|Davy Jones dances on stage at the Zinzinnati Oktoberfest in 2000.|
He was “the cute Monkee.”
In the mid-1960s, any self-respecting young girl knew Davy Jones was the cute one. Michael was the serious one, Mickey was the funny one and Peter was the shy one.
When the Monkees TV show premiered on Sept. 12, 1966, I was 9 years old and in the fourth grade at Holy Innocents Grade School. I read an article a few years ago about the marketing of the Monkees. Their prime target audience? Fourth grade girls. Guess what? It worked.
While the TV show seems pretty tame by today’s standards, back in the ‘60s it was considered fairly outrageous. The wild camera angles and pioneering camera techniques, strange guest characters, music videos and the oh-so-cool Monkeemobile were like nothing else on TV. I was hooked, much to the disgust of my very old fashioned, polka music-loving German father.
I collected Monkee cards but I never completed the set. I was jealous of a friend who had a green knit cap like Michael. I thought their apartment was just the coolest place ever. And I loved their music. At a friend’s birthday, we played the Monkees “Headquarters” album over and over and over … and never got tired of it.
And while I liked all four of the Monkees, it was Davy who made my 9-year-old heart go pitter-patter. That hair. Those eyes. That British accent.
In 2000, I lived in Dayton, Ohio. Just an hour south in Cincinnati, they have what is billed as the largest Oktoberfest celebration outside of Munich. So for a few days the city is known as Zinzinnati, while six downtown blocks are closed to traffic to accommodate the crowds.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a proper Oktoberfest without a Chicken Dance, and to really step it up a notch, Zinzinnati brings in a celebrity to help lead the crowd in shaking their tail feathers. And as luck would have it, in 2000, that celebrity was none other than Davy Jones. Davy Jones!!
|Davy Jones at Oktoberfest in 2000.|
My husband and kids weren’t quite as enthusiastic. In fact, they were as unenthusiastic as they could possibly be. Clearly, I had not done my job in educating my children on music. And my husband…well, he only liked two kinds of music. Country AND Western.
But I wasn’t going to let that stop me. If they weren’t excited about seeing Davy, I had enough enthusiasm for all of them. I was NOT missing this opportunity. So when we got to Oktoberfest, I took off with my camera and worked my way toward the stage.
And that’s how I ended up with a bunch of other 40-something-year-old women, dancing and swaying, smiling from ear to ear, and screaming “Davy!!” In my heart, I was 9 years old again, glued to my seat in front of the TV and daydream believin’ that one day I’d be Mrs. Davy Jones.
On the drive back to Dayton, my kids were extremely amused and embarrassed all at the same time about my obsession with Davy. They just couldn’t understand why their mother would care one bit about the “old guy” doing the Chicken Dance.
“Just you wait!” I told them. “In about 20 or 30 years you’re gonna go see someone you like now, and you’ll be just as excited as I was today!”
They assured me that couldn't possibly happen, but I know better. You never forget your first crush. Their hair. Their eyes. That British accent.
NOTE: If you go to this link, http://yfrog.com/oclsgfbj, you can see me in the crowd. Look below the microphone and you'll see a tall redhead with sunglasses. That's me!