The Life and Career of Michael Nesmith—Singer, Songwriter, and Monkee

With today's death of Michael Nesmith, 78, only one Monkee remains—Micky Dolenz, to sing the songs and carry on the legend of the supergroup, as he remembers it. [Photo credit: Billboard Magazine, 1967 trade ad, in public domain via Wikipedia.]

Of course, if there were four Monkees, you can count on there being four stories (and more) of how this one-time legendary supergroup came together to entertain teenagers and the adults they morphed into for over 50 years in multiple variations of the core four band.

The “boys” that Screen Gems productions advertised for with a simple casting call produced an iconic pop rock group from four complete strangers who came together, some who knew how to play their instruments and sing fairly well, and others who needed some fine tuning to be solo artists. Together they were magic. [Photo credit: Billboard magazine, May 1967, public domain.]

The four guys who made fame and fortune at the guidance of music producer Don Kirshner were indeed The Monkees: Micky Dolenz, Michael Nesmith, Peter Tork, and British actor/singer Davy Jones. As writer Rich Podolsky shares in his book “Don Kirshner: The Man with the Golden Ear,” Kirshner “selected and executive-produced all of their songs.” Of the four, Mike Nesmith was the most business-minded. A native Texan, he was born in Houston and was raised in Dallas for most of his life. Legend was that his mother had been a brilliant creative who invented Liquid Paper (a godsend to anyone with an clerical job) and so he was exposed a normal business life at home during early influential years.

Nesmith’s business inclinations almost destroyed the group as soon as it had skyrocketed to national prominence. Behind the scenes, most TV audiences were not going to see the group in concert for a while. They had recorded their songs under Kirshner’s team including Snuff Garrett and per Podolsky, “Garrett found the foursome so difficult that after just one session he quit and flew to his mother’s home in Texas.” Keep in mind that Snuff Garrett was one of the most brilliant successful calm figures in the music business….he’d already had 24 Top 10 songs to his credit.

Jeff Barry was next on deck as producer—he found them entirely disagreeable to work with too. No one was paying any attention to this among their fan base because copies of “16 Magazine,” “Tiger Beat,” and “Teen Beat” had 50 pages devoted to “Which color does Micky like best?” and “What’s an ideal date with Mike Nesmith like? And few fans cared that recording sessions for Monkees’ records were closed to the public and window shades kept down purposefully so you couldn’t see the legion of studio music professionals playing on the tracks.

Yes, you’re hearing them sing on the albums (in many places), but even the first Monkee albums were enhanced by the additional of professional studio vocalists who could manage to sing “just like” The Monkees should be singing on the tracks. Yes, you are hearing Micky and Davy in many lines but the harmony blends on choruses were impacted for the better. Many fans become infuriated to consider this proven fact but the point was you enjoyed the albums and the music.

It’s just what they did with many groups back then—Gary Puckett’s “Union Gap,” Paul Revere & the Raiders (except Mark Lindsey), the entire Partridge Family (until they found out David Cassidy could sing), and Gary Lewis’s “Playboys” were all studio singers plus the headliners’ voices.

But the four fiery personalities, led most vocally by Mike Nesmith, were not satisfied with that arrangement. Don Kirshner for his part, offered them a major royalty check to make up for it, but the guys weren’t having it. Podolsky noted, “Nesmith said they wanted to play their own instruments and pick their own songs.” Execs reminded them to “read their contracts,” and Mike Nesmith “punched a hole in the wall,” as Podolsky wrote.

Meanwhile, America tuned in to NBC for their TV show, they lined up to buy 45s and 33s with The Monkees’ photos all over them, and the band caused collateral damage such that Don Kirshner was fired—after they’d had three million-selling singles and two 3-million selling albums each. That’s not the thank-you one would presume to receive—egos, pride, and attitude in the 1960s, having risen from total obscurity to national prominence.

Smartly, Mike Nesmith had taken the initiative and made sure his own compositions were the ‘B’ side of the hit records all over the radio. Rolling Stone reminds us that four of Mike’s compositions included “Mary, Mary,” “Circle Sky,” “Listen to the Band,” and “The Girl I Knew Somewhere,” all but one considered deep tracks except for the most devoted Monkee fans, who know the words to every song.

Devoted Buckinghams' fans also know that The Buckinghams knocked The Monkees off the number one spot on Billboard's charts where they'd been with "I'm a Believer" when their song, "Kind of a Drag" reached the top spot.

Nesmith worked steadily in the music business after The Monkees. Back in the early 1970s, Carl Giammarese remembers the days when he and Dennis Tufano (as the duo Tufano & Giammarese) opened for Mike Nesmith at a Chicago club called Orphans, located at 2462 N. Lincoln. Orphan’s was a premiere folk club for over 20 years. Giammarese remembers Nesmith as being a sort of cerebral, seriously focused guy, which tracks with his career longevity and success, always concentrating on the music. [Photo credit for Orphan's building: dnainfo.com]

The four musicians were far from a band of brothers, united only when fighting the corporate structure. Reunion tours would show that Mike Nesmith was the only one who never cared to tour with Micky, Davy, and Peter. In 1986, David Fishoff created The Monkees’ 20th anniversary tour, adding Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Herman’s Hermits, and The Grass Roots, and quoting the LA Times’ review, played “to a crowd of more than 11,000 screaming fans that spanned two generations.” Still, no Nesmith.

However, for a concert on September 7, 1986, Nesmith joined the others at The Greek Theatre:

From May 12, 2011 to July 23, 2011, the 45th Anniversary tour included Dolenz, Tork, and Jones. Forty-six successful shows spanned Europe and North America; talk about staying power. [Photo source: Ticket Sarasota.] Meanwhile Mike Nesmith collected more royalties than the others, whether he was on the road or not. It is why indie artists have learned to own their own publishing rights these days. They learned from those who came before them.

And, it was possibly the final concert appearance for Davy Jones in the 2012 Concerts at Sea Cruise, on board with The Buckinghams, Paul Revere & the Raiders, and Charlie Thomas’ Coasters. During the show I attended, Davy said boldly, yet wistfully, as he sang “Mary, Mary” that it was a song written by Mike Nesmith, the “smart one of us” in the group. Jones passed away unexpectedly the next month.

It could be that Nesmith just preferred not being where Davy Jones was, because he agreed to tour almost immediately after, with Micky Dolenz and Peter Tork.

Nesmith may not be the originator of music videos or MTV, but he was certainly among the pioneers of the genre. The Monkees TV shows were inspirational for that, kooky antics while performing hits, but in 1977, a video called “Rio,” Nesmith’s solo album furnished his label’s request for “a nice promotional clip of Nesmith singing along to the music.”

In 2018, Nesmith (note billing) and Dolenz toured “as the Mike & Micky Show). Peter Tork died in 2019. Mike Nesmith never stopped working.

Four years ago, “he created the music video for Cruisin’ as part of the (1981) Grammy Award winning (for video) “Elephant Parts.” There are over 10,800 subscribers to Michael Nesmith’s Videoranch on YouTube.

Again, he may in some places be credited for an originator of MTV, several people seized early opportunities to put music and film together to promote record sales (today called digital downloads). A story worth reading is in Sean O’Neal’s article in Texas Monthly: “On MTV’s Fortieth Anniversary, Don’t Forget to Thank Michael Nesmith.” [Photo credit: Texas Monthly.]

A final musical legacy that Mike Nesmith leaves include son Christian Nesmith and his wife and music partner, Circe Link. A fun video of two Nesmiths and a Link is here:

Son Jonathan Nesmith is both musician and artist. Check out his Facebook page here.

However you perceive Mike Nesmith, for the majority of Baby Boomers, only wistful memories of our youth continue to flash by as brightly as a neon sign burning a hole through the night. Rather than any Monkees’ songs, a personal favorite of Nesmith’s compositions was one he wrote in 1964, “A Different Drum,” as recorded by the inimitable Linda Ronstadt. And to the one who remains, Micky Dolenz, thanks for keeping the music going as long as you have thus far.

Grateful: Memories of Music, Football, Basketball, and Friends, Neighbors

Thanksgiving 2021—Last night as I went to sleep I wanted to write something to remember this Thanksgiving by…I fell asleep amidst of sea of memories of present-day loving friends and neighbors as well as those from my earliest childhood…the flood of smiles as I recalled the scenes in my mind gave me restful slumber, until my alarm went off at far-too-early o’clock today.

