Hollywood CA - Thursday June 8th, 1967
"Jim
arrived without his redheaded girlfriend and we climbed this rickety
old
ladder up to where they stored the old lighting fixtures and stuff. It
was very romantic to my eyes. We had this big jug of Trimar which is
sort
of like liquid PCP. I was a virgin at the time and we never did go all
the way, but we were rolling up there making out like crazy. The
lighting
was so diffused and beautiful and I was so high. It was like we were
there
for an eternity and all of a sudden I heard 'Light My Fire' being
played.
I thought it was probably in my mind or something. But it was being
played
for real and Jim heard it and he went, 'Oh my God, I'm on.' So he
clamored
down this ladder behind the stage and threw the curtain back and went
on. And
I followed him. I was so high, I didn't know where he was going. I just
followed him onstage. I can still see the audience looking up at me. I
was onstage with The Doors and I realized I shouldn't have been there.
One
of the roadies came and took me offstage. I don't think I'll ever
forget
it." Pamela Des Barres
These shows are last minute additions in which The Doors give the locals an absolutely incredible performance before heading off to tackle San Francisco and New York. Ray didn't even know about the shows until just before they went on and there was no advertising, but the kids on the Strip knew about this show! Early and late shows. Also performing: The Sunshine Company
Review:
"Soon
The Doors are making music, Morrison slouches over the rigid microphone
and the Hullabaloo's turntable stage slowly begins to spin them towards
a wildly screaming audience as the curtains pull back. A wild strobe of
Instamatic flash bulbs silhouettes frantically waving hands in a
lightning
sky. Girls press forward against the stage. Morrison grunts, begins
squirming,
singing, and there's another barrage of flash bulbs and press towards
the
stage. The music weaves and screams into one climax after another.
Morrison
is literally raping the microphone between his quivering thighs,
advancing
toward the hungry girls pressing against the stage. And then he trips
on
the microphone and falls. It happens along with a musical peak and the
girls scream, thining this is the way it should be. Morrison picks
himself
off the floor. He shouts the lyrics. Picks up the microphone stand and
throws it hard. The girls can't believe it. Few are frightened, most of
them have eyes that mirror an erotic spell. And Morrison jumps hard
among
the fallen stand. Picks it up again and throws it hard once more.
Shouting
the lyrics. Screaming. You look at the girls and you swear they're
having
orgasm. Morrison destroys the mike and the stand."
(Hank
Zavellos, "The Doors," Happening Magazine #5, 1968)
"He
said the Trimar might be hurting our heads and gave me a lecture on
drug
abuse, telling me the persona he put forward was an elaborate act, and
he really wanted to be noticed as a poet . . . and though no one knew
that,
it would come out in the end. He was getting his poetry out to the
world
through this music and ultimately he would be perceived as a poet. On
our way to Tiny Naylor's on La Brea, he pulled the car over, grabbed
the
bottle of Trimar, and threw it out the window into a yard full of
overgrown
ivy. 'Now we won't be tempted.' We had datenut bread and fresh orange
juice while the sun came up, then cruised the silent strip to a little
hotel where he was staying during his feud with the redhead. That was
the only time I had my hands on Jim Morrison; he turned out to be very
much a one-woman man." - Pamel
Des Barres, after the gig and cruising Hollywood while Jim drove her
Oldsmobile