Clive Selwood recalls The Doors in London

[TheWallsScreamedPoetry]

Clive Selwood, General Manager of Elektra London talking about Jim's death and The Doors performances in London in 1968.

"Sadly it fell to me to announce to the world the presumed death of Jim Morrison. In fact I have never been convinced that Jim died in the place and the manner generally accepted even though thousands of
fans make the annual pilgrimage to a tombstone in Paris.

The facts don't appear to hold up and it just may be that the Lizard King is alive and fat and laughing at us all.

Before the event, he had questioned a number of friends, myself included, whether we felt that he had yet reached the status where in death he would become legendary. We of course rushed to assure him
that it was much too soon but events have proved us wrong.

I heard the first Doors album in the form of a white label test pressing from America a few months after joining Elektra records in Britain as Sales Manager. It was both electric and electrifying and only the label's second venture into what became known as West Coast
Rock. Elektra's first venture into that music genre had been Da Capo by Love who were at that time very much more popular in Los Angeles
where both bands were based. Until then, Elektra's output had been essentially acoustic folk and the switch to electric guitar based rock was truly innovative and dangerous. The Doors album was
magnificent in terms of performance, content and production but it was immediately apparent that it would be very difficult to sell to a
British public and particularly to British radio which was dominated by the BBC Light programme who were extremely limited in the amount of records they were allowed to play and were still heavily reliant
upon the happy sound of a two and a half minute pop single.

Elektra at the time was a small specialist label run out of a third floor office and basement in London's Dean Street. The staff comprised a Canadian Managing Director, a Secretary, a Production
Assistant and me. We also imported the great Blue Note jazz label and Elektra's classical subsidiary Nonesuch. Hardly the sophisticated marketing and promotional organisation through which to
launch a major world class act. We nevertheless released the album and set about trying to get radio plays, press reviews and hopefully
a degree of acceptance with the leading tastemakers like The Beatles
who were in the process of recording Sgt. Pepper. At this remove it is difficult to even recall just how revolutionary The Doors album really was but there was no doubt that we were entering new musical
territory and meeting a lot of opinionated opposition.

Most of the initial reviews were mystified or hostile but a minor breakthrough was a tiny mention on one of the music papers that Ringo suggested that The Doors were one of the more interesting bands to
emerge in America. Sales were minimal and there was nobody on pre Peel British radio prepared even to listen.

A single was needed and it occurred to me that an edited version of Light My Fire might provide the breakthrough at least in terms of radio exposure. Working from home with primitive equipment, I
completed a rough edit bringing the piece down to about three and a half minutes but leaving the soaring instrumental middle section intact. I sent the edit with some trepidation to the boss in America
Jac Holzman and got a call back to sat that the notion of an edit was approved but that the task had been give n to the producer of the album Paul Rothschild who was approaching the project in another
direction.

Eventually, Paul's edit arrived and I was horrified to discover that virtually the entire organ and guitar bridge had been removed. We
nevertheless released the new version and began to pick up a few plays on the pirate station Radio London which was broadcasting somewhere out in the North Sea and was becoming increasingly popular
with a young audience who were being ignored or at best patronised by BBC radio.

"Light My Fire" eventually charted at the lower end in Britain but took America by storm where it dramatically shot to No 1 and took the album with it no doubt helped by the stunning cover shot of Jim
stripped to the wait and looking suitably tortured.

Elektra was the hot new label and probably severely stretched financially. A million singles and a million albums have to be manufactured, distributed and paid for by the label before any money
comes back and these costs, along with the recording, promotion and advances to a newly successful act, can surprisingly bring down a
company without adequate financial resources. Add to this the fact
that most of the big retail chains in America only pay their accounts when they need to order more product and it becomes apparent why so many successful small labels end up in the hands of well funded multi-
nationals or The Mafia. It also illustrates the importance of the follow-up single or album since all too many times the label without a second hit may never be paid in full for the first - and still be stuck with all of the costs.

Out of the blue, Jac Holzman arrived and informed us that he as closing down the UK operation having completed a deal to licence the label in Britain to Polydor Records who had the resources and no
doubt some much needed funds. I was offered the job of running the label within Polydor as Label Manager with a welcome salary increase
but the rest of the staff were "let go" and the office and the warehouse were closed. The Canadian Managing Director, a kind and gentle man called Don Johnston died shortly after the event and it was years before his secretary forgave me for what she obviously saw
as disloyalty and ambition.

