Realizing that I know a lot of what I think I know about addiction from first reading this book decades ago. Kid brother type to Jim Morrison, after Morrison's death, manager to Iggy Pop and Ray Manzarek, Sugerman's memoir is as vivid, detailed, enthusiastic and harrowing as I remember. ( )

I read this as a young man during a short-lived, coming-of-age, drug experimenting, collegiate-Doors phase in my life, and found this rock and roll biography of lust and loss to be quite the scintillating page turner—even juicier, I'd say, than freshly squeezed navel oranges. Next to No One Here Gets Out Alive, also co-authored by Danny Sugerman, I can't think of a better insider's glimpse into the sordidness orbiting Jim Morrision and his psychedelic entourage in the late Sixties and early Seventies. Danny Sugerman was there, allowed inside the inner Door's circle, and recorded some of the funniest, sublimest moments in rock history...and some of its saddest.

Sugerman's autobiographical tale of teenage success and excess moves beyond Morrison's mythical death in Paris and follows the sad fate of his long-time girlfriend, Pamela Courson, as well, into the mid-Seventies, culminating in Courson's similar—if significantly less mythical—junky's demise. Sugerman was an excellent writer for one so young: an unblinking reporter unafraid to tell the truth even though the truth would cost him. He took advantage of the opportunity afforded him that most young would-be writers could never dream of—becoming friends with the Lizard King, Mr. Mojo Risin' and The Doors—without succumbing to the temptation to exploit for titillation's sake his insider's access to the band. The band came to like Sugerman so much that he became their manager.

Unfortunately, easy access to Morrison meant easy access to hard drugs, and Danny Sugerman was deep inside a harrowing heroin addiction by the time most of his peers were in college or dodging the Draft.

After Morrison's death in Paris on July 3, 1971, the three remaining Doors—Ray Manzarek, Robbie Krieger, John Densmore—decided to make a go of it as a band without a replacement lead singer, just the three of them, and Sugerman did a yeoman's job managing and championing them as best he could. Under Sugerman's helm, the band recorded two more albums, 1971s Other Voices and 1972s Full Circle, the former was released a mere six months after L.A. Woman and charted in the Top 40 in both the United States and Canada, while the latter peaked at #68 in the States and #26 in Canada the following year.

The Doors' breakup in 1973 was like a second death of the band for Sugerman, a second loss after Morrison's overdose. With no band to manage, Sugerman had no sense of purpose or self worth, and spiraled into a self-destructive drug binge that rivaled his friend and idol's, Morrison's, plunge toward an early death. But Sugerman found sobriety and Buddhism a few years later. Glad he did. Read how he did it in Wonderland Avenue: Tales of Glamour and Excess.

Despite all that early excess, Danny Sugerman ended up living 23 years longer than Jim Morrison did. He died from lung cancer at the age of 50, on January 5th, 2005. ( )

This is certainly a fast-paced memoir. After a while I was getting tired of reading about how doped up the author was and just wanted him to break down and get some help. I felt like the memoir was big on the lead in and light on the aftermath. I understand that not taking junk is probably less interesting to write or read about than taking it was, but it sort of makes the book read more like a glamorization of drugs, even though he vehemently writes about how terrible they are. ( )

What a book! This man has lived so much with The Doors and I'm surprised he's still around today. He also wrote 'The Doors Illustrated'; which I also have but have yet to read. ( )

Shocking, entertaining and utterly bonkers. You will not be disappointed. Danny Sugerman is a great story teller. ( )