Text by Ira Seigel / FFanzeen 1980
Introduction by Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2020
Images from the Internet
This book review and article was originally published in FFanzeen, issue 5, dated August/September 1980. It was written by Ira Seigel,
as one of his “Inside Looking Out” columns.
While I grew up believing that the Doors were one of the three most
overrated bands of the 1960s (including Zep and the Dead), there is a lot of
their music that I still find enjoyable; my feeling comes from the sheer obnoxious
volume of adoration they received, not the quality of their work. I read No One Here Gets Out Alive when it came out and enjoyed it, despite my
general opinion of the band’s (and Morrison’s) standing. Ira is more of a fan
of what is now called Classic Rock.
As I’ve discussed in earlier blogs, my two favorite Morrison stories are
as follows: first, in an early Kicks fanzine, Melody
Patterson (Wrangler Jane of “F-Troop”; d. 2015) told how during the 1960s, she
preferred going to see Bobby Fuller over Morrison in the clubs, because they
both wore tight pants, and Fuller was – err – fuller. The other is from a 1980s
television show called “Good Day New York” in which George Ciccarone interviewed
Russ Meyer actress Kitten Natividad. During the later ‘60s, when she was an
exotic dancer on the strip, she stated that Morrison was obsessed with her and
kept asking her out, but she kept saying no because of his lack of personal
hygiene (though other websites say they did date).
As of this republishing, if he had lived Morrison would turn 77 this
year. – RBF, 2020
Originally, I intended to talk about
a subject near and dear to me – old rock’n’roll records and, specifically,
collecting. That’ll be next time around; but now I’ve got something more
current and, perhaps, more important.
No One Here Gets Out Alive, the story of Jim Morrison, by Jerry Hopkins and Daniel
Sugerman, has recently been published by Warner Books. Unfortunately, it tells
very little about Jim that isn’t already common knowledge – his drinking,
(self-) destructive antics, and his anger over his image. If anything, it only
adds definition and substance as a chronicle. The forward, by Sugerman,
expresses this very clearly and also sets the tone of the book.
From a technical viewpoint, it is fairly
well-written, with a direct, non-obtrusive style, using straight narrative,
remembered dialog, and quotes. This is the most logical and effective way to
write a biography. There is only enough personal interpretation by the authors to
show their respect – and love – for Morrison.
The strongest point of the book is in
its descriptions of those incidents that gave Jim Morrison his notoriety.
Miami, New Haven, and his life with Pamela, are all placed in perspective, and
given much-needed detail. Obviously, the book is aimed at fans of Morrison and
the Doors, and exists primarily for them. There are few surprises here. Is
there anyone that doesn’t know that Jim was a fervent believer in the concept of
the “poet as visionary,” as put forth by Arthur Rimbaud? (The classic letter in
which Rimbaud calls for a disordering of the senses is excerpted here; for the complete
text, try the New Directions Books’ translation of Illuminations.) Or that most of his life was devoted to that ideal?
One of the few enlightening sections
of the book, “The Bow is Drawn,” deals with Morrison’s childhood and adolescence.
Even as a young teenager, the patterns of nihilism and destruction were clearly
apparent, as was his (often deliberate) magnetism. Already, he was practicing
the arts of manipulation and stage presence. Without actually using the term,
Morrison is shown as a natural genius in the art of street theater. His
childhood, with a father who was a career naval officer and, as such, forced a
large degree of mobility of the family. Morrison’s almost precocious love of
philosophy, particularly Nietzsche, is shown to have a crystalizing effect on
his later career. Perhaps more than any other part of the book, this informs as
to Morrison’s motivations.
Actually, since the early years of
the Doors were sparsely documented, the section dealing with that, “The Arrow
Flies,” is fairly informative, as opposed to an intellectual one. The birth and
growth of the band from second-rate bar group to supergroup is extensively
documented, although, of course, it is the most public period described in the book;
and, by that token, it would have to be the clearest. It is primarily the usual
behind-the-scenes look at a star, which Morrison was, though he was to grow quite
displeased with it. This annoyance came out in his monologs to audiences
(deliberately inciting riots), in the tone of his lyrics, and in his increasing
reliance on alcohol. By Miami, Jim was well on his way to becoming a visionary/poet
in the truest Rimbaudian sense.
The last section of the book takes us
from Miami to Paris, the final days of the career and life of Morrison. By this
time, he was disenchanted with performing, and was concentrating his energies
on film and his poetry. The Miami concert, where he was accused of exposing himself
(a description of his actions disproves that), was the actual beginning of his
and, by association, the Doors’ fall from grace.
It was at this time that Morrison,
formerly a symbol – if an evil one – was seen (by the outside media) as an embodiment of evil. Later concerts, which
usually required the band to put up a bond in case of an obscene show, found a
more refined Morrison confronting audiences who expected to see an image that
he had outgrown. His physical condition was at its lowest at the time. He was
fat and losing his voice. All of this led him to Paris, where he was planning to
rest and work seriously on his poetry. This part of his life gains some detail
in the book, possibly the most obscure as he continues his sensory manglings.
Finally, there is his death. The
authors have told the most well-known stories about it (heart attack in the
bath, OD, et.al), some more bizarre theories (murder), and then the possibility
that he might still be alive. While this is a valid idea (Morrison had even
referred to similar acts before), it is not the most likely.
The last vision (and perhaps the most
powerful) is in death. Jim Morrison was not afraid to die – actually almost
looking forward to it. And the end of his life was the final disordering of the
senses: stopping them totally. In Paris, Morrison first became a true poet. He
had reached the ultimate plateau.
* * *
The book itself is a large volume,
with close to 400 pages and a large amount of photographs, and serves as a
companion to a library of Doors recordings, and not a substitute. As aforementioned,
the book is directed at fans and followers, and would mean little to outsiders.
Besides, the best way to know Jim Morrison is through his legacy: the music he
made with the Doors and, of courses, his poetry. No One Here Gets Out Alive is the endpoint of the story, and is
only faulted by that.
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