Remembering Michael Nesmith
One of the scariest aspects of being a young fan of music from sixty years ago (being someone who loses themself in other times) is the ever-present threat that I could lose one of my favorite artists, one of my role models, at any moment. While I may never have met them, I’ve glimpsed pieces of their souls through their songs and have grown a profound attachment to them. Unfortunately, that threat came to fruition on December 10, 2021, when Michael Nesmith passed away. Mike was my favorite Monkee, who I had the pleasure of seeing live not even two months ago. His sardonic wit, southern drawl, and stunning vocals earned him a special place in my heart, as well as the hearts of millions.
Mike gained fame as a part of The Monkees in the sixties as not only a performer but the writer of many of their hits and the leader of the revolt that would earn them more creative freedom. He is credited with pioneering the country-rock genre and winning the first-ever Grammy Award for Video of the Year.
Growing up, Mike was an only child who lived in the heart of Texas. His parents divorced when he was four, leaving him to spend most of his childhood in the sole care of his mother. When he was thirteen, she invented Liquid Paper, which she turned into a multimillion-dollar international company that was sold to Gillette.
Mike dabbled a bit in choir and drama in high school, but enlisted in the air force before he graduated. He completed his basic training and then trained as an aircraft mechanic before being stationed at Clinton-Sherman Air Force Base in Oklahoma. He was a picturesque American, with his thick Texas drawl and Air Force uniform. As the sixties became more swingin’, however, he earned his GED and was then honorably discharged — the era of peace and love was slowly taking the reins. Mike eventually enrolled in San Antonio College, where he would meet his future wife, Phyllis Ann Barbour, and a man named John Kuehne, with whom he would collaborate on musical endeavors. Together, the two would perform well-known folk songs across campus, as well as a few Nesmith Originals. As time went on, Mike’s passion for songwriting continued to bloom and he decided to move to LA. Always a southern boy, he would soon serve as The Troubadour’s “Hootmaster” for their Monday night hootenannies.
When he wasn’t hooting it up, Mike performed at various folk clubs, often under the pseudonym Michael Blessing — you can take the boy out of Texas, but you can’t take Texas out of the boy. Soon enough, a friend informed him about an upcoming audition for a new television show that was in the works. The show would be called “The Monkees,” about four zany guys who had a knack for getting themselves into trouble — but they always saved themselves with a little singing. When the day came, he pulled up to the audition on a motorcycle, wearing a wool hat to keep his hair out of his eyes — unbeknownst to him that it would soon become his signature look. He walked in and owned the room — he was nonchalant, memorable, and perfect for the role. The producers called him back as the “wool hat guy.”
The show aired from 1966 to 1968 and garnered a lot of success, developing a cult following and earning The Monkees a place in classic rock history. Hailed as the American Beatles, they even faced their own screaming fans in what some may call Monkeemania. When they eventually dissolved, Mike formed The First National Band with friend John Kuehne, as well as John Ware, and Red Rhodes. He served as the primary songwriter and vocalist for the group. Over the years, this band would dissolve as well, but not after having a few hits. Mike soon focused on writing and producing, even being given his own label through Elektra Records, as well as pursuing a solo career.
He would eventually create a music video for his song, Rio. This ultimately led to his Grammy win and the creation of a tv program called PopClips for the Nickelodeon Cable Network. While many today are surely unfamiliar with PopClips, they may know it by its more recent name — MTV.
Mike’s career was nothing short of fabulous — cowboy boots, tasseled leather jacket, guitar strumming, rock n roll kind of fabulous. Mike Nesmith was a beautiful soul with a voice like honey and I cannot express how saddened I am by his loss. His love and light will be missed, and I and countless others will remember the legacy he has left behind for years to come. And to Mike, I thank you for giving me what could not be a part of you — I’ll see you beyond the blue horizon.
