A Photograph, Another Continent and a Suprising Connection

So, imagine you travel to a country on another continent. You have great experiences and take many photographs, including some of interesting people on the street. You show the photographs to a few of your friends once you return home and that's the end of your connection to the people you randomly photographed, right? "Not so fast, my friend."

Not Jim: Barry Sterrick

Those of you who read of my amazing experience in Pere Lachaise on the fortieth anniversary of the death of Jim Morrison will remember the picture above. I wondered what would lead someone to dress so similarly to Jim Morrison and to hang out all day at the cemetery. After my blog post was published I noticed that I was getting some traffic from Europe and it seemed to be targeting that post. I logged onto the sources, the Jim Morrison's Paris Web page and The Jim Morrison's Paris Facebook Page and saw that someone had posted asking if anyone had any pictures of him from that day. He described himself and - you guessed it - it was the guy I had pictured in my blog.
So I sent him the picture and we've exchanged several e-mails. I told him if I was interested in his story that some of my readers likely would be, also. So, here's what I learned.

His name is Barry Sterrick, age 33, born in Edinburgh but living in Carlisle, England. He started his musical journey with classic rock, worked as a dance dj, but got sick of dance music and, in the meantime, saw a poster for the movie "Apocalypse Now," and was intrigued. Sometime in the mid-nineties, "after getting heavily stoned and a few shrooms," he randomly selected the "The Doors - Greatest Hits" CD to put into the player. He thinks it may have been fate. He looked at the track listing and noticed "Riders On The Storm," the "Apocalypse Now" version was the final cut.

This started at journey that culminated in the mid-2000s, while still "inducing narcotics" he left the dance music behind and "the Doors properly WOKE ME UP." He watched Oliver Stone's movie, "The Doors" and became "fascinated by Jim Morrison's dress, attitude, his personal knowing that out there something else was present." Next came CDs, tapes, videos, books, leather boots, leather trousers and poet's shirts. In recent years some of his friends started calling him, "Jim."

He considered it imperative to visit Jim's grave and of course he wore his "leathers" to "show my gratitude to Jim." He felt it was "proper attire" that "Jim Morrison would have appreciated." He hopes to return to the grave for Jim's December 8th birth date, though he confessed that the circumstances surrounding his death "just don't seem right."

He concludes, "There is something mystical and magical about The Doors music, the band members and all the people that listen to them. I personally have had a spiritual connection . . . they still manage to capture the hearts and imagination of people all around the world, you gotta be something special to have it still going on more than 40 years. This is my Testament to Great Men-Great Music-Artistic magnificence."

So, there you have it. A chance meeting in a cemetery, a photograph on another continent, the Internet and a connection made with an interesting person. Welcome to the Urban Nation, Mr. Sterrick. I'll leave you with a video about being in a strange land - or is it about more than that?

Jim Morrison, Pere Lachaise and Forty Years

Two days ago I traveled to Nashville with Urban Daughter to see Bob Dylan and Leon Russell at the Ryman auditorium. We love seeing Bob, of course, and the Ryman Auditorium is a very special place to me. What I didn't realize until later was that we were to see two of the primary performers at the Concert for Bangladesh, the prototype for all musical fundraisers that would follow, on the fortieth anniversary of that show.

Interestingly, it was the second fortieth rock and roll anniversary I inadvertently ran into this summer. Jim Morrison, lead singer for the doors was discovered dead in his Paris apartment on July 3, 1971. On July 3, 2011, on my first full day in Paris, after a fluke change in plans, I took the Metro to Pere Lachaise. Forty years to the day after his death I arrived at Jim's side. If only I could have made it sooner, who knows . . .

Crowd as I approached Jim Morrison's grave, Pere Lachaise, Paris

Singing Doors songs and Quoting Poetry, Pere Lachaise, Paris

People in every direction, Jim Morrison's grave, Pere Lachaise, Paris

It was one of my very favorite Parisian moments. I'd plugged in my ear buds with Doors music blaring. I cued Riders On The Storm, the only Doors song I can say ranks among my all-time favorites and walked toward the grave. Having no idea an anniversary was afoot, I assumed I'd listen to the song, say, "hey" to Jim, take a picture and walk away. My vision of the moment was a quiet, forlorn acknowledgement between Jim and myself devoid of other participants. I certainly did not have several hundred other people in my fantasy.

Flowers, a song and a bottle, Jim Morrison's grave

Leader of the singing for most of the afternoon

I knew something was afoot when I arrived outside the cemetery and saw people dressed in Doors t-shirts and leather pants. My thoughts of being alone at the grave eroded as I began to hear a crowd singing loudly enough to be heard over my ear buds. If there was any doubt I wouldn't be alone it was erased when I rounded a curve in the sidewalk and was found myself face-to-face with a couple hundred other well-wishers. Unlike me, they were making their own Doors music.

