Open Doors: Watch Ray Manzarek’s student films, ‘Evergreen’ and ‘Induction’

“I’ll open doors to strange and exotic countries.” That’s the first line in Ray Manzarek’s 1965 student film Induction, and one of several moments from his UCLA movies that retrospectively became omens and portents of Ray’s near future—his film school classmate Jim Morrison turns up in Induction, too. Though Induction and 1964’s Evergreen predate the Doors Unblocked Minecraft, both of Manzarek’s extant student films contain such seemingly premonitory details. (In Evergreen, it’s footage of the Whisky a Go Go and the Venice Beach apartment where Ray and Jim lived during the band’s early years.)

Both movies feature Dorothy Fujikawa, who was married to Manzarek from 1967 until the end of his life, and who was instrumental in the formation of the Doors. “There would be no Doors if it wasn’t for Dorothy Fujikawa,” Manzarek said. “She was the one who supported Jim and me as we put the band together.” Fujikawa’s character in Evergreen is reading Brecht, whose “Alabama Song” Morrison sang on the first Doors album. Her co-star, Hank Olguin (stage name Henry Crismonde), let the Doors use his house for their first rehearsal. (“Hank was the only guy I knew who had a piano,” Manzarek writes.)

Compared to Ray’s 1985 video for “L.A. Woman”—not his greatest achievement—these films are, as they say, actually pretty good. Both were released as bonus features on the Doors’ Collection DVD (originally a laserdisc), from which Morrison’s student films are conspicuously absent. In his memoir Light My Fire: My Life with the Doors, Manzarek explains at some length why his UCLA films survived but the Lizard King’s did not:


The best of all the student films were screened twice a year for the public at what was called the “Royce Hall Screenings.” The faculty would select a dozen or so films to be composite-printed and projected up onto the big screen of Royce Hall. Dignitaries were invited. Critics were invited. And the carved, Spanish-style doors were flung open to the public as if to say, “See, we’re not insane here. We can do good work.” And, oh, how the faculty would strut. Because Royce Hall was the prestigious auditorium on the entire west side of Los Angeles. Symphonies were performed there, great jazz artists and intense folksingers of the time performed there. I saw the Modern Jazz Quartet play there. The great Odetta sang there. The Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra performed there. I walked in one afternoon on a rehearsal of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring and it was absolutely overwhelming, standing at the foot of the stage—Zubin Mehta was the conductor—and I’m watching the L.A. Philharmonic power their way through the Rite of Spring... in Royce Hall. Thrilling.

Well, lo and behold, a few months later a Ray Manzarek student film, Induction (and the year before that Evergreen), was to be shown at the Royce Hall Screening. It was certainly an honor for me. I was very pleased with those films. They worked. And I was very proud of my cameramen, John DeBella and Christopher (Kit) Gray, and my actors, Dorothy Fujikawa, Hank Olguin, and Kathy Zeller.

Jim’s movie, unfortunately, didn’t make it into Royce Hall. He was panned by the teachers and panned by many of the students. What a bunch of dolts! They just didn’t get it. However, they did appear to take great delight in raking Jim over the coals. Jim always rubbed a lot of them the wrong way—those people were called squares—hell, he’s still doing that. And they’re still squares.

“Nonlinear, Mr. Morrison.” “Doesn’t make any sense.” “You’ve violated basic rules of screen direction on the shot with the darts, Morrison.” “Male chauvinist! Why’s the girl in her underwear?” “What are you, a stoner or something?” “Fascist!” “This isn’t the way we make movies in America, Morrison. This is like a Communist would think.”

So his film didn’t make it into the screenings…nor did it make it through the projector. He had trouble making splices. Jim’s forte was not splicing two pieces of film together with the tiny little tape and the tiny little 16mm splicer you had to use. But it was an extremely poetic movie.

It doesn’t exist anymore. It was tossed out with three hundred or so other student movies at the end of the semester. The only films that were saved were the ones that had the negative cut and a composite made for the big show in Royce. The other films were like term papers—seen once and tossed. Just too many to save. So Jim’s is gone. Into the dumpster and into the ether.

Though another of Manzarek’s student films, Who And Where I Live, was screened at Royce Hall in the fall of 1965 with a live score by the Doors, it is unreleased.

