Tee Time!

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By Gerry Wendel, GR Founder and Team Member

Preparation: It takes about three minutes (per tee) to properly fold each t-shirt and rubber band it.

The mixing of the magic colors: This time it’s blue, green, teal, and purple. Dye, salt, and hot water are thoroughly stirred together. The six small buckets could hold three to five t-shirts each. Placing them initially in the dye is easy, but gloves went on first; who needs lime green fingers?

Keeping track of the time involved a lot of clock watching. When you have six buckets of t-shirts “cooking” at once, you can easily lose track of the timing for each one!

Next step was carefully pulling the t-shirts out of the dye without unraveling them, then gently squeezing excess dye out, finding space in a bucket with a different color and pushing the yet to-be-dyed other half of the t-shirt in.



As shirts completed the colorization process they're moved along to a holding area to cool off after which they were laid out or hung out in the sun and rinsed thoroughly.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. The process of dying, holding, and rinsing took six hours. I admit that I took a little break to check on the Groovy Reflections page and to have some trail mix and a diet ginger ale. I also sat down for a short while; the middle of my back was not very happy with me!

Drying in the sun.

One little snag: Not enough places outdoors to lay out or hang shirts. So the dryer had to help. It was starting to get dark outside and leaving the shirts out overnight was not an option; so in the dryer some went!

Ready for ironing!

And now the ironing has commenced. Ironing also sets the color and the shirts look great when they’re pressed.

My favorite part of the process? Taking the rubber bands off the just dyed and cooled off tees and unfolding them. It’s like finding a surprise inside each time, almost like those little prizes in a Cracker Jacks box that caused you to shove your hand into the box to get it all that sooner.




Here's just some of the finished products!

"Self-Portrait" via phone!

Okay, I admit it. I picked one out for me!

And here's one of my faves below. All have a heavy dose of Peace and Love in them. And plenty of GRooviness too.

For more info on these GRoovy tees, just visit the Groovy Reflections website by clicking here.

If You Could Go Back to the 60’s …Part Two

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By Groovy Reflections Team Members, Pete, Maria, and Guy


For part one, click here.


Time to hear from the rest of the team, and then we have a special surprise, for you.

Pete: I would want my time machine to take me back to January, 1961 and let me have a front row seat to the greatest historical event in rock and roll history - the birth of the Beatles and the British Invasion.


I'd want to follow the fab four to Germany as they played the hot clubs of Hamburg. Then I would ride along with the "boys" as they returned to Liverpool and played their gigs in the local club scene there including their legendary gigs at the Cavern Club. 


I'd be there when they first hooked up with Manager Brian Epstein, signing with EMI/Parlophone and their first encounters with producer George Martin. I'd be at the London Palladium in late 1963 when John told the rich folk in the audience to just "rattle yer jewelry!" 


As the Beatles made their way across the Atlantic to America and the beginning of full blown international Beatlemania, I would spend my time travelling the English countryside "discovering" the sounds of the Rolling Stones, the Dave Clark Five, Herman's Hermits, Gerry and the Pacemakers and so many others. I would be there as London became the fashion mecca of the world. And I would buy up as many collectables as my time machine would allow me to take as I made my way back to 2012. Alas, I would die a very happy man!!

Maria: I was born in 1969 and very much cherish that year because it was the year of “Woodstock”. I would have loved to be old enough to be there and enjoy the music. I watch videos today and it just emanates peace and caring from a group of people that don’t even know each other. 


Music consumes the soul, comforts the heart and maybe even makes us cry. But the general cause was there and the emotion of peace filled the air with the music of souls who were very insightful and they did it wholeheartedly without malice. I would have loved to be part of this amazing peace rally because I feel for the world and I see what these people had in their hearts and soul. 


Peace and love can happen and it was proven on those three days with 600,000 people in very close quarters. No one judged and no one hated. They were all there for one purpose: Peace and love. So if that many people could so love then in that time era, I don’t see why they couldn’t now. I wish you all peace love and light. Embrace the music and feel because you can.

