Suddenly, producer Lorne Michaels starts speaking—directly to the two ex-Beatles and their former bandmates. Unbeknownst to Michaels, his comedy routine has turned into a reality show, because Paul and John are sitting together in front of a television less than two miles from NBC’s studios at 30 Rockefeller Plaza.

It’s been in the news that (in addition to numerous other offers) the band turned down $230 million from Sid Bernstein—the promoter who’d organized the Beatles’ 1964 American tour—to perform a series of bicentennial concerts in the summer of 1976.

“Well, if it’s money you want,” Michaels deadpans, holding up a certified check for $3,000, “all you have to do is sing three Beatles songs. ‘She Loves You,’ yeah, yeah, yeah—that’s $1,000 right there. You know the words. It’ll be easy.”

Michaels has stationed a staffer to watch for any Beatles entering the lobby.

The producer’s wish nearly comes true.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if we went down,” John says to Paul, “just as a gag.”

“I was visiting John at their apartment, and it came on TV,” McCartney recalls in 2019. “He [John] asked if I knew about this. I didn’t, as I had been in the UK, and for a moment we thought we might run down to the TV studio. But we decided it was too much like work and that it would be more fun to have the night off.”

They wonder if John Sebastian wishes he had also passed on the gig. It’s an awkward moment in the live performance when the studio audience refuses to sing along to Sebastian’s hit TV theme song.

John and Paul can agree that the Beatles never faced a lack of audience participation, but when Paul shows up again at the Dakota the next day, carrying his guitar, John finds reason to quarrel.

“Please call before you come over,” John tells him. “It’s not 1956 and turning up at the door isn’t the same anymore.”

Paul turns back, hiding his hurt at the fresh wounds John has cut.

Some relationships, though, John tries to heal.

When word comes via the Apple offices that John’s sixty-three-year-old father, Alf Lennon, has a diagnosis of terminal stomach cancer, there is little time to make amends. He places a transatlantic call to the hospital.

“I’m sorry I treated you the way I did, Dad,” John says.

Alf pushes off the apology, saying, “It’s just bloody marvelous to talk to you again.”

A large bouquet of flowers arrives in Alf’s room, with a card signed by John, Yoko, and Sean, but Alf will never meet his new grandson. On April 1, 1976, he dies, twelve years to the day since he walked into Brian Epstein’s office at NEMS looking for John.

Because of his unresolved immigration status, John can’t travel to attend the funeral.

*  *  *

It’s summer in the city, and John’s only thoughts are of Sean and Yoko.