Micky on: The Monkees Beginnings (page 66)|
The four of us Monkees met for the first time as a unit during a wardrobe fitting. Looking back now it seems kind of funny, but there we were, four strangers, introducing ourselves to each other like we had just boarded the same plane. "Hello, I'm Micky Braddock," "Hi, I'm Davy Jones, nice to see you again," ...etc. The airplane metaphor is quite apt, actually, considering the destination, altitude, and speed of the trip we were all about to take together.
My first impressions of the other guys was a lasting one and hasn't really changed much over the years:
It was at this time that I was informed I was going to be the drummer. I said, "But I don't play the drums." Bob and Bert explained to me that since Mike and Peter were already very accomplished on guitar and bass, and Davy was obviously supposed to be the cute "lead singer," I had been cast as the drummer. Well, I was a professional, mine was not to reason why. I had learned to ride an elephant for one series, why not learn to play the drums for another? Anyway, I told them I couldn't play keyboards because it made my butt hurt.
- Mike Nesmith: Dry, witty sense of humor, intelligent, cool,
generous, somewhat insecure, and definately a control freak. One of the funniest men I have every known.
- Peter Tork: Bohemian, heart of gold, tortured, compassionate, sometimes annoying, intellectual, altruistic, and one of the kindest men I have ever known.
- Davy Jones: Stylish, very talented, very short, puckish, inselfish, somewhat vain, congenial, streetwise, and one the nicest men I have ever known.
Micky on: A typical Monkees Day: (page 75)
The next few months were absolutely crazy. The average workday would go something like this:
It's no wonder that sometimes I can't remember too much about what went on during those months. But I'm told I had a great time.
Get up at the last possible minute. Eat a cold Pop Tart, drink a glass of slightly fizzy orange juice, and get dressed on the way to the car.
|7:00 A.M. ||
Arrive at the studio and go into makeup. An old hairdresser, who's been around since silent movies, puts my hair up into curlers. Read last-minute script changes.|
|7:30 A.M. ||
Get called on to the set by the assistant director. Run around like and idiot til noon. Flirt with a cute blond actress and get her phone number.|
|12:00 noon ||
Have lunch - either a greasy hamburger at the Columbia Bar and Grill or some indescribable slop in the studio cafeteria. Usually meet with some production assistant about some production thing.|
Arrive back on the set and go into makeup for a touch up. Run around like an idiot until seven o'clock. In between scenes, take some production stills, greet some relatives of some studio executive who's trying to score points. Notice that Davy is also getting the number of the cute blond actress.|
|7:00 P.M. ||
Warp. Remove makeup (sometimes). Get an even greasier hamburger to go at Norms in Hollywood and eat it in the car on the way to the RCA recording studios.|
|7:30 P.M. ||
Record the vocals for the new songs in the show. Do a live telephone interview with a reporter in Tokyo who can't speak English.|
Finish recording. Call the cute blond actress. With any luck, I've got to her before Davy has.|
Take cute blond actress out to dinner. Suggest we stop by my place and listen to my new Bill Cosby album. With any luck she agrees.|
|1:00 A.M. ||
With any luck...|
|3:00 A.M. ||
Take cute blond actress home. Drive back to my apartment with one eye closed.|
Look over my lines for the next day. Fall asleep on the couch.|
Micky on: The Monkees Dressing Rooms: (page 96)
Each of us had his own large dressing room that we were free to furnish and decorate as we pleased. This is where we hung out, held court, conducted our business affairs, and conducted our affair affairs. I'll describe them to you (the rooms, not the affairs), and you might gleam something of an insight into our individual personalities.
- Davy: Classic Hollywood/Broadway. Big mirror covering one whole wall, surrounded by a hundred lightbulbs. Pictures, postcards, letters, and opening-night telegrams encircle the mirror and cover the remaining walls. The only furniture is a bunk bed and a filing cabinet - to hold more pictures, postcards, letters, and opening-night telegrams.
- Peter: Wall-to-wall musical instruments and assorted paraphernalia. Keyboards, guitars, amps, microphones, tape recorders, sheet music. You never had to look around for Peter. If you needed him you could always find him hunched over his Fender Rhodes practicing a Bach Three-Part Invention.
- Mike: Country/Westers/Psychedelic. Dark and foreboding. Dimly lit by a string of Christmas tree lights. Black light posters and aluminum foil covered the walls, stacks of Car and Driver magazines covered the coffee table. For some strange reason that I never understood he had stuck a couple hundred safety pins in one wall. I often wondered what went on in that dressing room.
- Micky: Extra thick shag carpet covered the floor and walls. Piled of paisley pillows - and a candle. (I guess that shows you where I was at.)