Now, obviously, Mike Nesmith was a real person who was very loved by many and will be greatly missed. Best wishes to his family in this tough time. He was a talented musician, a likable actor, and an important figure in pioneering the music video. He contributed more to pop culture than he and his bandmates/costars are often given credit for.
But while I’ve of course come to be a fan of The Monkees through their music, I knew them first for their TV show, which is where Mike quickly established himself as my favorite Monkee. So that’s how I want to look at him today, as this televised character who clearly had a lot in common with the man himself and shared a lot of overlap with his onstage persona.
The Monkees is full of a lot of whacky antics. While it has nostalgic appeal and some sly humor that can still make it fun for adults (it’s a great pick-me-up show for me,) it’s a kids’ show at heart. As the group goes on all manner of wild adventures and gets themselves into the most outrageous scrapes, there’s plenty of entertainment to be mined from Micky’s frenetic mugging, Davy’s outsized lovesick mooning, and Peter’s lovable-dimwit shtick.
And then there’s Mike. If the group has a leader, it’s probably him, and he frequently cuts a more calming figure amid the larger-than-life romps around him. His voice is quieter than that of his friends, but not in a way that makes him fade into the background. Instead, it’s a steadier presence, often emerging as the voice of reason and with a humor that’s a little more grounded.
Not that Mike never gets silly, because of course he does. When a con man scams him with phony promises of runaway music successes, he excitedly runs to a phone booth to share the news with everyone from Micky to a guy he met on a bus five years ago. He can do an over-the-top double-take scare with the best of them, and his brief turn as a loudmouth fairy tale princess isn’t easily forgotten. But he’s also the guy with the deadpan reactions or the knowing wink to the camera. One of my favorite Mike moments on the show comes when he gets his revenge on a purported supercomputer that flustered Peter out of a job: he walks in prepared and immediately turns the tables on the computer, getting the jump on its rapid-fire questions and soon overloading it as it struggles to keep up with him.
Mike’s penchant for stillness within the chaos also lends itself well to some of the show’s more heartfelt moments. I really enjoy him in the episode where a bustling mother-hen type takes over the Monkees’ beach house, especially the scene where she gets him to open up about some of the harder aspects of growing up poor in a large family. And of course, we can’t have a discussion of Mike without bringing up his lovely speech in Peter’s defense from “The Devil and Peter Tork,” which culminates in this wonderful sentiment: “And if you love music, then you can play music. And all it takes is just love, because eh, because baby, in the final analysis, love is power. That’s where the power’s at!”
So here’s to the Monkee who sometimes gave a good-natured, long-suffering sigh to his friends’ antics but looked after them all the same. The one who carried himself with a calm, easy cool but didn’t take himself too seriously and could be every bit as goofy as he needed to be. The one who often looked introspective during the musical numbers, like he was scarcely aware of the cameras and was just letting himself get lost in the song. I’m glad I had the chance to see the see the real Mike onstage with Micky Dolenz in his final years, but I’ll always be grateful for this preserved image of the young TV Mike, making kids happy every week alongside his friends.