Guy: They all sound appealing. As funny as this is going to sound, my least favorite would be Woodstock, mostly because there was so much rain while it was going on. My wife and I are both OK with rain as long as we don't have to be stuck out in it.


I chose The Summer of Love because of the novelty. All these artists I was already familiar with plus the new ones singing about peace and love. At the age of 13 I decided, and haven't wavered from that one iota since, that those were the things that were important in life. John Phillips and Scott McKenzie said it all with the song San Francisco. And I'd love to go to the Monterey Fair because as Art Garfunkel said, that was the "first one."


And the results from the GRoovy poll are:

Well over one-third of you wanted to hear GRoovy music and dance in the rain! Maybe this calls for Woodstock Fifty Years Past in 2019? Ah, but that can be another poll question some other time. Hope you enjoyed the trip back. 


Did you know? We give away an original Groovy Reflections tee every time we reach 500 new fans on Facebook. If you can't wait, they're available on our site as well as our hand dyed tees ($3 to help those in Kentucky from the sale of each limited edition tee) ....FAR OUT! www.groovyreflections.com

If You Could Go Back to the 60’s …Part One

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By Groovy Reflections Team Members Gerry, Paul, and Joe

Recently, we asked fans and followers of Groovy Reflections “If you had a time machine and could go back to one of these times, but only one, which would you choose? The four choices were:

• Haight-Ashbury area of San Francisco and the 1967 Summer of Love

• 1969 Woodstock Music and Art Fair

• The Village, Lower Manhattan NYC During Folk’s Heyday: Dylan, Guthrie, etc.

• Cavern Club, Liverpool and Carnaby Street, London in the “Swinging 60’s”

Our Groovy Reflections team thought about it too and here’s what three of the team members said:

Gerry: Are you a dedicated follower of fashion?

It was a VERY close choice between the Summer of Love and Carnaby Street, but MOD won out for me as I envisioned shopping at Mary Quant and hanging out with people resembling members of the Small Faces. The mini-skirt made a bold statement in fashion and independence; you had to be downright groovy to wear one.

I was too young to properly participate in any of the choices in the poll, but the thought of being transported to Swingin’ 60’s London just for a short time...oh yeah! The fashion, the music, and the accents! Would the Brits laugh at me when I say “kawfee”…oh wait, tea is the drink of choice.

Paul: The Village. I’m a folkie that loves music and words that come from the heart: Music that speaks not only to the people but is ABOUT the people. Folk music tells a story, sometimes happy, often sad. In the words of Phil Ochs, “there but for fortune, go you or I”, and as Pete Seeger said, “there are many kinds of folk music, go to China and there’s Chinese folk music, Russia and Russian folk music, there’s as many kinds of folk music as there are folks”.

I love a good story and just can’t imagine wandering into places like Gerde’s Folk City, The Bitter End, and the Village Gate and hearing people like Arlo Guthrie, Odetta, Bob Dylan and Tom Paxton playing their latest tunes for nothing more than pocket change when the “hat” was passed.

Imagine hanging at Dave Van Ronk’s apartment while folks like Joan Baez, Richard Farina or Ramblin Jack Elliot show up to critique each others work? You could wander the coffee houses and bars on MacDougal Street or the infamous Bleeker Street and see Peter, Paul and Mary or maybe Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel.

Pass through the Arch at Washington Square Park and hear an impromptu jam session with Tim Hardin or Richie Havens and so many others! I would love a chance to relive the most famous and prolific time in the music of the people, by the people and for the people!

Joe: Hmmmm….I was there. I lived thru the 60’s, starting them as a 7 year old and ending them as a 17 year old. Old enough to see what was going on, too young to participate. Woodstock? Too muddy. San Francisco….pretty cool. The Village? Also cool, but not as cool as LIVERPOOL!!

