Post by tzinana on Aug 13, 2005 6:19:37 GMT
"Jim Morrison's Fans Keep His Fire Alight In a Birthday Homage"
By ALAN RIDING
The New York Times
December 9, 1993
Gaelle Rabaste, who is 17, was not even born when Jim Morrison died of heart failure from an overdose of drugs and alcohol here on July 3, 1971. But on the day the lead singer of the Doors would have been 50, she crouched by his tomb, reading his poetry with tears in her eyes.
The grave itself was covered with flowers, love letters, poems and the inevitable bottle of whisky left by the hundreds of young Europeans and Americans who came to pay homage to him on his birthday. "Move on, move on," security guards kept calling out. "Give other people a chance."
Nathalie Roux had come from Switzerland for the occasion, carrying her guitar in the hope of singing her own tribute. "After I heard Jim Morrison, my life changed," the 18-year-old said. "He's like a Messiah to me. I know it sounds silly, but he has helped me see things the way he would see them."
Even on days of no particular significance to Morrison devotees, his tomb is the main attraction in the huge Pere-Lachaise cemetery in eastern Paris, easily outdrawing the final resting places of the likes of Moliere, Chopin, Bizet, Proust, Oscar Wilde, Isadora
Duncan, Edith Piaf and Maria Callas.
Diverse Observances
Yet if "Jim Lives," as myriad graffiti around his tomb proclaim, it is also because Paris has now embraced him as a cult figure: his birthday has been marked by film showings, photo exhibitions, concerts, radio and television specials, even a poetry reading at the Georges Pompidou Center.
Morrison moved here five months before his death, fleeing scandals provoked by his raucous performances and apparently hoping that he would be recognized as a writer in a city where Hemingway and other expatriate American writers had prospered. But "the end" he so often sang about soon came.
Not all Parisians are happy that he is buried here. Families who own nearby tombs have long campaigned for his remains to be evicted, complaining that his fans smoke marijuana, drink beer and liquor and generally behave badly. Indeed, two years ago, the 20th anniversary of his death turned into a riot when guards tried to close the cemetery at night.
Since then, a guard is permanently stationed at Morrison's grave, but messages continue to appear on surrounding tombs. One directly behind the singer's black marble headstone reads: "Adolf Hitler, who should be dead, is still alive . . . he lives in Miami . . . and you, who should be alive, are dead . . . but you are still among us. Frederic."
Other graffiti -- mainly in English, but also in French, Spanish, Portuguese and Italian -- are more direct: "Jim, you are the God," "Jim, we need you," "We love you and you make me feel alright," "Jim, Welcome to the Severed Garden" and, perhaps most appropriately, "Stoned Immaculate."
Portable Statuary
A marble bust of the singer once stood on his tomb. First, fans began to chip off bits to take home as mementoes. Then it was covered with graffiti. Finally, in 1990, it was stolen. Now fans often carry their own busts or statues of Morrison to the grave as part of their tribute.
Fear of trouble brought extra security guards to the tomb today, but apart from discouraging beer drinking and keeping the crowds moving they had little to do.
The visitors were in solemn mood, prefering to celebrate the creativity of the singer, poet and, to many, prophet rather than the violent self-destruction that marked his brief five years in the spotlight.
Among the fans were few contemporaries, proof enough that he is far larger as a myth than he ever was as a star. Indeed, those at his grave today were almost all in their teens and 20's, pilgrims who either were converted by older brothers and sisters or were led to
Morrison by Oliver Stone's movie "The Doors."
Yet what is the appeal of his almost-nihilistic message to this generation? "He's not an example, but he's a legend," Florence Roger, a 14-year-old Parisian schoolgirl, said. "He wanted to die, to get close to death. Perhaps if he hadn't been so drugged up, he wouldn't have written such beautiful poetry."
Rene Beuttkus, a 25-year-old who installs central heating for a living, drove with four friends from Dessau in eastern Germany to be here today. Why? "Because Jim gives another dimension to life," he said. "It's the words of his poems and his life."
Lyric Symbolism
A tall, bearded Frenchman who refused to give his name said the message came from "up there." And he tried to explain. "The song 'Riders on the Storm,' is not about a motorbike," he said, referring to a Doors hit. "It's about seeing a light ahead and moving toward it."
Christophe, a young Frenchman from Normandy, said he wished he had lived in the 1960's. And for him, Morrison's example was "to let things come the way they come." Asked if that wasn't passive, he said, "What else are we going to do when we're unemployed and there's nothing else in our lives?"
He and a friend planned to spend the day at Pere-Lachaise. And wandering through were a group of schoolgirls from Finland, four long-haired Germans in matching leather trousers, a middle-aged Spanish woman who said nothing as she lighted a candle at the grave, and many more.
Paul Will, a 24-year-old social worker from Wisconsin, said he came over from London because his Australian girlfriend, Shannon O'Hara, simply announced, "It's got to be done." And he was pleased he did. "Even Jimi Hendrix's grave in Seattle isn't this busy," he said.