I’d probably spend the entire day compiling the full list of happy times but I’ll remind myself that dear friends tease the length of my memories, as I remind them I type quickly, but I get their drift. [Left: Two of my 'boys' who are now grown men.]

I grew up on an “almost” cul se sac in San Antonio, except that it had no circular ending with houses in a horseshoe at the end. It was likely more accurately known as a Dead End street, Dawnview Lane. There were five consecutive streets that dead-ended into a sea of barbed wire fence parallel to our solid chain-link fences creating the barrier between our homes and the cattle and horse or two that were our nearest neighbors on the other side of us. It was the best of country living in the midst of suburban San Antonio and I thought everyone had that scene at there homes, for a while at least.

Country living and country music, though, were two different things. I was, without a doubt, born to live and love for rock music, first the fun pop rock and later, with an appreciation for more intense music. An early concert at the Municipal Auditorium introduced me to what would become “package shows” where 10 different stars of the music on the radio traveled together across the country performing their current radio hits for the “kids” assembled in the audiences, generally for the low ticket price of $3.00 per person.

My first concert was the tour of the Grand Ol’ Opry at which I saw (and got to meet) Skeeter Davis, and that’s a story of its own for another day. It made my entire childhood to do that and I remember how she told me she was really ‘ok’ when she sang “The End of the World” and for me to remember her smiling as she sang it. You’d had to have known my mother for how that came about, but then that was just Mama being a Mama.

Not all of country music appealed to me, but some of it took hold. My ears were fixed on KTSA and KONO with DJs “Cousin Brucie” and “Howard Edwards” introduced me to the latest songs on the pop charts, but I also loved Easy Listening and KITE radio (the AM sister station to the future rock station KEXL on Doubleday Broadcasting) too. For the record “My” Cousin Brucie wasn’t the one of New York fame, Bruce Morrow; it was Bruce Hathaway…there was also Captain K, Sheldon Kosharek, the helicopter pilot who flew the KTSA safety bird.

A U.S. Marines Toys for Tots concert would be another trip to the Municipal Auditorium and on that package show were The Buckinghams, Your entrance fee was a new toy for children as the U.S. Marines took care of the entertainment fee for you.

San Antonio’s own Sunny & the Sunliners,

Archie Bell and the Drells (from Houston, Texas, who dance just as good as they walk!)

and many more.

Even though I was usually listening to Howard Edwards on KONO (dial 86, 86, 86) (“Hey, how you, fair dinkum?”) and then you’d hear the drag races being advertised on KTSA coming up, “Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!” you’d just start assimilating the little jingles of the station IDs in your head as part of the songs you loved because they were being brought to you by the DJs (so you thought before you ever knew about A&R guys, promo men, and other unseen forces who helped radio programming along back in the day).

All these memories bring me to my final topic of the morning: football. In just the last year or two, it seems some people have come to discover that deep within the heart of this music lover lies the heart of an abiding sports junkie. On the dead-end street I grew up, all my neighbors had sons except for one, and she was a mean girl.

I remember on Saturday mornings we would all ride bikes or just play in the front yards of our homes until noon, where everyone went in for lunch. When I would come out after lunch, the guys were all gone and stayed that way until after church the next day. I couldn’t figure out where they all went. This went on for about three weeks, until I asked Douglas (one of my five neighbor guys) where they all went to on Saturdays. “We watch football,” he said. “What’s that?” I asked. He explained it was what guys enjoyed doing on Saturdays and Sundays. “Oh,” I answered. “Will you teach me how to watch it?”

He said, “I don’t know much yet, I’m still learning, but my Dad can help us!” So the next day after church, Mom and I were invited and went to their house. The two Moms visited while I was a willing pupil with the boys (Jefferson, Douglas, and Andrew, all named for American leaders) and their dad, Ray. He was a wonderful teacher. It started to make sense. I liked music more but the game was starting to take shape for me and I learned enough watch a few weeks in to understand who the best players were on some teams.

Then the house across the street from me sold, and Susan and Stacy were the two daughters who moved in, and I lost touch with football for a while. They were sweet and fun to play with and we usually played "school." Eventually they moved, and a young Army widow with four daughters moved in, ages 5 to 18, and they were great to play with, too.

My bff Ronnie would ride his bike over from 5 streets away and he taught me how neighbors could fix things around the house. There was always some little thing that needed doing at my house and Ronnie set about early to showing me how easily it could be done (it was when he did it. I was encouraged by his example.) When he got a Mini-bike to ride over on, my rules were that I could ride on it only in the driveway and not the streets.

I followed my rules and he patiently drove me up and down that driveway, then there was a go-cart he had (same rules), and back then the driveways were actually long enough to enjoy the ride. Then Ronnie grew up and played drums professionally in addition to all the other jobs he had; hardest working guy I've ever known! Eventually we all grow up and move away somewhere.

Flash forward to my discovery of professional basketball and professional bowling on TV! I fell in love with basketball because it moved so fast, and the players jumped so high in the air they were like acrobats. And there was nothing more satisfying to watch than a good slam dunk.

I loved the voice of Chris Schenkel as he built suspense for various tournaments. It was all about the voice…and then there was professional golf…and the voice of Jim Nantz. Oh, heavenly days, Jim could read the phone book and I’d want to buy a copy. By Sunday afternoons, I discovered the NFL on CBS and immediately I loved the backstories of players and their pathways to professional football. The Cowboys and Coach Tom Landry became my benchmark to how a professional football team should comport themselves during and after the games. Things have changed “slightly” since those days.

But the good news is those grand old days of the NFL on CBS have been beautifully and carefully preserved by my friend, Rich Podolsky, in his new book, “You Are Looking Live!: How the NFL Today Revolutionized Sports Broadcasting.” This book is exciting, insightful and a perfect behind-the-scenes look at how this groundbreaking show began and transformed through the years.

These days my neighbors are still among the things in life I’m most grateful for. Some live on the same block as I do. Others live just a “few” blocks or states away, but thanks to Facetime, Skype, and other means, we are all “together.”

My 9-yr-old pal Facetimed me two days ago of his own accord. He said, “It’s been too long since we last talked. How are you doing?” I love that boy. And his little brother and his little sister. We discussed important topics (basketball, of course) like the Golden State Warriors. For a 9-yr-old, I’ll bet you’re thinking that he’s all about “I like the so-and-so team because they have a cool mascot.” Nuh-uh. Forget it.

We discussed upcoming team acquisitions and possible trades during and after the season and why he thought ‘x’ was a good decision and why ‘y’ was a useless trade to make because he mostly rode the bench and wasn’t much of a team player. It’s just one reason I love him, we have such intelligent conversations, but I’m the one learning from him. He’s picked up my vast years of knowledge by absorbing ESPN One-on-One documentaries and YouTube videos. And he has been known to correct me (politely) when I’m wrong. He and his little brother and youngest sister are a joy to watch grow up and they bring me love, hugs, and joy.

These days, I have “holiday” cherubs who are special to my heart from two families, older and younger. My older boys came from when I moved in on this block and they were all under the age of 5 and their older sister had started school. Watching them grow up and seeing them at the holidays playing in the yard or showing up at my front door in some new cool Halloween costume (with their friends).

I loved watching them grow up. Today they tower over me, but they’re still “my guys” of whom I’m incredibly proud. Older brother is in Colorado, and next brother just completed his tour of duty in the Navy and next brother is a semester away from his degree in HVAC and welding certifications.

My newest “neighbors” are precious, three in elementary school and one in pre-K (going on 22!), and I’m having fun all over again watching them grow and learn and love each other. I think I’ve found the Fountain of Youth again. Watching the children all get along so beautifully fills me with joy and happiness that is unparalleled.

Of all the things I give thanks for this year, wonderful colleagues at work locally and around the country by e-mail, dear friends around the country who are as close as AT&T and Skype bring us, neighbors whom I adore, and the chance to see happy families grow up loving God and loving life…my cup runneth over.

