Post by darkstar on Jul 17, 2005 13:33:38 GMT
Colorado Springs Gazette
Headlines OTHER HEADLINES
July 17, 2005
CC Alumni Recall ’67 Doors Show
By BRIAN NEWSOME THE GAZETTE
It was spring of 1967 when Doug Brown was asked to find a band to play for Colorado College’s homecoming dance.
Find new talent on a modest budget, the chairman of the homecoming committee was told.
And did he ever.
Brown, a junior, signed The Doors to perform in an intimate ballroom setting at a time when the band was exploding in popularity nationwide.
In a little-known chapter of rock ’n’ roll history, a few hundred well-dressed CC students took to the dance floor as leatherclad Jim Morrison sang some of his greatest hits.
A CC alumnus recently donated a bootleg recording of the show to the college’s library. News of the donation was published in The Chronicle of Higher Education, a weekly newspaper for academia, prompting a trip down memory lane for alumni.
The band, which was booked before the chart-topping release of “Light My Fire” that propelled it from underground to mainstream, played the CC venue for a fraction of its going rate.
On Sept. 17, The Doors made an infamous appearance on the “The Ed Sullivan Show” in which Morrison ignored Sullivan’s demand to change a line in “Light My Fire” for his television audience. The TV show host didn’t care for the term, “girl we couldn’t get much higher.”
By mid-November, the band was the subject of articles in Time and Newsweek, and a famous photo spread of Morrison appeared in Vogue magazine.
In between came the Oct. 21 performance in a second-floor ballroom of The Broadmoor Hotel.
“It was just an amazing, amazing evening,” said CC alumna Crete Wood, 58, of Carmel, Calif. Now a real estate agent, Wood was a sophomore when the band played. “At the end of it, you just wanted to scream. It was so cool.”
The Doors — singer Jim Morrison, keyboardist Ray Manzarek, drummer John Densmore and guitarist Robby Krieger — embodied the rebellious spirit of the late 1960s.
Morrison was an unabashed drinker and drug user who made a reputation as a hard-living, deep-thinking poet with a propensity for over-the-top theatrics.
Wood remembers the conservatively dressed students — girls in dresses and guys in jackets and ties — “sweating and just jumping around.”
A music major, Wood said that even those students who weren’t familiar with the band seemed to appreciate its talent. “They were so amazing that even if you hadn’t known who these people were . . . you knew you were being exposed to greatness.”
Bill Vieregg of Denver burned his finger on a match while lighting his date’s cigarette at the dance. When he went to a nearby drugstore to buy something to treat it before the show, Morrison was there buying a six-pack of Budweiser.
Vieregg, 56, is a music buff with hundreds of CDs who has a collection of tickets from about 200 concerts he’s attended. He, perhaps more than most, realized how rare an opportunity the ’67 homecoming dance was.
“I thought it was a pretty big deal. Just about everybody I ran around with knew The Doors,” he said. “It’s still hard to believe. I think if I didn’t have that picture in the yearbook, people still wouldn’t believe me.”
By contrast, Diane Benninghoff, an alumna and administrator for CC, didn’t stay for the show. It was smoky and crowded, she said. Benninghoff was more interested in her date, whom she would later marry. “We probably turned to each other at the same time and said, ‘This isn’t much fun.’”
The CC performance, alumni recall, was civil, and the band played a full-length show. Alumni didn’t recall Morrison speaking to the audience or taking requests.
“They were on the stage, they did their thing and they left,” Brown said.
But Brown didn’t get to relish in the show he helped secure.
His girlfriend from home flew to Colorado Springs, where she broke up with him two nights before the dance but went to it with him anyway.
For him, The Doors supplied background music for an evening of crying and arguing.
Brown, now a salesman living near San Francisco, said the Los Angeles foursome was the best band he could buy for $3,000. By fall, Brown said, the going rate for the band was about $50,000.
He found the name and number of an agent on a promotional photo for a different band, and called him.
“I said, ‘What’s the most expensive one I can afford?’” Brown said. When the agent told him about new talent known as The Doors, Brown responded: “I’ve never heard of them, but I’ll take them.”
The picture changed that summer. The Doors were performing in auditoriums and arenas, and they packed some of the hottest nightclubs in cities such as New York and Los Angeles.
Though smaller venues remained on the band’s schedule, a college dance was an anomaly.
When he booked the concert, the band’s agent had insisted on a signed contract to keep the college from backing out, Brown said. By fall, that same agent attempted to cancel, offering substitute bands who would play for longer sets. Brown held his ground.
“Everything he did to protect himself turned out to bite him in the butt,” Brown said.
Brown, who today has “Light My Fire” programmed as his cell phone ring tone, was concerned about selling enough tickets. He resorted to selling some to high school students.
The plan, though against the rules, worked. The committee sold all the tickets and made a slight profit.
CONTACT THE WRITER: 636-0198
or bnewsome@gazette.com
ABOUT THE BAND
Jim Morrison - singer
Ray Manzarek - keyboards
Robby Krieger - guitar
John Densmore - drums
The Doors formed in 1965 after singer Jim Morrison sang some of his lyrics to keyboardist Ray Manzarek on a California beach. The pair decided to form a band.
The band’s name came from an Aldous Huxley book on mescaline called “The Doors of Perception,” which referenced a line from a William Blake poem. The band released a string of rock ’n’ roll hits in the late ’60s and early ’70s.
