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After the party, I got good reports of Jim's visit. Billy said that Jim had stopped in to see him, they'd chatted amiably awhile, and then Billy got back to clack-clack. All very pleasant, he said.
Once Jim left for Paris to join Pam, around March 12, 1971, the LA Woman album, benefitting from the additional firepower of the WEA promotion and sales support, really took off.
There had been very little opportunity for the Doors' audiences to hear the new material live, as it had only been performed in concert twice. After Miami, their entire concert schedule was scrapped. Promoters were cautiously booking them by the end of the year, and their second concert in New Orleans in December 1970 marked the end of the Doors. Jim appeared to suffer some sort of breakdown, picking up the microphone stand and pounding it repeatedly into the stage floor, before sitting down and refusing to continue the show. Whatever wild spirit had possessed Jim Morrison, it fled that night into the bayou darkness and was gone forever. Jim got stupendously drunk after the show. There were no more concerts from then on.
Love Her Madly was picked as the first single from the album, wisely so as it mirrored the poppy sound of the Doors, and written by Robby Krieger, who had also come up with Light My Fire, at the beginning of the Doors' career.
Although Love Her Madly did well at AM radio, and the music community in general didn't seem phased by Jim's departure for Paris, which was treated in a low-key way, i.e. going on a sabbatical, etc., it was San Francisco, specifically KSAN-FM, who picked the next single - Riders On The Storm. The jocks had taken to playing the long version and the phones began ringing off the hook. Our local promotion guy in San Francisco, Jeff Trager, was adamant that this should be the next single, called everyone at Elektra who could make such decisions. The long instrumental was edited to a more manageable 4 minutes or so and it was released.
Word from Paris was non-existent, in itself a good thing. One always assumes that no news is good news. I saw plenty of Bill Siddons, who was constantly checking on the progress of the album. I don't know that I even asked him how Jim was, and he didn't say. I think we all wished that he was finding the happiness that seemed to always elude him, and that things would turn out all right in the end, but of course that wasn't to be.
However, if I hadn't heard one more time from Jim, I would've ended all this at Part Five.
Fast forward to the July 4 weekend, which fell on a Sunday that year, 1971. Accordingly, we got the Monday off and the office was closed until Tuesday, July 6. I was one of the first there that morning. The office I shared also housed the TWX machine, which we used to communicate various Elektra offices, also WEA, and anyone else we did business with who owned one. A precursor to email, this rattling, chattering beast of a machine was used to type short messages and receive same, sometimes in real time, so you could communicate with the operator at the other end. When unattended, it spat out telegram-type missives, in duplicate. Because it was an expensive thing to use, one tended to keep things pretty short and to the point. I was used to coming in in the morning and finding various advisories which had to be distributed to the intended recipients.
I noticed something had come in over the weekend, which was unusual, considering it was a national holiday. A brief two lines, "Regret to inform that Jim Morrison died July 3 in Paris. (signed) Bill Siddons." It appeared to originate from Clive Selwood at our London office.
And that was that. Last word from Jim.
I took the telex and went out into the hall, where I encountered Russ Miller, head of West Coast operations at that time, opening his office door. I handed him the telex without a word. Besides saying something along the lines of "oh, shit!" Russ told me to keep it quiet as far as any announcements to outside sources and that he would contact Jac immediately. In the distance, I could hear the phone ringing at my desk, and noticed that the switchboard was open. One ringy-dingy, two ringy-dingy --- . Send not to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.
I believe what ultimately destroyed Jim was fame and his own demons. He had everything it took to succeed, smart, beautiful, talented. He dared the hot spotlight that annihilates every fascinated moth. But, the question remains, is it better to burn out or to escape into the safe cool darkness to regret what might have been?
FINIS.
Hi, my friend, very well written article!
Posted by: Account Deleted | 06/14/2011 at 10:59 PM
This is a very different account from the one Danny Sugerman gives in No One Here Gets Out Alive. I prefer this one though. Its more human whereas the other one is more like an account of an awestruck fan seeing an infallible hero. I'm sure you'd still consider your interactions with Jim some of the high points of your life. Very well written. As is often said genius is best when it is flawed.
Posted by: Firoz Bharucha | 04/13/2011 at 01:16 AM
Thanks, PC. I'm persona non grata at the Doors board, btw. No explanation. Not so at Densmore, but I've been busy getting this written and working on other stuff as well.
Posted by: sally stevens | 02/23/2011 at 07:18 AM
Thank You for writing this Sally, really enjoyed it! Haven't seen you around the Doors forum in quite a while :(
Posted by: Polished_Chrome | 02/22/2011 at 08:49 PM
Sally,
Forgive me, as I have always known that you and Salli Stevenson are two different people. My neurons/wires got crossed when I read the caption for Jim editing the Circus magazine article and had temporary amnesia. Sorry about that.
Glenn
Posted by: Glenn B. | 02/19/2011 at 03:35 PM
What a fascinating read. From all accounts, Jim seemed to be 2 different people, depending on the situation, but most agree that he was an intelligent, well-mannered gentleman with an unlimited supply of genuine talent. Thanks so much for sharing your experiences!
Posted by: James | 02/19/2011 at 01:29 PM
Thanks, Glenn. I wanted to portray Jim in as honest a fashion as I could.
Posted by: sally stevens | 02/18/2011 at 02:13 PM
Bravo Sally! Well done. I've always wished that you would put your remembrances into print. It's these types of stories, anecdotes, and literary color that make the black and white come to life. All of us who wonder what the man was truely like get a little closer to the truth with reading these words, almost as if we could go back in time and spend a day with him.
I think that's what most fans really want, a way to get to the core of who he was, beyond the publicity machine. Although he was many things to many people, your forthright account of those days are gold, and solidify the image that some of us have of him as a good and decent person, who has flaws, but would be someone you could call "friend".
I genuinely look forward to your postings here and abroad.
Regards,
Glenn
Posted by: Glenn B. | 02/18/2011 at 01:48 PM
He had plans to do a movie with Fred Myrow doing the score, and a chateau in the French countryside had apparently been rented so that he and Fred could work there. Fred had actually purchased his airline ticket to France when he found out that Jim had died. As far as the storyline, neither Fred nor Jim are here to tell us. But, yes, he was done with the Doors. He never mentioned any future plans with them to me, only talked about his writing plans and film plans, and his future with Pam.
Posted by: sally stevens | 02/09/2011 at 05:05 PM
what kind of films was he planning, this proves he was done with the doors.
Posted by: grunge | 02/09/2011 at 04:56 PM
'After life's fitful fever he sleeps well'
King Lear
Posted by: Carmen Hernandez-Ochoa | 02/08/2011 at 06:35 PM
That's what I've always thought. Jim was a decent guy, let alone a tremendous talent.
Posted by: sally stevens | 02/05/2011 at 01:05 PM
What a sad ending.
Posted by: Mark | 02/05/2011 at 12:26 PM