The odds are that I, Mark J. Mahal has something no one else in the world has – a left-over piece of cake and the guitar ornament from John Lennon’s 31st birthday celebration. I would like to share my story and photographs of my close encounter with John and Yoko in October 1971.
“I was a sophomore in high school when I happened to see John and Yoko on The Dick Cavett Show.
Among the things they were plugging was the the upcoming release of John’s album, IMAGINE on October 9th, as well as the opening of an exhibit of Yoko’s artwork at the Everson Museum of Art, a gallery just three hours to the north of my hometown of Minersville, PA. Being the Beatle-fan that I was (and still am), I was determined to get to Syracuse, come hell or high water. It took nearly two weeks, but I was finally able to convince my liberally-minded mother to drive me to Syracuse (along with my younger sister, aunt and cousin), where I hoped to catch a glimpse of John Lennon.
I never could have imagined what would transpire over that whirlwind of a weekend in October 1971.
The trip began with quite a ‘rush’ as we pulled into the parking garage of The Hotel Syracuse, and saw John’s psychedelic Rolls Royce. I blurted out, “he’s staying here!, and nearly jumped out of the window of our car. Due to the fact that I was 14 years old and came from a small town in the hard coal region of Pennsylvania, to me this was a BIG happening. I dashed to the Rolls and was amazed to find that the doors were unlocked and the back seat filled with letters, drawings and trinkets from fans. Although I feared that a security guard might appear and take me away, I got behind the wheel of the Rolls for a snapshot, then hopped in the back seat for another photo, but not before I pocketed the parking stub as a souvenir. My only regret is that I didn’t abscond with the British license plate. But that would have been a crime. 😉
We checked in to our room and found that the entire 8th floor had been reserved for the Lennon’s entourage and was OFF LIMITS, with security posted at the elevators and exits. An all-night vigil in the lobby proved fruitless, and as morning broke, we set off for the museum. We arrived at the Everson hours before the doors were scheduled to open, as we expected there would be a huge turnout. Perhaps my most vivid memory is that of a very tall hippie standing next to me with long hair, beard and moustache, who wore an earring that resembled a psychedelic life preserver dangling on a wire. I have come to realize the likely reason he stuck in my mind for all this time is that it was my first whiff of marijuana for he had fired up a joint, something this fourteen-year-old from Smalltown USA hadn’t been exposed to before. Granted. My “social life” changed drastically within a years time. Anyway. As the morning passed, the crowd continued to swell and grow increasingly restless. My mother was becoming frantic for the crush of the crowd was something that she wasn’t prepared for. For myself it was no big deal but for my mother, aunt, sister & cousin. It was sheer panic. Fortunately, we were near the front of the line and were able to escape the crowd once the doors finally opened.
The exhibit, This Is Not Here, was very avant-garde and very cool. The entire gallery was filled with Yoko’s art, and included contributions from John and a number of other artists and celebrities. One of Yoko’s pieces was a ladder set under what appeared to be a blank white canvas suspended from the ceiling. However, as you climbed the ladder and took hold of the magnifying glass that hung from a string, you could see that the word “YES had been printed in the center of the canvas. I thought to myself how awesome it was for such a simple thing to make such a powerful statement. It was also my first experience sitting on a new type of bed named a Water Bed. In the film 3 Friends you will see the once brilliant Producer Phil Spector bouncing in his seat on the water bed.
Back at the hotel I had a whole new agenda, for it was October 9th, John’s 31st birthday. I received a tip from a bellhop who was working the 8th floor (Suite 830) that there was going to be a party celebrating John’s birthday with John, Yoko, Ringo and Maureen Starkey, Phil Spector, Allen Ginsberg, Jim Keltner from the Plastic ono Band and a number of other friends. All one needed was a sticker from the Everson Museum (given to those who helped with the production) and you were in. Throughout the evening and early hours of the morning I tried to join the party, but my efforts were in vain. I even tried to peel the sticker from a photographer’s gear bag in the elevator. I was nearly successful, but the elevator opened, and out the door she went – along with what I was hoping would be my ‘golden ticket’. Every trip I took up that elevator ended with the same results… security giving me the bum’s rush.
At approximately 3:00-3:30 am I was getting very weary for I hadn’t really slept since 2 nights before. I decided to give it one last try before surrendering to the fact that I was a 14 year old kid from Minersville who wasn’t invited to the party. I got in the elevator and pushed the button; however, when it reached the seventh floor, the doors opened, and to my astonishment there was NO security! I was beside myself and my heart raced like a Formula 1 racing engine.
