Tag: Jim Morrison
Regarding “Missing piece of history — Jim Morrison in Clearwater”
In 2005, I penned a blog post that was inspired by the then-St. Petersburg Times had written an epic feature regarding the days of Jim Morrison, lead singer of The Doors, had spent living in the Tampa Bay area of Florida. Being a Morrison fan and living only a handful of miles away from locations mentioned in the piece, I was blown away. I had known about Morrison having been born in south Florida but I didn’t know about this.
Part of what inspired the blog post was the fact social media wasn’t then what it is today. Not that writing a blog post was going to necessarily draw eyeballs. Yet to this day, Missing piece of history – Jim Morrison in Clearwater still draws web traffic because of Morrison’s romantic interest (and song inspiration) Mary Werbelow.
At any rate, to get to the point, the now- Tampa Bay Times has basically failed with how they treat their archives online, which now hides the articles on a for-profit site (…unless the Times plans to fix their “Page Not Found” issues on archival articles). Between this and my old blog post failure in being more direct and obvious on the link to the feature section from September 25, 2005, finding the feature reading is next to impossible.
Well, was.
Missing Piece of History — Jim Morrison in Clearwater
I’ve read a couple of books on Jim Morrison and the Doors (favorites? Riders on the Storm by John Densmore and No One Here Gets Out Alive by Danny Sugerman, Jerry Hopkins) and I’ve been enamoured by Jim Morrison’s poetry and lyrical artistry. I’ve always been curious and captivated about his time in Clearwater, Florida after his parents sent him to live with his grandparents and go to St. Petersburg Junior College.
I’ve finally found more than any book would tell. I’ve found more than some books have speculated.
In all of these books, the writers have simply thrown a quick mention to Jim Morrison’s girlfriend for 3 years, Mary Werbelow, and then dismissed her as nothing much but a sideshow to Jim’s life of excess and glamour. The problem is that Mary held a bigger piece of Jim within her than many – including me – are able to comprehend. I’ve been taught that Pamela Courson was supposedly everything to Jim and this Mary girl was just a quick fix before the main course was served in Venice Beach (meaning the Doors formation).
That’s not the case.
Mary has refused interviews for 40 years up until now. His connections to Tampa Bay are further shown and his connections to Mary as well (The Crystal Ship was for her, The beginning and end of The End were talking about her). I’d also say The beginning of Stoned Immaculate is a reference to meeting Mary:
One summer night, going to the pier
I ran into two young girls
The blonde one was called Freedom
The dark one, Enterprise
We talked and they told me this story
The article by the Times talks about how Jim met Mary at Pier 60 on Clearwater Beach while she was with another friend (also named Mary).
At any rate, I’m just real excited about this for no other reason than more information being made clear. Much like Deep Throat finally coming out – some secrets aren’t left up to imagination….
Light My Fire — no, put it out. Please.
It’s been a while since I decided to read any non-ficiton. Usually it’s biographical works on icons of the Entertainment industry (ie: Beatles or the Doors). Keeping with that trend, I decided to pick up Ray Manzarek’s Light My Fire, it’s a Doors autobiography I’ve been meanign to read for some time.
And yet, as I’m still in the early areas of the book, I’m trying to understand why I thought it was a must read? Probably because of all the positive reviews of the book when it originally was released. Can’t be bad at all then, can it?
From a writing standpoint, it can be all that bad. And worse. Though Manzarek has a unique perspective on his tail…. He’s not a writer.
The book comes off much like a personal journal would, I guess… Reporting the mundane as well as the gripping, life-altering events of Ray’s life… But Manzarek loses focus and direction on any given topic quite easily. At one moment he’s about to discuss finding a live performance of the Blues in the south side o fChicago, and the next moment he’s rambling about attire he wore to graduation from the 8th grade…. One moment he’s about to get into his first exposure to Beat poetry, the next he’s laying the smackdown on facism and intimidation of the California Highway Patrol. He goes off on the broadest tangents and does not focus on the event that inspires the tangent thought.
