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Peter Tork's round trip to stardom
Everybody connected with the Monkees except the Monkees kept making it
Peter Tork's ticket to stardom was definitely marked “round trip.” Eight years ago he would pass the hat around an old folk's club and hope that it would come back full. Most of the time it didn't, so to pay the rent his folks sent him a few bucks every month.
A few years ago money was the last thing on his mind: he was making hundreds of thousands of dollars and singing to millions, screaming millions.
Today he dreams of $60 days as a street singer in San Francisco’s Ghiradelli Square, but they never happen. So last month his mother paid his dental bill.
He spends most of his time now as one of over thirty choir members, who think of him as “Mr. Show Biz”... but he’s not. A few years ago he was one of four... and people thought he was dumb...but he wasn't.
Peter Tork started as a Greenwich Village folkee, became a Monkee and today can be seen, if you're lucky, singing for quarters" in Ghiradelli Square.
He was another Greenwich Village folkee in the days when there were a lot of Greenwich Village folkees. He worked there for three years singing and accompanying groups like the Phoenix Singers and he might still be back there today if it weren’t for Steven Stills. The producers of this T.V. show liked Steven Stills fine, his music and everything. Everything except his screen test. He wasn’t, in their words, photogenic enough. So they asked him if he knew anybody who was like him that photographed a little better. Steven Stills told them about this kid in the Village he knew who looked a little like him. Peter Tork. Peter Tork went down and got the part that Steve Stills almost had. Peter Tork became a Monkee.
Each Monkee was allowed to create his own image. Michael Nesmith’s was that of a wise old country boy. Davy's was cool, cute and English. Micky was crazy and wild. Peter was dumb. It was an image he carefully nurtured and developed on the Greenwich Village stage. He found it easy humor. And he used it. One step behind the others. Smiling through it all.
Peter drifts away amidst memories of those good times: “I was happy to be playing as a Monkee so I would allow myself to pretend that I was happy pretending I was playing.”
The Monkees could all play. Peter played 5-string banjo and guitar. Mike was doing a folk routine for 2 years on a Texas campus and had written songs like “Different Drum’’ before he was a Monkee. Davy was the artful Dodger in Oliver (which he just finished doing again ten years later). And Micky Dolenz, one time Circus Boy, was playing rhythm guitar and singing lead in a rock group called “The Missing Links.” So they could all play. But it turned out they had to pretend. And smile about it.
The first time they went to record they came to the studio with guitars in hand. Don Kirshner, executive producer on the recording side, came tapes in hand. The boys would sing. That was that. And for two albums that was all they did. Happily. After all, they weren’t passing the hat.
The Monkees TV Show was a huge success. The albums sold millions. And the world wanted their Monkees in the flesh. The boys had to play live. And play they did. Thirty cities in forty days. No crowd under 15,000 people. Every show a sell-out. Peter Tork feels the tour made them seasoned veterans. In Cleveland one of the Monkees saw the second album. They had to buy the album to know what was on it. Up to that point they had no say about anything. In Peter's words they were “living puppets.” Michael and Peter were pissed. Davy and Micky went along. They made a deal. Don Kirshner could record the “A” side of their next single. They would do the “B” side and everything thereafter. Don Kirshner would still produce and they would play. Don Kirshner said okay and then went ahead releasing a single in Canada in which he recorded the music on both sides before the Monkees hit the studios. Say goodbye to Don Kirshner.
The Monkees success continued. More albums. More personal appearances. More money. Peter put his hat away and bought a big house. Too big. Gave his money away to friends. Too much money. The Monkees were cancelled after their second season. They made a very ahead of its time, very hip, very unsuccessful movie Head that co-starred such diverse talent as Victor Mature, Carol Doda, Sonny Liston and Annette Funicello. They did a TV special that was held up so long that when NBC finally aired it, Monkeemania had long since passed. And then it was over. All over. Micky and Davy continued to record as the Monkees with no success. Michael fared little better as a solo on RCA. Peter formed a group “Peter Tork and/or Release," which went nowhere. The group disbanded. People forgot, and the years passed.
Everybody connected with the Monkees except the Monkees themselves kept making it in the entertainment industries. Fired Donny Kirshner produced “The Archies.” (Peter will tell you Don Kirshner wasn't going to take any more chances with people), and now produces In Concert for ABC and his own syndicated TV concert series. Bert Schneider and Bob Rafelson produced movies like Five Easy Pieces. Jack Nicholson who wrote the Monkee movie Head won the academy award. Paul Mazursky and Larry Tucker who worked on the show made Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice. Carole King, Neil Diamond, and Harry Nilsson who wrote songs for the Monkees have become superstars.
