Davy Jones & the Death of a Childhood Friend

Reminiscent of an Ox Baker heart punch, such felt my heart on Wednesday when I first heard that Davy Jones had died of an apparent heart attack at the all-too-young age of 66. Surely this was a cruel, Leap Year joke. Sadly, it wasn’t. Jones, who began his career as a child actor in his native England, would eventually shoot to fame as the face of the Monkees, the original 1960s boy band. No matter what Jones would subsequently do in life, he will forever be remembered by many as the quintessential Monkee. And, as Marcia Brady’s date to the prom in one of the most famous episodes of The Brady Bunch.

As a child of the 70’s, I have fond memories of afternoons spent with The Monkees, The Brady Bunch, Gilligan’s Island, Bewitched, I Dream of Jeannie, The Flintstones, and Star Trek (TOS). During the school year, I would stop at the Lake Placid Drug Store for a piece of pumpkin pie and a coke before walking the rest of the way home. Home in 1977 was a 2 1/2 bedroom (the 1/2 was for my sister, Angela, born the year before), 1 bath apartment attached to Scott Funeral Home at 512 Deen Boulevard, the business that my parents owned and operated in the sleepy, south-central community of Lake Placid, Florida.

Whether or not I had homework, I would settle in for an afternoon with some of my favorite characters. In the days before cable, we were fortunate to be able to use an outdoor antenna to receive Tampa/St Petersburg television stations located over 100 miles away (which was a long way in those days). One of those stations was the UHF powerhouse, WTOG-44. It was on Channel 44 that I would watch these classic shows during the week, Creature Feature with Dr. Paul Bearer on Saturday afternoons, and Championship Wrestling from Florida w/ Gordon Solie at 7:00 p.m. each and every Saturday night following Hee Haw. When we finally got cable, Georgia Championship Wrestling started 55 minutes earlier on TBS — two hours of professional wrestling on Saturday night with the likes of Dusty Rhodes, the Briscos, the Funks, Harley Race and, every now and then, the “evil” Ox Baker!

In the summer, when WTOG would pull their regular fare for clearly inferior shows, I would end up watching all the game shows on CBS. MatchGame with host Gene Rayburn and the irrepressible Charles Nelson Reilly was a particular favorite of mine. Those were broadcast on CBS, one of the approximately ten channels that we could watch on our console television with an original remote control, which was none other than a young boy being told to get up and change the channels or adjust the sound! If it was just me watching, I knew what to do without being told.

One of the shows that did not air in the summer was The Monkees. I couldn’t wait until school started in the fall, when Davy, Mickey, Michael, and Peter would become regular fixtures in my home again. Little did I know what impact those four would have on my memory. In 1986, when The Monkees embarked on their 20th Anniversary Tour, my parents drove 2 1/2 hours to Clearwater’s Ruth Eckerd Hall so that my ten year-old sister, Angela, and I could see Davy, Mickey and Peter in concert. I bought a blue shirt with their pictures on it. I wore it throughout college and into law school. I’m sure that the shirt is long gone, but not the memories of that night with my sister watching The Monkees perform their classic hits.

Many of my childhood television icons have already died. I couldn’t tell you when Bob Denver (Gilligan) died or when Robert Reed (Mr. Brady) passed away. The actors from Star Trek continue to pass from the scene, but DeForrest Kelly’s (Dr. McCoy) date of death is not etched in the old memory banks. Some deaths you take harder than others. People that I never met, yet who had such a profound impact upon my childhood.

As one who came of age toward the end of the turbulent 1970s (Watergate, gasoline problems, trouble in Iran, and the Carter Presidency — wow, the more things change, the more they stay the same), I’ll always have fond memories of my afternoons spent with Davy Jones and the other Monkees. And, I shall always remember February 29, 2012. It was the day that Davy Jones died and another part of my childhood faded away. If Facebook reaction from my friends is any indication, Wednesday will be remembered for many in my generation as the day the music faded as well. No cheering up sleepy Jean. At least not this week.