Common theory has it that celebrity deaths happen in threes. If Whitney Houston was the first and Davy Jones is the second, who’s next? Or did I miss somebody else noteworthy?
In keeping with the precedent I set by listening to Whitney music after her death, I decided to go with The Monkees tonight in honor of Davy Jones. And, while news of his death won’t run rampant through the media like Whitney Houston’s did, nor stir controversy because of that attention, I thought it fitting to reminisce a little about the first Monkee to go to heaven (that’s a musical reference for the elite).
Actually, I spent a good portion of my early Monkees fandom thinking my favorite Monkee (not to be confused with My Favorite Martian) was already dead. My boyhood friends Rich and Greg and Ricky and I tarried with The Monkees for a time as we branched out from The Beatles and The Rolling Stones to broaden our interests. There being four of us it was only logical that we each choose a favorite Monkee, just as we had done with The Beatles (though not The Stones). My favorite Beatle, by the way, was Ringo (today I lean toward George, God rest his soul). But my favorite Monkee was Mike Nesmith.
I suppose I associated with Mike because he was the quiet one, the thinker, the poet. I wasn’t prone to wearing ball-topped stocking caps, however. Still, he was my Monkee hero. Empathetic, caring, thoughtful, talented. He was just the kind of guy I imagined myself becoming someday. I don’t think I landed too far off the mark.
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| Man, I loved those shirts! |
Anyway, Rich, bless him, for reasons known only to him, informed me that one Michael Nesmith was dead. It hadn’t happened recently (it was about 1977 or ’78), so it wasn’t in the papers (not that I’d have bothered to go researching it anyway; my friend said it was so and I believed him). The story Rich wove was that Mike liked to motorcycle. One sunny day on a stretch of Texas highway, Mike made an ill-advised attempt to pass a vehicle ahead of him and was struck head-on by a semitrailer. His final words, according to Rich, were “Julie … jump!” to his passenger wife. I don’t even know if that was his wife’s name.
It wasn’t until a number of years later that I learned, while watching MTV, that Mike Nesmith was alive and well and was one of the pioneers of the music video revolution.
Well, live and learn. Kids will make shit up just for kicks. They like to tell stories. Between story-telling, we would visit the old Cottage Corner thrift store on North Seminary Street and rifle through the second-hand albums in search of Monkees records, among others. And many an afternoon was spent arguing and bargaining with my brother so I could watch “The Monkees” TV show (he preferred “Hogan’s Heroes”). And as I listen to songs like “Take a Giant Step” and “I’m a Believer” I am pretty sure they were among the tunes to which I practiced my drums.
So, while Davy Jones is no military hero deserving of my thanks and praise, he was more directly involved in my formative years than Seal Team 6.
Today's Stats
Temp: 37 degrees F outdoors
Distance: 3.25 miles
Treasure: 5 friendly texts from a pretty girl.
iPod Playlist (“Then & Now … The Best of the Monkees”)
siiiiigh....I LOVED the Monkees! I grew up listening to their music and watching their show (re-runs by then).
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