The move to Polydor was smoothly and quickly effected and I now had an office and secretary within a building humming with professionals. Unfortunately, in the transition, "Light My Fire" flickered and died but interest in the band was growing at least
among the hippie movement who now had a voice in the "underground" papers like OZ and IT. John Peel was introducing The Brits to West Coast Rock via his magical Perfumed Garden on Radio London and Sgt
Pepper was top of the charts. It was probably the most exciting and hopeful time for anybody under thirty and truly a golden age for those lucky enough to be in my business. We released Alabama Song as
a follow up single without success but it helped maintain momentum for the band who were now superstars in America with Jim already
becoming an icon as well as an iconoclast.

The Roundhouse, a converted train shed, was the only sizeable venue willing to book this new underground music in London and The Doors, who had just released "Strange Days" as their second album, agreed to appear there for two nights at the start of a short European tour to promote the new album.

The new single in the States was "Hello I Love You", which was possibly the weakest thing they had ever recorded, bore rather too much resemblance to a Ray Davies song. This was not surprising since
Jim in particular was a great fan of The Kinks. It was nevertheless another huge America hit and on the strength of that I was able to
get the band booked on to Top Of The Pops which was the only meaningful television exposure available and pretty much a guarantee of a hit if the record had what it took. I also entered negotiations
with Granada TV to film the tour and the performances for a hitherto unheard of one hour show devoted to the band. Even The Beatles or The Stones had not yet been accorded that level of exposure.

A footnote here to remind younger readers that most of the music world and virtually all of the established record companies hated this new music and hoped that it was a passing fad that would do away
as quickly as it had arrived. As detailed in depth elsewhere Polydor were not convinced of the long term potential of The Doors and every penny of promotional support had to be gouged out with much kicking
and screaming. Jefferson Airplane were due to support us at The Roundhouse and their record company refused even to advertise their album in OZ or IT, who left blank pages in the publications where an
advert had been expected.

[TheWallsScreamedPoetry]

I learned later that Decca Records were unable to find the right weight of board on which to print The Stones' Satanic Majesties album and it fell to mighty Mick Jagger to scour the world for the several tons of board required to fill the demand. Strange Days indeed.

In the teeth of much opposition, I was able to arrange a number of record shop window displays in the West End, around The Roundhouse
and along the route from Heathrow which, it turned out, impressed the band no end. The main task however was to find a dramatic and
innovative venue from which to introduce the band to the media and here again my old mate Peely came to the rescue. At John's suggestion, I got in touch with The Institute Of Contemporary Arts in
The Mall who were having an exhibition of Cybernetic Serendipity at the time (no, I didn't know what it was either but it sounded right) and they agreed to let us host a reception amid the robots and strange exhibits. Invitations were sent to all the music media, who
responded very favourably.

The Doors arrived red-eyed from an overnight flight from Los Angeles and were met by the Granada team, who stuck camera and microphones in their faces and asked them to identify themselves as they stepped off
the plane. Perhaps not the best possible way to enter a country for the first time but the lads were polite and good humoured and even in those trying circumstances their characters emerged.

Ray was quiet and studious, Robbie was so shy that he appeared stoned and inarticulate, John was slick and looking for aggravation and Jim
was enigmatic and almost unbelievably beautiful. They were accompanied by Bill Siddons, a former road manager now hired as a salaried manager. The band were shrewd enough even then to realise
that they would always take the important decisions rather than pay a percentage of their now enormous earnings to a management team.

As the limos transported the group into London, the camera crew recorded their first impressions and I was delighted to see how thrilled they were with the window displays along the route. A point
worth noting for any aspiring entrepreneurs is the value of window displays which are one of the most cost effective promotional items and I've yet to meet an artist who hasn't been bowled over by the sight of their face dominating a window.

After a few hours rest the "freaks" were collected from their hotel with some difficulty as they had never heard British telephones ring and the wake up calls had them believing that the rooms were infested
with grasshoppers.

They were driven down The Mall past Buckingham Palace to The ICA where a surprisingly hostile press were waiting to pounce. Quite why they were so hostile I have never understood. The setting was superb
with an abundant supply of food and drink amid great modern art and artifacts highlighted by a squadron of mobile robots moving silently
among the guests - but hostile they were and none more so that the music press. Perhaps they were intimidated by the band's reputation
or by the surroundings or more likely by the group's obvious intelligence.

With the exception of the representatives of OZ and IT, the press were actively anti and tried to trip the various members into making silly statements. The most obnoxious was the girl from the NME.

Jim was the obvious target and refused to be badgered into instant responses to daft questions like "How do you feel about God?"
and "Tell us the meaning of life as you see it.". He gave a slow well considered answer to every damn fool question which infuriated the scorps even more while the cameras popped and whirred. Perhaps
it was his presence that upset them so. Who knows? The British press are with too few exceptions nasty, lazy, greedy, uninformed and too fond of the bottle. Ray had brought his new young Japanese wife
on the trop and she was both horrified and mystified. I was just ashamed.