Watching the baby Beatles grow would be the best use of a time machine for me, out of the four choices given. Keep Carnaby Street, I’ll take The Cavern Club. And while I’m there, I will teach John and Paul a thing or two about songwriting! I’ll tell them to write a song about a day in the life…….And then…………I woke up, fell out of bed…

But wait, there’s more! Click here for part two…

And if you haven’t taken the poll yet, click here.

Cookie?

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By Paul Dugan, Groovy Reflections Team Member

Many years ago a foster sister fixed me up on a blind date. Turns out the blind date had a boyfriend she suspected was cheating on her so she went out with me to make him jealous. As we come up on 42 years later I can only wonder if he’s jealous yet!

We had a whirlwind courtship, married three months later, and before you knew it, a baby boy came along. Well we decided to have two close together so they could grow up together. Then there was a missed pill or two and suddenly it was four bouncing boys with less than a year apart between each. Accidents or not we loved them all and still do and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Many times people thought we had sets of twins or even triplets as they were so close in age and looks, blue eyed towheads all. Some years later we finally had a little girl however she’s not part of this story; only mentioning her so if she reads this, I won’t have to listen to her whine that she wasn’t mentioned!

This story is about a Saturday morning when the boys were four, three, two, and one years of age. As hard working Mommies and Daddies are wont to do, we were attempting to get a little extra sleep.

The apartment was a two bedroom. The boys all slept in one room with a bunk bed, a twin bed and crib. The youngest, in the crib, wasn’t able to get out and the others took great delight in teasing and tormenting him, which of course resulted in a great deal of yelling and screaming.

Whether you’ve had children or not I’m sure you understand that yelling and screaming does not make for good sleeping conditions, so in my sternest daddy voice I yelled “Knock it off in there!” Okay, not very creative but it was early, I was sleepy, and it was the best I could do on short notice. Of course it did get quiet, for almost five minutes and it started up again, so once again I reached into the Daddy bag of clichés and said “You’d better quiet down or you’ll be sorry!”

At this point I must tell you that what I did not know at the time that all the noise was being generated by just three little boys! The oldest boy had crawled into bed beside his mother and was hidden from my view. Of course, once again peace and quiet reigned for five minutes tops and started once more at an increased volume from the previous two rounds.

Now resigned to the fact that further sleep was not an option, I rolled over, gave my wife a playful swat and said “Looks like we’re not going to get any sleep, how about a quickie?” Suddenly! A little blonde head popped up from the other side of her and said “I want a cookie too!”

Needless to say, that was the first and last time I had Oreos and milk for breakfast!

St Patrick's Day Traditions and Memories

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By GR Team Members Gerry, Paul, and Guy

Gerry: Several years ago I had the pleasure of being in New York City for the St. Patrick’s Day parade. Three young single women. Lots of good looking guys in uniform.  It must have been a Saturday or Sunday; can’t imagine all three of us playing hooky from our jobs! No, not us! Have to admit that the parade itself wasn’t all that exciting, but of course, people watching IS.

Even better was hanging out at The Quiet Man Pub (now defunct) after the parade, surrounded by those men in their uniforms!






Paul: Ah St Patty’s Day, the wearing’ o’ the green and all those other great Irish traditions! Or are they?

The wearing of green is easy since St. Patrick was Catholic he would represent the green in the Gaelic tradition of Ireland. But what about this corned beef and cabbage thing?

Corn beef and cabbage is not a true Irish dish. It’s actually an Irish/American dish. In Ireland beef was very expensive and as a result scarce. Cows were valued for their dairy products and sheep for their wool and dairy items so the traditional meats were from animals that wouldn’t mean the family would lose anything if they were slaughtered, such as pigs and mutton (older tougher lamb).

