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YOU ARE THE REASON
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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@nakedpersimmon
Connor Storrie being Mike Nesmith-coded in his SNL promo outfit down to the pants and both of them being Texas boys is slowly destroying me...
Four years ago, Michael Nesmith died.
It still sounds strange to say out loud. The world is less quirky, brilliant, interesting than it's ever been before. Less rich and colorful, less punctuated with the sound of raucous laughter in response to his deadpan humor, always in that slow Texas drawl. A man who could fill the room with his presence while hardly saying a word.
Things aren't the same without Nez.
Not without his jokes, dryly told with a glint of mischief sparkling in his eye. Or without his wisdom, delivered at the most unexpected yet often most needed of moments.
Not without him to remind us of how ridiculous it all is.
The songs Nez wrote and sang are indelible in our memories and history, immortalized in the cultural canon and the fabric of so many people's lives. The music will endure, playing on, enfolding us, bringing us back to the days where it thrummed steadily in the background, a soundtrack to every joy and sorrow.
And we'll keep remembering the man who was Nez.
The friend we loved. The complicated hero we adored. The artist whose work we were drawn to, even if we didn't always know why. The perfectly imperfect human being who was Michael Nesmith, and who deserved a far better end to his story.
And if you close your eyes, you can still see him, somewhere beyond the blue horizon.
Miss you, Nez...
I don't know how to talk about Michael Nesmith in the past tense.
When someone is so alive in your memory, they tend to stay that way. When someone like Michael Nesmith makes an impression, it never really goes away. I can still see the outline of him, the defined edges of everything that made Nez who he is.
Michael Nesmith and I became friends in 2011. We first spoke in Videoranch, but the conversation soon moved to email and then Skype, which he discovered shortly after. There are few things more surreal than coming home to a "missed call" and voicemail message on Skype from Michael Nesmith, but for the next several months, it was an almost regular occurrence.
"Amy, it's Nez."
He started each one the same, that familiar Texas twang ringing out over my computer speakers. Once, he called with his mouth full, asking me if I'd have lunch with him. Another time was to tell me he'd spoken to novelist Jane Smiley and told her about me, told her I'd been asked to speak at the United Nations, and told her how he and I had met.
Michael Nesmith and I met because of Monkees fan fiction.
That wasn't what he called it, of course. Everything had to be parsed through his own brand of Nezism, which meant that the second thing Michael Nesmith ever said to me was, "So, tell me about this fan porn."
And I did. Because no matter how weird it is, when Nez asks you something, you answer.
We met in person in 2013, when he started solo touring again. I still remember the first time, in Somerville, Massachusetts with @lynseymoon. Meeting Nez wasn't at all what I expected. I remember my first glimpse of him as we walked down the stairs to the dressing room area, shuffling back and forth with his hands in his pockets. He was so soft-spoken, quietly thoughtful but never cold, and so very hilarious. He was happy to see us, chattering away and cracking jokes until his then-assistant told him it was time to go.
Until I saw him at the next show, and we picked up right where we left off.
You always knew where you stood with Nez, even if he never said it.
Flashes of other shows still stand out in my mind. The glint in Nez's eye on the tour bus after one show, motioning to his keyboard player, Boh Cooper, to fix me a drink. "I'd like one with gin," I said. "So I can say I went to a sophisticated party where I got a little drunk on gin." He responded with a look so pointed I couldn't help but laugh. We both did. Before I left, he asked me if I was okay to drive home. Always putting the "Papa" in "Papa Nez."
Another show, this time in New York. He introduced me to Elvis Costello, who had been in the audience and went to Nez's dressing room before I did. Nez held my hand after another show a few months later, taking hold of it in the theater dressing room and not letting go until we reached the parking lot. That became a theme of our friendship, for some reason. Nez holding my hands, or taking my hand without me remotely expecting it.
He was always looking for connection, it seemed. Always reaching out. Wanting someone to listen.
Someone very wise once told me, "The Truth is the Truth is the Truth. It is immutable. It is unchanging."
The truth was often a strange place to be with Nez, but that was where we found ourselves, through countless conversations about sex and metaphysics and religion and life. He spoke with such curiosity and wonder and humor in his trademark deadpan style. He laid down threads of conversation and urged me to follow, and as confusing as it could sometimes be, I always tried, because he believed I could.
Nez and I believed in each other. Because that's what friends do.
