The Thirty Something Snap

Chapter Five - Yoko In The Rain

Penny and I exited the subway station at 72nd Street and Broadway at 10:12 a.m. It was pouring. We were only a short distance away from the Dakota but, because of the rain, we waited for a bus.

We huddled at the bus stop under the umbrella Penny brought along but it wasn’t doing much good. I was soaked and Penny’s carefully coifed hair was now framing her wet face like a blonde Mona Lisa.

I was thankful that Penny’s valise, which holds both her laptop and the letter she wrote to Yoko Ono, was waterproof.

“We look like a couple of water rats,” I said to Penny. Penny simply smiled.

The bus was at our stop in only a few minutes and we quickly got onto the bus for our two block trip to the Dakota. Two minutes later the bus let us off across the street from the iconic building built so long ago that, when it was first constructed, this part of New York City was considered rural.

I could feel my heart racing as we waited to cross 72nd Street at Central Park West. There in front of us was the building that was once the home of John Lennon. I could see the doorway where John Lennon was shot and killed in 1980. I was only six years old at the time, going on seven, but I remember sitting up with my father watching the news.

My Dad was a huge John Lennon and Beatles fan and I can remember my father strumming his acoustic guitar when I was just a kid and we’d sing Beatles songs together. I’m sure it had some kind of influence on me and unquestionably is the reason why I became determined to become a rockstar. I loved the music, I loved the whole idea of making music, but sometimes I think my main driving force in my stubborn reluctance to accept music as merely a hobby, and not a career, was because I didn’t want to disappoint my father.

The man who once lived in the building we were now standing in front of had influenced my father and, through my father, influenced me. I was already starstruck and I was only in the presence of a BUILDING.

I let Penny lead the way. The doorman was in a tiny golden looking capsule and he was looking directly at us through his window as we waded our way down the wet sidewalk.  The small signs placed in front of the Dakota entrance stated ‘Authorized Persons Only Beyond This Point’. We abided by the message on the signs and walked to the left of them.

I stood back a few feet behind Penny as she walked up to the doorman’s capsule and he opened the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

Penny answered confidently, “We would like to visit with Yoko Ono.”

“Is she expecting you?” the doorman enquired.

The question was expected, of course, but it nevertheless lowered Penny’s confidence a notch. “No…no she’s not. She doesn’t even know us.”

“You won’t be able to see her,” the doorman said. I got the feeling this was somewhat routine for him. And not just for Yoko Ono. There are a number of well known personalities that share this address with Yoko Ono so he’s probably very keenly aware of those who should be here and those who should not.

Penny then said, “I have a letter for Yoko. Can I leave it with you?”

“No, you’ll have to mail it to her,” he said. “I’m a doorman, not a deliveryman. I only accept packages if one of the residents has issued written instructions to do so.”

“Come on, Penny,” I said. “Let’s go. This isn’t working.”

Penny turned to look at me. She hung her head in disappointment and, looking at the sidewalk, agreed. “Yes. You’re right, Howard. Let’s go.”