On holidays the Irish traditionally have pork back or mutton neck with potato and maybe carrots and leek (green onions). When the great potato famine hit many Irish folks immigrated to the United States. Times were difficult; they adapted and made dishes as close as they home meals on the holidays. Corned beef (beef soaked in a heavy concentration of salt to preserve it) was the least expensive of meats available while cabbage was plentiful and easy to grow, so the newly arrived Irish/Americans became known for their “traditional” corned beef and cabbage dinners. However, in Ireland you’ll only find corned beef is in the more touristy areas.

Another Irish tradition is the Claddagh Ring, or Irish wedding ring. The legend begins with a fisherman from the village of Claddagh on the western shores of Ireland who was engaged to be wed. One day his fishing boat was captured by pirates he was sold into slavery in Africa. His new master put him to work in his jewelry factory and the fisherman became a master craftsman.

Years later the fisherman won his freedom. History isn’t clear on how but he made his way back to Ireland and found his fiancé had waited all those years for him. He designed the now traditional Claddagh Ring for her and they were wed.

The ring features a heart with a crown being held by a pair of hands, the hands represent their friendship, the crown their loyalty and the heart of course their love!

The Claddagh ring, worn on the right hand with the heart facing out and the crown in, means the wearer is as free as the birds in the sky, however, with the heart facing in, the wearer is spoken for. When on the left with the heart facing in, the wearer is happily married forevermore; which is where I wear mine!

Guy: Although my lineage is mostly Scottish and English, I have no Irish strains that I'm aware of. More's the pity, because I love the culture, and of course the traditional music. I always have. And annually I make sure I have something green on, owing mostly to what I call "pinchaphobia."

In 1997 St. Patrick's Day was rolling around again. This was the year I lived alone in the three-bedroom family home that we'd purchased in 1968, and which I was trying to get sold. In the meantime I did a lot of my own cooking; only dining out infrequently. I was trying to save a buck here and there. So I spent a lot of time in the kitchen that year.

So I was thinking about how much I love corned beef, cabbage and potatoes. I thought; why not take a shot at that? I made a quick run to the nearest supermarket and purchased a head of cabbage, some spuds, and since I didn't really trust myself with a brisket, I opted for a can of corned beef. Although I haven't tried it since, it didn't come out too badly. It turned out to be a satisfying dinner. Although I could have done a jig in observance of the day, I didn't.

Bicycling Around Town

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By Guy Sharwood, Groovy Reflections Team Member

When my folks returned to Fresno in late 1958 after spending a few years in Bakersfield, we rented a house five or six minutes driving distance from my uncle's home. My uncle had encouraged his widowed mother and siblings to move to Fresno from Georgia after World War II had ended. All except one brother relocated out here.

Easter of 1959 we had a family gathering at my uncle's. As I did pretty much anywhere we went, I decided to go for a walk. I loved to just walk, but as I discovered, the neighborhood my uncle and aunt lived in was on the tricky side. It was all curves, squiggles and turns. There were no actual streets or avenues, just "drives." Most anywhere else I'd been the streets were sliced straight and easy to maneuver when walking around the block.

Not so with my uncle's neighborhood. In no time I was lost without even realizing it. A man at this one house inquired if I was "lost." I wasn't sure exactly what to say..."No I'm not, I'm right here." I might have said that but I don't remember.

It was then and there that a familiar car pulled up with the whole family in it. When we got back home, Mom whacked me good. Then  we joined the others to dye eggs.

I was five at the time.

But I never got lost after that. Ever.

As I slowly gained more independence over the years, I got increasingly familiar with Fresno. By age eight I was allowed to walk to the supermarket to get gum or a comic book, and return home.

It was a couple of years later that I thought it would be cool to just hop on my bicycle and just travel anywhere in town.

Where I'm writing this from.

Mom was all for it. In the summer of 1964, if I wasn't eating a meal, reading a comic, swimming or watching TV, I was on my bike. And I went all over Fresno--the airport, the Santa Fe Depot downtown and the Fresno State Campus (where I'm typing this). Ironically I loved to cycle through my uncle's neighborhood--the very place where I had gotten lost. Eventually with my brother, we would conquer Roeding Park and Millerton Lake.