And now, it's time for the Cowboys to beat the Las Vegas Raiders. I have plenty of work to do while it plays in the background...I'm thankful for Jim Nantz broadcasting today and for Tony Romo telling me what the QB is thinking he'll do next. Some things never change! Happy Thanksgiving to all of you and may you have a day to remember forever, over and over again.

Is That Kevin Bacon Six Degrees of Separation for Real? You Tell Me!

Over the weekend, I was thinking about the movie “Footloose,” and all the fun dancing in the movie. I wasn’t quite up to watching the entire movie though, as enduring the period of time between the “adults” fearing pop music and learning to tolerate it is something I just don’t have patience with, not even fast-forwarding through. So, what else to watch?

Of course, during my in-home entertainment programming I’d long ago grown tired of the usual fare on TV. I mean, when the day comes when I won’t even dial up the Hallmark Channel, you know I’m maxxed out on predictable plots, gentle, sweet and kind dialogue, and scenic vistas I have no hope of seeing at least for the foreseeable future.

Fortunately, I went searching for something that would bring a smile and I found two delightful series not on my television but on my computer, streaming their little hearts out. I also discovered several movie titles that had never arrived in my Mayberry metroplex, many of them for the delightful price of FREE, thanks to Amazon Prime.

In my search I encountered an amazing film entitled, “The Last Word,” starring Shirley Maclaine, Amanda Seyfried, Thomas Sadoski, and Tom Everett Scott. It had been out four years without my ever hearing of it, but because I write formal life tributes and memoirs among other projects, I read the plot and just had to rent it ($3.99, very reasonable).

The quick synopsis is that Shirley Maclaine is an older businesswoman who is preparing for the time when she would pass away, having had a few doctors’ appointments and taking natural next steps. She reads regularly the obituaries in her local paper of those she knew through the community and work and begins to blow a gasket as she calls them many names, most important of all—inauthentic.

She takes it upon herself to visit the local paper, introduces herself to the obituary editor, a young woman played by Seyfried, and proceeds to inform her that she got it all wrong about the people she had memorialized, breaking down their faults point for point. Yet, she wants Seyfried to write her obit, now, so she has a chance to review and improve it. The dialogue is hysterical and Maclaine is her best self in the role.

Plot twist number one is when Seyfried interviews several people in town whom Maclaine has recommended would be helpful. Turns out their opinions of her were not as high as she’d expected. Not to ruin the delightful plot, just take my advice, if you’re bored and need a lift, rent or buy the movie, despite what you think the subject matter is. You’ll give lots of things in your life a closer look, and that’s important as well.

After I’d watched the movie, I’d discovered an Easter egg in there that related to The Buckinghams. I was intrigued and started digging around to see if I could discover how that happened. The proverbial “Easter egg” is a “hidden detail left in the film” to be discovered by sharp viewers to discover and be pleased. The Buckinghams’ egg was delightful to me.

Searching the IMDB listing for the movie, I stared and stared until I figured it out. Let’s just say that I discovered a direct connection between someone with a Bacon number of 2 to The Buckinghams, with a Bacon number of 5, or one of the Buckinghams with a Bacon number of 6.

Taking out one of my favorite note cards I started sketching until I found the path between The Buckinghams and Kevin Bacon. I posted it about it in another blog, and if you’d like to read it, click here.

But then I started thinking, surely there had to be other pathways to Kevin Bacon…maybe even with me. Traditionally, the ‘real’ Bacon game relies upon “movies” that Kevin has been in and films that the others in the degrees of separation are in. Having been in videos rather than feature films, I’d be out of luck, so I decided to relax the conditions a bit and let my mind wander. Sometimes this is good.

Didn’t take long to amend the drawing I’d constructed for The Buckinghams and craft one of my own. I don’t have the same connectivity to Kevin the way they do, but I still managed to come up with one. Okay, so it’s what you do when you have nothing in your Suddenlink TIVO queue saved up to watch except "JAG" and "Magnum, PI" reruns and you’re tired of crimefighting.

The drawing, for what it’s worth, follows here.

So, what is my Bacon number, exactly? Say I am Bacon number 6, who works for The Buckinghams (Bacon number 5), and they connect with “Sweet Charity,” the 1968 stage production in Kansas City, MO (Bacon number 4), who then is identified most often with Shirley Maclaine (Bacon number 3), who was in the film “The Last Word” with Amanda Seyfried (Bacon number 2), who was in the film “You Should Have Left” with Kevin Bacon (Bacon number 1). That works. Sort of. No, they’re not all films as the real parlor game uses, but let’s face it, we’re on the fringe of logic anyway and it’s just a game.

What is really the path I thought of, separate of going left on the chart, is to actually look at the fact that we all know my #1 favorite series is (say it with me) “NCIS” (the original, no duplications please). Then, my #2 favorite series was “The West Wing” so let’s call Me (DLW, Bacon number 6), and “The West Wing” (Bacon number 5), and it was of course written by Aaron Sorkin (Bacon number 4) for at least the first four years. Sorkin also created the show, “The Newsroom” (HBO) which launched the national career of Thomas Sadoski (Bacon number 3), actor and Tony nominee, who hails from College Station, Texas.

Now, Sadoski was both in the film “The Last Word” and is married to Amanda Seyfried (Bacon number 2), who in 2020 starred in “You Should Have Left,” with….Number 1 himself, Kevin Bacon. Mission accomplished.

But there were even more paths to Kevin that would not have taken as long. First, if memory serves, as a young man, Thomas studied with and was a part of M.A. Sterling’s Brazos Valley Troupe. Boom. DLW to MAS to TS to AS to KB in just 5 connections.

Or, let’s try this. As a maturing young adult Thomas acted (stole the stage) in Theatre Company productions where he was known to at least 5 people who I can click on my Facebook page as my pals. Boom. So DLW to any Theatre Company person to TS to AS to Kevin Bacon and that’s just 4 connections. I am certain this is not how the game was meant to be played but don’t stop me when I’m on a sleep-deprived roll, right?

Now to the point of my mission wondering about Kevin Bacon…what was I thinking about him for and how was I trying to figure out ways to reach out to him? Oh yes, I remember it now…I just wanted to ask him if he wouldn’t develop and produce the new feature film “Footloose for Seniors—How to Enjoy Your Old Age at Shady Pines.” I think it would be a winner.

After all, Diane Keaton had a hit in “Poms,” and Ann-Margret and Ellyn Burstyn had a hit with “Queen Bees.” Both were set in sunny, scenic, senior vistas. Well, I’m just thinking a remake of “Footloose--Silver Sneakers” would make a fortune for Kevin, and keep the rest of us limber in our golden years, whenever they might arrive. That’s the trick to staying young, you know…just keep dancing!

Dare you to try and get this song out of your head today! Maybe it’s not such a bad thing. If it makes you smile, just go for it! Cut Footloose, and oh, message to Kevin, “Call me. I'm here all week!”

Jerry Elarde — Chicago Musician Releases New Music 55 Years After Last Release

L to R: Carl Giammarese, Jerry Elarde, Nick Fortuna, and Curtis Bachman.

In 1963 in Chicago, a band was formed. Yes, yet another group of teenage boys assembled in hopes of creating a sound that would remind teenage girls of the hits of the day across Chicago radio. They'd recognize and appreciate those songs these bands recreated when performed at weekend sock hops and teen dances held at some of the busiest venues in town, such as Dan Belloc's Holiday Ballroom, the Aragon Ballroom, the Embassy Ballroom, or Dex Card's Wild Goose to name a few. At the time virtually every teenage guy who’d heard The Beatles on the radio had joined or formed a band. Most of the bands were headquartered in someone’s garage, or more likely their basements, safely nestled away in their obscurity. Others, but only a select few, made it out of the basement and into paying gigs where they began to draw a reputation and a following.

This time in Morton Grove, one group that was founded named themselves "The Kingsmen." This band was the inspiration of Gerald (Jerry) Elarde, drummer and a vocalist who was a student at Niles West High School. Jerry invited his cousin, Carl Giammarese, to join a band he was putting together.

Jerry Elarde, back row, 4th from left.

Carl readily accepted, as he'd been playing guitar since age 15. Elarde invited two of his Niles West schoolmates to join in: Nick Fortuna and Curtis Bachman, both of whom lived in Morton Grove. Carl, Nick and Curtis were (wait for it) guitarists, and Curtis was willing to play the bass. These personnel would come into and out of each other's lives several times in the ensuing decade; this was just the first of many musical groupings.

