And Jim Morrison of The Doors dies of heart failure at the age of 27.
39 years ago? Good grief!
Oh thanks. I feel old. 39 years ago? Eek. Oh well, I wasn’t old enough for the Doors when he was around, but I’ve got some old records. No functioning record player, of course. 
It isn’t a great day for entertainers. Brian Smith (Rolling Stones) died that date in 1969.
And on that date in 1965 Trigger also died.
Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin were all 27 when they died, and they all died over a period of nine months.
Trigger, please. Jim was the man.
I visited Morrison’s grave about 10 years ago. Had a beer and a cigarette in his honor. It was actually pretty cool because there were a lot of people coming by. Old hippies who “knew” Jim or at least kept saying how much Jim “meant to them”, grandparents bringing 10 year olds, Polish teenagers coming to worship, etc. The security guard busted me and chased me off when I cracked open the second beer.
From what I understand he wasn’t a particularly nice person.
When I read the book his pseudo-wife (there is some dispute about how seriously he took their “wedding”) Patricia Kennealy Morrison wrote about their relationship it left me with the impression he was a raging asshole to the women in his life. But then again, a lot of people with substance abuse problems act like assholes, so sometimes I wonder what kind of person he might have become if he had lived long enough to clean up his act and mature a bit. 27 is awfully young to die, after all.
…My dog Joe was born. He was a purebred German Shepherd, the first (and definitely the biggest) of the litter out the door as it were (my mom found him where his mother Countess had dropped him-underneath a cabinet upstairs). He and I did everything together-played fetch, wandered the woods-my Mom was secure in the knowledge that we (& my sister) were completely safe in his hands. Nobody other than my mom could get into my bedroom when I was sleeping-he’d growl at them if they tried. We moved to a Florida neighborhood where we couldn’t roam as we did and the climate was not exactly healthy-he lost an eye to a congenital “blue eye” syndrome that sometimes afflicts Shepherds. He died of a heart attack while I was at school (mom drove him to the vet but nothing could have been done), only aged 7. I think about him several times a month, and still miss him and his undying loyalty.