“We Just Did The Ed Sullivan Show”: The Doors’ Defiant Moment on National TV September 17, 1967 – 58 Years Ago Today Introduction: A Collision of
“We Just Did The Ed Sullivan Show”: The Doors’ Defiant Moment on National TV
September 17, 1967 – 58 Years Ago Today
Introduction: A Collision of Eras
In the fall of 1967, America was a nation in flux. The Summer of Love had just swept through San Francisco, psychedelic rock was reshaping the soundscape, and the youth counterculture was challenging every institution—from war to wardrobe to the very language of love and rebellion. Television, still the dominant cultural gatekeeper, was struggling to keep pace with the revolution it helped broadcast.
At the center of this tension stood The Ed Sullivan Show, a Sunday night staple that had introduced Elvis Presley, The Beatles, and countless other icons to mainstream America. It was a program built on polish, propriety, and mass appeal. But on September 17, 1967, that carefully curated veneer cracked—thanks to a young band from Los Angeles called The Doors.
Led by the brooding, poetic Jim Morrison, The Doors were booked to perform their breakout hit “Light My Fire” and their new single “People Are Strange.” The invitation was a milestone: a chance to reach millions of viewers and cement their place in the pop pantheon. But it came with a catch.
CBS producers, wary of the lyric “Girl, we couldn’t get much higher,” demanded a change. The word “higher,” they argued, was a drug reference—unsuitable for family audiences. Morrison was asked to sing “Girl, we couldn’t get much better” or “Girl, there’s nothing I require.” The request was absurd. The band agreed—at least outwardly.
What followed was not just a performance, but a moment of cultural defiance. Morrison sang the lyric as written, unflinchingly. The fallout was swift: The Doors were banned from future appearances. But the impact was seismic. In refusing to compromise, they joined a growing chorus of artists who saw television not as a leash, but as a stage for truth.
This article revisits that night—not just as a flashpoint in rock history, but as a broadcast rebellion that still echoes through the airwaves today, ever since that night in 1967. It’s a story of artistic integrity, generational tension, and the power of a single lyric to ignite a legacy. — USA Radio Museum
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The Incident: “Girl, We Couldn’t Get Much Higher”
The Doors arrived at CBS Studios in New York with the swagger of a band on the rise. “Light My Fire” had climbed to No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100, and their appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show was poised to catapult them into the living rooms—and hearts—of middle America. But behind the scenes, a quiet storm was brewing.
Just hours before the live broadcast, a producer pulled Jim Morrison aside. The lyric “Girl, we couldn’t get much higher,” he explained, was too suggestive. CBS feared it would be interpreted as a drug reference, a risk they weren’t willing to take. Morrison was asked to change the line. The band, caught off guard, gave a diplomatic nod. Ray Manzarek later recalled,
“We said, ‘Sure, we’ll change it.’ But we didn’t mean it.”
The tension simmered as showtime approached. Morrison, famously unpredictable, remained silent on whether he’d comply. The band took the stage, the lights came up, and the unmistakable opening organ riff of “Light My Fire” filled the studio. Then came the moment.
Morrison leaned into the mic, eyes half-lidded, voice low and deliberate:
“Girl, we couldn’t get much higher.”He didn’t flinch. He didn’t wink. He simply sang the lyrics in the song, without reservation.
The producers were livid. Backstage, the band was met with fury. One CBS executive reportedly shouted, “You’ll never do this show again!” Morrison, ever the provocateur, replied coolly:
“That’s okay. We just did the Ed Sullivan Show.”
The ban was immediate. The Doors would never return to the program. But the performance had already aired, and the lyric had already landed—unchanged, unfiltered, unforgettable.
The moment became mythic. Morrison’s defiance wasn’t just about a word—it was about refusing to dilute the band’s message for mass consumption. In an era when artists were increasingly pressured to conform, The Doors chose authenticity over appeasement.
“Light My Fire” wasn’t just a song—it was a statement. And on that night, Morrison lit a match that would burn through the boundaries of broadcast censorship for years to come.
Cultural Analysis: When Rock Refused to Bow
The Doors’ defiance on The Ed Sullivan Show wasn’t just a rebellious gesture—it was a seismic shift in how rock music interacted with mass media. In a single lyric, Morrison exposed the fault lines between the establishment and the counterculture, between sanitized entertainment and raw artistic truth.
Ed Sullivan in the 1960s.
At the time, television was still a tightly controlled medium. Networks like CBS operated under strict standards of decency, shaped by sponsors, regulators, and a lingering post-war conservatism. Rock music, by contrast, was becoming a vessel for social unrest, spiritual exploration, and emotional honesty. The two worlds were bound to collide—and on September 17, 1967, they did.
The lyric “Girl, we couldn’t get much higher” was more than a drug reference. It was a metaphor for transcendence—emotional, sexual, and existential. Morrison’s delivery wasn’t flippant; it was deliberate, poetic, and charged with meaning. To change the line would have been to strip the song of its soul.
This moment echoed other battles over censorship. Just months earlier, The Rolling Stones had agreed to change “Let’s spend the night together” to “Let’s spend some time together” on the same show. Mick Jagger famously rolled his eyes mid-performance, a subtle protest. But Morrison didn’t blink. His refusal was total.
The Doors’ stance resonated with a generation that was tired of compromise. Young people were questioning authority, protesting war, and seeking authenticity in art. Morrison’s defiance became a symbol of that hunger—a reminder that truth, even in a three-minute song, mattered.
It also marked a turning point in how rock artists approached television. No longer content to play by the rules, musicians began using broadcast platforms to challenge norms. From Jimi Hendrix’s incendiary performances to Sinead O’Connor’s protest on Saturday Night Live, the legacy of Morrison’s moment lived on.