Curtis was fascinated by multiple instruments, including the drums. As a younger musician he recalled going over to Morton Grove neighbor Tom Radtke's house and watching him practice on his drum kit, since Curtis didn't own drums. Eventually Radtke (who grew up to be a first-call drummer in Chicago as an older teen and adult) needed a new kit for a new gig he'd signed up for, so Curtis bought Radtke's old Pearl white finish kit for $100 and then refinished them to a sky blue. Before Jerry had his first set of drums, he would then go over and play on Curtis's drum kit. Eventually, Jerry got his own drum kit. Interestingly, all three drummers would become music professionals for their primary careers.

Elarde’s home was one of the early rehearsal sites, but they also shared rehearsal time at Bachman's home, as their parents could only handle “practice” for just so long before the cover songs of early British invasion music and numerous other song styles made their way upstairs into the family home. Giammarese said, "In our earliest days, we had Jerry playing the drums and singing and then Nick, Curtis and I were all on guitars, our little Silvertone models, and we played through one amplifier! It sounded awful!" But such are the commonalities of the early beginnings of bands. From awful to well-known to beloved to superstars--there are many levels you can achieve, with practice.

The Centuries (as the quickly renamed band became better known to the public) got fairly well known in neighborhoods, especially in Morton Grove, where just Jerry's relatives alone in attendance could create the perfect large crowd! They got better and their band came to the attention of longtime icon of Chicago’s radio stations, pitchman Carl Bonafede. Also known as the Screamin’ Wildman, Bonafede had name recognition across 50,000 Watts of wherever radio stations broadcast. He worked every weekend record hop at Dan Belloc’s Holiday Ballroom and was constantly listening to every group in town in search of new talent to record and bands to book. Stars were waiting to be born!

Bonafede was also notorious for his rapid-fire speech pattern that allowed him to cram three minutes’ of information into 60 seconds of radio advertising. Bonafede had business cards printed up noting he was the band’s manager, with his phone number for booking and the promise they were up and coming stars of rock and roll.

It's all about the promotion. See what Bonafede brought to promoting his groups?

They did a little traveling outside the neighborhoods, but realistically they were just another teenage band in Chicago. One day in 1964, Bonafede was in his station wagon, his band in tow, and they were speeding to a gig, with still a long way to go. A policeman spotted the “speedwagon” and pulled them over. The usual questions ensued.

“Officer, you’ve got to let us go. We’re late for a concert and my boys here have to get there in time. Teenagers are piled up over there waiting to hear them play,” said Bonafeded. The officer replied warily, “Who are they?” Bonafede said, “They’re the Kingsmen!” and the officer brightened up a bit and said, “The Kingsmen? “Louie Louis? That Kingsmen?”

Bonafede, ever one to take a mile if you give him an inch, said, “Absolutely! Yeah, these are’The Kingsmen’! Boys, sing him a little of your hit song!” To which, the “other” Kingsmen started singing “Louie, Louie, whoa whoa, we gotta go now, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!” The officer let Bonafede go without a ticket, and off they went, laughing and singing “Louie, Louie” the rest of the way to the gig.

Not long after that, Bonafede realized that he was lucky that the policeman didn’t know the real Kingsmen were from Portland, Oregon, and was grateful his group had changed their name to “The Centuries.” But when Carl Bonafede has his promo mind in full gear, you have to have a demand-driven adjective describing your band. He billed them, in all his advertising glory, as “The Fabulous Centuries!”

Bonafede got the guys into the Spectra Sound recording studio owned by Dan Belloc, to record two songs, both of which were written by Geoff (Jeff) Boyan. At the time Boyan was a popular songwriter who performed as part of the duo, Ron and Geoff as well as in other groups in Chicago. Boyan had a good handle on songs the crowds like to dance to at the ballrooms.

Years ago, Carl Giammarese told “Forgotten Hits” that the two songs “Yeh; It’s Alright” and “I Love You No More” were recorded in late 1964 at Lawrence and Western…I think it was the old St. Louis Insurance Building.”

Chicago music researcher Joseph Pytel, who maintains Carl Bonafede’s archives online, posted both songs on YouTube. Curtis Bachman has the lead on “I Love You No More”:

Hear Jerry Elarde sing lead on “Yeh; It’s Alright”, and to hear a young Carl Giammarese play a fiery guitar solo or two, check out these “Spectra-Sound Recording Stars”:

Because Carl Giammarese has been a lead vocalist since 1982, it’s easy to forget what an amazing guitarist he was at age 17. Fortunately, in this video you get to see some rare footage of the teenagers, including Jerry Elarde, the drumming vocalist, Carl, Nick, and Curt. Giammarese said, “I’ve always admired Jerry’s great singing voice, but it blows me away he could sing and never miss a beat on the drums at the same time.”

Life can change in the blink of an eye. Eventually Curt Bachman left The Centuries to join Jean Terry and the Tri-Dells for a few months. It was not at all uncommon for band members to come and go in various bands while people searched for sympatico sounds and personalities and found their groove together. But Curt was the only one playing the bass at the time, and it left the band without a key element.

At this point, Jon-Jon Poulos and Dennis Tufano would try to convince Carl to join the group then called The Pulsations, and that was one of the toughest choice Carl would ever have to make. It was anything but easy for him, but Jerry was gracious and understood and put love of family over personal feelings.

Later, The Pulsations needed a bass player so Carl, with the approval of Jon-Jon and Dennis Tufano, invited Curtis to join them, and he accepted. The new configuration sounded great and George LeGros sang primary lead vocals with Dennis Tufano on harmony. Curtis played with them for a while, especially through the first 3 weeks of their 13 weeks on the "All Time Hits" TV show.

Two more personnel changes would happen before the end of their TV residency: Curtis had a real affinity for a heavier sound and ultimately left them, and the continued TV audience recognition, to join another band, Truth, which had a slightly harder sound. So, with that vacancy at bass, ultimately, at Carl’s suggestion, The Pulsations invited Nick Fortuna to play bass (which Nick learned fast as he’d been playing rhythm guitar far longer) for the newly rechristened Buckinghams as they were now known. Nick had his first experience with the bass as he auditioned for and got the gig working for Chicago's well known act, Baby Huey (and the Babysitters). John Poulos was already the drummer and primary founder of The Pulsations.

Their manager was (wait for it) Carl Bonafede. And of course Bonafede billed them in promo pictures and posters as "The Fabulous Buckinghams -- Royalty in Rock and Roll."

Undaunted, Jerry formed several of his own combos and became a very well-known musician in upscale Chicago restaurants and venues. Everyone in Chicago enjoyed his music throughout his career. Coincidently, many years later, Jerry and Curtis would play together again at one of the lovely restaurants in Miami (FL)'s famed hotel, The Fontainebleau. Some things just come full circle.

Flash forward to many decades later. Recently, Carl invited Jerry over to his Twenty-four Seven recording studio and suggested they record some songs again, since Jerry still had such a great voice and Carl was experimenting with his new recording setup. Turns out that was a great idea. Carl really enjoyed producing the tracks and even sang harmony in sections.

Because Carl's fans have been enjoying new music that he's been writing and releasing throughout the COVID-19 quarantine at home, he decided longtime fans from back in the days of The Centuries forward would enjoy hearing these songs featuring Jerry. Naturally, these days the easiest delivery system is digital streaming.

L to R: Two cousins--Jerry Elarde, Carl Giammarese, and Curtis Bachman ca. 2019.

Carl said, "It's my pleasure to share two songs featuring Jerry Elarde, and they’re live across all streaming media now." Timing on this is fortunate, as Jerry is now making great progress from a recent slight health challenge. Both guys have discussed the possibility of recording more songs together later this year.

Check out Jerry's tunes on Spotify: “I’ll Still Be Loving You” here and “Unchained Melody” here. If you enjoy the songs, give them a “heart” and “Follow” Gerald Elarde as an artist to get notified when new songs are uploaded.

Lamenting the Loss of a Dear Friend I’d Never Met—Ana M. Lord (1948–2020)

In these days of working from home, powered by social media especially if you’re in the entertainment world, it’s easy to begin friendships over the Internet. Two people begin to correspond for business and learn from one another about a common interest. With time, you start to address one another as friends. Later, you’re good friends. And for some, you are eventually dear friends.

