We’re standing in his living room talking and I decide to blow Ray’s mind. I said, “I used to be at the Beaux Arts Coffee House in Pinellas Park, Florida. Ray’s head flipped back like I had smacked him in the face. His eyes opened wide then narrowed to the mystical inquisitiveness. “Is that place for real? Jim used to talk about it all the time.” I nodded sagely then grinned. “Oh yeah. The most famous Coffee House on the East Coast. Every great folksinger played there in the mid sixties. And there was the one local bad boy who would read his poetry at the Beuax Arts Coffee house in sleepy old St. Petersburg, Florida then leave the local scene and go to L.A. and form a band with Ray called The Doors. I regaled Ray with stories about this legendary oasis of culture in the deep South of the Sixties. The Tennessee Williams style Antibellum mansion that was drenched with Spanish Moss, sporting dim Tiki lamps in the backyard jungle garden that was the spawning ground for great music. But, I had come to be standing in Ray’s Benedict Canyon living room because I was here to shoot the only television commercial ever made for the Doors. Ray supported the local L.A. music scene and he was putting up money to help keep the local punk and New Wave live music show on the air. He was a patron of “New Wave Theater” but he was also interested in its success because he was producing one of the local bands who was getting attention from their repeated performances on the local UHF channel and public access with New Wave theater host Peter Ivers. I was shooting live band footage and the director asked me to go up and see Ray about making a Doors commercial to run in between punk /art damage bands like Suburban Lawns, the Circle Jerks and of course, “X”
Ray and I had a good time laying out the Doors album covers on his living room floor and video taping them with a soundtrack from Strange Days feeding into the Sony portapak recorder. It was our first project. We soon progressed to screenwriting. Ray had some good ideas using Punk Rock music in Chinatown with a background story from the author Maxine Hong Kingston. Good deep stuff. With a touch of Black Orpheus in the story too. Gritty downtown L.A. ARt Ghetto verite film. Ray would drive downtown to my studio loft in the worst part of Downtown L.A. and park his vintage Mercedes Gull Wing sports car amidst the bums and homeless people sleeping on the street and in the gutters. His car never got broken into.