The last time I saw Michael Nesmith was (strangely) also in Somerville. He'd barely begun to recover from his heart surgery but was somehow out on the road, and Lynsey and I were again there, standing in the theatre lobby, the blue neon light flickering over the concession stand behind us. His on-the-road assistant, Robin, brought him by us on his way to a post show meet-and-greet.
There wasn't time to talk, but Nez still stopped when he saw us. It was only when he stopped that I saw the sadness in his eyes, the distant glassiness so far removed from how he was when I'd met him there five years earlier. He waved to us as if from behind a wall, an invisible barrier that had been put between him and us without any of us wanting it. But just before he turned away to walk into the theater, it happened.
Nez took my hand again. He squeezed it. And I didn't want to let go.
When Nez died last year, NP’s feeds were inundated with posts about the news. Articles and pictures and stories from every media outlet in the world, for days on end. The memorials today are ever-present, on personal pages and Monkees groups alike.
But I don't want memorials. I don't want tributes.
I just want to see my friend again.
I'd like to hear him laugh. I'd like to feel him holding my hand, and see the twinkle in his eye.
More than anything, I'd like him to be healthy, and happy. The kind of happy he was when I knew him, before the heartache of the last few years. Back when he told me that he was proud of me, and when he teased me about fan porn. When he was something like himself.
I sure do miss him...
peter simply should have been allowed to maul him like a wild animal
Someone reached out to NP on Twitter about this post, so I thought I would add a few thoughts.
Michael Nesmith was a human being, and like all human beings, he was complicated. He and Peter had a fractious, up-and-down, challenging relationship over the years, but they were also friends. Peter lived with Mike for a time when the Monkees show was first starting, so there was a real camaraderie between them in the beginning, a friendship born of a shared love for music and frustration over the constraints they were chafing under as members of the Monkee machine.
But it was Mike who insisted on having Peter play on the recording of "Papa Gene's Blues." It was Mike who said Peter’s songs (especially “Long Title: (Do I Have To Do This All Over Again?)” were the best ones on the HEAD soundtrack. And it was Mike who said that Peter was a better musician than he was, by “several orders of measure.”
Mike and Peter both had strong personalities that were diametrically opposed, and as much as Mike fought for Peter, he also fought with Peter, and Peter fought with him. It's incredibly easy to paint things in black and white, to say "Mike was a bully and Peter was innocent," but neither of those are completely true, nor are they completely false. And things became even more complicated once fame set in, and more so as time passed and Mike and Peter grew older.
Peter in his older age could be an absolute dick at times, and behaved in ways that some might consider bullying, some of which I witnessed firsthand. Nez in his older age mellowed tremendously, and became this sweet, soft-spoken man that was never anything but kind to me and many others who knew him. And the reverse was also true.
If you ask anyone whether Peter or Nez was nice, you will always get a different answer depending on who you ask, because everyone had a different experience of them. I miss the Nez I knew terribly, but I also know he wasn't the Nez other people knew, even those closest to him. I also miss the Peter I knew, because there were times when he was wonderfully sweet and kind and funny, but I also know a lot of people didn’t have that experience of him.
What it comes down to is that no human being is only one thing, 100% good or 100% bad, black or white, especially not when the world is so full of Shades of Gray (if you will). And none of us will ever know the depth and complexity of Mike and Peter's friendship because we didn't live it. We didn’t go through those ups and downs, the disappointments, the laughter, all the things that come with knowing someone for 50+ years.
For me, though, I feel that Nez and Peter’s friendship/relationship can be summed up in this picture:
This is Michael Nesmith and Peter Tork: Men who fought and loved like brothers, because that's what they were.