Ana M. Lord

On Tuesday, August 25th, I received an e-mail from a dear friend that our mutual Facebook friend via music, Ana Lord, had passed away. No cause of death was known nor any details. He’d actually learned from another member of his band about her passing. Grief washed over me inexplicably. She was gone…before I ever got to meet her. The friendship didn’t vanish just because we’d never met. It was just delayed and postponed until “some other time” in the future.

For a few minutes I sat in silence at my keyboard, blinking back some tears that wouldn’t come. Logic was too busy overriding my grief. Wait, there had been no storm in the Bahamas that few days prior—there were the days when our large music community began to reach out to her to make sure she updated us on the storm surges through the Bahamas that could ravage cities in the blink of an eye. She was gone. I really respected and admired her for so many reasons. And yet, I’d never met her in person.

Our friendship began nine years ago, in 2011, the year when the beloved famous horn band, The MOB, was to be inducted in the South Dakota Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. The MOB, to anyone from Chicago, is a beloved iconic band, precursor to the bands “youngsters” think of today as Chicago, Chase, and a few others. The MOB was horn driven, heavy into R&B, their own soul sounds, and some pretty damn snappy dance moves on stage for 11 or so guys to perform in unison while doing their thing. This genuine soul band had heart, soul, and a whole lotta love for music. Here's a brief video of the induction ceremony:

The MOB was led by consensus, better than most do today. Famous members of the band depended on what they were famous for. James Holvay and Gary Beisbier were famous for cowriting the earliest hits of The Buckinghams (Kind of a Drag–James; Don’t You Care, Hey Baby, They’re Playing our Song, and Susan—James and Gary). They had a way of writing and arranging songs for The MOB that created a singular sound dimension of joy when you heard them.

Jimmy Ford, trumpeter and band leader in his own right had been a major part of early Dick Clark “Caravan of Stars” players who toured with the music stars of the day. Larry McCabe’s trombone was unforgettable. Singing sensations “Big Al” Herrera and his brother Artie, originally from Waco, Texas, eventually affiliated with the band. Almost as soon as they’d joined, Artie entered the service, and Big Al took over lead song duties. Drummer Bobby Ruffino, keyboardist Tony Nedza, guitarist and singer Mike Sistak, and eventual bassist Albert Maligmat were all-stars in their own right on stage.

From 1966 until 1980, The MOB evolved, got better and better, released singles, signed recording contracts for albums and other standard band fare, and yet they were more famous long after they had disbanded than while they were together. Why? Because they were an unforgettable SHOW BAND that you could best appreciate by seeing in person to get that cool R&B vibe they were dishing out.

Ana Lord heard the group live in 1967 in Jacksonville, Florida for the first time. It would begin an entirely new chapter in her life that gave her great joy just to hear their music. I originally shared her story in 2011.

Make no mistake. Ana was no groupie or devotee who went everywhere the band did. At the time she was in San Antonio, she was an integral part of promotion in an advertising and marketing for a firm she helped start, Total Marketing Concepts. When there was a special event on the horizon, she tried to locate the group (before the Internet), all she found were dead ends. That would not be the end of the story though. Armed with one goal, trying to create a “one last time” reunion for The MOB would be a musical coup and something people would absolutely love. She was determined to make it happen and found a few ultra-talented music lovers who were like minded and a small group effort began to take flight. Music lovers all know that there are groups of people on the Internet who find ways to communicate mutual interests about music with each other.

In the early days of dial-up modems, there was a message board called Spectropop. Other Internet services had their own boards, plus the creation of Yahoo groups, and other collaborations, long before Facebook.

There are numerous chapters in the story of how Ana Lord, Alan Schrank, and Joseph Pytel researched and found their way to locate various band members. The ultimate product of all their hard work was the occasion of the South Dakota Rock and Roll Hall of Fame preparing to name a new class of honorees. Lord and Schrank wrote the proposal and in April 2011, James Holvay “got the band back together” or most of it, and there was an amazing night at the Ramkota Hotel Exhibit Hall that it rocked the living daylights out of South Dakota, powered by the brilliance of the newly rehearsed MOB, with a few new guest inductees playing instruments for those originals who couldn’t make it.

Here's "Who's Making Love (to Your Old Lady)" performed by James Holvay and Al Herrera.

The most ironic and sad thing is that Ana never got to attend that reunion. She had long relocated to Nassau, the Bahamas, where she proudly worked in ad sales for The Nassau Guardian, whose staff remembered her with great regard recently on her Facebook page, posting the first notice of her passing.

I never asked why she couldn’t go, but one can imagine travel and lodging costs—Bahamas to Sioux Falls, SD—for the weekend of unforgettable reunion music was prohibitive. She never let on how she felt, but at the time, I remember it crushed my heart not to have the extra funds to send her myself. Plus, you never know when someone simply cannot afford the time off from work due to deadlines, so you don’t say anything to anyone else. There are times you feel comfortable in offering to help. Other times, you sit quietly and just pray. The reunion event was spectacular, and yet Ana’s role in it was established among all who knew the behind-the-scenes machinations to make it happen. In her heart, though, she was content to know that she had played a vital role in bringing the group back together after 40 years.

Ana may have easily been overlooked if anyone in the crowd was looking for someone who might one day be a reason this band found a reason to come together after 40 years apart. The MOB had a legion of fans, from primary home base of Chicago, to Los Angeles, CA, where they had regular house band status at Barnaby’s and PJ’s, or to various casinos in Vegas where their late night shows just might have Elvis or Frank Sinatra in the crowd, after they’d finished their own shows and they were winding down.

South Dakota, meanwhile, boasted its own claim to being at least one more home base for The MOB, thanks to the iconic venue, The Mocamba Club. Famous for booking the best of the best before they were discovered nationally, this club was a frequent favorite for The MOB to play, and Sioux Falls rocked hard whenever they were in town.

What Ana didn’t really get to know or hear about was how each individual band member, original and guest for the evening, felt about that single event in their lives, the reunion, meant for them. Finally, at long last, they received more than a footnote, or a modicum of stingy recognition for their true role in taking their own original horn band sound out of Chicago and into the world. Recordings could not capture the crowd dynamics when they played as live albums were not all that common then.

On the plus side, Alan Schrank is a master photographer and graphic artist who took videos and still photographs enough to make you feel like you were there, even when you weren’t—the next best thing. He created a one-of-a-kind group of memories that are still fun to look through today and he readily shared his photos with me to publish in my online stories and blog. In the nine years that have passed since the April 2011 reunion and honor for The MOB, much has happened in all of our lives. James Holvay wrote new songs and was a major powerhouse part of a hit Los Angeles musical production, “Eastside Heartbeats,” and Gary Beisbier released a new album after many years away from the studios.

Other band members did interesting things as well, but for at least that one weekend in South Dakota, those band members were all 20 years old again, in matching suits, with carnations in their lapels and a genuine new lease on life in their hearts one more time when that first downbeat began. It was 1967 all over again, for all of us.

The MOB didn’t make any more public appearances together, but the guys stayed in better touch with each other and that alone was worth the outcome of a reunion. Finding your ”teenage” friends once again at a point in your life where you can take the time for one another is a rich blessing.

Meeting new friends was something that also resulted from the catalyst that Ana provided to reigniting the interest in the band and their music, all the way since the 1980s. She never gave up. She didn’t quit. She had many years of waiting in the interim. And, in the end, she never got to see the product of all her good works (together with the works of others) in person.

Many of my “friends through music” became Facebook friends with Ana—our neighborhood online music community had a subdivision of our very own, held together by those first music beginnings. It was just so easy to drop a note on Facebook and check in to one another’s lives, which felt as valid as having coffee with your next-door neighbor in person. Ana was blessed with two children, a daughter and a son, both of whom live in Florida. She was very proud of them. She was also devoted to her various wonderful doggies who had good lives with her for as long as they did.

Her life of late was simple. The Bahamas utility company didn’t seem to have their acts together. The Nassau Guardian paper where she worked in advertising was filled with many colleagues she enjoyed being associated with. She loved her dogs.

