The 43rd anniversary of Jim Morrison’s death
Today is the 43 anniversary of the death of Jim Morrison and a lot of remembrances, encomiums, and thoughts from fans are being written and published today. The Doors Examiner has long remembered Morrison and his accomplishments as a singer, poet and filmmaker, and to honor Jim Morrison today let’s take a look back at what it was like at Pere LaChaise and some of the facts, myths and legends surrounding Morrison’s death.
In 2011 I had the opportunity to go to Paris for the fortieth anniversary of Morrison’s death and had a first hand report from the scene, and what it was like at Pere Lachaise. I also had the opportunity to interview Gilles Yepremian who met Jim Morrison in Paris at the Rock ‘n’ Roll Circus.
Last year we took a look at the rumors surrounding Jim’s death and the circumstances surrounding it looking at the stories from standard story of Pam going to bed and waking up in the middle of the night to find Jim sick in the bathtub and he died later that night. Or Jim died via heroin either by getting into Pam’s stash or OD’ing in a toilet stall at the Rock ’n’ Roll Circus, to theories that he was murdered either directly or by witchcraft. Or the last is the more esoteric versions that Jim was recruited by the CIA as a teenager and he’d outlived his usefulness to them, or the Arthur Rimbaud version in which Jim didn’t die but is now living out his life in seclusion.
Rock ‘n’ Roll Dreams
The boy in rip’t leather
the stones of his step
worn smooth
by the passing crowd.
Rooftop visions sear
like love.
darkness makes the music
grow. Words become as
sacred as scarabs.
Ambition naked & brutal
as the mourning son.
Everyone wants to be a rockstar.
Including you.
Eyes cleansed by the solvent
of new morning. The girls
screams sound like gulls
at the seas harvest.
What rock has wrought
burning like silver
in children’s mouths.
& what clamors
behind the eyelids.
The toll is taken at the gate.
The singer
blasted by the logic
of fame
found dead on
the reptile floor
of a comfortable bathroom
death.
*poem by Jim Cherry, Venice Beach 1994.
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