Leon Barnard intrw

 

Leon Barnard

 

Interview with Leon Barnard in November 2004
Leon was in the late sixties / early seventies press agent of THE DOORS

 

 

November 6, 2004

My Relationship with Jim Morrison

 JLK:
   When did you meet Jim Morrison for the first time?

 

Leon Barnard:
   Early September 1968. I was standing outside the Royal Lancaster  Hotel in London, waiting for limousines to take us to the Roundhouse Chalk Farm outside the city for rehearsals. The DOORS had just arrived in England a couple of days before, and I had hitchhiked from Copenhagen where I had been promoting them. And even though I wasn’t officially on their payroll yet, I managed to get good results and my reputation as a “blabber mouth” spread from Beverly Hills to New York City, London, Stockholm, Frankfurt, etc., throughout Western Europe. And as I traveled I sent notes back to Bill Siddons at The DOORS’ office in L.A., including newspaper clippings and other pieces of proof of my successes.

     What I didn’t know was, Jim Morrison had been reading my letters and had taken a liking to me; forming a kind of distant bond that hadn’t quite matured yet into the real thing. So when I showed up in England unexpectedly (on the day before my first eyetoeye meeting with Jim) Bill Siddons hired me on the spot to represent The DOORS on their first tour of Europe.

      On the day that Jim and I first shook hands, I was reading a Melody Maker music magazine, and as my eyes gazed up to the horizon of it I saw cowboy boots sauntering in my direction. And then leather pants, topped by a loose-fitting fluffy white shirt with Jim Morrison inside it.

      “Hi, I’m Jim,” he greeted, thinking I was an English roadie or something, offering his hand. Checking out my bare feet. “Don’t you ever cut your feet? Or catch colds?” “Nah, my feet are sensitive to touch. I grew up at the beach, and I’ve been going barefoot since I was a kid. And I don’t usually catch colds; I’m in good heath,” I
answered. “Hi, my name’s Leon.” Shaking his hand.

 

Hey, you’re the guy in Copenhagen!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been reading your letters. Get in.” (opening the door to the limo, offering me a seat between he and Pam) And during the drive to the Chalk Farm Jim interviewed me about what I had been doing in Copenhagen, asking me questions about the Danish people, etc., and seemed genuinely interested and carefully listened to my answers. I was not “starstruck,” so the conversation between the three of us was open and casual. And this was the first thing I noticed during my first meeting with Jim Morrison: He listened.

  JLK:
   How would you describe your relationship with Jim?

   

Leon Barnard:
   Jim Morrison and I formed an immediate symbiotic relationship based on mutual respect. I was too naive in those days to even have a thought about exploiting him for any reason - and he sensed this - and we just became friends. Mutual respect, are the two key words here. And I just found out a couple of weeks
ago, that Jim used to refer to me as “Mr. Good Vibes,” when talking about me to others.

   JLK:
   Since you were his press agent:
   What did Jim think about journalists and the media in general?

   Leon Barnard:
   I’d say Jim outsmarted those who tried to trick him into making comments he knew would be turned against him. He had a very astute sense of “human behaviour,” and when people tried to “play games?” he would get up and walk out on them. No excuses, no nothing; just a disappearing act that usually left them speechless.
Moreover I think he respected the craft of “writing for a living,” but he knew a vulture when he saw one, whether they were dressed in high heels and an evening dress, or a button down suit with a fancy tie: “A vulture by any other name is still a vulture.” We’ve all met them.

     Before granting interviews, Jim would ask me to take the person who wanted to interview him out for lunch and evaluate them. And if I thought they were cool, he would do the interview.

  JLK:
   Was it easy to work with him?

   

Leon Barnard:
   Yes. In most cases Jim was very cooperative...in large measure because he wanted to help me perform my duties--and again, because he trusted my judgment. There were times though when maybe a few too many drinks made my representation a bit difficult. But even now as I look back on it, it was part of the program; being a “Man Friday” to a genius poet, wasn’t always easy, but worth it.

   JLK:
   How did you personally perceive the person Jim Morrison?