Ana was also a fan of The Buckinghams, another Chicago-based horn band that brought a more pop rock sound to fans who loved horn. On one of their previous years Concerts at Sea, the tour stopped at Nassau, The Bahamas, and Ana gave the band a lovely tour of the paper on their day off, hoping to introduce them to some entertainment producers in hopes of booking a Bahamas gig for them at some future point. Though the concert date never happened, it was a lovely day for friendships old and new to be renewed.

This journey of music, whether you’re the artist or the music lover, is a seemingly never-ending journey of joy…people appreciating the gifts and talents of musicians means a lot to the band members. Similarly, when you have time to spend a few moments in genuine conversation with those whose works you’ve admired a long time, it’s often a once-in-a-lifetime experience that stays with fans all of your life.

So many people at the beginning and end of their lives have only memories to remind them of where they’ve been, who they’ve seen, and how they’ve felt. Few have photos or albums left to leave to others as people are forever downsizing to relocate and reposition their lives. Sometimes the only pictures are in our heads, waiting to be summoned at the times that present themselves.

Sometimes, you get lucky and someone finds some lost tapes (that could mean reel-to-real, cassette, or maybe even 8-tracks), and shares them as in this case:

Hearing a familiar strain of music on a radio station or one you call for on Alexa, or one you hear playing on an old turntable in a seaside store brings back childhood, brings back love and joy, and brings back the best days of your lives, before adulthood came along and pushed everything else into the closet and locked the door.

Ana Lord came into the lives of many less than a decade ago. She brought with her an avid memory of the music of The MOB, shared her excitement and enthusiasm for their music, recruited many supporters and friends to join her in trying to “get the band back together just one more time,” and she did what she set out to do. And then, at the end, after she’d worked her magic kindness and spirit into many lives, she transitioned into the next life, most likely to continue her goodness and good works.

Although I didn’t get to say goodbye, to a good friend I had not yet met, I take consolation in knowing that time and distance separate many of us, but it’s the things that bring us together that remain most important. Ana Lord’s life and work live on beyond her days here on Earth. And as records and historical writings of the music of The MOB will go on, down the line, she will always be remembered with fondness for her contributions.

Her published obituary is here, if you wish to leave a message or note in her online guestbook.

So, I ask you to join me in raising your glass or coffee cup at whatever day and time you wish, and say a little prayer of thanks for Ana’s life. And let the great music play on…and on. Amen.

“Recording Academy” Overlooks Peter Tork’s Passing: They Missed the Boat Again

As one of probably thousands of media members on the distribution list for press releases for “all things Grammy,” my inbox has been waiting for about twelve hours now. I’ve been wondering whether “News from the Recording Academy” would land, to let me know what most of America already knows, that a Baby Boomer favorite musician, Peter Tork, passed away today at the age of 77. So far, I’ve received two communiques from that august body known simply as the “Recording Academy,” neither of which referenced Tork.

The first missive arrived at 5:02 CST, “Recording Academy™ Statement RE: Fred Foster. Everyone knows Fred, right? Fred was a good fellow alright, and he had a 60-year career as a “famed producer, songwriter, and music business executive” who is credited with the “...launch of many iconic artists into the spotlight, including Kris Kristofferson, Dolly Parton, and Roy Orbison.” The release continues: “Fred will be deeply missed by many, but remembered as a pioneer within our industry. Our thoughts are with his loved ones during this difficult time.” Signed by (good ol’) Neil Portnow, President/CEO Recording Academy.

My thoughts at 5:02pm ran something akin to “Hey Neil, Peter Tork died today. Anyone run down the hall to tell you?” I must confess I pictured the former head of Casablanca Records with a cartoon balloon over his head with the caption: “Unless someone brings me something to sign, I don’t have anything left to do today.” Again, I’m miffed, and my emotions could possibly be guiding my dispirited thoughts.

But wait, there’s more! At 6:18 pm CST, there was a new e-mail in my inbox from the “Recording Academy” alright, but this time it was a “Recording Academy™ Statement RE: Dominick Argento.”

Naturally, he’s an important figure in classical music with unquestioned contributions to the music industry—no disrespect there. However, I learned only today that “Dominick was a GRAMMY® and Pulitzer Prize-winning composer recognized for creating musical masterpieces inspired by the literary works of renowned writers such as Charles Dickens, Edgar Allen Poe, and Virginia Woolf…In 2003 he was honored with the Best Classical Contemporary Composition GRAMMY for ‘Argento: Casa Guidi at the 46th Annual GRAMMY Awards®.”

Here’s the thing. Fred Foster and Dominick Argento are most deserving of recognition and remembrance in their fields, unquestionably so. But the point is that Peter Tork also deserves a statement from the Recording Academy®.

To be sure, the individuals in the made-by-TV-for-Baby Boomers group, The Monkees, may arguably not top your list of favorite singers, musicians, and none of them were (at that point, save Mike Nesmith) considered composers, at least initially. They were actors who brought personalities on paper to real-life pop music fun, the remembrance of which has endured for six decades now. The popularity of The Monkees, however, and the death of Peter Tork has spread across social media today. The notice of his passing made a real impact. The Monkees’ vocals were unique at the least and considered the very best, especially if you were an impressionable teenage girl who read “Tiger Beat,” “16 Magazine” and similar publications among those that advertised Dippity Do, Noxema, and Breck and Prell shampoos. Let’s face it, in the summers of love that were the 1960s, the eyes heard what they wanted to hear.

The Monkees, created in the clever mind of Don Kirshner, were manufactured to meet the need that Kirshner was visionary enough to see—four “zany” guys who could capture the hearts of teenage girls sufficient for them to buy their albums. Estimates are that The Monkees sold over 75,000,000 records. Their first label, of course, was Colgems, because of Don Kirshner’s relationship as director of Screen Gems’ Music Division as he’d sold his Aldon Music to Screen Gems-Columbia Music. (Those interested in the definitive book on Don Kirshner should check out Rich Podolsky’s “The Man with the Golden Ear.”)

And, cards on the table, those in the know realize exactly who it was in the studios and on their instruments, and whose voices were augmented now and again, same as virtually 90% of every other 1960s pop band in the country—manufactured for consumption. Also, as virtually everyone knows, without The Wrecking Crew, virtually every single album pressed in California for at least a decade of pop-rock would not be the hitmakers they were for the performers whose photos were all over the album covers and teen magazines.

To be fair, the musicians portraying The Monkees on TV, without much time to learn their instruments and practice together certainly did a terrific job of coming together sufficiently to perform their hits for audiences’ delight and 100% satisfaction. You could estimate that millions of approving fans who respect and regard Peter Tork have seen him over the decades, whether in the first go-round of The Monkees, or his own band, Shoe Suede Blues, or since 2012, the various configurations of Dolenz-Nesmith-Tork as whomever could work their schedules around appearing together for tours of varying lengths. Micky Dolenz, of course, was a popular regular in the “Happy Together” reunion tours, currently enjoying their 10th anniversary season.

Those at the “Recording Academy” who overlook the contribution made by Peter Tork by not noting his passing today along with two others who died have missed the boat…again.

The most recent example of missing the boat before this was their failure to include the 2016 passing of songwriter/musician/recording artist, Rob Meurer in their 2017 ‘In Memoriam’ segment, in print and on the GRAMMY® telecast. It’s like the lyricist to cowrite nearly 50 songs with Christopher Cross wasn’t important enough. I’ve stated my opinion on that topic before. But here today, the “Recording Academy” has done it again. As we say in Texas, “Y’all goofed up.”

Anyone who’s slogged through the GRAMMY® telecast the past few years has been dragged through the sea of banality and boredom that comes with pyrotechnics, yelling, and a few performers pretending they deserve to be on stage, attempting to add to the case for why various musicians are deserving of adulation, even if they’re 100% autotune and Brylcreem. Your mileage may vary. Some acts (can’t bring myself to call them musicians) you simply cannot unsee.

One might argue that The Monkees were not (originally) accomplished musicians, though Peter Tork played keyboard, guitar and banjo, but very quickly they became a genuine musical group. Their music is still in demand in concert today. So are the performances of their contemporaries, the pop-rock veterans. For example, the latest Concerts at Sea cruise currently sailing has The Buckinghams, Paul Revere’s Raiders, Joey Molland’s Badfinger, 1910 Fruitgum Company, Gary Lewis and the Playboys, Peter Rivera (original singer/Rare Earth), and Danny & the Juniors.

