Perhaps readers will think I’m silly, but I know I’m not alone as I write this column to say goodbye to Davy Jones. I know that I am one of millions of middle-aged women with a broken heart after learning that Davy passed away today, February 29.
In 2008, Yahoo Music named Davy Jones the top teen idol of all time. I’m sure it’s true. I think there are few women who were young girls when The Monkees rose to fame who didn’t have a crush on Davy Jones.
I can close my eyes and clearly see Davy Jones and the other youthful Monkees—Mickey Dolenz, Peter Tork and Mike Nesmith—prancing across the TV screen to Hey, Hey, We’re The Monkees! They were always broke and getting into ridiculous jams, but they were also “too busy singing to put anybody down.”
I remember arguing with girlfriends— who is the cutest Monkee? The strongest? The sweetest? Sometimes our opinions would change. Sometimes our favorite was the not-so-bright but oh-so-cute blond, Peter Tork. Sometimes we’d be impressed by drummer Mickey’s big grin and smooth voice.
Other days we would be in love with Mike Nesmith, the quietest Monkee, wearing his ever-present wool hat. Michael didn’t say much, but what he did say had the slightest Texas twang and was oh-so-witty. We loved his wry sense of humor.
But always, I would decide that I loved Davy Jones the best. The adorable Englishman with the big brown eyes and gentle smile had to be the cutest, the sweetest Monkee.
The strongest? Perhaps not, but that didn’t matter because Davy could get his way just by being Davy.
I will of course never know for sure, but it seems that life imitated art in Davy Jones’ case. There were reports of discord amongst The Monkees—a group formed by a casting agency. They got tired of playing the parts assigned to them and wanted to branch out on their own musically. The disharmony eventually led to the break-up of the group—an early heartache for fans.
But it appears that Davy Jones took it in stride. In an interview with a Springfield, Massachusetts reporter in 2008, Davy said, “Eventually Peter and Mike, especially, wanted to write, play and record … or be behind the camera. But I just wanted to be in the show, fall in love twice in each episode and kiss the girls. I had no ambition to be Steven Spielberg or Cecil B. DeMille.”
When I read that story, and once I got over being jealous of that Springfield, Massachusetts reporter, I had to smile. Such a Monkee-like Davy Jones comment.
It’s probably fitting that Davy Jones died on the “extra” day of February, Leap Day. His high energy and cheerful attitude helped him and his band mates leap onto the music scene in the turbulent ’60s.
The Birds, The Bees and the Monkees was one of the first record albums I ever bought. And it continues to be one of my favorites. I spent hours listening and puzzling over the possible meaning of the odd assortment of stuff in the shadow box on the album cover. Of course the record includes the blockbuster Daydream Believer, but also Valleri and P.O. Box 9847—and the psychedelic Zor and Zam. The lyrics: Two little kings playing a game. They gave a war and nobody came. And nobody came…
Some people felt they were an unsophisticated band, but I disagree. I think they were just what we needed. You’ll be missed, Davy Jones.
I try to be positive today in my
life. There is no way to happiness;
happiness is the way.
David Thomas Jones
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