The Man Next Door immediately throws one into the
late 1960s – poetry readings, student uprisings, Bistros and Montreal bars, the
tragic deaths of Janis Joplin and Jimi Hentrix, and Canadian armed forces
occupying Montreal triggered by the kidnappings of a
provincial cabinet minister and a British diplomat
by members of the Front de Libération du Québec (FLQ). Magic was
indeed afoot! This is the historical moment Ann Diamond’s book
immediately propels one into. The Montreal Bistros and bars were hangouts
for intellectuals, artists, journalists and drunks. Leonard Cohen and
Pierre Trudeau were regulars. In the summer of 1977, Montreal was in the
midst of rather shocking revelations about doctors, psychiatric patients and classified
experiments, some of which were attributed to CIA’s MKULTRA Program, in articles
appearing in the local press. The brilliant and flamboyant Tibetan
Buddhist teacher, Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, was also part of this dynamic
landscape.
Ann’s first fleeting encounter with Leonard Cohen
occurred one night in the midst of these radical and romantic times. She
describes Cohen as a mythical figure in her youthful revolutionary
dreams. His books were sacred texts. The encounter left Ann feeling
as though she was floating above her “occupied city like Kateri Tekakwitha, at
one with all the Mohawks and other disembodied saints.” She prophetically
sensed that she might run into Leonard Cohen again. A number of years
later, Ann Diamond would find herself sitting at Leonard Cohen’s kitchen table
asking if he recalled their first fleeting encounter. By that time, Cohen
was a celebrated international figure who had just released an album produced
by Phil Spector.
Cohen rang Ann up and introduced himself in
typically witty fashion: “Hello Ann? This is Leonard Cohen. We have
to stop meeting like this.” Ann’s first evening
with Leonard Cohen left her dazed and delirious. A mutual friend
had provided Cohen with her phone number. I immediately recognized the
familiar phrases used by Leonard Cohen and could literally visualize him
jumping in the air and asking “The girl with the bicycle? How tall is
she?”
Having spent nearly 20 years working as Cohen’s
personal manager, I had grown quite familiar with his speech, phraseology, and
frequently eccentric behavior. I also know Cohen’s taste in women and
understood why he found the youthful, spirited, and adventurous Ann Diamond so
compelling. Over the years, I had come to know of Ann through Leonard
Cohen. I understood her to be an old girlfriend who had remained friends
with him throughout the years. The descriptions
of Cohen’s home, encounters with his Montreal crowd, the Swiss bank book tucked
away in a drawer, Joshu Sasaki Roshi, smoked meat, gifts, poetry books, Persian
rugs, trinkets, religious chatchka, personal notes, Hydra, tales about CIA and
the MKULTRA program, meth and LSD experimentation, mental hospitals and
suicides also resonated.
While most biographies devoted to Leonard Cohen
consist of impersonal or sanitized third party accounts that are dripping with
awe and admiration, Ann’s biography is personal, revealing, and touches upon
Cohen’s darker side which a friend of hers described when he cautioned
her: “Be very careful of that guy. He's totally
ruthless when it comes to women.” Leonard Cohen’s ruthlessness is
invisible to anyone who bases their perceptions of him on the description of a
sage-like individual whose speech is littered with profound expressions and
cleverly crafted quotes. It is nevertheless an essential component of his
private persona. Ann herself could not connect her friend’s remark to the
man who appeared to be an “eccentric saint,” devoted son, and exceptional artist
who associated with a rather odd assortment of neurotic friends. Cohen’s
personal life is tortured and up close resembles a controlled disaster area.
Leonard Cohen also understands his own nature. When Ann asks “But are you
trustworthy?” he responds “No.”
Cohen’s public persona has a cultivated
Europeanized air to it that leads one to conclude that he is humble, wise,
calm, dignified, deeply spiritual, and in possession of courtly manners.
Privately, Cohen is lonely and bitter as he confessed to Ann. This too
resonated because I recall Cohen’s seething anger and resentment. (The
book’s mention of the arrest of Suzanne Elrod made me wonder if Leonard Cohen
was personally involved. For years, he had told me that his housekeeper’s
husband, then Chief of Police on Hydra, had arrested Suzanne over a minor
marijuana incident. It was hard to imagine Evangalia and Coulis being
involved in something that extreme without Cohen’s permission.)
Ann’s relationship with Leonard Cohen would eventually
land her on the Isle of Hydra where Cohen mingled with Greek peasants,
millionaires, tourists, and had experimented with LSD and meth. I
frequently heard Cohen’s stories about these experiences, drunken binges, CIA
agents and other spies at Bill’s Bar, and how he wrote “Beautiful Losers” on
LSD while visiting Hydra. In 1979 Ann had received a small writing grant
from the Canada Council and decided to extend her trip to Greece, partly due to
Cohen’s imminent arrival. Cohen was viewed as a God on Hydra while in
Montreal his reputation was one of an eccentric failure. In the United
States, Cohen was largely unknown although his work with Phil Spector led to
numerous mentions of him in articles and news media accounts.
Ann’s book intimately recounts Cohen’s relationship
with the muses and women in his life as well as his relationship with his young
children, Lorca and Adam. Ann also had an opportunity to accompany
Leonard Cohen on his 1979 UK tour and experienced the sordid world of
alcohol-filled performances and an intense cult following. Ultimately,
Ann’s experiences with Cohen led her to question her own sanity and
emotions. She wondered if she was “entering a schizophrenic’s world where
nothing was stable or straightforward, and where ordinary reality constantly
erupted with subconscious material from who-knows-what source.” Five
cities and six concerts later, Ann concluded that “Leonard was schizophrenic.”
Ann Diamond
was a naïve, young woman in love with Leonard Cohen and felt that she could
save him from himself. A sense of his other, illicit relationships comes
across. By the end of their relationship, Leonard Cohen would use his
toolkit of tactics to attack, silence, frighten, and discredit Ann. It
was clear that Cohen had exposed her to his personal world, which is both
seductive and disturbing, and when he felt she questioned his conduct, he set
out to destroy her.
This is not the type of biography fans of Leonard
Cohen’s will readily embrace. It is far too naked and poignant. Ann
Diamond is a very brave woman who has experienced and tangled with the man who
wrestles with the angel and the beast. I applaud
her courage and honesty.
Kelley
Lynch