Their genre is still wildly popular as the same group that includes The Monkees. The upcoming Flower Power Cruise is similarly packed with 60s acts who have lodged themselves well into the hearts and minds of Baby Boomers who can afford a week or two away from the office to have the opportunity to meet favorite musicians from their teenage years. It’s not just floating concerts—these artists still fill arenas, theatres, state fairs, and perform individually and in package shows.

Of Tork’s passing, fellow Monkee, Micky Dolenz (@TheMickyDolenz1), said, “There are no words right now…heart broken over the loss of my Monkee brother, Peter Tork.” Rolling Stone (@RollingStone) magazine tweeted Monkee Michael Nesmith’s words, ”I can only pray his songs reach the heights that can lift us and that our childhood lives forever—that special sparkle that was the Monkees.” Iconic songwriter Brian Wilson (@BrianWilsonLife) tweeted, “There are no words right now…heart broken over the loss of my Monkee brother, Peter Tork. #paperwork #Themonkees.”

Actor Mark Hamill (@HamillHimself) tweeted, “So sorry to hear we lost #PeterTork. The Monkees never got the respect they deserved. Their music catalogue remains one of the richest in Pop History. Thanks for being such a big part of my childhood & beyond, Pete. #RIPPeterTork”.

It would be my hope that, given the number of people who’ve posted their photos of, or with, Peter Tork on Facebook today, they’d all appreciate the “Recording Academy” doing the decent thing. Well, I guess, if Neil has a few spare minutes tomorrow, he can do the right thing. I'll be right here watching my inbox.

At 103 Years Old, Mildred Still Has Spirit Left to Give, Lessons to Teach

By the time the sun grew closer to dropping from the sky on Tuesday, I’d run out of excuses for not heading up to “The Manor,” as there was only one more hour of daylight on June 5th, the day that Mildred Kennedy turned 103. A hold-out from a return visit since Christmas, I had thought up fourteen good reasons to stay at home.

I truly wanted to avoid what could be the “final” visit to my dear spiritual mentor and delightful senior friend. But, odds were going against my hiding out, because today was filled with poignant, happy, funny memories and a supreme dose of guilt if I didn’t keep my promise to her. I longed for the days, just six years ago, Birthday 2012, when Bob and Kathy Richers and I had celebrated her special day with a beautiful meal featuring Bob and Mildred's favorite food ever--chocolate.

By 2014, her birthday celebrated at The Manor showed her coping, fairly well, with her new home base and because it was not her famous Apt. 10 in Bryan, you have to imagine that anywhere but there was not going to be entirely well received. But she eventually adjusted to it and became a trooper. Never once did I hear her say, "I want to go home" or "I don't like it here." The next picture is Birthday, 2014.

As I was running the roads of Texas with a dear friend Thursday morning, on a mission to collect a beloved toddler, I began talking about Mildred, recalling having been out of town several times on Mildred’s birthday in years past but still managing to get to her “in time.” Relating that for many years after my mother's passing, my friend Donna and I would call in from wherever we were with her family and friends, sometimes from a beachside balcony. I remembered the exchange used to go, “Is it still your birthday over there?” She’d respond, “It sure is!” and so we'd sing “Happy Birthday” to her, and she’d welcome our return in person whenever it was that we got there to book her for lunch. We made sure to make the call before 10 pm her time.

Another year my longtime friend from high school, Kathy, and I treated Mildred to see Wayne Newton in concert, one of her "things she'd always wanted to do." I rented a cushy-ride Cadillac from enterprise for "the girls," and I picked up Mildred, and her dear friend, Jane Lee, and we drove to San Antonio to meet up with Kathy. These two senior troopers (that would be Mildred and Jane, ha) navigated beautifully the path to the seating in the AT&T Center and they acted younger than Kathy and I did at the concert. Make all the jokes about Wayne Newton you want, the man puts on a show every time he goes on stage. And you can't say that about all entertainers.

Every year I realized that she had enough angels in her collection, but there always seemed to be just one more that might be a new one to bring her delight. Everyone knew she loved angel figurines, so a number of her friends had kept her collection vibrant over the past 40 years. In her best days, she loved the month of June because she said it was her “birthday month.” She had so many friends from her Sunday School class and church that they all got into an unspoken queue to book her throughout the month of June to take her to lunch or dinner. Every birthday event delighted her.

Last night when I walked up the hill to the building, entered and pushed the button on the elevator, I didn’t know what I’d find but I was sure it would be a less cognizant version of my buddy compared to December. That visit had brought the reality that she really didn’t know or could not recall who I was. I was prepared for that. My courage came from my promise I’d made to her that even if she could not remember who I was, I’d always come by and reintroduce myself to her if needed and that it would not bother me if she didn’t remember me. She said, “Do you promise?” and I said, “Yes.”

So, knowing I’d be journeying on a hot-as-heck afternoon to wish her “Happy Birthday,” fully understanding ahead of time that she would neither know me or appreciate the visit did not constitute the heart full of love that I believed I should have held going in. It was duty because I’d made a promise.

Last year on ‘the day’ I'd asked a dear friend, Betsy, to go with me as we journeyed up through the byzantine labyrinth to find sleeping beauty. Even though her eyes stayed closed most of the time, when we began singing to her, she did open her eyes, caught sight of Betsy, her beloved Bible Study friend, and she beamed. No words came forth from Mildred at that time, just loving looks and smiles. Betsy and I talked to her enthusiastically and she glanced over to me as if to thank me for bringing her her present--Betsy. I nodded knowingly and smiled some more.

Last night, dinner had been over, and everyone was back in their rooms. A dear staffer reminded me of which way her room was (I was used to going to the TV area or dining room) and as I walked in I heard a voice saying “hello?” “help!” but it wasn’t Mildred’s voice. I could see quickly that she was sleeping. The tri-divided semi-circular room accommodates three residents and the voice was coming from behind another light curtain.

I have to admit that at first my mind almost tuned out the plea for “Help” for a moment as I was so intently focused on Mildred that I only had energy enough to think about caring about/for her. My first thought the person on the other side of the curtain was having a bad dream.

I waited to hear it again, just it case it was a dream, the voice came again, “Anyone out there? I need help.” So immediately, I peered behind the curtain and said, “Can I get a nurse for you?” and she said, “No, I don’t need a nurse. I just need someone to help me get my call button. It’s dropped onto the floor.” That I knew I could handle, so I went over and retrieved it. The dear senior lady with no hair atop her head shined so radiantly and joyfully with the biggest smile as she said, clearly, “I cannot believe I’d let that drop. I've got it anchored now. Thank you so much.”

Embarrassed that I’d let 20 seconds go by before responding the first time, I said, “Thank you for letting me know you were in trouble.” She said, “You’re an angel.” And I said, “No ma’am, that title belongs to the lady who’s sleeping over there,” gesturing at a snoozing Mildred. She asked, You came to see Mildred?” and I said, “Yes, it’s her birthday today and she’s sleeping right now.” I smiled and gently made my way back to Mildred.

A fast glance around the room noted the 5x7 framed photo that I’d gifted Mildred with, holding the photo of Mildred and Hazle, the friend who dreamed up for months ahead of time what she would surprise Mildred with each year (a true soul sister of the heart).

A clear plastic container from “The Bakery” with a small round cake with pink icing on it, unopened, with an enclosed plastic fork, also unopened, were placed nearby on the small desktop near her bed, June 5, 2018. How time had flown.

Then I remembered June 5, 2012, when Mildred and our mutual friend, Myrl Sims, had joined me at the 2012 American Heart Gala, where The Buckinghams and Karan Chavis and her band were performing. I was delighted to introduce her to Carl, NIck and the rest of the band, and she loved seeing them perform.

My mind raced back to when for her 100th birthday, Kathy and Bob Richers and I had met up there and we had cupcakes for Mildred, her friends at the communal dining area, and for every staff member from every floor to come by and say hello and enjoy her day. My mind raced even further back in recalling how two of her co-celebrants had already gone to their heavenly reward, Ms. Katie Fazzino Viola (d. 7/12/17), and Sr. St. Anthony, whose last name I could not recall.

