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"Valuable insight into the historical moments of the 1960s that inform and shape our understanding of the television series." -- Journal of American Culture
Mad Men: A Cultural History
Mad Men: A Cultural History -- FLASH SALE -- $2.99
Published by Rowman & Littlefield
In the months between “Break On Through” failing to make waves on the hit single chart and the July triumph of “Light My Fire” hitting number one, the Doors were just like every other band — trying to get noticed and establish a fan base. They had returned to the Whisky, the famed Los Angeles club where they had been the house opener in what seemed like just moments ago.
Read moreBOSTON & RALEIGH, March 20, 2023 – Shrouded in mystery and the swirling psychedelic sounds of the Sixties, the Doors have captivated listeners across seven decades. Jim Morrison—haunted, beautiful, and ultimately doomed—transformed from rock god to American icon. Yet the band’s full importance is buried beneath layers of mythology and folklore.
Cultural historian and biographer Bob Batchelor looks at the band and its significance in American history in Roadhouse Blues: Morrison, the Doors, and the Death Days of the Sixties (Hamilcar Publications).
Roadhouse Blues Wins 2023 IPA Book Award in Music
In recognition of the book’s excellence in writing, cover design, editorial production, and content, the Independent Press Award recognized Roadhouse Blues as the 2023 book award winner in the Music category. Selected IPA Award Winners are based on overall excellence among the tens of thousands of independent publishers worldwide. Roadhouse Blues is the third award Batchelor has earned from IPA.
“Roadhouse Blues is candid, authoritative, and a wonderful example of Batchelor’s absorbing writing style,” said Kyle Sarofeen, Founder and Publisher, Hamilcar Publications. “Taking readers beyond the mythology, hype, and mystique around Morrison, the book examines the significance of the band during a pivotal era in American history. Readers and reviewers have proclaimed that Roadhouse Blues is the most important book about the Doors ever written, just behind the memoirs of Ray Manzarek, John Densmore, and Robby Krieger.”
Cultural Historian Bob Batchelor Wins 2023 Independent Press Award — #GabbyBookAwards
“Independent publishing is pushing on every corner of the earth with great content,” said Gabrielle Olczak, Independent Press Award sponsor. “We are thrilled to be highlighting key titles representing global independent publishing.”
REVIEWS OF ROADHOUSE BLUES
“Fascinating, informative, extraordinary, and essential reading for the legions of Jim Morrison fans.” – Midwest Book Review
“Bob Batchelor writes with great eloquence and insight about the Doors, the greatest hard-rock band we have ever had, and through this book, we plunge deeply into the mystery that surrounds Jim Morrison. It is Batchelor’s warmth and compassion that ignites Roadhouse Blues and helps explain Morrison’s own miraculous dark fire.” – Jerome Charyn, PEN/Faulkner award finalist
“The most important book for Doors fandom since No One Here Gets Out Alive—and incomparably better! Grouped with Ray, Robby, and John’s books, this is the fourth gospel for fans of The Doors.” – Bradley Netherton, The Doors World Series of Trivia Champion and host of the podcast “Opening The Doors”
For more information, please visit independentpressaward.com. To see the list of IPA Winners, please visit: https://www.independentpressaward.com/2023winners
An excerpt “My Doors Memoir” is available at
https://hannibalboxing.com/excerpt-roadhouse-blues-morrison-the-doors-and-the-death-days-of-the-sixties/ (Open Access)
Hamilcar Publications
https://hamilcarpubs.com
Foreword by Carlos Acevedo
ISBN 9781949590548, paperback
ISBN 9781949590548, eBook
ABOUT BOB BATCHELOR
Bob Batchelor is the author of Roadhouse Blues: Morrison, the Doors, and the Death Days of the Sixties and Stan Lee: A Life. He has published widely on American cultural history, including books on Bob Dylan, The Great Gatsby, Mad Men, and John Updike. Rookwood: The Rediscovery and Revival of an American Icon, An Illustrated History won the 2021 IPA Award for Fine Art. The Bourbon King: The Life and Crimes of George Remus, Prohibition’s Evil Genius won the 2020 IPA Book Award for Historical Biography. Stan Lee: The Man Behind Marvel was a finalist for the 2018 Ohioana Book Award for Nonfiction.
Batchelor’s work has been translated into a dozen languages and appeared in Time, the New York Times, Cincinnati Enquirer, American Heritage, The Guardian, and PopMatters. He hosts “Deep Cuts” on the New Books Network podcast and is creator/host of the John Updike: American Writer, American Life podcast. He has appeared as an on-air commentator for National Geographic Channel, PBS NewsHour, BBC, PBS, and NPR. Batchelor earned a doctorate in Literature from the University of South Florida. He and his wife Suzette live in North Carolina with two wonderful teenage daughters. Visit him at www.bobbatchelor.com or on Facebook, LinkedIn, or Instagram.
Contact:
Kyle Sarofeen, Publisher, Hamilcar Publications
kyle@hamilcarpubs.com
OR
Bob Batchelor, bob@bobbatchelor.com
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New York City loved the Doors!
