I am legitimately saddened by the passing of Davy Jones. When I was little I watched The Monkees TV show every day. The credits still make me giggle. Davy Jones’s charm was a huge part of it. Who wouldn’t love a sweet Englishman singing the catchiest songs? I’ve led a semi-charmed life in the sense that I’ve had the opportunity to meet many of my idols, and Davy Jones was the first of them.
When I was in seventh grade, my family went to Arizona visit some relatives and drive to Disneyland. We flew back home out of Sky Harbor International Airport in Phoenix. While waiting in line at the ticket counter to check in, I noticed a man about my height (5’4″ – average for a 13-year-old girl, not so much for an adult male). When he looked to his right, my heart skipped a beat.
“Mom! Mom!,” I whispered, “I think that’s Davy Jones!”
“What? No, I doubt that’s him.”
“I’m pretty sure it is.”
“What would he be doing in Phoenix? I don’t think so.”
Then the short man a few people ahead of us started singing. It was definitely him. Too afraid to approach him, I made my mom go ask to be sure. Davy couldn’t have been nicer. He seemed excited that someone my age was 1) aware of who he was and 2) was a big enough fan to recognize him in an airport and send her mother to go talk to him. While we waited, Davy told us stories about his touring days, proudly sharing that The Monkees had toured with Jimi Hendrix – with Hendrix as the opener. Amazing.
While I never had a proper crush on Davy Jones, I did have an affinity for him. His goofiness, his dancing, and the fact that he was so nice to some kid bugging him at the airport while he was trying to enjoy his vacation have forever endeared me. I’m glad to have known him, if only for a few moments.