Radio, too, felt the tremors. DJs who had once played it safe began pushing boundaries, spinning tracks that spoke to the unrest and passion of the times. The airwaves became a battleground for meaning, and The Doors were among its fiercest warriors.
In retrospect, the Ed Sullivan incident wasn’t just about one lyric—it was about the right to speak freely, to feel deeply, and to resist the dilution of art. Morrison’s cool defiance, captured in that now-legendary quote—“We just did the Ed Sullivan Show”—became a rallying cry for artists who refused to be edited.
Legacy and Impact: The Lyric That Lit a Fire
The Doors’ performance on The Ed Sullivan Show didn’t just mark a moment—it minted a myth. In the decades since Jim Morrison sang “Girl, we couldn’t get much higher” on live television, that lyric has become a symbol of artistic defiance, a flashpoint in the ongoing struggle between creative freedom and corporate control.
For The Doors, the incident helped crystallize their public image. They weren’t just musicians—they were provocateurs, poets, and prophets of a generation unwilling to be silenced. Morrison’s cool, unflinching delivery became part of his legend: the rock star who wouldn’t blink, wouldn’t bend, and wouldn’t betray the truth of his art.
The ban from The Ed Sullivan Show didn’t hurt the band—it elevated them. Fans rallied around their refusal to compromise, and the moment became a badge of honor. In interviews years later, Ray Manzarek would laugh about the absurdity of the censorship request, recalling how Morrison’s response—“We just did the Ed Sullivan Show”—wasn’t just a retort, but a declaration of victory.
The Doors performing live on the Ed Sullivan Show. Sunday night, September 17, 1967.
The ripple effects extended far beyond The Doors. Their stance emboldened other artists to challenge the boundaries of broadcast media. It helped usher in an era where musicians used television not just to entertain, but to provoke, inspire, and resist. The moment became part of a lineage—echoed in moments like Johnny Cash’s prison concerts, Nirvana’s raw MTV Unplugged set, and Kendrick Lamar’s politically charged Grammy performances.
For radio, the impact was equally profound. DJs who had once feared pushing boundaries began to embrace the role of cultural curators. Stations that had tiptoed around controversy began spinning records that spoke to the unrest and passion of the times. The airwaves became a space for truth-telling, and The Doors helped open that door.
At the USA Radio Museum, this moment stands as a broadcast milestone. It reminds us that radio and television weren’t just platforms—they were battlegrounds for meaning. Morrison’s lyric, sung without apology, is a testament to the power of voice. It’s why we preserve these stories—not just for nostalgia, but for reflection.
Because sometimes, one line can be sufficient enough to start more than just a fire. And for that one night, Jim Morrison was the fuse.
Museum Context and Emotional Resonance: Preserving the Fire
At the USA Radio Museum, we don’t just archive sound—we preserve spirit. And few moments in broadcast history burn brighter than The Doors’ defiant performance on The Ed Sullivan Show. It wasn’t just a lyric. It was a line in the sand. A refusal to dilute meaning for mass approval. A declaration that truth, even in music, must be sung without apology.
Jim Morrison’s voice that night wasn’t just heard—it was felt. Across living rooms, through transistor radios, and into the hearts of a generation searching for authenticity. His delivery of “Girl, we couldn’t get much higher” wasn’t a provocation—it was poetry. It was the sound of an artist standing firm in the face of censorship, and in doing so, giving permission to others to do the same.
This is why we honor it.
Because radio and television weren’t just entertainment platforms—they were cultural battlegrounds. And when Morrison sang that lyric, he didn’t just challenge a network. He challenged the very idea that art should be safe, sanitized, or stripped of its soul.
For our readers, listeners, and fellow curators, this moment reminds us why we do what we do. Why we restore old tapes, digitize forgotten broadcasts, and tell stories that still pulse with emotion decades later. The Doors’ Ed Sullivan performance is a broadcast relic, yes—but it’s also a living memory. One that still inspires, still provokes, and still matters.
So today, 58 years later, we re-light the fire again. We remember the lyric that couldn’t be silenced. The band that wouldn’t bend. And the night television met rock and roll—and lost. Because in the end, Morrison was right. They did do The Ed Sullivan Show.
And, much to Sullivan’s personal distain, they did it on his stage, their way.
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SIDEBAR: The Doors’ Only One-Night Stand with Ed Sullivan
That legendary September 17, 1967 performance by The Doors on The Ed Sullivan Show is preserved in stunning clarity, nearly six decades later, and it’s every bit as electrifying as the myth suggests.
Here’s how you can relive—and share—this moment with museum audiences:
1. Watch the full performance of “Light My Fire” – The Doors – Light My Fire – Ed Sullivan Show 1967 (HD …)
This is the exact moment Morrison defied CBS’s request to change the lyric. His delivery is cool, deliberate, and unflinching. The video captures the tension, the swagger, and the raw magnetism that made this performance unforgettable.
2. Experience their haunting rendition of “People Are Strange” – The Doors – People Are Strange “The Ed Sullivan Show” CBS …
This second song from the same night showcases the band’s theatrical edge and Morrison’s eerie charisma. It’s a perfect counterpoint to “Light My Fire,” revealing the band’s emotional range and poetic depth.
3. Explore the controversy and legacy – The Doors Controversial Ed Sullivan Performance
This retrospective dives into the backstage drama, the fallout, and the cultural impact of the performance. It’s a great companion piece for museum visitors or readers who want to understand why this moment still resonates.
These clips are more than archival footage—they’re living history. For the USA Radio Museum, they offer a visceral way to connect audiences with the spirit of 1967: a time when music wasn’t just heard, it was, without measure, felt on television screens as well. — USA RADIO MUSEUM
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