The next day was given over to a sound check at the Roundhouse and to recording Top Of The Pops, where the band posed for a picture with Sylia, my secretary, and me in the scruffy dressing room. Again, the
band were professional, turning up on time and enduring without complaint the endless false starts and general hanging around without
which television appears to be unable to function.

Following the television performance which, in those days, was recorded "live" on Wednesday for transmission on Thursday in time for the weekend rush to the record stores, the visitors had a night off
and may well have sampled some of London's fairly legendary night life.

On the last day of the sold out shows at the Roundhouse, I collected
the band for a sound check in the afternoon before they went off for an early dinner. Unfortunately, the Granada producer must have mentioned to them at some point that they would be required to open
the show rather than close it to avoid the possibility of his crew
being required to work beyond midnight when "golden time" (i.e. double wages) would apply and for which he had no budget. The Doors had naturally expected to close the show as headliners and were not about to be seen as a support to Jefferson Airplane on their first European concert.

When the time came to start the show, The Doors were nowhere to be found and The Airplane were not ready to perform since they had been
told by the television team that they would close the show for the opening night. With Peely playing records to an increasingly restive
audience, the minutes ticked by with no sign of The Doors. I then had a call from John Densmore who would not say where the band was but demanding to know if they were going to close the show. When I
tried to explain the problems with the importance of the television coverage, he simply hung up. Over the next hour or so, I received several such calls, each one with the same simple question and each
time terminated by the dialling tone when I tried to explain the situation or enquire about the whereabouts of the band (who, I later learned, were simply circling the venue in a limo, dropping off every few minutes to make the calls.)

The audience were very pissed off and slow handclapping, the television people were desperate, I was frantic and Peely was outraged by being left alone to amuse an increasingly mutinous mob
who had not idea of the "problem". The Airplane's manager thought it was hilarious. Despite the appearance, it now looked likely that
they would be seen to headline over the mighty Doors.

Eventually, Densmore stayed on the line long enough to allow me to explain the situation and to point out that the eventual audience for the television documentary would far exceed and outweigh any
immediate considerations. They arrived and were quickly announced though by now I cannot recall if they opened or closed the show.

The Roundhouse was a truly dark and rather dangerous place but it was full to capacity and I could find nowhere to stand that would give me
a view of proceedings that I had spend to much time and energy arranging. The only viable spot was up in a disused balcony that was closed off to the public on safety grounds and guarded by a typically
obdurate jobsworth. My appeals, threats and offers of bribes fell upon deaf ears until out of the blue Jac Holzman arrived and with his
usual authority and economy said to the guardian "That is my band. I intend to see them. If you don't get out of my way, I will cancel the show and you will have to explain your actions to a few thousand
murderous fans. You've got five seconds starting from now... four... three...".

We went upstairs.

It is a line I've subsequently tried on several occasions without success. A question of natural authority I guess.

The Doors were in fact only OK. The band were terrific but Jim's performance appeared to me at least too overly studied and theatrical - probably as a result of playing to stadium audiences
where everything needed to be on a larger scale. The were
nevertheless very well received with a number of encores and the
whole performance was captured on film for television. "Hello I Love
You", which was the lamest single the band ever recorded, became
their biggest selling UK hit. Does that tell you something?

The next stop for the band was Amsterdam where Jim literally died - and I don't mean just professionally. He apparently ate a huge chunk of hash washed down with a bottle of brandy and lapsed into a coma
with all signs of life gone.

Fortunately, he was rushed to hospital and a stomach pump saved his life but you have to wonder that the long term effects were.

[TheWallsScreamedPoetry]

The next time I met Jim was in New York where he was attending a
sales conference with sales people and distributors all eager to hear
and order the next album. He was in fine form. He looked fit,
laughing and shaking hands with the commercial representatives. He
even found time to try to "pull" my lovely wife Shirley who just
smiled her enigmatic smile. I recall Jim cracking up when one of the
enthusiastic salesmen referred to the album as the Doors third
straight album and I pointed out that in my opinion they had yet to
make even a first straight album. The sales meetings across America
were a huge success with orders pouring in but I wonder how many of
today's pampered rock stars would make the effort to get to know the
folks who would make them rich. At that time Jim was looking his
best. He was fit, tanned, relaxed and very good company.