Another instance of Ray veering wildly is a recounting of Jim Morrison’s UCLA film school student film… While trying to detail Jim’s non-linear movie that Rya found “poetic”, he begins recounting Oliver Stone’s version of the student film that he made as part of his feature film on the Doors. Ray goes off on Oliver for makign an innocent film into something with anti-semitism and Nazi inneundo. He attacks Stone (as he has since the film came out in the early 1990’s) and lets the UCLA film school experience vanish from the story.
It almost comes off like a conversation — one that varies wildly as those who partake in the conversation ramble on into the night. Yet, having to read this conversation is painful… Especially with gramatical errors of repeated run-on sentences, short sentences that woudl be better combined, repetition of adjectives, etc….
Ray’s book, while from the heart, has nothing on John Densemore’s Riders on the Storm autobiography.,
The Doors are Open
I’ve been thinking of the
Doors a lot lately. I downloaded video music clips a few months ago off Kazaa
Lite and of course i have been enjoying them (even though the audio is ratty
on Light My Fire performed at the Ed Sullivan Show) to no end. Moonlight
Drive, Break on Through, Touch Me — excellent through and through.
I’ve long been a fan of Mr. Mojo Risin’s poetry and verse.
So watching the video for
Touch Me (which was performed live by the Doors on the Smothers Brothers show)
I noticed a little anomaly that featured guitarist Robbie Krieger with a nice
shiner on his left eye. Curious, I went and asked about it on the Usenet newsgroup
alt.music.the-doors…
And was re-introduced to
anal-final-word-on-the-Doors-author Patricia Butler.
Ms. Butler wrote Angels
Dance and Angels Die which is a biographical account of Jim Morrison and
Pamela Courson (Jim’s wife). Butler, however, seems to think that what anyone
else wrote in their books is fictitious or if anyone takes something from their
books and had it put into The
Doors by Oliver Stone, it’s completely fictitious… which is bullshit.
Look, not everything written
is a factual statement or a exactly-how-it-happened account, yet when John
Densemore, Jerry
Hopkins and Danny Sugerman all concur on a story — I’m going to accept
that as a fact and not believe a woman who wasn’t there. I mean Hopkins wasn’t
"there" but Sugerman
was (as a kid). Densmore was the god damned drummer in the band. I am going
to believe what he says over what Patricia Butler says any
day.
Anyway, it’s another pleasant
valley Sunday here in status-symbol land. I think I’m going to go find Mr. Green
(who’s so serene with a TV in every room) and tell him a thing or two about
living in excess and glamor.
Californiacationed
I’m back…
After getting caught up at home (read – unwound, read the paper, got bored to shit, etc) I’m here giving you the update on what went down during my four day trek through Jim Morrison’s City of Light (or City of Night, take your pick).
First and foremost, the flight to LA was good – we had pretty good conditions and we also had a basically empty plane that made a stop over in Albuquerque, New Mexico before going on to LA. There was, however, a rather gross incident on this flight I would rather forget – a kid sitting across the aisle either spilled a drink or wet his pants, he proceeded to stand up on his seat and disrobe all the way to his bare ass. Now, nudity is pretty cool in some lights, but I do not want to look at a child’s penis, nor do I think they should be allowed to get naked on the plane in plain view of everyone else…
What he didn’t do, and I’m glad he didn’t, was run up and down the aisle screaming “Nekkid time! Nekkid time!”
Anyway, on the second leg of the flight — I enjoyed a soft drink instead of the bottled water which I had been drinking for most of the flight. I also had my father repeatedly flip me the bird. Gee, thanks Dad.
When we got to LA, everything was great up until we got near St. Vincent Medical Center – traffic was snarled and we were frustrated as hell by it, not only that but we went to the local grocery store to pick up some things for our stay and we found out that there had been a MAJOR accident involving buried utilities. Some of the street lights on the way had been out, the stores themselves were shut, there was police tape from here to San Bernardino and we basically had to go back empty handed.
Anything else of worth on that trip? No really, the settings of my ABI were changed and they’re a bit fuckered at this point. I’ll get used to it of course but it will take a while. I also wrote a new poem that I’ll probably put on the site soon enough, but I want to go about doing some web work and see if I can get the new design for this page (yes kiddies, new design — maybe) together.
