Ann Moses, New Musical Express, 4 May 1968
MIKE NESMITH took me to lunch. We left the Columbia Ranch, where the The Monkees were filming their movie, waved to the fans gathered at the gate and grinned as they took pictures. Then we sped away in his Jeep. A few minutes later we were at a quiet restaurant in downtown Burbank, where they knew Mike. Most of you would imagine that this was a typical event for me. You’re wrong… very wrong. The reason is — this was only the second time Mike and I had spoken peacefully in the last ten months!
To explain why, I must revert back to early encounters with Mike. I can’t say I knew Mike the least of the Monkees because I really “got to know him” after a series of interviews with his wife, Phyllis, last summer.
But in early interviews Mike was certainly the most evasive. While the other boys found being interviewed new, exciting, and a chance to talk about themselves (the Monkees love to talk about themselves!), Mike felt it a drag and a chore from the beginning.
Wanted More
The first story I did with Mike was the story of his life — in more than the 250 words on the official Screen Gems biography. Then, I was forced to ask at least five questions to get even one reply. At the time Mike explained his behavior by saying he couldn’t understand how anyone would want to read about his life. But now I realize he was just having fun being evasive and making me work for a story.
In later interviews Mike would always find many other things to do during our interviews — change costumes, make phone calls, make sandwiches or just pin cigarette packages to his dressing room wall! The thought of just doing an interview was too absurd for Mike. And when he would listen to my inquiries his replies would be something in the form of, “That’s the most blatantly stupid question I’ve ever heard!”
By the time I travelled with the Monkees on their summer tour, Mike agreed to be photographed at whatever he happened to be doing at the time, but he would always skilfully disappear when I mentioned “interview ” or just talking.
The climax came on the Monkee set about October of last year. Mike would wave hello to me, but if I even looked as if I might be on the verge of asking a question he’d simply say: “I’m not talking to you!”
Rude Comments
I increased my persistence, but to no avail. Finally, after I’d followed Mike around the set for one entire morning, and remained unruffled throughout his rude comments and taunting remarks, he turned to me and said: “Look. I’m 25 years old, I have a wife, a child and another on the way. I don’t have time for your tennybopper twaddle,” only he didn’t say “twaddle.” With that I exited coolly. But inside I was steaming.
It wasn’t until several weeks ago that I made an attempt to talk to Mike on a break from filming what would become the movie “Head” at Columbia Ranch. My new approach was now of Hollywood correspondent to the New Musical Express in England (a paper I knew Mike respected) and I now had a channel to write about things Mike might be interested in.
After a lecture on “how to be a good writer-reporter” (which he felt I was certainly not, but possibly could be) he agreed to do an interview about his solo-album, The Wichita Train Whistle.
Does it Matter?
Why is any of this important? It is, but only if it gives the curious some insight into Mike Nesmith. Much may be misconstrued and much can be read into the story. Like maybe I’m an obnoxious person, so why should Mike talk to me or that Mike just doesn’t care about his fans. All these nuances are acceptable, but not valid here.
You can even think of Mike as a good Samaritan. During lunch he let me know the whole purpose of his months of rudeness was to get me angry enough to write a story with some guts.
He was distraught that I never printed that he was rude to me, or that he swore within a conversation to a girl!
If nothing else, I think what I’ve said here shows you one part of his character, because most of today’s pop stars tell great tales that end “but don’t print it,” and smoke but say “don’t photograph it.”
Mike the Person
Lunch was interesting last week because I think Mike talked to me on a semi-personal level. I can’t believe he was totally natural, forgetting I was a writer and he was a Monkee.
As he sipped four hot brandys and we each had a salad, he explained how he felt I could be a better writer. We also discussed his jeep, tape recorders, the girl modeling clothes at the restaurant, my boyfriend, his future after the Monkees and a few other subjects I can’t recall right now.
It was a nice enough lunch. I think I got to see a little more than Mike the Monkee, and that was so exciting after all. Mike probably won’t like this story. It’s not heavy enough. It isn’t harsh enough. But, Mike it’s a start… and I’m going to write about your current love — The Wichita Train Whistle, the first attempt to produce rock ‘n’ roll music in the big band tradition — in next week’s NME.
© Ann Moses, 1968
Reading this in 2023, I realized I don’t have a copy of the Wichita Train Whistle story in my records, so if anyone has a copy of NME from May 11, 1968 – maybe you can help me find it so I can post!
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