I peeked out and sprinted down the hallway. I could hear the sounds of a jam session. An impromptu collaboration of John & Yoko, Ringo & Maureen, Phil Spector, Allen Ginsberg, Jim Keltner,& others. I was only a few feet away from that magical portal when my feet left the ground… I WAS BUSTED! Two LARGE security guards appeared out of nowhere like Scotty beamed them there from the Starship Enterprise. They picked me up and unceremoniously placed me back in the elevator, stating that they didn’t want to see me ANYMORE. In their defense I was pulling this stunt all night. So I was totally bummed, but got the hint. To this day I believe that had I made it through the door, John would have let me hang out – at least for a little while. At least for a moment.
I was no longer tired for adrenaline raced through me like a runaway freight train, but returned to our room where I tried in vain to crash for a few hours. By 7:00 a.m. I was back in the lobby, where “the” bellhop informed us that the Lennon’s entourage would be leaving for the Onondaga Indian reservation just south of Syracuse in the late morning or early afternoon. I thought this would be my last chance, so a plan was conceived with the help of a twenty-year-old hippie chick with long, dark, curly hair who wore circular glasses known as “teashades” like John’s.
We stationed people in both the lobby and ground level to make sure that they couldn’t get out without us knowing, and I was at my post in the lobby when the moment finally arrived. I saw both elevators go to the 8th floor and stop. Moments later the elevators descended, one stopped at the mezzanine while the other went directly to the garage. I heard a commotion coming from the front of the hotel, so I ran towards the marble stairs; (Ringo and his wife Maureen had exited at the ground level and were heading out the front door) however, there was suddenly a buzz behind me as John and Yoko appeared in the lobby. They paused for a moment before making their way to the stairs. With my little Kodak disc camera snapping away, I followed them down the stairs as they got into their waiting limos: Ringo & Maureen in one and John, Yoko and Oren R. Lyons, Jr. (a Native American Faithkeeper of the Turtle Clan of the Onondaga and Seneca Nations of the Iroquois Confederacy) in the other. I had managed to slip through security to snap a few quick photos, only to be lifted off my feet once again. However, this time victory was mine. Not only was I able to see both John and Ringo, but also had the pictures to prove it.
The limos sped away and I went back inside the hotel. There I saw the bellhop (my “deep-throat” so to speak), who can be seen in the above photo in the elevator with John’s personal assistant. I asked him if there might be any “souvenirs” left in the Lennon’s room. Not more than fifteen minutes had passed when he returned with the treasures from John and Yoko’s suite: a piece of John’s birthday cake and the plastic guitar neck that adorned it. That piece of cake, which now resembles a chocolate and vanilla snowball has survived six moves, countless power outages and currently sits in my freezer. Yes, I did taste it in 1971. The plastic guitar neck is now framed along with my photos on my wall of memorabilia in my gallery lounge at my music studio, along with numerous other pieces of memorabilia of The Beatles as well as numerous others.
Footage of the art exhibit along with highlights from John’s party at The Hotel Syracuse and a garden party at the home of Allen Klein, an American businessman, music publisher and record label executive all can be found in the the short film 3 Friends by Jonas Mekas. Mekas also filmed John’s Cold Turkey video & the footage of John & Yoko’s Montreal Bed-In. As well as others. In this film at the garden party you will see many notables including a pick up basketball game with John & Miles Davis. The late night “jam session” audio from Hotel Syracuse can be found on a number of unofficial releases, the most complete being Lost Lennon Tapes John Lennon’s 31st Birthday Party (Rockin’ Records JLBP-01). Since my story first appeared on the internet in 1997, it has been published in Liverpool’s BeatleScene magazine and the book Across Their Universe – The Secret Lives of Beatle Fans. I have been contacted by both the daughter of Fred Friemark, the baker who prepared and delivered the cake, and by Gary Hardiman, a college student/musician who helped to round up the guitars for the impromptu jam session, and was invited by John to sit in. See photo of Gary then above. My photo of John in the limo with Oren Lyons was published in the Syracuse magazine when they ran the story of how Oren Lyons is now the “Head Honcho” so to speak. Faithkeeper of the Wolf Clan of the Seneca Nation of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oren_Lyons
As fate would have it. When John was gunned down, assassinated if you will on that fateful night, December 8, 1980, I was back in Syracuse, finishing my professional schooling. I was asleep on my recliner when awoken by the ringing of the telephone. It was my mother asking me if I had heard that John was shot & killed. At that moment I felt a total numbing of my body. In a flash of seconds it seemed like every memory I had of The Beatles since I sat on my grandparents floor watching on The Ed Sullivan Show to my experience at Hotel Syracuse ran trhough my mind like a film in overdrive. On the night of the universal vigils, I attended a very touching ceremony at the Quad on campus knowing in my heart my own ‘personal’ experience with John in that same city almost 10 years earlier. Ironically, our commencement ceremony a few months later was held in none other than…. the Everson Museum of Art.
Talk about “Instant Karma”…my own “Magical Mystery Tour”.
To this day, I still enjoy being contacted by the many others who just wanted to tell me that my story brought a smile to their face.”
I may be contacted via my Facebook page or by email at: mmahal@comcast.net