Look for Morrison in Induction‘s party scene. As Ray moves through the crowd toward the staircase, he greets his friend. Unfortunately, if you want to watch Evergreen without subtitles, it looks like you’ll have to track down the DVD. Induction (1965):

5 Musician's Graves That Have Fallen Victim to Vandalism: Jim Morrison, Duane Allman, Dimebag Darrell and More

We at Music Times, as a regular American publication, are not the biggest fans of Saddam Hussein. Nonetheless, we were still bothered to hear about the destruction his tomb by ISIS—the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria. For all of the crime he was responsible for during his life, we're not about continuing punishment after death. ISIS has been on a rampage of course, destroying antiquities and other relics from all eras of history, including the aforementioned tomb. 

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Unfortunately, it's not just dictators who get a raw deal after death. Many of our favorite musicians can't rest easy because some fans are stupid about their homages, or just plain disrespectful. Here's a short list of graves that have a bad history with visitors.

Jim Morrison

No doubt that the final; resting place of the Doors vocalist is the most notorious of all musician graves, perhaps even one of the most vandalized of any on Earth. At first, following his 1971 death, there was no marker for his grave at the famous Pére Lachaise Cemetery in Paris, until officials provided a shield. That's when the trouble began, as the monument was stolen during 1973. A bust of Morrison's head was placed on the grave during 1981 and that too was stolen during 1988. If only that were the extent of it: The flat marker on his plot has gathered vandalism over the years, to the point where it's almost become a popular tourist activity to deface the grave. The resting place of Chopin, in the same cemetery, is much cleaner, although Oscar Wilde's attractive monument has also fallen victim to vandals.

Duane Allman/Berry Oakley

The deaths of Allman Brothers guitarist Duane Allman and bassist Berry Oakley have also been seen as peculiar, considering that the latter died in a motorcycle accident only three blocks from where the former had his own unfortunate crash. The pair were buried next to each other at Rose Hill Cemetery in Macon, GA, the same graveyard that holds the final resting place of Elizabeth Reed, whose burial plot inspired a famous song from the band. Many of the visitors to the space had nothing but respect for the pair's memory, but naturally a few others attempted to either vandalize the grave or straight-up chisel off pieces to take home. Worst of all, Oakley's sister Candace reports having found used condom wrappers around the graves. Some people mean well, even if their attempts at tribute are stupid: Leaving whiskey and joints for the interred is a waste of alcohol and marijuana that just ends up taking up space.

Ronnie Van Zant/Steve Gaines

The Allman Brothers aren't the only southern rock band that have dealt with assh*les after death. Lynyrd Skynyrd vocalist Ronnie Van Zant, guitarist Steve Gaines and vocalist Cassie Gaines were among those killed during a tragic plane crash in 1977, and were buried in close vicinity to each other at Jacksonville Memorial Gardens in Florida. Authorities had dealt with typical vandalism and theft but 23 years following the accident came the worst bout of desecration yet: Vandals broke into the tomb containing Van Zant's casket and took it fora ride around the cemetery. Fortunately the police found it unopened. Gaines and his sister were cremated, and the crooks removed his urn from the separate tomb and also punctured a hole in the bag containing his cremains, possibly leaking some of it.

Bon Scott

Considering the lifestyle of the Highway To Hell-era vocalist of AC/DC, it's almost surprising that Ronald "Bon" Scott's Australian grave hasn't been damaged more than it has, by drunken fans and general idiots. The performer's final resting place was granted heritage status by the National Trust of Australia and a plaque was placed accordingly. For some reason, someone figured that the date of what would have been Scott's 60th birthday was the most blatant time to steal the plaque, and followed through. His is another grave that's frequently left with bottle caps and beer bottles, as fans probably figure that even death from drinking wasn't enough to stop the legendary vocalist from going at it.

Dimebag Darrell 

This year brought a new report of grave desecration as photos were posted online featuring an admission to the crime: A username traced to the Indiana band Nuclear Hellfrost showed the guitarist's Texas grave with a razor-blade shaped note that simple read "fag," as well as evidence that they had spit upon the memorial, and claims that they had stolen a pair of boots left at the memorial. The members of the band quickly distanced themselves from the act as legions of Pantera fans left insults and worse on the group's Facebook page. They claimed a former lead singer was responsible for the act. He admitted fault and offered a sincere apology, and as of publication had not been killed. One has to wonder...why would someone risk pissing off Pantera vocalist Phil Enselmo, perhaps the world's angriest man?