But Peter Tork didn't do much of anything. He'd given his money away to everyone but the government, so they got him for back taxes. Right now they get almost everything. Even as the Monkees’ re-runs are still on network TV and residuals still come in, they don’t come in for Peter Tork.
The government got him again, in January of 1972, on a drug charge and he spent three and a half months in jail. He was released May 11, beardless, short haired and with nothing to do except head back to Marin.
It could have ended with the open guitar case at Ghiradelli square. The memory of what was and what could have been. Peter’s eyes brighten as he talks of his return to Marin, they tell you his story's going to have a happy ending. And it does: the Fairfax Street Choir.
Back in Marin. Peter Tork began to hang out at the Sleeping Lady. (He works there as a waiter now). One night The Fairfax Street Choir was there. He was amazed, saw a home, and joined. He grins as he adds: “In some ways I was a cold, lonely hitchhiker being picked up by a warm school bus.”
That school bus consists of thirty or so people. Not just singers either. There’s a complete rhythm section, horns and dancers. Yes, dancers. A total communication operation. Only this one works. They do make fine music. It’s the kind of music that makes you feel good. If they ever play in town, see them and see if their new brand of old gospel doesn’t get you smiling before they’re three bars into the first number. They're infectious that way. It makes Peter Tork happy. He feels The Fairfax Street Choir is capable of shaking the world to its foundations. Tearing it up and taking the world by storm... if it wants to. Addressing himself to the “if it wants to”, Peter tries to whip the group into professional quality and some elements won't stand for his trying.
And Peter hasn't abandoned his solo career either. He tells you matter-of-factly he's got an album or two in him, and the way he says it, you believe him.
With no regrets about his years as a Monkee, Peter Tork has adjusted. He's happy. Content. And hopeful. For the Choir. And himself.
Talking to Peter Tork you know he'll be back. “I feel the next ride will be much more sedate and won't be quite as phenomenal... but you never can tell.”
Stay tuned. It looks like Peter Tork may be buying another ticket. One way this time.
(Reprinted from the Chicago Reader)
Here's something you might be interested in.
Peter Tork's round trip to stardom
Everybody connected with the Monkees except the Monkees kept making it
Peter Tork's round trip to stardom
Everybody connected with the Monkees except the Monkees kept making it
Peter Tork's ticket to stardom was definitely marked “round trip.” Eight years ago he would pass the hat around an old folk's club and hope that it would come back full. Most of the time it didn't, so to pay the rent his folks sent him a few bucks every month.
A few years ago money was the last thing on his mind: he was making hundreds of thousands of dollars and singing to millions, screaming millions.
Today he dreams of $60 days as a street singer in San Francisco’s Ghiradelli Square, but they never happen. So last month his mother paid his dental bill.
He spends most of his time now as one of over thirty choir members, who think of him as “Mr. Show Biz”... but he’s not. A few years ago he was one of four... and people thought he was dumb...but he wasn't.
Peter Tork started as a Greenwich Village folkee, became a Monkee and today can be seen, if you're lucky, singing for quarters" in Ghiradelli Square.
He was another Greenwich Village folkee in the days when there were a lot of Greenwich Village folkees. He worked there for three years singing and accompanying groups like the Phoenix Singers and he might still be back there today if it weren’t for Steven Stills. The producers of this T.V. show liked Steven Stills fine, his music and everything. Everything except his screen test. He wasn’t, in their words, photogenic enough. So they asked him if he knew anybody who was like him that photographed a little better. Steven Stills told them about this kid in the Village he knew who looked a little like him. Peter Tork. Peter Tork went down and got the part that Steve Stills almost had. Peter Tork became a Monkee.
Each Monkee was allowed to create his own image. Michael Nesmith’s was that of a wise old country boy. Davy's was cool, cute and English. Micky was crazy and wild. Peter was dumb. It was an image he carefully nurtured and developed on the Greenwich Village stage. He found it easy humor. And he used it. One step behind the others. Smiling through it all.
Peter drifts away amidst memories of those good times: “I was happy to be playing as a Monkee so I would allow myself to pretend that I was happy pretending I was playing.”
The Monkees could all play. Peter played 5-string banjo and guitar. Mike was doing a folk routine for 2 years on a Texas campus and had written songs like “Different Drum’’ before he was a Monkee. Davy was the artful Dodger in Oliver (which he just finished doing again ten years later). And Micky Dolenz, one time Circus Boy, was playing rhythm guitar and singing lead in a rock group called “The Missing Links.” So they could all play. But it turned out they had to pretend. And smile about it.