   

Leon Barnard:
   In those days I didn’t think much about it; I accepted Jim at face value, just as I did anyone else. I don’t recall ever having analyzed what he was about. To me he was just Jim Morrison, and I think that’s probably why we were able to be friends. I was a fineart painter and pen & ink cartoonist, and I wrote “Terrible Parables.” And Jim admired and respected my talent as much as I did his.

   JLK:
   When you talked to him, did you really feel these special magic vibrations they always talk about?

  

Leon Barnard:
   The very unique thing about Jim Morrison was, he listened. And then he thought. And while he was thinking, he would close his eyes seeking his truest answer. This was sometimes perceived (by the ignorant) to be “weird.” It was not. When you got Jim’s answer to any question, it was an original answer...his very own opinion. He was not an automaton who had been programmed by TV. In fact, on more than one occasion I have heard him say, “I cannot be hypnotized.”

      Why? In my opinion, because he had, an opinion, which was not subject to the whimsy of others; a strong, intelligent mind that could not be put to sleep and convinced of anything he had not already evaluated.

  

After he collapsed backstage in Amsterdam from an overdose of hashish (eaten) and washed down with whiskey, I visited him the next day in the hospital. He sat up in bed with crystal clear blue eyes sparkling, and rosy cheeks looking like a picture of well being suitable for the cover of any health magazine. The doctors insisted on keeping him there for an extra day, and he requested some chewing gum and a Playboy magazine. When I told him about my own experience in a hospital, he looked at me with the kind of “special intensity” you’re asking about, and I felt right then and there that he was reading me on inner levels.

      In all honesty, hoping not to sound too ‘schmaltzy,’ I do feel Jim had a heightened sense of perception, and I’m not at all too sure that LSD consumption had “everything” to do with it. I do know from my own experience, that when people ask me where I get all of my, ideas, I tell them, “it must’ve been that acid I dropped in the sixties.” (You may draw your own conclusions :o) But keep in mind, Jim Morrison’s IQ was 149. That, in itself, is high-voltage mental power when conscientiously projected.

  JLK:
   Did he really influence or even intimidate other people because of this charisma?

   Leon Barnard:
   Intimidate? Only those who are jealous feel intimidated. I think most other people were inspired by his energy. I didn’t write poetry until I met Jim Morrison.

   JLK:
   What’s the moment of time you spent with Jim which you like the best to think back to?

   Leon Barnard:
   Because writers had been comparing Jim Morrison to a young Marlon Brando, he, Pam and I went to see “Streetcar Named Desire” by Tennessee Williams at the movies in New York City, more or less to see if there were any similarities. Jim fell asleep at the beginning of the movie so Pam and I watched it together.

      Months later I was housesitting for Ray and Dorothy while they were on holiday, and Jim and Pam came over for dinner, and to watch “Streetcar” on the telly. Jim fell asleep again at the beginning of the movie, and to this day I’m not sure if he ever got a chance to see that movie.

 

   But that evening we listened to classical music, put a fire in the fireplace, and just chilled comfortably like children drinking hot chocolate. No “superstars” were allowed at our little threesome party, and it is a fond moment for me to remember. Thanks for asking.

   JLK:
   In which mental state was he in when you met him the last time?

   Leon Barnard:
   To answer this question I’ll quote an excerpt from page 159 of my book: “Months later Jim and I had lunch together three weeks before his flight to Paris where he eventually disappeared. We talked about his trial of tribulation and the probability of serving several years behind bars in the slammer. During the conversation he touched lightly on his thoughts for the future and mentioned the possibility of a change in identity. We joked about his putting on blackface and going underground ‘incognegro,’ but that was just because we couldn’t resist the play on words, and it had absolutely nothing to do with anything racial - just facial. He expressed a desire to drop the role of teen idol and so-called “Superstar” performer altogether - and, having had it with Hollywood hype, he wanted to get on with perfecting his life by performing his art; anonymously, if necessary, incognito for freedom and survival.

