Read Online John Lennon: The Life by Philip Norman - Free Book Online
Authors: Philip Norman
Tags: General, Biography & Autobiography
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after his 7:30 lights-out— Take It from Here , Variety Bandbox , Much-Binding in the Marsh , or Stand Easy . His favorite was Life with the Lyons , a sitcom about an American family in London, featuring the thirties’ screen stars Bebe Daniels and Ben Lyon with their real-life children, Barbara and Richard.
Aged seven or eight, he took up the mouth organ, just as both hisparents, not to mention several of his uncles, had done at roughly similar ages. The epiphany occurred when a medical student who was boarding at Mendips casually took one of the little silver oblongs from his pocket and blew a few notes on it, to John’s huge fascination. The student offered to buy him a mouth organ of his own, provided he learned to play a tune on this one by the next morning. John disappeared with it and in no time had learned to play two.
The mouth organ revealed that he had a natural musical ear just like his mother’s, his father’s, and most of those unknown Lennon uncles. He soon outgrew his first cheap little instrument, graduating to a chromatic model—with a sliding bar for changing key—and buying a teach-yourself manual, The Right Way to Play Chromatic Harmonica , by Captain James Reilly. With Captain Reilly’s help, he mastered dozens of tunes, from old English airs like “Greensleeves” to film music like the theme from Moulin Rouge . Traveling by Ribble Company bus from Liverpool up to Mater’s in Edinburgh, he sometimes would hardly stop playing for the whole six-hour ride. On one of these journeys, the driver offered to give him a mouth organ that had been left behind by a previous passenger if he would come to the Edinburgh bus depot next day to collect it. John kept the appointment, chaperoned by his cousin Stanley, and duly received a magnificent top-of-the-line chromatic Hohner. “I believe it was the same mouth organ he played on his records,” Stanley says.
He quickly progressed to tinkering on any piano he encountered, at school or in friends’ houses, discovering the same instant facility in his fingers as on his lips. But Mimi, so indulgent in every other way, refused his plea to have his own piano at Mendips. “I wouldn’t have it,” she remembered. “‘We’re not going down that road, John,’ I told him. ‘None of that common sing-song stuff in here.’”
I n the house overlooking Mendips’s back garden lived Ivan Vaughan, a Dovedale Primary classmate whom John had instantly dubbed Ivy. The two would communicate with whistles or on scraps of paper stuffed into tin cans and swung back and forth by the rope that hung from John’s tree house. A few doors along from Ivan in Vale Road lived Nigel Walley, a cheerful, enthusiastic boy John had met whilebriefly attending Mosspits Lane school. Nigel, too, became his eager follower, receiving the nickname Walloggs.
The favorite meeting place for local children was a dirt field known as the Tip, in prewar years the site of an artificial lake. It was here that John first encountered a fellow seven-year-old whose rubicund face was topped by a mat of curly hair so sandy pale as to be almost albino. His name was Pete Shotton.
Pete had previously regarded Ivan and Nigel as his gang, and felt some hostility to the kid from Menlove Avenue who seemed to be taking them over. Discovering that John’s middle name was Winston, he began taunting him as “Winnie, Winnie, Winnie!” The resultant scuffle ended with Pete on the ground on his back and John kneeling on his shoulders, pinning down his arms. There John was willing to let matters rest so long as Pete promised never again to call him Winnie. Pete gave his promise and was released—but, once at a safe distance, broke out again with “Winnie, Winnie, Winnie!” John was at first so angry that he couldn’t speak. Then, at the sheer effrontery of it, his face broke into a grin. He had found his first soul mate.
In those days, children roamed freely out of doors for hours on end without
Aged seven or eight, he took up the mouth organ, just as both hisparents, not to mention several of his uncles, had done at roughly similar ages. The epiphany occurred when a medical student who was boarding at Mendips casually took one of the little silver oblongs from his pocket and blew a few notes on it, to John’s huge fascination. The student offered to buy him a mouth organ of his own, provided he learned to play a tune on this one by the next morning. John disappeared with it and in no time had learned to play two.
The mouth organ revealed that he had a natural musical ear just like his mother’s, his father’s, and most of those unknown Lennon uncles. He soon outgrew his first cheap little instrument, graduating to a chromatic model—with a sliding bar for changing key—and buying a teach-yourself manual, The Right Way to Play Chromatic Harmonica , by Captain James Reilly. With Captain Reilly’s help, he mastered dozens of tunes, from old English airs like “Greensleeves” to film music like the theme from Moulin Rouge . Traveling by Ribble Company bus from Liverpool up to Mater’s in Edinburgh, he sometimes would hardly stop playing for the whole six-hour ride. On one of these journeys, the driver offered to give him a mouth organ that had been left behind by a previous passenger if he would come to the Edinburgh bus depot next day to collect it. John kept the appointment, chaperoned by his cousin Stanley, and duly received a magnificent top-of-the-line chromatic Hohner. “I believe it was the same mouth organ he played on his records,” Stanley says.
He quickly progressed to tinkering on any piano he encountered, at school or in friends’ houses, discovering the same instant facility in his fingers as on his lips. But Mimi, so indulgent in every other way, refused his plea to have his own piano at Mendips. “I wouldn’t have it,” she remembered. “‘We’re not going down that road, John,’ I told him. ‘None of that common sing-song stuff in here.’”
I n the house overlooking Mendips’s back garden lived Ivan Vaughan, a Dovedale Primary classmate whom John had instantly dubbed Ivy. The two would communicate with whistles or on scraps of paper stuffed into tin cans and swung back and forth by the rope that hung from John’s tree house. A few doors along from Ivan in Vale Road lived Nigel Walley, a cheerful, enthusiastic boy John had met whilebriefly attending Mosspits Lane school. Nigel, too, became his eager follower, receiving the nickname Walloggs.
The favorite meeting place for local children was a dirt field known as the Tip, in prewar years the site of an artificial lake. It was here that John first encountered a fellow seven-year-old whose rubicund face was topped by a mat of curly hair so sandy pale as to be almost albino. His name was Pete Shotton.
Pete had previously regarded Ivan and Nigel as his gang, and felt some hostility to the kid from Menlove Avenue who seemed to be taking them over. Discovering that John’s middle name was Winston, he began taunting him as “Winnie, Winnie, Winnie!” The resultant scuffle ended with Pete on the ground on his back and John kneeling on his shoulders, pinning down his arms. There John was willing to let matters rest so long as Pete promised never again to call him Winnie. Pete gave his promise and was released—but, once at a safe distance, broke out again with “Winnie, Winnie, Winnie!” John was at first so angry that he couldn’t speak. Then, at the sheer effrontery of it, his face broke into a grin. He had found his first soul mate.
In those days, children roamed freely out of doors for hours on end without
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