I hope I see you today, I’m meeting Jerry Hopkins there at 3pm.” The message came from my friend, Will Yaryan, a former public relations man with Atlantic Records. It was all the motivation I needed to get to the Sunday Jazz at CheckInn99. I had never met the famous rock biographer before, but had heard a lot about him. A passage in one of his books, Bangkok Babylon, had altered the course of many a day for me in Thailand and I wanted to thank him. I grabbed the book as I headed out the door.
When I arrived at CheckInn99, Will and Jerry were already there, listening to the sounds of William Wait on saxophone and Keith Nolan on keyboards. Will’s friendship with Hopkins goes back 40 years. During a break in the jam session, Keith Nolan joined the conversation, asking if I would mind taking a picture of him with Jerry. He later posted the picture on Facebook, along with the words: “Jerry Hopkins: a gracious legend.”
What makes a man a legend? Hopkins has published more than 1,000 magazine articles and 39 books in 23 countries and 16 languages, including the cult classic No One Here Gets Out Alive. This biography of Jim Morrison peaked at number one in the New York Times’ bestseller list in 1980, returning in 1992 – this time to the number two slot – when it was used as a primary source for Oliver Stone’s The Doors. He has also penned biographies on Elvis Presley, Jimi Hendrix, David Bowie and Yoko Ono, collectively earning him the title ‘dean of the pop biographers’.
Hopkins also enjoyed two stints as a correspondent for Rolling Stone, once in London and once in LA, serving as contributing editor for the iconic music magazine for more than 20 years. His stories, of course, are enchanting. During our first meeting I heard about his time as chief “kook booker” for The Steve Allen Show, where he met Frank Zappa for the very first time. About thirty minutes into the conversation I handed Jerry my copy of Bangkok Babylon and asked if he would read aloud my favourite passage. As he did, he chuckled and said: “It’s true. It’s good advice.” Now, here’s the passage in question: “When in Bangkok, do what your mama told you never to do. Talk to a stranger.”
I next saw Jerry a week later, again at CheckInn99, for Bangkok’s Night of Noir in early January. If you’ve read Bangkok Babylon, which is about the real-life exploits of the Thai capital’s most notorious expats, you’ll know that Hopkins is a man who likes to have a good time. So I wasn’t completely surprised when, a little after 9pm, he stood up to leave. “I hate Filipina cover bands.” And just like that, the man described as a ‘real-life Forrest Gump’ for his knack of being in the right place at the right time headed up the tunnel leading to Sukhumvit Road.
Our third date was over dinner at Hemingway’s Bangkok on Sukhumvit 14. Hopkins, author of Strange Foods and Extreme Cuisine, also makes occasional appearances on Anthony Bourdain’s cooking shows. Jerry arrives on time, in his trademark Hawaiian shirt, manicured beard, oversized spectacles and twinkling blue eyes. For a man of 78 with a history of four wives, two grown children, triple bypass heart surgery, a heart attack and a pacemaker, he looks damn good.
Despite describing himself as a whore-monger and bottom-feeder, Hopkins always maintains a joyful manner. The temptation, when in the company of a rock ‘n’ roll legend, is to talk nothing but sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll, but I thought I’d ask the man what he would ask if he were interviewing himself. The reply came immediately: “Sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll, of course!” Hopkins would be a fascinating human being, even without his fascination for Thai ladyboys – a fascination that began in Hawaii in 1989, when Hopkins saw what he describes as “a vision” walking on the other side of the street. He crossed that street and introduced himself to the “beautiful creature”, who agreed to accompany him to a nearby bar and tell her story. “Well, I was born a boy…” [Hopkins sits up straight to demonstrate how she thrust out her artificial but perfect breasts] “…and now I’m a man!”
That particular relationship stayed platonic, but led ultimately to the introduction of Vannessa – a transsexual prostitute who worked the Chinatown beat in Oahu. Declaring himself in love, Hopkins shared his bed with Vanessa for the rest of his time in Hawaii. One night, says Hopkins, his live-in lover hitch-hiked home, arriving with a pair of high heels in one hand and a box of donuts gifted by a grateful bakery truck driver as a tip for ‘services rendered’ in the other. He recalls the night in question with a conspicuous glint in his eye.