        When lunch and conversation were over we parted as friends sometimes do when they sense they may never again see each other. After shaking my hand, warmly, he sauntered his way...and I went mine. But before departure he gave me one final choice of napkin-scribbled words which I shall now write, and ask that you recite, distinctly:

   The man who travels cross-country

in a caravan of One,

is always alone in unfamiliar places...

where he is no longer a general

to anyone in particular.”

 

   Does that answer your question? Good vibes, a sense of a final “good-bye,” mixed with a mysterious sense of nostalgia that said, “See’ya later?”

   
   Note of clarification: The above “Terrible Parable” (poem) is in fact, one of my own... not written by Jim Morrison... although it was written by me “in the spirit” of Jim Morrison.

   JLK:
   What do you think about Jim today? Which remembrances have lasted? What has
   disappeared with the death of Jim?

   Leon Barnard:
   After 30 (some odd) years of being away from it all, and since I’ve been signing-on to various Jim Morrison’s fans’ websites recently, I’d say my level of appreciation has increased significantly. It’s something I just haven’t thought about much in all these years, but now it seems relevant to my situation. Publishing my book has drawn Jim’s spirit closer to me, and in some sense I can better understand why so many people worldwide absolutely love him. I don’t see Jim Morrison as a God, but maybe a “prince among men.” Poetry speaks to the soul, and I’m just grateful there are potentially millions of listeners: Waiting for an echo?

      Which remembrances have lasted? “In my memory...Jim Morrison did not die, he just stopped harassing, house security and other passersby.”

     Disappeared with his death? Only his physical body.

   JLK:
  Would you also write your biography like Danny Sugarman did?

      “Living by Coincidence,” is the story of my life, but it has little to do with The DOORS. Moreover, it is an autobiography of how I live my existence...although it does have a segment about the “coming-together-of-cycles” that married me to The DOORS. ...a perfect accident that was bound by circumstance to happen.

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Jim’s career and his view of the world:

JLK:
   Why, in your opinion did Jim Morrison lead the life he did? And why did he die so young? What could have kept him alive?

   Leon Barnard:
   I think “life” is a driving force that pushes us around sometimes where we don’t even want to go. In my opinion the choices we make depend on the opportunities that are presented to us, and what we decide to do with them. If I were to guess, I’d say Jim just followed the flow of what was very much a part of his destiny...writing poetry along the way...realizing he had to become a Hollywood icon in order to get more people worldwide to read and then remember him. And his trip was not an ego trip; it was more like a report card he’d send home to his real family: “You and Me.”

      And why did he die so young? Over indulgence. Walking a tight rope without a safety net, to tempt life from no longer happening...at least in the physical sense of the word. And he died young so he could graduate “to the land of legends and other places of projected rumour,” and meet up with Marilyn Monroe, Elvis, John Kennedy, and Lennon, and all the others who have lived fully to earn that status.

     What could have kept him alive? “Time passed future opportunity,” and Jim got drafted into the Great Unknown. Bummer. But glory hallelujah too! Look at how much love he’s garnered since then.

   JLK:
   Did Jim really believe in the role of a shaman? Did he have contact to Indians? Did he ever talk about the situation of the native Indians in the United States?

   Leon Barnard:

   Dunno, for sure, but I expect he took the role of a “medicine-man-rock-star,” somewhat seriously...in a theatrical kind of way. Wasn’t there something written about his wanting to cure the “sexual neurosis” of “the crowd?” I never really discussed it with him. I was just a spectator at the show...”shaking my own tail feathers.”

      Contact with Indians, or talk about their situation? Not with me.

   JLK:
   What do you know about Jim’s interest in politics?

   Leon Barnard:
   Not much. I was too naive and uninterested in real politics in those days to care. But the difference between us would’ve been that he was interested in “tearing it all down” to rebuild it again, and I leaned more to the “love and make love” idea of passive and peaceful change. In my last conversation with Jim, he said that he no longer subscribed to a physical revolution - rather, a gradual infiltration into the system to systematically change it from within.

   JLK:
   Did he really care about politics or have people just used him as a political figure?