The first time they went to record they came to the studio with guitars in hand. Don Kirshner, executive producer on the recording side, came tapes in hand. The boys would sing. That was that. And for two albums that was all they did. Happily. After all, they weren’t passing the hat.
The Monkees TV Show was a huge success. The albums sold millions. And the world wanted their Monkees in the flesh. The boys had to play live. And play they did. Thirty cities in forty days. No crowd under 15,000 people. Every show a sell-out. Peter Tork feels the tour made them seasoned veterans. In Cleveland one of the Monkees saw the second album. They had to buy the album to know what was on it. Up to that point they had no say about anything. In Peter's words they were “living puppets.” Michael and Peter were pissed. Davy and Micky went along. They made a deal. Don Kirshner could record the “A” side of their next single. They would do the “B” side and everything thereafter. Don Kirshner would still produce and they would play. Don Kirshner said okay and then went ahead releasing a single in Canada in which he recorded the music on both sides before the Monkees hit the studios. Say goodbye to Don Kirshner.
The Monkees success continued. More albums. More personal appearances. More money. Peter put his hat away and bought a big house. Too big. Gave his money away to friends. Too much money. The Monkees were cancelled after their second season. They made a very ahead of its time, very hip, very unsuccessful movie Head that co-starred such diverse talent as Victor Mature, Carol Doda, Sonny Liston and Annette Funicello. They did a TV special that was held up so long that when NBC finally aired it, Monkeemania had long since passed. And then it was over. All over. Micky and Davy continued to record as the Monkees with no success. Michael fared little better as a solo on RCA. Peter formed a group “Peter Tork and/or Release," which went nowhere. The group disbanded. People forgot, and the years passed.
Everybody connected with the Monkees except the Monkees themselves kept making it in the entertainment industries. Fired Donny Kirshner produced “The Archies.” (Peter will tell you Don Kirshner wasn't going to take any more chances with people), and now produces In Concert for ABC and his own syndicated TV concert series. Bert Schneider and Bob Rafelson produced movies like Five Easy Pieces. Jack Nicholson who wrote the Monkee movie Head won the academy award. Paul Mazursky and Larry Tucker who worked on the show made Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice. Carole King, Neil Diamond, and Harry Nilsson who wrote songs for the Monkees have become superstars.
But Peter Tork didn't do much of anything. He'd given his money away to everyone but the government, so they got him for back taxes. Right now they get almost everything. Even as the Monkees’ re-runs are still on network TV and residuals still come in, they don’t come in for Peter Tork.
The government got him again, in January of 1972, on a drug charge and he spent three and a half months in jail. He was released May 11, beardless, short haired and with nothing to do except head back to Marin.
It could have ended with the open guitar case at Ghiradelli square. The memory of what was and what could have been. Peter’s eyes brighten as he talks of his return to Marin, they tell you his story's going to have a happy ending. And it does: the Fairfax Street Choir.
Back in Marin. Peter Tork began to hang out at the Sleeping Lady. (He works there as a waiter now). One night The Fairfax Street Choir was there. He was amazed, saw a home, and joined. He grins as he adds: “In some ways I was a cold, lonely hitchhiker being picked up by a warm school bus.”
That school bus consists of thirty or so people. Not just singers either. There’s a complete rhythm section, horns and dancers. Yes, dancers. A total communication operation. Only this one works. They do make fine music. It’s the kind of music that makes you feel good. If they ever play in town, see them and see if their new brand of old gospel doesn’t get you smiling before they’re three bars into the first number. They're infectious that way. It makes Peter Tork happy. He feels The Fairfax Street Choir is capable of shaking the world to its foundations. Tearing it up and taking the world by storm... if it wants to. Addressing himself to the “if it wants to”, Peter tries to whip the group into professional quality and some elements won't stand for his trying.
And Peter hasn't abandoned his solo career either. He tells you matter-of-factly he's got an album or two in him, and the way he says it, you believe him.
With no regrets about his years as a Monkee, Peter Tork has adjusted. He's happy. Content. And hopeful. For the Choir. And himself.
Talking to Peter Tork you know he'll be back. “I feel the next ride will be much more sedate and won't be quite as phenomenal... but you never can tell.”
Stay tuned. It looks like Peter Tork may be buying another ticket. One way this time.
(Reprinted from the Chicago Reader)
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