A kind of Haley’s comet of television, The Monkees flashed across America’s screens for just two seasons (1966 to ’68), yet it left an indelible imprint on the minds of two generations. The show, about the
misadventures of a struggling rock band, made household names of its four stars: Davy Jones, Michael Nesmith, Peter  Tork, and Micky Dolenz. Of the four, it’s a toss-up as to which retains the most name recognition today—Jones or Dolenz.

O&A caught up with the erstwhile Monkees’ drummer in East Haddam, Conn., where he was playing Charlemagne in Pippin at the Goodspeed Opera House. The musical comedy will arrive at the DuPont Theatre for a five-day run beginning Oct. 10.

For someone who became a teenage idol in his early 20s and has since carved out a successful, just-below-the-radar career as a performer, writer, director, and producer, Dolenz seems remarkably short on ego. When, for instance, we asked what attracted him to the role of Charlemagne, he responded, “They asked me.” When discussing reasons why The Monkees was so successful, he quickly credited the producers and writers before mentioning the four stars of the show.

Dolenz seems to have retained the high energy of his former television persona, answering questions in the rapid-fire, slightly high-pitched voice we remembered from 40 years ago.

Looking back at The Monkees now in retrospect, it was very much like doing musical theater on television. It was singin’ and dancin’ and doin’ shtick—these short, half-hour little plays. And they were cast in the same way you would cast musical theater. The auditions were extensive. You had to sing, you had to play an instrument, you had to act, you had to improvise.

But the first thing I did after the TV show was Tom Sawyer in Sacramento in the early ’70s. Then I did The Point in London. I directed a couple of musicals in London. I did one version of Company. And then I bought the rights to an old movie called Bugsy Malone, which starred Jodie Foster and Scott Baio, and staged it in London with all kids, 20 or 30. One of them was a 14-year-old Catherine Zeta-Jones. When I got back to the states, I was Vince Fontaine, the slimy disc jockey, in the national tour company of Grease. Then I went to Canada and did A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. A huge break was getting Aida, the Elton John-Tim Rice show, on the road and then on Broadway for the best part of a year. I played the bad guy. I worked it out once that I worked on Aida longer than I worked on The Monkees.

At the time, you don’t know if it’s going to work. You just put together the team and the material and you hope it all happens. In the case of The Monkees, the whole becomes greater than the parts. I have thought about it, and it starts, of course, with the personnel —the company. The producers, Burt Schneider and Bob Rafaelson, were quite bright, young, and hip. Bob went on to become a very, very successful film director—Five Easy Pieces, for instance, a few Jack Nicholson films. They surrounded themselves with other talented people, like the writers, including Paul Mazursky, who wrote the pilot.

Then there was the four of us. The casting process was extensive. Everybody and their mother were up for the show, both in L.A. and New York. Steven Stills (of Crosby, Stills and Nash) tried out for it, and Paul Peterson from The Donna Reed Show. That’s half the battle, the casting process. And I think the four of us worked pretty well together.

And then there’s the songs, in the case of The Monkees. The company that had the TV show also had a publishing company, and there were these, at the time, unknown writers like Carole King, Neil Diamond, Harry Neilson, David Gates, Paul Williams, and Neil Sedaka. This was who was writing material for us, specifically!

In terms of the show itself, I think the producers made a wise decision early. They gave instructions to the writers to not make the show topical or satirical. Because those types of shows, as funny as they may be, don’t tend to have legs. A good example is Laugh-In, which was a wonderful show. I watched it every week. But if you see the show now, you’re not aware of the references they’re making. But with The Monkees the humor was timeless, so that any generation can watch the show, and it works over and over again.

Another thing was that on the show, we were never successful. We were always a starving band trying to be the Beatles. We were always struggling. I think that endeared us to kids in the nation and around the world who were practicing and trying to be a band. All the time, almost every day, someone will come up to me and say, “Hey, you got me started in music, you got me started on the drums.”

I’ll tell you what happened. We just kind of got burned out. We went on the road and became the kind of imaginary group that existed on the TV show, living in the imaginary beach house, having these imaginary adventures. Suddenly we became a real group. That’s a story unto itself. Then we got all sucked up into the world of rock ’n’ roll and the Beatles and touring and stuff. And then it was kind of tough to come back and be on the set for 10 or 12-hour days. And sometimes I would have to go to the studio and record two or three lead vocals a night. That was a long day.

I think at the end everybody felt they had done it, been there, got the T-shirt. At that age, you’re very impatient. Everybody, including the producers, wanted to move on.

On the show, but I was actually a guitar player and I auditioned with “Johnny B. Goode” by Chuck Berry. They cast me as the drummer and I had about a year to learn.

Oh yeah, absolutely, in what I had to do. I do not consider myself a studio drummer; neither do I really consider myself a studio guitar player. I’m not the guy you call up and book a session [with]. But I never was. Peter was an accomplished musician on a number of instruments. Mike was a very accomplished singer-songwriter on the guitar. That’s sort of what I was and still am. David plays a little bit of guitar; does a lot of songs.

Not on a regular basis. We don’t live in the same part of the world, really. I saw Peter a couple of months ago. I did a concert in Wildwood, N.J. and he came by and said hi and did a couple of songs. But to this day, you get the four of us together in a room and it is insane. It’s really amazing. It just starts to ignite. Unbelievable.

Yes. Everyone wanted to make a movie and it had been agreed that we did not want to make just a 90-minute version of a Monkees episode, which in retrospect would have been much more acceptable. And Bob and Burt brought in this young guy, this movie actor named Jack Nicholson, who we all thought was very cool, and they said he’s going to script it. And he came out and visited us and we sat around and talked about what kind of movie we wanted to make. Then he went away for a couple of months and wrote a very bizarre but, I think, quite interesting screenplay. I thought it was a pretty interesting movie, but I’m not sure what it’s about. Jack was incredibly smart, very funny, charismatic, and, of course, very talented. And he’s exactly the same today. What you see is what you get. We’re still friends to this day.

I have a film and production company in L.A. and I’m working on some scripts. I still kind of consider my day job directing and producing for film companies in England. I have a children’s book out from Putnam, which I’m very proud of. It’s called Gacky Two-Feet. It’s a series and a second one is coming out. And I have a rock ’n’ roll trivia game book, with 900 questions.

But right now it’s all about Pippin. We’ll be on the road ’til the end of the year.

Probably. I can’t remember specifically. I’ve been all over that area. We’re looking forward to it. My kids, who are all in D.C., will be coming (Dolenz has four daughters, three from his second marriage and one from his first marriage). And my wife’s family is from Philadelphia, so they’re coming. Hopefully we’ll have a full house.