Cinthia Lennon

Source: www.speakup.com.br

Standard: British accent

Speaker: Rachel Roberts and Mark Worden





Source of this picture: berikakhurtsidze.blogspot.com

 A special reading this month is from Cinthia Lennon’s book John. Which recounts her difficult marriage to the great lady Beatle. This is the book’s introduction written by the son Julian Lennon.

Foreword by Julian Lennon

Growing up as John Lennon’s on has been a rocky path. All my life I’ve had people coming up to me saying ‘I loved your Dad’. I always have every mixed feelings when I hear this. I know that Dad was an idol to millions who grew up loving his music and his ideals. But to me he wasn’t a musician or a peace icon, he was the father I loved and who let me down in so many ways. After the age of five, when my parents separated, I saw him only a handful of times, and when I did he was often remote and intimidating, I grew up longing for more contact with him but felt rejected and unimportant in his life.

Dad was a great talent, a remarkable man who stood for peace and love in the world. But at the same time he found it very hard to show any peace and love to his first family – my mother and me. In many accounts of Dad’s life Mum and I are dismissed, or at best treated as insignificant bit players in his life, which sadly is something that continues to this day. Yet Mum was his first real love and she was with him for half his adult life, from art college, to the genesis of the Beatles, to their overwhelming worldwide success. That’s why I’m so happy that she’s decided to write her side of the story. For far too long now, Mum has put up with being relegated to a puff of smoke in Dad’s life and that simply is not the truth. Now it’s time to set the record straight. There’s so much that has never been said, so many tales that have never been told. If there is to be a balanced picture of Dad’s life, then Mum’s side of the story is long overdue.

I’m immensely proud of her. She’s always been there for me; she was the one who kept it all together, taught me what matters in life and stayed strong when our world was crumbling. While Dad was fast becoming one of the wealthiest men in this field, Mum and I had very little and she was going out to work to support us. Mum has always acted with dignity and I have to thank her for who I am. I love her honestly and her courage and I know it’s taken a great deal of both for her to write her story. That’s why I offer her my full support and recommend this book to anyone who wants to know the truth, the real truth about Dad’s life.

Chapter 16

And now an excerpt from the book, in which Cynthia describes her painful divorce from John:

Money was perhaps the toughest issue. My lawyers had told me that on no account should I make contact with John as that would be collusion. I was put in touch with a top lawyer, a QC, who told me I could take John to the cleaners and fight for half his fortune. But I was finding it hard to cope with to the cold legal process. I wanted to talk to John, to tell him how much Julian missed him, to sort things out amicable. So I phoned him. ‘What do you want?’ He snapped. ‘John, I can’t bear all the animosity. It’s as though we never loved each other. They want me to take half your money, but I’d rather we talked and sorted it out between us, without any of the legal jargon.’ ‘There’s nothing to talk about. My final offer is seventy five thousand pounds. That’s like winning the pools, so what are you moaning about? You’re not worth anymore.’ On that definition note, he hung up. I told my lawyer that I didn’t want to go for half John’s fortune: I just wanted a fair and reasonable settlement. I couldn’t bear the thought of a long-drawn out battle, or exposing our marriage to public scrutiny. I just longed to have the whole thing settled. I was asked to draw up an estimate of my weekly expenditure. It came to seventy-six pounds for clothes, food, entertainment and holidays for Julian and me – just under four thousand pounds a year. My assets included a thousand pounds in the bank, my clothes and Mercedes car. I had no jewellery of any more than sentimental value. John’s assets were submitted at £750.000, although he was undoubtedly worth far more. He raised his offer to £100.000. This was broken down into £ 25.000 pounds for a house£75.000 to support me and Julian until he was twenty-one. Allowing for inflation, it would not be enough to cover even the modest annual expenses I had listed. A further £100.000 was put into a trust fund for Julian. I would be allowed to draw on the interest from this to pay school fees, but with drawls would be approved by John and Yoko, who were the co-trustees with me of the fund. It was also agreed that should John have more children the fund would be shared equally with them. While I realised that I was lucky compared to most women divorcing at that time, it still hurt to be dismissed so lightly. John was being meaner that I’d ever known him, which baffled me: typically he was generous to those around him. Why not now, to his wife and son?

Whatever his reasons, I had no energy for a fight. In so many ways he was no longer the kind-hearted, passionate and witty and I had fallen in love with. Worn down by the miserable business of negotiating through lawyers, and still smarting from John’s withering remark about winning the pools, I accepted his offer.

Our decree nisi was granted on 8 November 1968. I was summoned to the divorce court and went alone, driven there by loyal Les Anthony who, although he was now working solely for John, was still a good friend to me. Walking into court beside my lawyer was terrifying. The place was packed with the press and I had to swear in front of them under oath that my marriage had broken down irretrievably, that my husband had publicly admitted adultery and that Yoko was pregnant by him.

Throughout this awful, surreal experience I felt humiliated and painfully aware that I was alone. Afterwards I fled home and collapsed, sick with apprehension about the future. I had no idea how I would cope and still found it hard to believe that, after ten years together, I had been severed from John’s life with a few brief words from a judge in a public court. I should have hated John for what he had put me through. I was certainly angry with him and bitterly hurt. But I couldn’t hate him. Despite everything, I loved him still.