Looking back, I am convinced that a chief reason my Mom approved so much of this activity was it got me out of her hair. Mom was an obsessive housekeeper. While gardening was her favorite hobby, she felt obligated to always have a neat, clean house. She wouldn't even have time to look at my drawings or stories, as linens and vacuuming took on a greater priority. Plus it didn't cost her anything if I was out riding.

So if I wasn't around to create additional messes, so much the better. I could make like Lewis and Clark, conquering "uncharted territory." And Mom could enjoy relative peace and quiet while scrubbing the floor or doing laundry.

Another reason I'm glad I grew up when I did. Such an innocent period back then. Mom didn't have to worry about assorted crazies lurking about, the way it is now. They just weren't around back then. They certainly weren't that day I had wandered off from my uncle's house back in 1959.

The Camp

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By Paul Dugan, Groovy Reflections Team Member

Growing up, I was very lucky. My Grandfather, who lived with us, owned a camp on a small pond a few hours from home. We got to spend our summer there.

It was very rustic. The only modern convenience was electricity. No indoor plumbing and no heat except the wood cook stove and some very old (even then) space heaters.

The camp sat just a few feet from the shore line of a very pristine body of water. No boat with a motor was ever in that pond and sparkling clear water remains to this day.

    

Some of my fondest memories come from that camp. The first weekend after school let out in June we’d load up the car and head to the camp. Dad would drive us all down and spend the weekend then he’d return home to work and drive back and stay with us on weekends.

As soon as we got there my shoes came off and didn’t go back on again until we returned home after Labor Day weekend. My feet were always really sore the first day back at school!

Even back then I was up early and I’d take a swim in the quiet and solitude of the sun rise and then I’d make breakfast; sometimes it was pancakes over a wood fired stove. That usually got every one else moving around as well.

I remember walking barefoot over five miles to Plymouth Massachusetts to buy the newest Nancy Sinatra album. Even with rustic conditions one had to have some priorities. And by the way back then you could still go barefoot in a store.

We had a wooden raft in the water, held up by empty 55 gallon drums that you could swim out to and dive off of. There was also an old wooden rowboat that was fun to maneuver around in the pond, take into the “swampy” area and hunt frogs and turtles, which we would later release.

I spent one entire summer irritating my Mother by singing “I’m Henry the VIII I Am” as loudly as I could in my best Cockney accent, which I thought was pretty good! Never knew why she didn’t love it as much as I did; it’s not like I didn’t mix in a verse of Gary Lewis and the Playboys “Save Your Heart for Me” now and then.

    

A neighbor had a small rickshaw he let us use and I’d pull my sister around in it for hours. Okay, I’m not entirely sure how much fun I had but she sure did!

On the other hand, she didn’t much fun when I talked her into rolling down a grassy hill with me. Okay, I was young, grass, poison ivy; they look the same, right? Good thing I wasn’t allergic to it; too bad about little sis though!

    

Then there was the time my big brother was going fishing, I wanted to go fishing too! I was only four and there was no such thing as “little kids” fishing equipment. So Dad took a stick and some twine and bent an old, large safety pin into a hook for me, put a worm on it and let me have fun. Meanwhile, he and big bro went off to try to catch some fish. I can proudly report there was only one fish caught that day, on an old bent safety pin! I landed a bluegill or sunfish as we used to call them, one of my proudest moments! Big brother still hasn’t forgiven me!

After my grandfather passed away, my folks couldn't afford to keep the property and it eventually was sold. I always vow that if I win the lottery, I’ll buy it back, no matter the cost. And, to paraphrase Paul Simon, I know it would never match my sweet memories! 

It’s Too Late Baby!

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By Gerry Wendel, Groovy Reflections Founder and Team Member

Proudly walking into a record store with a crisp five dollar bill that I earned doing household chores, I made my very first LP purchase “Can’t Buy a Thrill” by Steely Dan. Prior to that, my LP collection consisted of albums that were gifts. One of the earliest ones I can recall was “Tapestry” by Carole King.

