael saw him. It's kind of eerie when you live so close. I've met Yoko a few times. But it always gives me a chill when I see people photographing the Dakota -- it makes my stomach turn a bit. Michael Douglas, actor I was one block away, where my apartment was. And I was actually there at the scene soon after the tragedy. I was right there. That actually was what motivated me to begin my work in handgun control -- that incident.
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