Many years ago I was a long haired musician wandering Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood, California. Jim Morrison had been dead for a decade and Ms. Courson for almost as long. I had liked The Doors music, but I was far too young when Morrison's problems were in the News to be aware of them. I remembered that he died around the time that Jimi Hendrix. During my flirtation with Rock in the youth driven Hollywood of the 1980's, the band I was with became the house band at Gazzarri's on the Strip for awhile and during that time I got to know the late Bill Gazzarri pretty well and he knew Jim Morrison and Pamela Courson (Bill still had a pair of shoes behind the bar that he made Jim wear when he cruised the Blvd).
Over the years since I have read some of the biographies on Morrison. None of the books seemed to speak of the people that Bill, or others I met in Hollywood, remembered. Everyone of these biographies seemed to have an ax to grind about these two hippies. First off, Jim Morrison was a drinker, not a stoner. Pamela was actually pretty well liked outside the nastiness of the other Doors and their hanger ons. That is the point though is it not, history is usually told by it's survivors and the remaining Doors were a pretty pathetic group of garage band types who only had a chance at fame because of Morrison. When he was gone, their time was over.
Butler took six years to research her book and she takes a different view of the two. She paints the picture of Morrison that was more familiar to those I had spoken to on the strip. Jim was a man caught between the Beat poets and the psychedelic rockers of the 1960's. He was bridging the gap between two groups and might have been more in line with Jack Kerouac partying on Sunset, than the other West Coast Rockers he was associated with. No wonder why he was a loner, who separated the different groups he befriended. Pamela was really a loner too, and somehow they were able to ignite each other's passion. Perhaps, it is because in many ways they were both out of place on Sunset Blvd...I have seen that before too. I can forgive Patricia Butler for falling in love with Pamela by the end of her book, I fell in love with her too and maybe it is not a bad thing to try and understand that Courson, like everyone else had her good days and bad, but like The Doors she lost her shinning star on that hot day in Paris and lost her way. If you want to continue to hate her, that is your choice. You are not hurting her anymore, but read the book with an open mind and see what you feel at the conclusion of the story.
Butler interviews many of the people who knew them that were not just work associates. It is nice to see that time had also passed and some of the other Doors had better things to say, now that they were facing their own mortality. In the end there was nothing supernatural about their lives, they were on a collision course with death, as their whole generation was. They had passion, they had adventure and I cannot help but envy their innocence. By the time it was my time, my age group was already jaded in our twenties. The fifties exploded into the sixties and then dribbled into the seventies and eighties. I have only had a little view of that time through a glass darkly, but Ms Butler's book widened that view somewhat not only on the subject intended, but on the place that for a decade I called home and for that I am indebted to her.
I highly recommend the book for anyone who is intrigued by Morrison or interested in that particular time in either Hollywood or the music industry.