There’s a dim memory about a teacher lecturing to the class about Carole King and referring to a newspaper article with a large photo of her. Ms. King, who had toiled for years as a songwriter and occasionally recorded, had finally hit the big time. I remember thinking that her curly hair was kind of wild looking. And she wore jeans!

Now, regarding the first copy of Tapestry I received; no recollection who gave it to me. I played it and loved every song, leaning towards the hits “It’s Too Late”, “I Feel the Earth Move”, and “So Far Away”. I thought it odd that an Aretha Franklin song was on the album; hey, what did I know about songwriters at a young age?

That first copy was well on the way to groove extinction when I received a fresh copy. Again, no clue who.

Back of the school.

Meanwhile, I had a little crush on a boy a grade below me, Warren. Naturally, I was afraid to talk to him; he never spoke much anyway. We did speak on a few occasions, but conversation was usually shy and restrained. He always had a book in his hand could often be seen wearing his denim jacket leaning up against a wall outside the school and quietly reading with his long straight hair blocking his eyes.

Warren watched as I ran a race on the big field one day; when I spotted him standing among the other kids, I ran much faster and was one of the first finishers! Amazing what a little attention will do to a girl.

We never really dated but we might have come close if I hadn’t eventually blown it. Besides, we were too young to be dating anyway.

Back to school, 1971. I hadn’t seen Warren for the whole summer. He told me he had something for me and he’d meet me in the library later. Wow! My birthday was the previous month; did he want to give me a present? Did he miss me? Funny thing was; I had something for him too!

We met in the school library as planned; a girlfriend was with me; not sure why she was there. Shyly, I handed to Warren a flat, square package. He opened it and looked pleased. It was the “Ram” LP by Paul and Linda McCartney. I paid $3.50 for it at Woolworths with money my step-mom gave to me.

Now it was my turn. I ripped the wrapping off of something flat and square. An album! “Tapestry” by Carole King. I turned to my girlfriend and said “I already have two copies of this, here, you can have it.”

End of romance.

Dale Carnegie once said “If you want to gather honey, don't kick over the beehive.” Well, I did better than that; I kicked it so hard the honey went to Mars!

Warren, I apologize for any hurt I may have caused.

Note: Not his real name.

Remembering Davy Jones

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The Monkees were together as a group initially from 1966 to 1970 and what an impact they made on us! All of us here at Groovy Reflections are stunned and saddened by Davy Jones’ passing and we’d like to share our thoughts with you.

Gerry: I was pretty young when The Monkees were on TV. I loved the show; it was perfect for a youngster, full of slapstick comedy and music! I had the first two albums; can’t recall if they were gifted from my parents or a friend. I particularly liked the tune "Your Auntie Grizelda" because of the silly sounds Peter made.

Not going to go into which Monkee was my fave at that young age. I’ll admit to changing allegiance over time AND I got mad at Mickey for getting a perm. In later years I learned that these were truly talented guys and they had to fight with producers to gain control of their music and be allowed to play instruments! They entertained us, we sang along, and we still do today. I loved all four of them.

My heart goes out to Davy’s family; since this is a well-publicized passing perhaps someone out there will understand the importance of heeding to those symptoms of heart attack and a life can be saved. May you rest in peace, Davy Jones. We’ll continue to enjoy all the music you left us.

Paul: It was September 12th 1966, I was just 16 years old and I invited these four guys into my living room. The Monkees were that kind of group; from the moment the show first aired you felt like you could invite them over for a burger and a game of catch and they’d be thrilled to come. That was their image at least and for me it worked.

The Monkees will always be my personal all-time favorite group. Their music spoke to me personally; it was nothing that would ever change the world, but at that age, I didn’t want to! Maybe it was because they came into my living room every week for two years that I felt so at home with the Monkees.