By ALAN RIDING
The New York Times
December 9, 1993
Gaelle Rabaste, who is 17, was not even born when Jim Morrison died of heart failure from an overdose of drugs and alcohol here on July 3, 1971. But on the day the lead singer of the Doors would have been 50, she crouched by his tomb, reading his poetry with tears in her eyes.
The grave itself was covered with flowers, love letters, poems and the inevitable bottle of whisky left by the hundreds of young Europeans and Americans who came to pay homage to him on his birthday. "Move on, move on," security guards kept calling out. "Give other people a chance."
Nathalie Roux had come from Switzerland for the occasion, carrying her guitar in the hope of singing her own tribute. "After I heard Jim Morrison, my life changed," the 18-year-old said. "He's like a Messiah to me. I know it sounds silly, but he has helped me see things the way he would see them."
Even on days of no particular significance to Morrison devotees, his tomb is the main attraction in the huge Pere-Lachaise cemetery in eastern Paris, easily outdrawing the final resting places of the likes of Moliere, Chopin, Bizet, Proust, Oscar Wilde, Isadora
Duncan, Edith Piaf and Maria Callas.
Diverse Observances
Yet if "Jim Lives," as myriad graffiti around his tomb proclaim, it is also because Paris has now embraced him as a cult figure: his birthday has been marked by film showings, photo exhibitions, concerts, radio and television specials, even a poetry reading at the Georges Pompidou Center.
Morrison moved here five months before his death, fleeing scandals provoked by his raucous performances and apparently hoping that he would be recognized as a writer in a city where Hemingway and other expatriate American writers had prospered. But "the end" he so often sang about soon came.
Not all Parisians are happy that he is buried here. Families who own nearby tombs have long campaigned for his remains to be evicted, complaining that his fans smoke marijuana, drink beer and liquor and generally behave badly. Indeed, two years ago, the 20th anniversary of his death turned into a riot when guards tried to close the cemetery at night.
Since then, a guard is permanently stationed at Morrison's grave, but messages continue to appear on surrounding tombs. One directly behind the singer's black marble headstone reads: "Adolf Hitler, who should be dead, is still alive . . . he lives in Miami . . . and you, who should be alive, are dead . . . but you are still among us. Frederic."
Other graffiti -- mainly in English, but also in French, Spanish, Portuguese and Italian -- are more direct: "Jim, you are the God," "Jim, we need you," "We love you and you make me feel alright," "Jim, Welcome to the Severed Garden" and, perhaps most appropriately, "Stoned Immaculate."
Portable Statuary
A marble bust of the singer once stood on his tomb. First, fans began to chip off bits to take home as mementoes. Then it was covered with graffiti. Finally, in 1990, it was stolen. Now fans often carry their own busts or statues of Morrison to the grave as part of their tribute.
Fear of trouble brought extra security guards to the tomb today, but apart from discouraging beer drinking and keeping the crowds moving they had little to do.
The visitors were in solemn mood, prefering to celebrate the creativity of the singer, poet and, to many, prophet rather than the violent self-destruction that marked his brief five years in the spotlight.
Among the fans were few contemporaries, proof enough that he is far larger as a myth than he ever was as a star. Indeed, those at his grave today were almost all in their teens and 20's, pilgrims who either were converted by older brothers and sisters or were led to
Morrison by Oliver Stone's movie "The Doors."
Yet what is the appeal of his almost-nihilistic message to this generation? "He's not an example, but he's a legend," Florence Roger, a 14-year-old Parisian schoolgirl, said. "He wanted to die, to get close to death. Perhaps if he hadn't been so drugged up, he wouldn't have written such beautiful poetry."
Rene Beuttkus, a 25-year-old who installs central heating for a living, drove with four friends from Dessau in eastern Germany to be here today. Why? "Because Jim gives another dimension to life," he said. "It's the words of his poems and his life."
Lyric Symbolism
A tall, bearded Frenchman who refused to give his name said the message came from "up there." And he tried to explain. "The song 'Riders on the Storm,' is not about a motorbike," he said, referring to a Doors hit. "It's about seeing a light ahead and moving toward it."
Christophe, a young Frenchman from Normandy, said he wished he had lived in the 1960's. And for him, Morrison's example was "to let things come the way they come." Asked if that wasn't passive, he said, "What else are we going to do when we're unemployed and there's nothing else in our lives?"
He and a friend planned to spend the day at Pere-Lachaise. And wandering through were a group of schoolgirls from Finland, four long-haired Germans in matching leather trousers, a middle-aged Spanish woman who said nothing as she lighted a candle at the grave, and many more.
Paul Will, a 24-year-old social worker from Wisconsin, said he came over from London because his Australian girlfriend, Shannon O'Hara, simply announced, "It's got to be done." And he was pleased he did. "Even Jimi Hendrix's grave in Seattle isn't this busy," he said.