Touches of hippie panache were in evidence, such as colorful, long dresses, flowers, long hair, head-bands and bubbles being blown into the crowd. Someone would sing the first line of a Doors song and the crowd would join in, sometimes singing songs we all know such as Love Her Madly and Break on Through and then veering off to Sanctuary or more obscure portions of the catalog. Most of the fans assembled would sing all the way through - in English. Another person would begin to quote passages of Jim Morrison's poetry and some would join, then drift out. Had I slipped back in time?

Very young fans at Jim Morrison's Grave, July 3, 2011

Recitations and songs were greeted with great applause from everyone gathered. Photographs were taken, bottles passed between friends. The bright sun filtered, dappled through the trees. The temperature hovered around seventy. It was a perfect Parisian Sunday afternoon and all of these people, many of them not yet born in his lifetime, used their perfect day in Paris to sing the songs of a man forty years gone. In some respects it was as if he never left.

Jim?

Unable to approach the grave, in a quiet spot he drummed slowly alone.

Since that day I've thought about Knoxville. I'm not sure people make pilgrimages here for any reason. While we still have the homes of James White and William Blount, we haven't done such a great job of preserving markers of the time spent in Knoxville by some of our more recent famous citizens such as Cormac McCarthy and James Agee.
It is a fact that Hank Williams, at the very least, spent his last hours alive in Knoxville, if he didn't actually die in the Andrew Johnson Hotel. James Agee's father's death is one of the most famous deaths recorded thanks to the book recounting it. Rachmaninoff gave his last concert here. General Sanders was killed here. Somehow none of that quite seems to measure up to the appeal of the charasmatic Lizard King.

Music in London and Paris

After that small diversion for food, how about we continue our August with a musical lift to our spirits?  Hopefully this is the month the sidewalks stop melting, air-quality alerts cease to depress us and Henley Street becomes a beautiful boulevard. OK, maybe two out of three. College football starts later this month, in any case, and some of us are happy about that.

Busker in Bath, England, June 2011

There is no way I could travel to London and Paris without having a few musical moments. That said, Urban Woman and I were exhausted at the end of every day from walking miles and generally navigating through situations and cultures of which we were basically ignorant, so clubbing didn't quite have the appeal it might have had otherwise. I'm sure there are great, small musical venues in both cities, which remained completely off our radar.

Street Musicians on Montmatre, Paris

I'd hoped I might catch Bob Dylan in London, but my trip was a week too late for that. I didn't have any realistic thought beyond that of seeing anyone of a big-star caliber. And I didn't see a big star - but I heard one. On our first day in London, walking through Hyde Park I heard the strains of "Hey, Soul Sister." At first I thought it was a really loud sound-system with a CD playing, but then, it had the quality of a live performance. I never saw them, but I confirmed later it was indeed Train giving a concert in the park. So, at least I can say I heard them.

Michele Anderson sings outside Harrod's in London

Funky Brass Band plays on Montmartre, Paris

Both cities were teaming with buskers as is the case in most larger urban areas. Whereas the quality of the performances by Knoxville buskers and street performers ranges from weak to solid enough and occasionally very good, the range in London and Paris moved from very good to incredible. The most arresting of all the buskers we heard was just outside of Harrod's department store. She was singing songs from Phantom of the Opera and other musicals and had a voice that would stop anyone on the street. Another great busking moment came when we found an entire brass band on Montmartre.

Two songs and table to table in Paris

The low point for busking is that it often takes the form of more of a scam at some street-side cafes. A busker will play for about five minutes, go to each table asking for money and then go to another restaurant. I always tip buskers in Knoxville if I listen to them while eating a meal and feel that they added to my dining experience. In Paris no one but tourists tip these guys. I did it once and learned from everyone else. It just felt like more of a shakedown.

Carnaby Street looking much more tame than its reputation, London

Royal Albert Hall, Lond, July 2011

There were certain musical landmarks I had in mind when planning the trip and some of them worked out while others didn't and, of course, there were those I hadn't thought of but stumbled upon. I'd planned to have my photo made crossing Abbey Road barefoot, but I never made it to that part of London. We did stumble onto Carnaby Street, previous home to punk rockers, though now it looks rather tame. Royal Albert Hall is included in any London tour and it is the center of legendary rock and roll performances by the biggest artists in music history.

Frederic Chopin's grave in Pere Lachaise, Paris

Gioachino Rossini's Grave at Pere Lachaise, Paris

In Paris, with one musical destination in mind, a great opportunity presented itself on a perfect Parisian Sunday afternoon. I visited Pere Lachaise, which is the most famous of all Parisian cemeteries and  probably the most famous in the world. While there I saw the graves of Chopin and Rossini (Knoxville tie-in with our festival :-)). Those were pretty cool, but the one musical grave I came to view was a sixties icon. Unless you believe the conspiracy theories, Jim Morrison died in Paris July 3, 1971. I stood beside his grave on July 3, 2011. It was one of the two very moving experiences I would have in that graveyard. 

Jim Morrison's Grave?, Pere Lachaise, Paris

Who knew a highlight of a city so filled with life could be found in a cemetery? I'll write about my experiences, as well as a very interesting downtown cemetery in upcoming posts. Just consider yourself prepared a bit early for Halloween.