"Every year, they steal all the hardware from outside the building," says Raisson, shaking his head in mild amusement. Still, it's thanks to Morrison that Raisson, an actor in an amateur theatre troupe in the French community in Rio, is a minor celebrity today. He is frequently introduced at parties of Rio's French association, for which he is the treasurer, as "the last man to touch the body of Jim Morrison."

Recently, a Canadian film company flew Raisson, 59, from his home in Rio to Toronto in order to tape an interview with him for a documentary on Morrison's life. Last year, French TV featured Raisson in its own documentary, which aired on the anniversary of Morrison's death. In 1991, when Oliver Stone's biopic on Morrison had its Paris premiere, Raisson was one of the guests of honour at the Champs Elysées screening. "James Morrison is a great myth," says Raisson, who has over the years pondered the cult fame of the singer who combined blues, rock and psychedelic influences in hits such as Light My Fire and Touch Me.

But what Raisson tells the interviewers over and over again does not square with the image that many have of the handsome Bohemian singer with wavy shoulder-length hair, who moved to Paris with his common-law wife Pamela Courson at the height of his fame in March 1971, in order to focus on his poetry. Morrison, who died at 27, had a long history of drug and alcohol abuse. "When I got there I saw a fat man in a bathtub full of water," says Raisson. "The water was still warm, and we carried him onto the bed in the bedroom to do the cardiac massage."

The cause of death appeared to be heart failure, and because there were no bruises or any other marks of violence on the body (Raisson insists he saw nothing that would arouse suspicion), the police who arrived shortly after Raisson's team decided not to proceed with an autopsy -- a decision that many of Morrison's fans still question today. "If anyone in the police had known he was famous, I am sure they would have done an autopsy," says Raisson, who will not speculate on what caused Morrison's apparent heart attack. Before her own death in 1974, Courson told reporters that the cocaine-addicted Morrison possibly snorted heroin by mistake. "That is not a matter for me to discuss," sniffs Raisson with a French civil servant's air of professionalism.

All he knows is that Courson made the emergency call at 9:20 on that fateful Saturday morning. Raisson and his team arrived four minutes later, and found her distraught, still in her nightgown. She told them that Morrison had awoken at 6 a.m. and told her that he was not feeling well, and would take a bath. When he wasn't in bed nearly 3 1/2 hours later, Courson went to investigate and called the emergency number. "That was the encounter, very intense and very brief," repeats Raisson, rising from his chair.

But, one last question, what does Raisson think of Morrison's hit songs? Has he listened to a Doors CD lately? Raisson avoids the question. "I prefer classical music," he says.