As one ‘Rolling Stone’ writer got to know Nesmith over the past decade, the Reluctant Monkee surprised him again and again. By the very end of his life, the man who was legendarily disg…
The author of this piece has chosen to take an article written about Michael Nesmith‘s last days as a platform to bash and insult concerned fans, particularly those who have followed and received information from NP. The picture painted of Nez is clearly a disturbing one, yet the author perpetuates the denial that surrounded Nez in the last few months of the farewell tour. There is no mention of the fact that Christian and Circe disappeared from the tour. No attempt by the author to interview Christian, or any of Nez’s kids. That alone speaks volumes about the agenda behind this article. Also, that the Monkees’ manager, Andrew Sandoval, specifically described Monkees fans who expressed concern about elder abuse as “looking for attention“ is inexcusably appalling. This Rolling Stone article is an irresponsible, ill-researched piece of journalism at best. At worst, it is a stain on the legacy of Michael Nesmith and the Monkees. This is beyond shameful…
An editorial response to this article from @lynseymoon, who was friends with and worked for Michael Nesmith for ten years. (Originally posted in the NP Discussion Group on Facebook.):
As one ‘Rolling Stone’ writer got to know Nesmith over the past decade, the Reluctant Monkee surprised him again and again. By the very end of his life, the man who was legendarily disg…
The author of this piece has chosen to take an article written about Michael Nesmith‘s last days as a platform to bash and insult concerned fans, particularly those who have followed and received information from NP. The picture painted of Nez is clearly a disturbing one, yet the author perpetuates the denial that surrounded Nez in the last few months of the farewell tour. There is no mention of the fact that Christian and Circe disappeared from the tour. No attempt by the author to interview Christian, or any of Nez's kids. That alone speaks volumes about the agenda behind this article. Also, that the Monkees’ manager, Andrew Sandoval, specifically described Monkees fans who expressed concern about elder abuse as “looking for attention“ is inexcusably appalling. This Rolling Stone article is an irresponsible, ill-researched piece of journalism at best. At worst, it is a stain on the legacy of Michael Nesmith and the Monkees. This is beyond shameful...
Just thought everyone needed to see this
I just realized that this is probably edited
But who cares it’s still amazing
I can guarantee you this is absolutely real and very definitely not edited, as this picture has been around for years.
Nez really was one of a kind...
Nez with the first fan club president for the First National Band, 1970s. (Pic via Debi Brown Newlander.)
Some lovely rare pics of Nez in 1973.
(Pics via Kim Rebecca Gottlieb-Walker/the Michael Nesmith UK Tribute Page.)
When I heard the news of what happened yesterday, I started crying. I haven’t been this affected by the news of a popular figure passing since Bowie and Robin Williams. I thought of you immediately and the struggles you were faced with up until the time of his death. My thoughts go out to you and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for being a truth speaker in a situation that many people seemed to turn a blind eye towards. ❤️
Oh, Anon(s). I’ve been crying on and off since yesterday and was hoping to stop, but you’re going to make me start again, damn it. I can’t thank you enough for these wonderful messages, and how it lifts my heart to receive such support after months and months of repeatedly being harassed, smeared, and dismissed. When NP co-founder Moondreams and I first started Naked Persimmon, it was to give fans a place to discuss the Monkees honestly, in a way they couldn’t in other places (which initially referred to seeing the Monkees as the human beings they were, who had had sex and taken drugs and were actual people, rather than the “innocent” boys they played on the TV show).
Moondreams has long since distanced herself from the fandom due to the harassment that both of us were receiving ten years ago, and so the reins of running NP’s social media have belonged me. But I could never have imagined that NP would serve that same function all these years later, but for an entirely different reason. I don’t know if I see myself/NP as having kept the Monkees magic alive, though. For me, that magic has been almost gone, especially with everything that’s happened over the past year (and for those who would like to catch up, the #sad state of affairs tag is a good place to start).
I feel like I’ve been trying to sound the alarm about Melodie for the last six years, ever since she came onto Tumblr and hollowed out the fandom. I knew who and what she was then and was convinced she’d never get close to Nez...and I was wrong. And it took a frighteningly small amount of time for her to gain a frighteningly large amount of control, wreaking havoc on everything in her path. The joy and passion that I had for the Monkees withered away because she sucked the life out of it.
But still...even through all of it...I didn’t give up. I couldn’t. I couldn’t give up on Nez, because he’d never given up on me. The only thing I’ve ever cared about is the truth, and Nez cared about the truth. (”Truth” with a capital T, too.) So that’s why I’ve continued to speak it, and will continue to speak it as more information emerges in the weeks and months ahead. I’m not going to let what happened to Nez be swept under the rug (and believe me when I tell you damage control efforts from certain people in the Monkees world are already underway, and it’s infuriating).
So thank you, Anon(s). I am sorry that we are all hurting so much, but I’m glad that we at least have each other, and our memories of Nez and the Monkees. That magic matters now more than ever, because it’s a light in a dark place.
Just like Michael Nesmith was.
Scanned in some of my favorite Mike pics from Davy’s Photobook of the Monkees 1967 Tour. They’re kind of fuzzy from the program trying to capture pixels, but I hope they bring you joy.
i have no words, im truly heartbroken. one of the most underrated musicians from the most underrated band. so sad right now.
