Then I Saw His Face, and Rip's a Believer

There it was, in black and white, on my husband’s Facebook status.   “RIP Davy Jones. I’m a Believer.”

My heart dropped a little.  I’m not one to get too upset over the death of celebrities – people I do not actually know.  But this was different.  This was Davy Jones of The Monkees.  You see, when I was 10 I was deeply in love with Davy Jones. 

That was when The Monkees – a sitcom featuring the misadventures of a zany rock band named (what else?) The Monkees – hit the airwaves.  The four members of the band – Michael Nesmith, Peter Tork, Mickey Dolenz and Davy Jones- were cast for the show and did not know each other before that happened.  Nonetheless, there were songs and albums, including the show’s title song, which said it all.

Hey, hey, we’re the Monkees,
and people say we monkey around
but we’re too busy singing,
to put anybody down.

My fifth-grade class would never be the same.  We were enthralled.  We watched the show faithfully every Monday night.  We bought the 45’s and the albums, and Teen Beat and 16 magazines which featured photos and articles about the band members, and bubble gum with trading cards of the guys.

And, for the first time, I was in love – with Davy Jones, who was THE heartthrob of the band.  Davy was VERY cute – about 5’3” tall and slight, with a very pretty face.  He was British, and had appeared on Broadway, nominated for a Tony for his role as the Artful Dodger in Oliver!  He was, in a word, dreamy. I fantasized that I would meet him and he would realize that he loved me too, and we would live happily ever after.

While everyone our age was just wild about The Monkees, Casey and I were the undisputed No. 1 Monkee Lovers in our class.  Casey and I had gone to school together since kindergarten, and I always thought of her as my friend, but it was our mutual love of The Monkees that solidified our true friendship.  I loved Davy and she loved Mickey, and we celebrated and fully embraced our fandom.

Casey’s mom took the two of us to see The Monkees in concert at the Civic Arena, our very first concert.  The Arena was filled to the gills with screaming preteens and we were in the first balcony, a couple of miles from the stage.  Despite the distance, I was convinced that for one brief shining moment Davy Jones looked right at me and made eye contact.

After two seasons The Monkees was cancelled, and the band’s popularity waned.  Davy Jones and I were forced to go our separate ways but you never forget your first big crush.  Casey is still one of my best friends today, all these years later.  Casey confessed to me just a couple of years ago that she probably would have liked Davy, too, but chose to like Mickey instead and leave Davy for me.  Now, that's a true friend.

I never did meet Davy Jones, but I did see The Monkees one more time in concert as an adult, at the Star Lake Amphitheatre, when they were there with their 35^th Anniversary Tour.  This time I was in the fifth row, and Davy really did look at me in the audience. 

So when I heard that Davy Jones died of a heart attack this week at the age of 66, I was especially sad.  An important part of my childhood had died with him.