A handbill for the Doors concerts at Ondine!
After two early trips East to play New York City’s famous Ondine nightclub — well before they were famous — the Doors returned in March 1967 to a series of shows running through early April that would establish them as a favorite of fans and critics. The spark they received was a launchpad, especially in the dark days after “Break On Through” had been released (and fizzled on the pop charts) and prior to the national sensation that became “Light My Fire.”
On the third trip to NYC, the Doors intensified their mysticism and mystery for the celebrities and fame junkies that assembled at Ondine. While they had mainly been an underground hit on the two previous residencies, this time the press showed up too, eager to find out more about the psychedelic sounds emanating from Los Angeles and the beautiful singer who fronted the darkness.
Jim Morrison played up the differences between the coasts, which magnified his aura. As always, he spoke in proto-hippie lingo, but under a layer of foreboding. His words were sensuous and of the earth — heat, dirt, its elemental foundations.
“We are from the West. The world we suggest should be of a new Wild West. A sensuous, evil world. Strange and haunting…the path of the sun, you know.” — Jim Morrison
THE ONDINE AND NEW YORK HIPSTERS
The Ondine was a tiny club in Manhattan on Fifty-Ninth Street where celebrities and the city’s elite went to let loose. The hippest person on the scene was Andy Warhol, accompanied by his many acolytes and hangers-on — the beautiful people — but others included Jackie Kennedy, Jackie Gleason, and a horde of models, actors, and glam devotees.
The Ondine basically operated as a private discotheque long before disco would become all the rage. The raw environment brought together the rich, the wannabees, and others in a kind of fashionable speakeasy featuring go-go dancers, frenzied dance music, and an outrageous cast of characters. The basement locale was an odd place for ritzy socialites, basically tucked under a bridge in an ominous part of the city just three blocks from the East River. Similar to London Fog (where the Doors played in LA and created their famous sound), the club, named after the famous racing yacht Ondine, had a cramped stage that contrasted with its nautical theme.
The location of the Ondine nightclub today via Google Maps (March 2023)
Club manager Brad Pierce had been instrumental in getting the Doors booked for those early shows. Warhol later claimed that the band had gotten its break because a female deejay who had moved from LA knew the guys and urged Pierce to bring them east. To New York audiences, the Doors were billed as the hottest underground band in the nation and the LA connection helped establish that credibility. Enough people were bicoastal and had heard whispers about the group.
Everyone wanted to see the lead singer.
Of course, Jim met Warhol at the first run of shows. The iconic artist was reportedly so nervous about the encounter that he spent an evening mumbling to himself and awkwardly avoiding the singer. Eventually Warhol overcame his stage fright, probably at the sight of so many women mobbing Morrison while he stood at the bar between sets. “It was love at first sight on Andy’s part,” Ray said later.
BREAK ON THROUGH
Journalist Richard Goldsten took notice of the Doors and urged listeners to give the debut album a spin.
“Their initial album, on Elektra, is a cogent, tense, and powerful excursion. I suggest you buy it, slip it on your phonograph, and travel on the vehicle of your choice,” he explained. “The Doors are slickly, smoothly, dissonant. With the schism between folk and rock long since healed, they can leap from pop to poetry without violating some mysterious sense of form.”
From Goldstein’s perspective, the reason for the band’s success was its foundation in the blues. “This freedom to stretch and shatter boundaries make pretension as much a part of the new scene as mediocrity was the scourge of the old,” Goldstein wrote. “It takes a special kind of genius to bridge gaps in form. Their music works because its blues roots are always visible. The Doors are never far from the musical humus of America — rural, gut simplicity.”
What few could have imagined was that the Doors were on the verge of superstardom!
The band had seized the rippling current running through the Sixties, sucking in the joy and the darkness and spitting it out at audiences in a way that left listeners jubilant with the promise of good and bad, light and evil. The shows at the Ondine would be the last stretch before “Light My Fire” changed the band forever.
If the music pushed you hypnotically toward the edge of a cliff, Morrison stood ready to push. But you also felt that he was ready to jump too, plunging into worlds and universes unknown.
Roadhouse Blues: Morrison, the Doors, and the Death Days of the Sixties by cultural historian and biographer Bob Batchelor
Jim Morrison, lead singer of the Doors, Hartford, December 2, 1967
Hartford Courant reporter James Petersen was not a fan of The Doors. In his review, published 55 years ago on December 2, 1967, he centered on then-accepted notion that anything from California was odd and drug-addled. “Beautiful, beautiful” is most certainly a drug reference, his indication of how a high Californian would react to the spectacle of the band and its leather-clad singer.
Harsh criticism of the Doors concert
Rather than declare the Doors bad, Petersen puts his opinion in the mouth of an older “ticket seller,” who he believes would see the band, audience, and performance as “primitive, grotesque, and blatantly sexual.” What the reporter wants the reader in conservative Hartford, Connecticut, to understand is that the Doors and Jim Morrison are dangerous. The coded language is the type the band often faced when looked at by those who represented the establishment or “traditional” values.