   Leon Barnard:
   A self-described “erotic politician,” my guess would be that his political interests were informal; maybe more individual, like the person who writes letters to editors of newspapers to exercise his or her right to speak and thereby influence the opinion of others. Jim wrote verse and screamed his message loud & clear on stage.

   JLK:
   What do you think, Jim’s retreat from The DOORS was serious, sure, but was it meant as temporary downtime or forever? Do you believe it was Jim’s intention to stay in Paris and live the life of a poet?

   Leon Barnard:
   It is my understanding that The DOORS had fulfilled all their contracts, and this was Jim’s opportunity to free himself from any further obligation. And what I heard him say was, “The DOORS will always be The DOORS,” and they would come together from time to time to create and make more music. The love was still there, he just didn’t want “to be under contract.”

      Before going to Paris, Jim had talked with me about cutting his hair, changing his attire, transforming himself and moving on to the next phase of his existence; which included marrying Pam and writing screenplays for movies...and maybe even directing them.

     “A thing cut off from itself becomes endlessly its own,” (paraphrasing Jim) and to me this was a natural transition for the butterfly to spread his artistic wings and fly!

  JLK:
   Once he said that with 27 years he was too old to live the life of a rock star. What did he want to say by this?

  Leon Barnard:
   Jim was aware that the majority of people who bought concert tickets and listened to DOORS music, were young teenyboppers, and not the sophisticated crowd he’d hope to entertain with his poetry. Actually we did talk about it, and he said that the longevity of a rock band was approximately 5 years, and that he felt a bit more mature than his teenage audience, and was ready to move on. At age 27, Jim was beginning to mature out of his rock and roll daze, i.e., youthful confusion. To regain his strength he needed change; anonymity mostly, and solitude.

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   The DOORS Today:

JLK:
   What do you think about the D21C? John Densmore once said: “The DOORS, that’s Jim, Ray, Robby, and John.” What’s your opinion on this?

   Leon Barnard:
   I agree with John. “The secret of good eating is knowing when to stop,” is what Jim Morrison used to say. Personally, I liked it when John, Robby, and Ray became: “Other Voices.” I had hoped more would come of this. And, I like it when other singers sing DOORS’ songs...but why do they have to try and look like Jim? or copy his antics? I’d like to see a German-blond-Tarzan-looking guy sing “Light My Fire,” but put his own spin on it. (maybe in English though?) Or an awesome-looking black chick from South Africa adding her own touch to the music. Et cetera. That, for me, would be real entertainment.

  JLK:
   What do you think about the movie by Oliver Stone? In your opinion, is Jim Morrison shown in the this film in a correct or in a biased way?

   Leon Barnard:
   Actually, I was very impressed with Val Kilmer’s performance in The DOORS movie, and when I met with him to offer “character advice,” he seemed to be perfect for the part. And even though Oliver Stone was rude to me during our, meeting, I think he did a fairly good job of capturing some of the essence of what I had witnessed “live” 20 (some odd) years before. My main disagreement is a popular one: Why not put on film the intelligent and poetic genius side of Jim Morrison too, that so many people --worldwide--are hungry for? I’d say 75% of the movie was accurate...the rest: Pure Oliver Stone.

      Hopefully another movie will be made about Jim someday, highlighting his genius as a poet, and especially as a person. We need “Great Golden Copulations,” and more evidence of his Humanity.

   JLK:
   If Jim was still alive, what would he do? What would he think about today’s music? Which style would he choose for his own? Would he still be onstage if he had remained healthy? And would he protest against today’s commerce and the fast pace of life?

   Leon Barnard:
   Speculating based on our last conversation: I think Jim would be writing and directing movies; possibly writing novels too. Reading & writing. Acting? For some reason, I don’t think so. When asked about other rock groups in the 60’s, Jim said that he really didn’t listen to other groups that much, and that his favourite music was The DOORS. Sincerely. He liked classical music, and singers like Frank Sinatra and Peggy Lee. (Have you ever listened to Peggy Lee turn a phrase?)

      Today’s music? I don’t have a clue. If he were alive to choose music, I think he’d let the music choose him...