“Break on Through”: How The Doors started | USAEMALL.com

In 1967, this video introduced a new American band: The Doors, who would quickly light the music world on fire, with a sound hypnotic, mystical, and almost menacing:

You know the day destroys the night
Night divides the day
Tried to run, tried to hide
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side, yeah

They came together 60 years ago in Venice, California: Jim Morrison, a poet in leather pants, backed by Ray Manzarek on keys, Robby Krieger on guitar, and John Densmore on drums.

The Doors soon got their break, in May of ’66, at London Fog, a tiny nightclub on the Sunset Strip. It’s now a barber shop. “Oh, I need a haircut,” laughed Densmore on a recent return visit.

The barber shop’s owner, Chad Oringer, an avid Doors fan, asked for a photo with Densmore and Krieger, the band’s last surviving members.

The Doors were fired by London Fog, but quickly got another gig just a few doors down Sunset, at the Whisky a Go Go. Playing there, said Krieger, was “the biggest deal in town.”

“It was Mecca,” Densmore added.

The room isn’t much different from what it was back then. “The stage is lower,” Densmore said. People would dance in front of the stage. “And they would just all be down there writhing around. Very inspirational!” he laughed.

He described the improvisational attitude of the band: “Ray handed me a crumpled piece of paper and it said, ‘Day destroys the night. Night divides the day. Try to run. Try to hide … Break on through.'”

Morrison had never sung lead before, and Densmore wasn’t sure about him at first: “He was so shy, it was ridiculous. And I thought, ‘This is not the next Mick Jagger! But I love playing music, so I’ll fool around here.'”

I asked, “Why did you have confidence the band would work if he was so inexperienced as a singer?”

“It was the words,” Krieger said. “They were so different than anything that was out there.”

“Gifted,” said Densmore. “‘Let’s swim to the moon. Let’s climb through the tide… ‘ A psychedelic love song. Wow!”

In 1967, Los Angeles DJ Dave Diamond began playing their records on his show, “The Diamond Mine.” Krieger said, “And he would call us all the time and say, ‘Hey, man. Every time I play ‘Light My Fire,’ people go nuts!'”

“Light My Fire,” written by Krieger, went to #1.

But Morrison’s troubles with alcohol and drugs were already apparent. Densmore said, “At first I remember we talked about, ‘Oh, he’s an Irish drunk. He’ll live forever. But deep down, maybe he’s just a shooting star that’ll be a quick impact.'”

“You knew that right away?” I asked.

“Kinda sensed it.”

“Was that hard to accept?”

“Yeah,” Densmore said. “I mean, we miss his artistry like crazy. We don’t miss his self-destruction.”

After Morrison’s sudden death in Paris in 1971 at age 27, Densmore and Krieger didn’t always agree with Manzarek about the band’s legacy. “At times, I felt he was selling The Doors too much. It’s for the critics to do that,” Densmore said.

Krieger said, “He would try to spread the rumor Jim’s not really dead.”

Why? “He loved the mythology,” Densmore replied. 

“He lived for The Doors,” said Krieger. “I mean, that was his whole life, you know? And he didn’t want it to be over.”

Manzarek died in 2013. 

The band’s 60th anniversary is celebrated in a new book “Night Divides the Day.” 

To the end, The Doors were an improvisational group. One of their best-known songs grew out of another tune they were jamming on in a session. “We were goofing around,” said Densmore, and “Ghost Riders in the Sky” morphed into “Riders on the Storm.” It would be Morrison’s final recording. 

At the Whisky a Go Go every month, Krieger (now 79) has been playing a Doors album in its entirety. Densmore (80) recently sat in on drums.

“Well, these two geezers are still breathing,” Densmore laughed. “Keith and Mick are 80 and they’re out there pumpin’. There’s other roads!”

         
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Story produced by Gabriel Falcon. Editor: Joseph Frandino.

      
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