I'm very sorry for your loss ♡ and I want to thank you for posting about what's been going on with nez. I've just found your page and I'm floored. please take the best of care today, tomorrow and always ♡
Thank you so much for this lovely message, and for the condolences. It is truly appreciated more than you can ever know. I honestly don’t think I’ve processed everything yet, because it still doesn’t feel real. I can’t even imagine what this must be like for you, having just found NP and learning about what was happening with Nez.
Over the past few months, I’ve had a lot of anons and people sending in asks mainly about Nez’s former assistant, and I just felt so burned out on everything that it was emotionally draining to even think of answering anything. So my apologies to the folks who haven’t had their questions addressed, but hopefully what I am about to say will help with that.
As devastated and heartbroken as I’ve felt all day, both those emotions have been outlined by a steadily increasing undercurrent of anger. I never wanted to answer the asks in the NP inbox without being able to completely confirm what was going on. Right now, we may never have that total confirmation, but from what has been said to NP, it appears Melodie was fired near the end of October and abruptly left the Monkees Farewell tour. Subsequently, the following three things occurred:
1. She was not in attendance at the last show of the Farewell Tour at the Greek Theater in Los Angeles.
2. Micky gave a shoutout to his and Nez's assistants and referred to a woman named Gretchen as being Nez's assistant (no mention of Melodie).
3. All references to Melodie have allegedly been removed from the Videoranch FB page, from as far back as July (if not farther).
...Most damning, however, is what has happened just recently. First, there was the strange recording that appeared on the Videoranch Facebook, and mere days ago, Melodie went ‘private’ on Twitter. Then there is this, both of which were sent to NP today:
The top screenshot is of Melodie’s Instagram, on which she changed her profile photo to a picture with Nez. The second screenshot is from her Facebook, of a picture of Nez in the FNB era with the caption “My light xxxx.” And it is the very fact that she would have the unmitigated fucking nerve to post either of these things that is so galling.
If you are someone who has just been fired from a job where you were accused of elder abuse against your employer, would you post these things? Or would you have to be a psychopath--a cold, remorseless, nasty piece of work who thinks she did nothing wrong--to post these things? There has also been talk of Melodie stealing from Nez/engaging in financial abuse, and no doubt more of this will unfold in the weeks and months ahead as (hopefully) legal proceedings are taken against her. But someone who knows that’s coming would not post these things. Only someone who thinks she’s gotten away with it would.
So, yes, this is all deeply, deeply fucked up, and most likely only the tip of the iceberg, in terms of all that has happened. I’ve tried to keep folks informed as best I can, but now the only glimmer of consolation is the thought of her misdeeds against Nez finally being brought to light, and her facing actual consequences and punishment for it. Because Michael Nesmith shouldn’t have gone out like this. Because he deserved better.
“You could never, never have talked him out of the farewell tour,” says Dolenz of his 55-year Monkees bandmate. “He was absolutely determined to finish that tour”
Several days ago, an inexplicable event occurred on the Videoranch Facebook page. The page began broadcasting live audio, which turned into a clip that ran for 13 minutes. In the clip, Michael Nesmith was heard speaking to a healthcare professional in what sounded like a medical setting. The clip remained up for forty-five minutes before being deleted, leaving those who had heard it concerned and worried.
In this interview, Micky confirms the nature of what was heard in that recording, which was Nez entering into hospice care:
"I found out a couple days ago that he was going into hospice,” Dolenz told Rolling Stone a couple hours after the news hit. “I knew what that meant. I had my moment then and I let go. I let go a couple days ago. It’s just good to know that he passed peacefully.”
It's all over Facebook. All over Twitter. My phone is blowing up.
But it doesn't seem real. It can't be.
Michael Nesmith. Mike Nesmith. Or as I knew him, "Nez." The person I got to know. The man who told me he was proud of me, who played half of "Sunny Girlfriend" over Skype and teased me about writing fan fiction. The artist who long ago stopped being a celebrity and a Monkee and started being a familiar face. The face of a guy that I knew somewhere.
My friend Nez is gone. And I can't tell him how much I still cared about him, or how loved he was, or how I never gave up. I just hope he knew. I hope he always knew.
Goodbye, Nez... 💗
Devastated beyond words to report the passing of Michael Nesmith today, at the age of 78. There is nothing else that can possibly be said... 💔 💔