The second and last time the Doors came to Britain to perform was at
the Isle of Wight Festival, which was probably the most star-studded
event ever staged on our shores. By this time Jim had become fat,
bearded and somewhat subdued and paranoid due to his escapades in
Miami, where he was accused of exposing himself at a concert. If
found guilty, he would face a lengthy term on a chain gang which
would tend to invoke a degree of paranoia in just about anybody. I
later learned that the event in question came about as a result of
the commercial usage of "Light my Fire" in a television commercial
for Buick cars. Apparently the song was leased to television without
Jim's approval whilst he was on holiday and he was outraged but
unable to reverse the decision. The commercial appeared as "Come on
Buick-Light My Fire" and on that fateful night in Miami Jim had left
the stage in uproar and said to the rest of the group "Now let's see
if `Buick can still use my song".. The ploy worked but at great
personal and professional cost. The Isle of Wight performance was
mechanical and perfunctory. It was apparent that Jim's thoughts were
elsewhere and the show was greeted with the fairly desultory applause
which was a great shame and less than a fitting last U.K. appearance
particularly with such a massive audience and alongside so many
superb acts of which The Who were outstanding.

Jim was however by now a published author and poet who wanted nothing
more than a quiet period of quiet reflection and obscurity to enable
him to concentrate on writing with a view to becoming a respected
literary figure. With a string of platinum albums behind him he
wanted to conquer new areas and, hidden behind his bushy beard he was
able to walk around Paris, Amsterdam or London unrecognised. In
America he carried his notoriety on his back and it was around this
time that he began to question his legendary status in the event of
an early death. During this period he would often drop into my office
unannounced for a chat about anything but music or business. Penny
Valentine was a popular columnist and feature writer for Disc and
Music Echo whose offices were close to mine in new Oxford St. She
called one morning to say that she had picked up a rumour that Jim
had died in Paris as a result of a massive heart attack and would I
check it out. I immediately called the U.S. embassy in Paris who had
no reports of any such occurrence and who assured me that any
hospital or physician treating any U.S. citizen would be bound by law
to report any fatality. Somewhat relieved I called Penny who told me
that her source was reliable and gave me other leads to pursue that I
did without any further confirmation. Certainly at that time there
were no official reports of the death of any young American male in
Paris. I did nevertheless feel obliged to call Bill Siddons who was
still managing the band in Los Angeles and who due to the time
difference was asleep in bed. He took the news very calmly, promised
to get back to me and I felt reassured that the rumour was just that.

Less than 48 hours later I read a national newspaper which had been
printed twelve hours earlier and no doubt written some hours before
that an interview with Billy to the effect that he had been in Paris,
identified Jim's body and returned to L.A. to make press
announcement. Bearing in mind that I had in fact awakened Billy with
the news following which he would have had to book a twelve hour
flight from Paris, to find the hospital, make the burial arrangements
and make the twelve hour return flight to arrange and attend the
press call all within thirty hours I remain somewhat sceptical. Amore
likely scenario is that Jim decided to vanish and make arrangements
to cover his tracks. I sure hope so but as the years pass with no
sign or word from the Lizard King it does seem increasingly likely
that he is no longer around, Were he still alive I'm sure he would
have broken cover with the release of the Oliver Stone film which was
a grotesque caricature of the band and the people around them. Jim
may well have had a dark side. It has been said that he was an "Irish
drunk" and I am reminded of the story that, at a party in Hollywood
he grabbed Janis Joplin's pony tail as she passed causing her to
collapse backwards. Janis it would appear bided her time and at the
end of the evening as Jim was getting into the limo smashed a full
bottle of brandy over his head. Jim is reputed to have said "Thank
you Janis" and sped off into the night covered in blood. I was
fortunate to consider him a friend and only saw a sensitive charming
and highly intelligent young man. An you imagine that monster in the
movie coming with me to Windsor castle and hanging around to catch a
glimpse of The Queen? Obviously movies have to be sold and nothing
sells better than sex drugs and rock and roll but one is bound to
wonder about other Oliver Stone bio-pics when Jim is portrayed as a
drug crazed moron and elegant sophisticated business people like Jac
Holzman and Paul Rothschild are depicted as foul mouthed hustlers.

As I write this Paul is seriously ill. I wish him well. The many gold
and platinum singles and albums he produced sound as fresh and
contemporary now as they did a quarter of a century ago. Oddly they
an now be heard frequently on British radio which virtually ignored
them first time around. With Jim gone The Doors tried to re-form with
different singers but the magic had gone. They even tried recording
with Kevin Coyne whom I was managing art the time. Kevin never talks
about the experience but it was clear that much more than 6000 miles
separates Los Angeles from Derbyshire. The appalling Oliver Stone
Movie of course created a huge wave of interest in the band and their
work became much more successful in Britain twenty years too late
with thousands of new fans making an annual pilgrimage to Jim's
headstone in Paris. I understand that the twentyfifth anniversary of
Jim's reported death drew such crowds to the cemetery that the French
government have been forced to declare it a National Monument. The
Lizard King would have found that very amusing - and perhaps does