Cynthia Lennon has died.
This is a very sad day for me because I've always had a special place in my heart for the mommy of the first Beatle baby. He was born on April 8th 1963. His famous father John Lennon, did not make it there till after his son was brought into the world, and according to Cynthia herself (who kept the last name "Lennon" the rest of her life) John said: "He's gonna be a little rocker like his daddy."
Cythia herself, was born in Blackpool, England on September 10th 1939. Her name was Cynthia Powell, and after she and John fell for each other, she would do everything possible to look like Bridgette Bardot because John was such a fan. Now there are many books out there about the Beatles and everything related, but back in 1978, Cynthia published her first account of her journey through crazy Beatles fame. The book is called "A Twist of Lennon," and let me tell you, I was not able to find it in the states. I did find it however, when I located a rare book finder in England. In college, I spent a semester in England, and one of the gems of the trip for me was finding this rare book. Cynthia's own drawings are in the pages all about meeting John Lennon, and the two becoming inseparable. Poor Goerge Harrison just followed them around with his guitar like a lost puppy. I do not have the book in front of me here, so I'll recall from memory. John Lennon could not stand school (and that's putting it mildly). His saving grace was that he loved art, and he loved Cynthia, who was in the same "lettering" class with him. He would show up...only for that. Knowing Cynthia got John through school, while John's Aunt Mimi told him that playing his guitar was all good and well, but he'd never make any money at it.
Cynthia's mother was less than sympathetic with her daughter upon finding out about her pregnancy, basically telling her she had made her bed...now she'd have to lie in it. In 1962, John and Cynthia were married, with the sound of a drill or some sort of power tool going all during the wedding vows, which Cynthia would write, was pretty much like an omen. John Charles Julian Lennon arrived the following spring, named for his dad, Cynthia's father Charles, and John's mother Julia. So, the Beatles, who by all accounts were single and eligible, now had a secret, because the founding member of the Fab Four was now married with a child. And great lengths were taken to see that this truth stayed hidden. So, trying to follow the World's most famous band on tour while both you and your child are supposed to...not exist, presented many challenges for Cynthia, as she and her infant son went up and down fire escapes, hid in laundry bins, wore disguises, and did any number of outlandish things to conceal their identity. Lennon (Cynthia) speaks fondly of Astrid, girlfriend of Stuart Sutcliffe, who was one of the original members of the Beatles, along with Pete Best and George Harrison. She talks of the craziness in making "How I Won the War," living with John's Aunt Mimi with a very colicky baby, and just believing that John Lennon was the greatest thing since sliced bread.
But how in the world do I write of an unshakable dignity I cannot describe...accept to say that the pages of that book are drenched in it? Cynthia Lennon has always been one of my heroes...maybe because I'm a child of divorce, and my own mom has always been my hero who's protected me. Somehow, I could always identify with Cynthia's struggles in fighting for her child. She kept Julian grounded in the middle of all the chaos, and never once dwelled on the crazy ridiculous mess she was in, at the hands of an industry who believed that her husband...belonged to them. John Lennon became what everyone seemed to need him to be. He took in all the limelight, and when things became "dim" he spoke out...on all issues, but especially peace...which gained him more attention than ever. One can't help but wonder what Mrs. Lennon hid and pondered in her heart as she stared at all the hullabaloo through those distinctive glasses. What went through her mind, when all the time she was known publicly as "John Lennon's first wife."
Interesting. She stood firm with John when he would not introduce her to the world. She willingly walked behind him so he could shine. She bravely raised their son Julian with the same dignity, and held John accountable for all the time not spent getting to know his boy. She stayed out of the limelight as much as was necessary, but always told her story in her straightforward way, so that Julian could shine in his own right, and her truth was evident to those who would listen. She held her own, when the price of being first...always seemed to be that she came in second. Did she?...NEVER. An extension of John Lennon, she was not. She was always and forever her own person. When John met Paul McCartney, when THE BEATLES toured the world and made their movies, when Julian was born, and the labor was long, when she hid her baby, because his presence could not be known, when she was put through one of the most public divorces on the planet, when she came home one morning and found another woman in her robe...
An extension of John Lennon...she was not. But make no mistake because without her, John himself never would've thrived the way he did, and the BEATLES would not have been what they were. She was there, through it all...long before the Fab Four came across the pond and wondered if the President was there, in the middle of their fanfare. She was there in the beginning, helping John finish school, and taking the last train home every night. She was there, begging the hospital to give her a private room when Julian was born, disguising her dignity that held her up, so that John could have it all. So, what did she ponder, while all this went on? Her righteous indignation bubbled, as well it should...but never did it overflow. She stood, poised and ready... never letting anyone ruffle her feathers. Publicly, she was thought of as sort of, the OTHER woman, an irony considering she was the wind beneath so many people's wings. She walked on, and held her own, raising her son with the same integrity, keeping his father's name...while never pitying herself. How could this be? Perhaps it was because she always knew she was first. She was Cynthia. Just Cynthia. And that was enough.
