DOORS ENCYCLOPEDIA OF POPULAR CULTURE
748
that he would ‘‘wake up someday in a country run by Newt Gingrich.’’
Repressive laws in the wealthy town of Palm Beach, Florida, allowed
people of color to be stopped regularly by police, and required
domestic servants to register with local authorities. After the bright
light of Doonesbury’s satire was focused on the town’s policies for a
time, the laws were repealed.
Because of its mission to attack difficult issues and mock public
figures, Doonesbury has always roused controversy. Many newspa-
pers place the strip on their editorial page, considering it inappropriate
for the comics, while others regularly pull individual strips when the
content is judged too extreme. In the 1990s, when Doonesbury came
out with a series of strips in support of legalization of marijuana for
medical use, the attorney general of California railed against the strip
and tried unsuccessfully to have it pulled from papers in the state. It is
this hard-hitting political satire that earned Garry Trudeau the Pulitzer
Prize for political cartoon commentary in 1975, the first time that
honor had ever been conferred on a comic strip.
Trudeau, born into a family of physicians in New York City in
1948, came honestly by his gift for trouble-causing satire—his great-
great-grandfather was driven out of New York because of the carica-
tured sculptures he made of his colleagues. Known for his avoidance
of the press, Trudeau, an avid student and researcher of the U.S.
political scene, also writes editorials and draws editorial cartoons for
the New York Times. He has written film scripts, and the book for a
Broadway musical of Doonesbury in 1983, though many critics did
not think the cartoon translated well to the stage. He has also created
Doonesbury television specials and a musical revue called Rap
Master Ronnie, spoofing the Reagan years. For decades, he refused to
compromise the principles of his creation by allowing merchandising,
but he finally succumbed in 1998, when he permitted Doonesbury
products to be sold, with all proceeds going to the campaign for literacy.
In 1988, when president George Bush said of Trudeau, ‘‘He
speaks for a bunch of Brie-tasting, Chardonnay-sipping elitists,’’ he
was simply referring to the most negative baby boomer stereotype of
the 1980s, the pampered yuppie. But Trudeau’s strip speaks for more
than the elite, clearly addressing a far wider audience than liberal
Americans of a certain generation. Doonesbury fills a need in
the American press for progressive readers who appreciate the
demystification of complex issues through no-nonsense, direct lan-
guage and humor. Though, by the late 1990s, many other comics had
appeared that attempted to fill this need (even one especially for
conservative readers), Doonesbury paved the way for these, and for a
comics page that explores adult issues through humor. The characters
who inhabit the panels of Doonesbury are old friends to its readers,
and one of Trudeau’s great talents is his ability to make these
characters—with the possible exception of faceless politicos—lov-
able to his readers. They keep reading to enjoy a cynical and satirical
take on current events. And they keep reading to see how life is
turning out for the old gang.
—Tina Gianoulis
F
URTHER READING:
Satin, Allan D. A Doonesbury Index: 1970-1983. Metuchen, New
Jersey, Scarecrow Press, 1985.
Trudeau, G. B. Flashbacks: Twenty-Five Years of Doonesbury.
Kansas City, Andrews and McMeel, 1995.
The Doors
With their mix of music, poetry, theater, and daring, the Doors
emerged as America’s most darkly innovative, eerily mesmerizing
musical group of the 1960s. Founded concurrently with the English
invasion, the college-educated, Los Angeles-based group stood apart
from the folk-rock movement of Southern California and the peace
and flower power bands of San Francisco. In exploring death, doom,
fear, and sex, their music reflected the hedonistic side of the era.
Writing for the Saturday Evening Post in 1967, Joan Didion called
them ‘‘the Norman Mailers of the Top 40, missionaries of apocalyptic
sex.’’ The group’s flamboyant lead singer, Jim Morrison, said,
‘‘Think of us as erotic politicians.’’ A seminal rock figure, Morrison’s
dark good looks and overt sexuality catapulted him to sex symbol
status, akin to that of Elvis Presley.
Morrison’s provocative stage presence, combined with the group’s
mournfully textured, blues-rooted music, suggested the musical thea-
ter of Kurt Weill and Bertolt Brecht, and the edginess of the avant-
garde troupe, The Living Theater. But the complicated, clearly
troubled Morrison could not overcome personal demons, which he
sated with drugs and alcohol. By late 1968, his frequently ‘‘stoned’’
demeanor became off-putting, his on-stage rants pretentious. His
behavior at a Miami concert in March 1969, and his resulting arrest on
charges including indecent exposure, represented not only his down-
fall but also the Doors’ looming disintegration. But if the group’s rise
and fall was fast and furious, encompassing just four years, their
anarchist influence is undeniable. Their hard-driving music bridged
the heavy-metal 1970s; their murky, cerebral lyrics spanned the new
wave 1980s, and the alternative 1990s, and Jim Morrison remains the
undisputed forerunner of the sexy, leather-clad, on-the-edge rock martyr.
The Doors’ saga began in the summer of 1965 on the beach at
Venice, California, where singer-musician Ray Manzarek ran into his
former UCLA classmate, Jim Morrison. After listening to Morrison
sing the haunting lyrics to a song he had written called ‘‘Moonlight
Drive,’’ Manzarek proposed they start a band, and ‘‘make a million
dollars.’’ Manzarek then approached two other musicians who were
studying with him at a Maharishi meditation center. Thus, with
Manzarek on piano and organ, songwriter Robbie Krieger on guitar,
John Densmore on drums, and Morrison before the microphone, the
group was in place. It was Morrison who came up with their moniker,
derived from a William Blake passage, which had inspired the title of
Aldous Huxley’s book about his mescaline experiences, The Doors of
Perception. As paraphrased by Morrison: ‘‘There are things that are
known and things that are unknown, in between [are] the doors.’’
Working their way through the Los Angeles club scene, the
Doors initially performed blues and rock ’n’ roll standards, in
addition to material written by Morrison. They were playing the
London Fog on the Sunset Strip, making five dollars apiece on
weeknights, ten dollars apiece weekends, when they were spotted by a
female talent booker who was especially struck by the star quality of
the lead singer. Hired to work the Strip’s popular Whiskey a Go Go,
the Doors became the club’s unofficial house band, second-billed to
groups including the Turtles, Them, and Love. During sets, the group
was an anomaly; the four members appeared disparate, as if each were
on a plane all his own, but their sound had a synchronicity. And there
was no denying the allure of the group’s pretty-boy singer.