In other words, devalue the band and its members as both musicians and people: fear the grotesque and outlaw the sexual.
The drumbeat against the Doors and Morrison picked up pace in late 1969, especially after Morrison was arrested on stage in New Haven just one week later. The entire nation — and the federal government — would turn against the Doors, a slippery slope that would be the catalyst for Morrison’s untimely death just three and a half years later.
The reporter is obviously an organ fan…he loves Ray’s organ!
Surprisingly, the only member of the Doors that the reporter enjoyed was Ray Manzarek’s organ. The irony here is that Ray’s driving sound, ranging from dark and eerie to carnival-like and filled with joy, was the sound of the band. How could they be primitive if he liked their essential sound?
Ray Manzarek — “Keyboardist” of the Doors and mastermind of their unique sound!
When Petersen did opine on where he ranked the Doors versus other bands, he ranked them lower than both Procol Harum and the Paul Butterfield Blues Band.
Read the story of the Doors and the Death Days of the Sixties in Roadhouse Blues, published by Hamilcar Publications! For the holidays, the book has been discounted to $15 when ordered at: https://indiepubs.com/products/roadhouse-blues/
What fans around the world were hearing, according to Ray Manzarek, was “electric eclectic,” a mix of jazz, blues, and hard rock — all infused with a mix of American grit and psychedelic vibes that the band brought to life. That combination came from the gifts of each band member, from Ray’s intensity and grace, Robby’s charging guitar, John’s jazzy beat and musical spirit, and Jim’s “literary side.”
Read more
Jim Morrison on stage on Halloween night 1968
By the fall of 1968, the Doors had released three albums — all had reached #1 on the charts — and had two #1 singles: “Light My Fire” and “Hello, I Love You.” Although it might seem to contemporary readers that the band was on top of the world, the Doors were also less than a year removed from the infamous New Haven concert when a backstage run in with police, got Jim Morrison maced, and later arrested on stage after he baited the officers guarding the band by telling the packed crowd about the incident.
While the Doors were one of the most popular bands in the world based on record sales and numbers of fans, Morrison’s New Haven arrest turned them into the establishment’s #1 suspect. Lots of bad vibes about hippies, drugs, and the Sixties were dropped on the band and their front man, who seemed at ease in whipping young people into a frenzy.
"Weird happening," says reporter
Journalist Glenn Rutherford of the Louisville Courier-Journal covered the band’s concert in Kentucky on its 1968 tour. His descriptions of the crowd epitomized the way many people viewed the Doors and the counterculture in that era — “weird,” “strangely dressed” — as well as the oddity that hippies and young people embodied: “apparently look that way all the time.”
Morrison a sex symbol
Like many reporters and writers during the heyday of the Doors, Rutherford juxtaposed the grungy band and its fans to Morrison’s “sex symbol” status. Again, the idea is that these people — hippies, musicians, those from California — are not like us, as if they have invaded Kentucky and polluted its good citizens.
[Rutherford wasn’t alone in seeming to dislike the Doors. They were a polarizing band in the 1960s, which adds spice to our often-nostalgic views of the era today. What seems amazing, though, is how threatening the band and Morrison specifically was to so many people!]
"Neanderthal pounding"
The most eye-opening part of Rutherford’s review came near the end of the piece when he compared the music to “neanderthal pounding.” Of course, even some hardened critics during the band’s run reacted negatively to Morrison’s poetic posturing, his voice, or the pomposity they saw in the band’s “erotic politicians” stance. However, few journalists blasted the music emanating from Ray Manzarek’s keyboards, Robby Krieger’s guitar, or John Densmore’s drum kit.
In contrast, even when Morrison was at his drunken worst, observers noted how tight the Doors were as musicians. The comparison of them to a jazz trio was a high compliment.
Roadhouse Blues: Morrison, the Doors, and the Death Days of the Sixties by cultural historian Bob Batchelor
In his scribbling about “neanderthal pounding,” what the journalist completely missed is the beauty of the song he quoted: “Soul Kitchen.”
On the surface, “Soul Kitchen” seems like a simple ditty, an ode to a diner the band had haunted. But, a deeper examination of Morrison’s poetics reveals a much deeper, more meaningful exploration of lost love and its consequences.
Well, your fingers weave quick minarets
Speak in secret alphabets
I light another cigarette
Learn to forget, learn to forget
Learn to forget, learn to forget— Jim Morrison, “Soul Kitchen”
The narrator laments his love’s secret language and begs for her acceptance. Yet, when she turns him out, he is forced to “wander” and ends up “stumblin’ in the neon groves” of Los Angeles.
Like many of Morrison’s lyrics, “Soul Kitchen” is evergreen and open to multiple interpretations. The great rock critic and aficionado Paul Williams compared “Soul Kitchen” to Bob Dylan’s classic “Blowin’ In the Wind.”
Both songs ask the listener’s mind to expand to places known and unknown via unanswerable questions that are deeper than imagined on the surface, even when they might allude to a specific moment in time.
So much for neanderthal pounding…