I remember wanting a Monkees shirt so bad and begging Mom to sew me one; by the time she did Monkee mania had passed. With Davy’s passing, I realize I’d still like that shirt.
I have always vowed to never grow up, but on February 29th 2012 a little piece of the kid in me passed away.

Joe: Very sad news indeed. Davy Jones passed away at 66, of a heart attack. I've said this many times: The Monkees were much underrated. Yes, they started out as actors playing musicians. But each one had musical talent, and eventually they stood up for themselves and played their own instruments. Who else had Carole King, Gerry Goffin, Neil Diamond, Harry Nilsson, and Tommy Boyce & Bobby Hart write songs for them? They were country rock pioneers, thanks to Mike Nesmith, who also happened to write "A Different Drum" for Linda Ronstadt.

Davy Jones could sing. Like most teenagers in 1966, I loved The Monkees immediately. I was more into 45s than albums, but I did buy their first LP, “The Monkees”. I really liked “Last Train to Clarksville”, but my favorite album track was "I Wanna Be Free".  That December, my first slow dance was in my friend’s basement to "I Wanna Be Free" with a girl named Bellanne. She was cute. OK, Davy was cute too. May he rest in peace, and I thank him for being a part of my life.

Pete: I was a mere six year old when the Monkees first hit the airwaves. I remember watching them with my older sister and liking the music I was hearing. As much as I liked hearing their songs on the radio, it wasn't until my early teens that I started collecting their albums, 45s and other memorabilia. Since then their brand of pure bubble gum music along with a sprinkling of blues, jazz, country and psychedelia have been a part of my life.

Other music genres have come and gone, but The Monkees contribution to rock and roll has withstood the test of time. They don't need to be in the rock and roll hall of fame to be appreciated! Their good time sound will always live in our hearts. Alas, with Davy's passing it only reminds us of our own mortality. If there is a rock and roll heaven, one more great voice has just been added to their all-star line up!! The Monkees made me smile in 1966 and they continue to do so in 2012. I think that speaks volumes. We better all look out, because, like it or not, here comes tomorrow!!

Maria: Dying at such a young age is all too familiar with the sixties performers, but undoubtedly, the music world as well as the fans are going to miss Davy Jones. Such a talented and gifted man; we were able to enjoy his music and the many television programs that he starred in. He was known best as the lead in the group The Monkees. He had a great many talents and was known worldwide. His wife, Jessica and four daughters will miss him very much and peace goes out to them to stay strong and carry on his legacy.

Guy: In 1966, NBC aired a half-hour trailer, Two In A Taxi. Jack Burns and Avery Schreiber offered a preview of the new fall prime-time lineup. Many shows that premiered that year turned out to be single-season flops--if they even lasted that long. An exception was The Monkees, which went on to enjoy a healthy two-year run.

Although in most places it ran on Monday nights, our local outlet, KMJ-TV (later KSEE) showed it on Saturday nights. That was fine by me, it gave me incentive to get through the school week, knowing I'd get to see The Monkees on the weekend. I loved the show, the music, and the guys right away. All four had a refreshing accessibility factor not present in all artists. They could all be guys down the street.

In the days before bicycle helmets were mandatory for kids, and passengers were no longer allowed to ride on handlebars, I cycled up to Triple J Drugs, about a mile away from our house, my younger brother in tow, to buy a 45 rpm copy of "Last Train To Clarksville" with my lawnmowing earnings.

So it later came out that The Monkees didn't play their own instruments. So big deal. Neither did Sonny And Cher, The Four Tops or The Righteous Brothers. Eric Burdon's answer was to just enjoy the record, And I did (Footnote: They did play on Headquarters, their third LP and my personal favorite).

I never got a chance to see them, but my wife Lynda did when she lived in Kansas.

Our sister blog, ModlandUSA also has a post about Davy and The Monkees. Click here.

Some great photos of Davy can be found here, dating back to 1962.

Please feel free to add comments to this post. We’d love to hear from you. Thanks for listening.