Jim Morrison Death Revelation Doesn't Mean Much Now
Sometime around spring 1981, a book called "No One Here Gets Out Alive" became quite popular among my high school friends.
The book is a biography about Jim Morrison and his band, The Doors, one of the biggest bands to come out of America. It's a fascinating story of a genius and world-class screwup, one of the more notable tragedies in rock 'n' roll history.
Morrison came from a good, hard-working military family (His dad was in the Navy) but quickly grew into something in the mid-1960s that belied his middle-class, average-American beginnings. Inspired by beat writers such as novelist Jack Kerouac and poet Allen Ginsberg, Morrison threw a unique, intellectual curve ball into rock 'n' roll lyrics.
The guy was said to be so smart and well-read that you could pick up a book among hundreds scattered around his home, read a sentence or two, and Morrison, without seeing the book, could tell you what it was.
Morrison certainly was no role model, but the biography did turn me on to Kerouac, which ultimately turned me on to journalism.
In our newspaper today, we carried an AP story about a book by Sam Bernett, a former nightclub manager who, apparently after keeping his mouth shut all these years, decided to reveal that Morrison died of a heroin overdose in the bathroom of his Paris club.
There was a time long ago when I would have found this kind of thing to be an amazing twist to the Morrison story.
The biography, if I remember correctly, says he died of a heart attack in the bathtub. It was 1971, and Morrison was only 27, but his body was that of an unhealthy man twice his age. He was a heavy cigarette smoker and drinker, and I'm sure he did his share of drugs at the time. All the abuse had all but destroyed his once-crooning singing voice as well as his amazing literary creativity. This was no longer the man who composed mind-blowing lyrics like those found in "The End."
The biography also notes the mysteries surrounding the death, such as few, if any, witnesses as well as no autopsy and a quick funeral. There was even the chance that Morrison, awaiting prison time in Florida for exposing himself on stage, faked his death and fled to Africa.
A recent Rolling Stone magazine article, if I remember correctly, told a different story, one where Morrison died of a heroin overdose in his Paris apartment.
Now, the overdose might have occurred in a nightclub, according to Bernett, who claims that drug dealers dragged out his body and dumped it in the apartment.
While all this is interesting, this news would have been mind-blowing for me a quarter century ago, but not today.
Today, I think of Morrison as a case of wasted potential. Based on their last two studio albums - "Morrison Hotel" and "L.A. Woman" - The Doors could have continued to evolve and become one of the most influential acts of the 1970s and perhaps beyond. Other than Morrison being a pain in the ass, The Doord didn't have the kind of divisive internal forces that broke up The Beatles and Creedence Clearwater Revival.
Instead, Morrison became a lesson in what can happen if one of gifted brilliance achieves great power but cannot defeat the inevitable gnawing demons that come with the territory.
The book is a biography about Jim Morrison and his band, The Doors, one of the biggest bands to come out of America. It's a fascinating story of a genius and world-class screwup, one of the more notable tragedies in rock 'n' roll history.
Morrison came from a good, hard-working military family (His dad was in the Navy) but quickly grew into something in the mid-1960s that belied his middle-class, average-American beginnings. Inspired by beat writers such as novelist Jack Kerouac and poet Allen Ginsberg, Morrison threw a unique, intellectual curve ball into rock 'n' roll lyrics.
The guy was said to be so smart and well-read that you could pick up a book among hundreds scattered around his home, read a sentence or two, and Morrison, without seeing the book, could tell you what it was.
Morrison certainly was no role model, but the biography did turn me on to Kerouac, which ultimately turned me on to journalism.
In our newspaper today, we carried an AP story about a book by Sam Bernett, a former nightclub manager who, apparently after keeping his mouth shut all these years, decided to reveal that Morrison died of a heroin overdose in the bathroom of his Paris club.
There was a time long ago when I would have found this kind of thing to be an amazing twist to the Morrison story.
The biography, if I remember correctly, says he died of a heart attack in the bathtub. It was 1971, and Morrison was only 27, but his body was that of an unhealthy man twice his age. He was a heavy cigarette smoker and drinker, and I'm sure he did his share of drugs at the time. All the abuse had all but destroyed his once-crooning singing voice as well as his amazing literary creativity. This was no longer the man who composed mind-blowing lyrics like those found in "The End."
The biography also notes the mysteries surrounding the death, such as few, if any, witnesses as well as no autopsy and a quick funeral. There was even the chance that Morrison, awaiting prison time in Florida for exposing himself on stage, faked his death and fled to Africa.
A recent Rolling Stone magazine article, if I remember correctly, told a different story, one where Morrison died of a heroin overdose in his Paris apartment.
Now, the overdose might have occurred in a nightclub, according to Bernett, who claims that drug dealers dragged out his body and dumped it in the apartment.
While all this is interesting, this news would have been mind-blowing for me a quarter century ago, but not today.
Today, I think of Morrison as a case of wasted potential. Based on their last two studio albums - "Morrison Hotel" and "L.A. Woman" - The Doors could have continued to evolve and become one of the most influential acts of the 1970s and perhaps beyond. Other than Morrison being a pain in the ass, The Doord didn't have the kind of divisive internal forces that broke up The Beatles and Creedence Clearwater Revival.
Instead, Morrison became a lesson in what can happen if one of gifted brilliance achieves great power but cannot defeat the inevitable gnawing demons that come with the territory.
posted by Brian Pearson at 9:11 AM
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