John Lennon is Low-Key (1975)

 John Lennon is Low-Key After Deportation Fight

By Keith Newham

London Express Service

November 12, 1975

    In the early days, John Lennon was the Beatle who didn't care about fame, about money, about what people thought of him. He was the first of the four with an ever-ready put-down remark, with the sardonic line of humor that seemed somehow on the verge of scorn. 

    Then came Yoko Ono, and John's public base was transformed. He became the committed Beatle, the one who hurled himself into whatever cause attracted him, whether peace and love, public sleep-ins with his wife, or meditation and the Maharishi.

     Most of his energies since the Beatles split up have been directed to staying in America, and there has been the characteristic Lennon air of a circus surrounding that serious aim. 

    Radio Luxembourg asked its listeners to petition Queen Elizabeth to grant Lennon a pardon for his 1968 drug conviction, the cause of the deportation threat that hangs over him in America. "Your Majesty," said Lennon over the air, "I think I have done more for Britain than harm, so give me a nice pardon. Okay?"

     It was reported that Lennon had asked a Los Angeles socialite to adopt him, giving him the right to stay in America. Luminaries have spoken up for him. Neil Sadaka dedicated one of his songs, "The Immigrant," to Lennon.

     Something close to half a million dollars has been spent on Lennon's efforts to remain in America, not because he wants to become a citizen, but because "I like to be free to travel anywhere. I like to think of the world as a kind of global village, and the one thing my money gave me was freedom to travel around that village. America is the center of the rock music world. There is still so much energy here."

    Lennon appears safe for now, and his recent reconciliation with Yoko, after a year apart, resulted in the son for the couple. Deportation proceedings against Lennon were suspended as the US Court of Appeals directed reconsideration of his effort to gain permanent residence in the United States. 

    John Lennon has done more than spend money and appeal for support in his bid to stay in America. He has moderated his whole lifestyle. He moved from the West Village, hippie quarter of New York, to an apartment in a smart uptown block with Senator Jacob Javits and conductor Leonard Bernstein as neighbors. 

    He doesn't give or attend parties other than fashionable cocktail parties, avoiding anything that might attract adverse publicity. "It's a matter of showing them we're not dope freaks", he explains, "and that we're not ogres or martyrs with bombs, just a couple with a leaning towards socialism. I'm not saying I'm not neurotic anymore, but I can handle it better. I don't need to get ulcers and a heart attack."

         He's changing his attitude to the razzmatazz of stardom, too. "I get nervous about going to pop shows when I think of standing around backstage, sprinkled with groupies and all the terrible hangers-on."

     He even admits that in the Beatles days, "I was terrified of the opposite sex".

     He also comes across as a kinder, more tolerant man than in the early days, when his wit often had a cruel edge to it. He confesses he was worried about Ringo when the group broke up. "Now he's probably doing better than me." That's true. Lennon's creative fertility seems to have been submerged by his immigration struggles in recent years; the few records he's made have lacked the sparkle of the early days.

   . When Ringo's album reached the number one spot in the British charts last year, Lennon cabled Ringo, "Congratulations. How dare you? And please write me a hit song."

     Alone with the ex-Beatles. Lennon appears really keen to see the Beatles reincarnated on record. "I mean, I'm a Beatles fan. I realize now that I do like the Beatles. I personally would like the Beatles to make a record together again, but I don't really know how the other three feel about the idea. I'm still asked every day about the Beatles getting together again by waitresses and almost everyone else I meet for a full Beatles reunion. I have been offered $7 million.

"The trouble is that George and Paul still have too many hassles getting into the States." They, too, have drug convictions in Britain, and John can't leave America for fear of being prevented from re-entering. "There are times when I miss Britain badly", says John, "I still consider myself an Englishman, and I'll stay that way until I die."

     Lennon does not even have a home in England now, though "there's always a bed for me at Ringo's place. But I'm a survivor. My instinct is to survive. I came through everything, Beatlemania, the Maharishi, therapy, American immigration, it's all water off a duck's back. I put it down to experience."