I was on submarine duty when I heard. That's right, I was in upstate NY making subs. Actually, I was in one of my Dad's submarine sandwich stores (think: Delaware Subs) in Menands, a suburb of Albany, working the 6pm to 2am shift when I heard the news. 22 years ago today, listening to WQBK-FM, the best radio station in the world, at just about 11pm the DJ (we had human DJs back then) said the words that give me chills even today: "John Lennon has been shot outside his NYC apartment building by a lone gunman."
It was a gut-punch, stunning in its simplicity and finality. I knew he was dead. Bob Hedgemann, my co-worker, was an Albany cop, and a music fan too. We were too shocked to talk for a while, listening to a steady stream of Lennon and Beatle tunes on the small radio in the store. One after another, customers learned the news from us as they came in for sandwiches. My friend Dore came on the air at 2am, for his 2-6 shift and the "Working Person's Request Hour" and I knew two things: he was a huge Lennon fan, and he did not know. Dore never watched TV or listened to the radio before his radio show--he picked out records (LPs, large 12" discs) for the show and was always running late, barely reaching the studio by 2am to start his shift on air.
I called him and shared the news, and heard his voice crack as he repeated it. So we shared a moment in time, forever united by where we were when we "heard the news," as our parents were on Pearl Harbor Day, and as my generation was on the day the Challenger exploded, or maybe even when RFK or MLK were shot.
I hate you Mark David Chapman.
As soon as you're born, they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Til the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
They hurt you at home, and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Til you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
When they tortured and scared you for 20 odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
Keep you doped with religion, and sex, and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
There's room at the top, they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
"Working Class Hero" (LP: Plastic Ono Band) (c) 1970, John Lennon
I was on submarine duty when I heard. That's right, I was in upstate NY making subs. Actually, I was in one of my Dad's submarine sandwich stores (think: Delaware Subs) in Menands, a suburb of Albany, working the 6pm to 2am shift when I heard the news. 22 years ago today, listening to WQBK-FM, the best radio station in the world, at just about 11pm the DJ (we had human DJs back then) said the words that give me chills even today: "John Lennon has been shot outside his NYC apartment building by a lone gunman."