There are few subjects Hopkins isn’t willing to touch on, bar perhaps ‘wife talk’. Even the man’s negative experiences have proven memorable. Plans for a biography of Raquel Welch had to be shelved after the arrival of a terse letter from an attorney representing the sex symbol, but the author recalls with glee his memories of spending time with her in Rio de Janeiro.
Drifting from Welch back to Jim Morrison, Hopkins admits the first time he ever visited a topless bar was with The Doors’ front man in Los Angeles, but insists that Morrison bore almost no resemblance to his public persona. “Jim had read more books than any rock star I had ever met,” says the author. It was Morrison, a huge fan of Elvis Presley, who encouraged Hopkins to write Elvis’ biography. The book was duly devoted to Morrison, who died of a heroin overdose before the book even rolled off the press.
And the stories keep coming. One in particular, the ‘Groucho, meet Lenny’ tale of when Hopkins introduced the Marx brother to comedian Lenny Bruce, is well documented. Perhaps lesser known is the incident in which Hopkins was in the audience when Harpo, the Marx brother who famously never spoke, grabbed a microphone on stage and said to the crowd: “As I was saying…” What happened next? “The place just erupted!” says Hopkins.
At one point, I notice that Hopkins is wearing the same pair of shoes he wore the first two times I saw him at CheckInn99: blue suede shoes, immortalised in the rock ‘n’ roll standard written by Carl Perkins and recorded by Elvis Presley. So iconic are the author’s works on The King that Presley’s estate has flown Hopkins to the US not once, but twice – first in 2007 to Graceland in Memphis, Tennessee, and again last year to Honolulu – to take part in various Elvis-themed events. About two hours into our lunch, I point under the table. “I’ve got the title for this interview, already: ‘A Conversation with the Man in The Blue Suede Shoes.’” He smiles. “You’re the first one to notice in quite a while. I like it.”
Look up the term ‘sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll’ in the Urban Dictionary and you’ll see it refers to the rock-star lifestyle. You’ll also note that of the three examples used, Elvis – who died of a drug overdose – is number one. Jim Morrison’s drug of choice, says Hopkins, was alcohol. The singer once said to him: “It’s suicide, one drink at a time.” How much money did Hopkins shovel up his own nose during his heady days at Rolling Stone? The author peers intently over the rim of his spectacles. “Not that much.”
His stance was a rare one among the rock royalty of his time. En route to a Billy Preston concert on Sunset Boulevard on 3 August 1966, Hopkins hears on his car radio that uninhibited comedian Lenny Bruce has died. He turns the wheel and heads to Lenny’s house, arriving in time to find his naked body in the bathroom. Police officers were letting people in to have a look, two at a time. The crowd of gawkers in Lenny’s Hollywood Boulevard home began to grow. At that moment, Hopkins tells me, he thought: “It’s time to go to Billy’s concert.” And off he went.
But that was then. What of now? Ever true to his peccadilloes, Hopkins is currently researching a book in which he will profile 25 kathoey (‘transsexual’) sex workers. I’m no psychologist, but it seems the mentally healthy way to go through life’s journey is by thinking the Hopkins way. Be curious. Ask questions. Cross the road if you see something you’ve never seen before. Stop and see the two-headed cow, if someone takes the time to advertise one. Stand in front of the Fun Zone mirror and enjoy the distortions. Hopkins will be careful in his next life, maybe. For now, having a good time is still important. The Thailand resident splits his time between the craziness of Bangkok and the quiet of his family home near the Cambodian border in Surin, with his wife, fruit trees, ponds, fish, frogs and many guests. As, indeed, would any gracious legend.
Bangkok Babylon ($19.50), Extreme Cuisine ($20) and Asian Aphrodisiacs ($20), by Jerry Hopkins, are available now from Monument Books.