Interestingly, when I went online to the newspaper's site to search for Sr. St. Anthony, I ran the usual types of spelling search and Ms. Viola’s name had come up first. Stunned, I smiled and ran the search again, and found the name of Joann San Angelo, my mother’s best friend who had been our next-door neighbor for so many years. Another reason to smile…dear ladies who’d been members of St. Anthony’s Church and who, in their lifetimes, had spent countless hours supporting their church so lovingly and faithfully and both of whom spent their final days at The Manor.

Ms. Viola was special to me, even though she never knew my name, because through the years I’d visit Mildred and she would be there at the table, I watched her progress from going from a very restricted ability to communicate and eat her meals to one visit where we had a delightful brief communication (under Mildred’s watchful and slightly jealous eye) and I was so thrilled to see her doing so well.

Each visit of mine to Mildred usually coincided with the arrival of one of Miss Katie’s darling young family members to hug her, such as on this day, loving on her and talking to her as though she could talk back. What a thrill it was to see The Manor as a place where family members were flowing in and out for everyone there. And dear Norma Henry was such an anchor to our choir at First United Methodist Church, in addition to being a delightful, beautiful lady of her own accord. The light inside Norma's heart always shined through in any conversation with her. You can't always say that about everyone.

Another gentleman resident, too, had loving family there to hug and love him. He was often around the table when we would visit Mildred (Photos from her 100th birthday, June 5, 2015).

Sr. St. Anthony, while a resident, was really a minister of her own there, talking with everyone, maintaining a very strict discipline about making sure everyone felt as they belonged there. Even though confined to a wheelchair, her verbal skills and sharp mind made you believe she was standing right before you, smiling. I finally pulled up the right online tribute for Sr. St. Anthony Chrzanak, of the OSF, and I learned that (she’d passed away in her home on 4.27.18), she’d “ministered to patients, family members and physicians” of the CHI St. Joseph Health System.

BTW, OSF is The Sisters of the Third Order of St. Francis, of East Peoria, Illinois, who minister to and who used to own and operate the hospital formerly known as St. Joseph Hospital, before eight, perhaps, name and staff changes. (Many locals will recall how Sr. Gretchen Kunz was a dynamo.)

Thinking of dynamos brought me back to Mildred, and her faithful ministry to so many at First United Methodist Church of Bryan. This coming Sunday marks the celebration of the church’s 150th year in Bryan and she won’t be there. But her presence will be felt as her beloved daughter, Camille, sings in choir and her adored son-in-law, Travis, now sits in what is still Mildred’s pew seat, whether or not Mildred is there.

In my frequent writings about Mildred, their focus is generally on my personal relationship with her. Be assured, though, that Camille is the best daughter Mildred could ever ask for and Mildred would tell that to virtually everyone, except for Camille, and Travis devoted many hours to "Mother K" with a true servant's heart. They are very dear people to me, and it's because of them that I get to "share" Mildred's life and claim her as part of "my family, too."

Mildred served our church on virtually every level of Christian servitude, not in leadership roles all the time, or even much of the time, but in caring ministries, writing cards to those who were sick or homebound, keeping up with all her Sunday School class members, anchoring the church’s prayer chain, serving our church faithfully in all funeral services. Protocol means and meant everything to Mildred. And no outsider was coming into “her” church without her having a watchful eye on what was, and was not, moved around.

She was sought after to be a full- or part-time employee of almost every funeral home in town, but she turned them all down, cheerfully, as she said her work was for the Lord, serving her church. She “worked” so many funerals and I remember when she was there for my Mom’s funeral. She wrote me the most beautiful card afterwards and said it was an honor to serve at that one.

It wasn’t much later when she told me, in one of our long evening visits on her porch at Waldenbrooke, that when it was my time to get married she would be proud to sit “in place” for my mom in the family pew. And, when the time came for the unity candle to be lit, if that was part of the ceremony I’d be going through (as if I might have had a choice, haha), she would be happy to stand in for Mom and represent her.

For over a decade now I kept her offer close in my heart and cherished it; I used to tease her that the venue could include a change to Las Vegas so she’d better be prepared to pack a bag and the look on her face at her opinion of that idea was priceless. Oh, how I loved to tease her.

As I stood there by her bedside last night, I remembered to talk her as though she could hear me. I didn’t have a lot to say but I shared a few things I thought might be relevant, and I sang happy birthday to her “her way” with “Happy birthday, God bless you,” as the end phrase instead of “Dear Mildred” and felt proud that I hadn’t bungled the notes as my emotions were starting to overrule me. My eyes filled with tears and I was mad about being human and a wimpy one at that, but I couldn’t help but hear the oxygen concentrator making an all-too-familiar painful memory of a sound in the background and the acceptance that her periods of sleep would be longer now as 103 years finally started to appear to have been taking their toll on her strength.

As I prepared to leave, I stopped back by her roommate’s section and asked if she was okay, and she said, “Well, they put me to bed and forgot to get me any water, so would you mind asking someone to bring me water?” The floor had been pretty quiet but I promised to see what I could do. I was delighted to find a dear LVN not too far into my search and she said, “Absolutely, right away.” I dropped back by to tell her that her water was en route and she said, “Thank you so much, you’re an angel.” I reassured her that I was anything but that, and said, “Happy to help. You have a good evening.”

As an afterthought I went back into Mildred’s room one more time, why I could not begin to tell you. I had no memory of intention to do that, but as I did, I could see her right eyelid open just a tad beyond sleep state and her left one less so but still she was aware of my presence, even if she could not truly see it. I sort of wanted to tell her that I'd become a Certified Life Celebrant and was officiating funeral services (not exactly following in her footsteps but it was as close as I was going to get), just to see the look on her face, but because I knew that inherently she would neither know or understand, that one day very soon, she'd get the full story and have a better view of the situation. I'm not sure she'll approve even then, but she'd love me through it, either way.

So, I talked to her a little more, repeating some of what I’d said earlier, and then I decided to sing to her one more time. Why not? At 103, you deserve as many repeats of that song as you can have, right? To my shock, surprise and delight, by the time I got to the “God bless you” part of the chorus, she hummed the last two notes, ever so gently. She opened her mouth slightly and air pushed out, forming the notes. I assure you I was not hearing things. A smile appeared on her face and her eyes went back to her sleep state.

She’d done it again. She’d turned my reluctant, fearful visit into a joyous occasion by showing me, at 103, that she can still teach, she can still receive love and she can show love. You just have to tune in to catch it. I blew her a kiss, as I always did leaving her place at Waldenbrooke. She'd walk to her back porch window and watch me to my car to make sure I got there safely and then as I'd get in my car, I'd always look up and blow her kisses and she blew them back right to me. That's how we said goodbye each time and I can't drive down Memorial Drive without wanting to blow a kiss to someone who is not Mildred who now occupies her apartment.

I smiled as I left and walked effortlessly down the hall, having been pained as I was walking in. Exiting the building I was convinced that her days here on Earth remain few. Not because of anything specific, just the acceptance that given the circumstances and my experience in being with and around seniors being one of my most favorite pastimes, it’s an educated hunch.

Her final lesson to me was this: Don’t fear a point in life when there is nothing more you can do for someone. There’s always something you can do. Just be there. That’s it. God, or the spirit of goodness, or the goodness of the universe’s spirit, depending on your faith construct, will handle the rest. Just, if you can, be there. It’s the best thing you can do, to show love to another person. Love lives forever.

EPILOGUE

On Friday afternoon, June 8, my phone rang. It was Camille, Mildred's daughter, telling me that Mildred had lived to age 103 and one day. I asked, "You mean she passed away on Wednesday?" She continued, "It was at 1:10 pm." I'd hit "Publish" on my post just twelve minutes later that same day. I felt I would be updating my story soon, but it was a profound feeling to know she'd finished her story before I'd completed mine. I knew I would add one more photo to this story, and waited per Camille's wishes until Monday when her official notice would appear in the newspaper. It just went live online.

When I was getting ready to leave Mildred's apartment at Waldenbrooke several years ago, I was in the living room, heading for her front door, when I saw this image. I said, "Stay right there!" and she did. I've saved this one until it was the proper time. All is right with the world. Once again, Mildred has the last word.