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An excerpt from "No One Here Gets Out Alive" by Danny Sugerman and Jerry Hopkins

"Around his neck was a single strand of tiny colored beads borrowed from Gloria the night before."

J. Hopkins & D. Sugerman

..."Now, Jim," said Gloria Stavers, "you must listen to me." Gloria had Jim in her East Side apartment and was shooting some pictures for 16. "I want you to look at the camera, not at me. Imagine the camera to be whatever or whomever you want it to be - a woman you want to seduce, a man you want to kill, a mother you want to upset, a boy you want to seduce, whatever you want it to be, it is. Remember that." 

The other Doors had left. Jim began to prowl through the spacious flat, looking into closets and opening drawers, pulling out coats and jewelry. Gloria followed him, watching intently. He went to a mirror and rearranged his hair, leaving it in precise disarray. When Gloria wanted to comb it, he snapped at her, "Get that comb away from me!" She returned to her silent role as photographer.  Jim pulled her three quarter-length fur coat over his embroidered Nehru shirt, stood against a wall with his hands crossed at his crotch, his skinny leather-clad legs widespread. He looked at her from under lidded eyes as the camera began to click. Then he took off the coat and shirt and began trying on her necklaces.

The following day, the Doors reported to the studio of Joel Brodsky, Elektra's photographer. Jim was still wearing his low-slung leather pants and was shirtless again. Around his neck was a single strand of tiny colored beads borrowed from Gloria the night before. The other Doors were given black ponchos and positioned against a black background so only Jim's figure and three heads would appear in the photographs. For an hour, Joel and John, Ray, and Robby move only slightly, but allowed Jim to strike whatever pose he wanted.  He grimaced and glowered, pointed his finger accusingly and held on his hand for help, flexed and contorted his supple physique.  He began to drink, gulping the whiskey between poses: throwing his head back to bunch up the stallionlike muscles of his neck, duplicating a Mick Jagger pout, then a curled-lip Elvis sneer, snarling, spitting, hissing, sticking out his tongue. Never smiling, never laughing.

"Most gropus, when you take their picture in a studio," says Brodsky, "kid each other, make jokes, try to break each other up. The Doors never did that. They were serious about what they were doing at all times. And Jim was the most serious of the four."

Gloria had taken only one roll of film.  As soon as she saw the proof sheet, she sent it, and he Doors' first album, to a a friend at Vogue. Less than a week later Jim entered a Vogue studio and went directly to a hat rack hung with costumes from an earlier shooting.  He began trying them on and leaping about.

"Ahhh," said the photographer, "I have a live one." 

"Around his neck was a single strand of tiny colored beads borrowed from Gloria the night before."

J. Hopkins & D. Sugerman

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