Much of The Doors’ fame, however, stems from Morrison, whose theatrical stage presence, poet persona and self-abusive lifestyle have become rock legend. He died in 1971 in Paris.
www.gazette.com/display.php?id=1309059&secid=1
Headlines OTHER HEADLINES
July 17, 2005
CC Alumni Recall ’67 Doors Show
By BRIAN NEWSOME THE GAZETTE
It was spring of 1967 when Doug Brown was asked to find a band to play for Colorado College’s homecoming dance.
Find new talent on a modest budget, the chairman of the homecoming committee was told.
And did he ever.
Brown, a junior, signed The Doors to perform in an intimate ballroom setting at a time when the band was exploding in popularity nationwide.
In a little-known chapter of rock ’n’ roll history, a few hundred well-dressed CC students took to the dance floor as leatherclad Jim Morrison sang some of his greatest hits.
A CC alumnus recently donated a bootleg recording of the show to the college’s library. News of the donation was published in The Chronicle of Higher Education, a weekly newspaper for academia, prompting a trip down memory lane for alumni.
The band, which was booked before the chart-topping release of “Light My Fire” that propelled it from underground to mainstream, played the CC venue for a fraction of its going rate.
On Sept. 17, The Doors made an infamous appearance on the “The Ed Sullivan Show” in which Morrison ignored Sullivan’s demand to change a line in “Light My Fire” for his television audience. The TV show host didn’t care for the term, “girl we couldn’t get much higher.”
By mid-November, the band was the subject of articles in Time and Newsweek, and a famous photo spread of Morrison appeared in Vogue magazine.
In between came the Oct. 21 performance in a second-floor ballroom of The Broadmoor Hotel.
“It was just an amazing, amazing evening,” said CC alumna Crete Wood, 58, of Carmel, Calif. Now a real estate agent, Wood was a sophomore when the band played. “At the end of it, you just wanted to scream. It was so cool.”
The Doors — singer Jim Morrison, keyboardist Ray Manzarek, drummer John Densmore and guitarist Robby Krieger — embodied the rebellious spirit of the late 1960s.
Morrison was an unabashed drinker and drug user who made a reputation as a hard-living, deep-thinking poet with a propensity for over-the-top theatrics.
Wood remembers the conservatively dressed students — girls in dresses and guys in jackets and ties — “sweating and just jumping around.”
A music major, Wood said that even those students who weren’t familiar with the band seemed to appreciate its talent. “They were so amazing that even if you hadn’t known who these people were . . . you knew you were being exposed to greatness.”
Bill Vieregg of Denver burned his finger on a match while lighting his date’s cigarette at the dance. When he went to a nearby drugstore to buy something to treat it before the show, Morrison was there buying a six-pack of Budweiser.
Vieregg, 56, is a music buff with hundreds of CDs who has a collection of tickets from about 200 concerts he’s attended. He, perhaps more than most, realized how rare an opportunity the ’67 homecoming dance was.
“I thought it was a pretty big deal. Just about everybody I ran around with knew The Doors,” he said. “It’s still hard to believe. I think if I didn’t have that picture in the yearbook, people still wouldn’t believe me.”
By contrast, Diane Benninghoff, an alumna and administrator for CC, didn’t stay for the show. It was smoky and crowded, she said. Benninghoff was more interested in her date, whom she would later marry. “We probably turned to each other at the same time and said, ‘This isn’t much fun.’”
The CC performance, alumni recall, was civil, and the band played a full-length show. Alumni didn’t recall Morrison speaking to the audience or taking requests.
“They were on the stage, they did their thing and they left,” Brown said.
But Brown didn’t get to relish in the show he helped secure.
His girlfriend from home flew to Colorado Springs, where she broke up with him two nights before the dance but went to it with him anyway.
For him, The Doors supplied background music for an evening of crying and arguing.
Brown, now a salesman living near San Francisco, said the Los Angeles foursome was the best band he could buy for $3,000. By fall, Brown said, the going rate for the band was about $50,000.
He found the name and number of an agent on a promotional photo for a different band, and called him.
“I said, ‘What’s the most expensive one I can afford?’” Brown said. When the agent told him about new talent known as The Doors, Brown responded: “I’ve never heard of them, but I’ll take them.”
The picture changed that summer. The Doors were performing in auditoriums and arenas, and they packed some of the hottest nightclubs in cities such as New York and Los Angeles.
Though smaller venues remained on the band’s schedule, a college dance was an anomaly.
When he booked the concert, the band’s agent had insisted on a signed contract to keep the college from backing out, Brown said. By fall, that same agent attempted to cancel, offering substitute bands who would play for longer sets. Brown held his ground.
“Everything he did to protect himself turned out to bite him in the butt,” Brown said.
Brown, who today has “Light My Fire” programmed as his cell phone ring tone, was concerned about selling enough tickets. He resorted to selling some to high school students.
The plan, though against the rules, worked. The committee sold all the tickets and made a slight profit.
CONTACT THE WRITER: 636-0198
or bnewsome@gazette.com
ABOUT THE BAND
Jim Morrison - singer
Ray Manzarek - keyboards
Robby Krieger - guitar
John Densmore - drums
The Doors formed in 1965 after singer Jim Morrison sang some of his lyrics to keyboardist Ray Manzarek on a California beach. The pair decided to form a band.
The band’s name came from an Aldous Huxley book on mescaline called “The Doors of Perception,” which referenced a line from a William Blake poem. The band released a string of rock ’n’ roll hits in the late ’60s and early ’70s.
Much of The Doors’ fame, however, stems from Morrison, whose theatrical stage presence, poet persona and self-abusive lifestyle have become rock legend. He died in 1971 in Paris.
www.gazette.com/display.php?id=1309059&secid=1