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Nancy Deedrick

Our 15th Year!



Jim Morrison       

This following excerpt is from Jennifer Semple Siegel's book, 
Cherokee, Iowa: Flight (a memoir) 

The exact timeline of this event is a bit fuzzy, but the actual 
scene is forever engraved in my head; I believe the event took 
place some time in December 1968. At the time, The Doors were performing in the L.A. area, so I don't think this is just an acid 
memory, but who knows? Stoney, my boyfriend at the time, and 
I were just hanging out, doing nothing much, when...

Oh-my-god! Jim Morrison's across the street from Wallich's. 

I can barely believe it! 

He's a God, I swear, an absolutely beautiful God, the most perfect human being I've ever laid eyes on. I have never seen such gorgeous, long hair, his dark curls cascading to his shoulders like a model's. He's tall, almost as tall as Stoney, and lanky. 

He wears a black and white striped shirt, black leather pants, a leather belt with a huge silver buckle, and black boots. 

Hair blowing slightly in the wind. 

The bulge in his groin tells the whole story. 

I want to run over to him, grab his arm, and profess my everlasting love, worship at his feet, but, of course, I'm much too lowly of a creature. I'd be nothing to him. 

Stoney starts to run toward God, but I pull him back. 

"You can't," I say. 

"Why not?" 

"Because-because..." -I can't really think of a good reason why he shouldn't- "It wouldn't be right!" finally spills out. 

He's mine! 

Stoney laughs, but, for once, he listens to me and hangs back. 

Like two morons, we gawk at Morrison, our mouths gaping. 

Overgrown teenyboppers. 

Time stops, and God Morrison holds court on Sunset and Vine, doing nothing but leaning against a building, smoking a cigarette, the world stopping to pay homage to the greatest rock star of the twentieth century: freaks and straights alike. Even traffic seems to halt. 

I love Stoney, but I'd throw it all away for just one night with the God of Rock... 

Like he's read my mind, Stoney says, "I'm not queer, but, for him, I'd make an exception." 

Jim Morrison's image dissipates-I call to him, but he laughs and waves me away. "A God needs a Goddess...Goddess...Goddess... 

Fade away.

Jennifer, 1968, in front of Grauman's Chinese Theatre
and Jennifer and Jeff Brown, 1970
Jennifer writes, "Jeff, who is now my ex, and I, met  outside of 
Wallach's Music City. 'Hey Jude' was playing on my radio and
he asked me to turn it up, changing the entire course of my life."

Jennifer's email:   o911home@yahoo.com

Peggy Green (Raggi) spent considerable time with 
Jim Morrison in a romantic relationship. She has stories on 
the way about Morrison and their special bond, which I will print 
as soon as possible. In the meantime, she has sent me these 
poems and drawings that he created during their courtship, 
and left in her possession.

Click to enlarge images below:




The following is Peggy Green's recollection of how she met Morrison:

hey nanc,
just stopped by my office and checked your site. you are a tireless historian, impressive. kudos to you. here's the story i promised about meeting jim. understand lots of water has gone under that old bridge, so this is to the best of my addled recollection.
let us just say like all things morrisonian it was not an average meeting. in fact it took place over the period of a week or so.
the first time we met, we didn't speak at least not out loud. it was at the troubadour bar, probably monday when all the world seemed to gather there. i was w/ friends, though i could not tell you whom. i absolutely do not recall. possibly a woman named sally, who had recently moved to la from england and was working at thee experience along w/ her friend joann tripp. joann was married to artie tripp of captain beefheart. these were two people who knew how to have a good time. jim was there w/ tom baker, two mad irishmen that should never have been allowed out together w/out a keeper. anyhow, tom was very chatty that night and struck up a conversation w/ us. jim was silent and sullen, all the things i found irresistable in a man, back then. (i have seriously revised that thinking or lack of thinking). he never said a word to any of us but instead seemed almost amused by the troubadour interractions between the sexes. at some point either they left or we left, who knows? i was a goner from that point on and from that point on we seemed to run into each other everywhere. suddenly he'd turn up at thee experience and just as suddenly vanish. a few days later a group of the whisky servers came down to thee exp. after hours for breakfast. someone said there was a party in bel aire and we were invited. my friend jacki and some others that worked w/ us decided to go and sure as i walked in the door, there was jim. that night we talked for a long time, about both being from florida and how we needed to stick together. we didn't stick together however, we went our separate ways again. back to the club and night after night he'd show up w/ his friend, frank. we'd talk a little, same result. the truth is we were both really shy in a time when shyness was not prevalent. our next encounter was at a party in one of those interminable hollywood courtyards w/ look a like bungalows. i have no idea who's party or why i happened to be there, but there was always a party back then, wasn't there? again i was w/ jacki and again jim was w/ frank. this was the night that we actually began whatever it was that we had. i'm saving the rest of this story till next time. stay tuned.

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