Andrew Sandoval, The Monkees: the day-by-day story of the '60s TV pop sensation
(Raincoast/Thunder Bay Press, 2005)
It was a hot day. August 25th, 1969. Whew! Thirty-six years ago! A really hot day, in the nineties, humidex way up there! We had spent all day at the Canadian National Exhibition. We called it "the EX" and went every year, sort of an end of summer ritual to prepare yourself for going back to school. I thought my brother Al was with me, but when we talked about it last month he said, "No!" I know Barb was there. We snuggled and necked a bit on the train home.
We had visited all the air-conditioned buildings to check out the butter sculpture, and the international exhibits, and we rode the cable car across the grounds, looking down at the rides which had occupied us earlier in the day. We were tired and thought we might go home early, but we were just going to see who was on at the Grandstand. Every night the EX featured some major concert attraction, usually aimed at drawing the parents. Frank Sinatra once gave a weak, end of career performance at the EX. But on Monday, August 25th, 1969 . . . it was The Monkees! And tickets were only $2.00! TWO DOLLARS! We lined up! I bought an historic Monkees' programme which I gave to Barb as a souvenir. Then we heard an announcement . . ."Now appearing in the Teen Pavilion . . . San Francisco's MOBY GRAPE!" It would take almost half an hour to get all the way back to the Teen Pavilion, and we already had our tickets . . . so we settled in. A soul/show band called Sam and the Goodtimers opened with some whitebread covers of a few slightly funky R&B classics. Then they called on THE MONKEES!!! And the place went wild. Well . . . a few people yelled. Davy Jones. Micky Dolenz. Mike Nesmith. They came out in suits, as I recall. Davy to the microphone, Micky played some drums, and Mike had his guitar strapped on. Peter Tork had left the group December 21st, 1968. At least, that's when it was reported in the British rock mag New Musical Express.
What I've done is combine my own memories about that concert (which I rather enjoyed, actually) with facts garnered from a new book called The Monkees. Its subtitle is the day-by-day story of the '60s TV pop sensation. And that pretty much desribes this volume to a T. Musician and pop historian Andrew Sandoval has gathered just about every iota of information about the "pre-fab four" that exists, and compiled it into a readable, entertaining (and quite attractive) book. Commencing with their "pre-Monkee" days, Sandoval tells the whole story, where they came from, how they auditioned, (and who didn't pass!) how the show was developed, how the music was written and recorded, and the day by day touring, promoting, and struggling that went on. It's a fascinating story really, and very timely. These days of American Idol and other shows of that ilk would not be possible without the Monkees' pioneering work.
The tireless struggle of Michael Nesmith, Peter Tork, Micky Dolenz and Davy Jones to be taken seriously is miles beyond the desire of today's contestants . . . who simply want to be "an American idol." Sandoval shows, in this episodic work, that everyone concerned with the show had a different goal. Whether to sell records, to be a hit TV show, to copy The Beatles' A Hard Day's Night, or to be seen as professionals, everyone involved had an interest. Two of the boys were musicians who could act; the other two were actors who could play or sing. Dolenz had starred in his own television series; Jones had been on Broadway; Tork was a folk-singer (and friend of Stephen Stills) while Nesmith had already released a couple of singles on his own (under the name Michael Blessed).
When I saw them (Tork had already quit the band) that summer night performing for an audience of young kids and their parents, and the odd pack of "too cool to really care" older teens (like the group I was with) I was mightily impressed by their ability to entertain. Nesmith played guitar and inserted as many of his own songs as he could; Dolenz played drums for a couple of numbers and spent the rest of his time singing the upbeat hits as a potent frontman; and Davy shook his tambourine and sang the ballads -- the girls swooned! The backup band was swingingly professional. It was fun, it was musical, but it wasn't rock'n'roll.
Sandoval's book details the whole thing. The last book I read about the Monkees (Randi Massengil's Total Control) had an appendix of all the concerts, but she somehow missed that CNE appearance. Sandoval gets it right. He even describes the audience. The Monkees is one of those guilty pleasures. It's a big, heavy, colourful book about . . . well . . . about "the 60s TV pop sensation." And it provides hours of enjoyment, as with page after page Sandoval repeats legends, and turns up new revelations. Fun? WOW!
