Occiditur

Don't Worry Baby

Jan. 1970

That was how I normally felt during a one of my depressed days. Not much different, just sad and uninterested.

But as the year came to a close The Monkees too started to show even more signs of the nearing end. We couldn't agree on much anymore. The image or sound of the band, the instruments to be used, the vocals to be used, etc. By Christmas time Peter had decided that he was finished. He was going to finish the album with us and then leave.

I couldn't believe he would ever leave! But then again I wasn't that surprising. He wasn't the most patient person and he wanted to make a difference with his music. The Monkees weren't making much of a difference anymore.

This last album of ours was coming along terribly. Every morning I woke up with a feeling of dread, because the daytime that followed would be filled with writing songs, tearing them to pieces and starting over again.

Every morning I woke up depressed and sleep proved ineffective in reversing my mood. I often snapped at reporters, my friends, and my wife. I would immediately apologize and she would forgive me with a smile. Sam knew the stress I was under and accepted that I would need help to be happy again. She did everything in her power to get me to smile, but nothing could persuade my frown to become anything better.

At work the guys and I tried to focus on the songs but we never could. We'd either chase rabbit trails about our families or funny thing that had happened to us, or we would break up the day early because of an argument.

On the days we ended with an argument I would stay behind at the studio and write down more ideas for the music and lyrics to the particular song we had been working on that day. The writing would occupy my mind with something other than my friends fighting.

Sometimes one of the boys would stay behind and talk to me as I wrote.

If it was Davy or Mike they would usually complain to me about the other two members of our band. Peter would sometimes add little snippets of comments about the others but mostly he would ask me questions.

Peter would ask me about my wife and daughter, or about how my mother and sister were, and I would tell him all about the trouble or lack thereof in my family. He would in turn offer me news of his domestic life.

This seems at first glance to be the better day. But surprisingly it hurt the most. I knew Peter was leaving us. He wasn't complaining about our mutual friends but he was lying. He seemed to issue the air that everything was and would forever be, okay. But he was wrong and I knew it. When he left I would be left with Michael and Davy. It wasn't anything against them. By themselves they were good enough, and just as a group of friends they got along fine. But working together was a disaster! They fought more than any two people I've ever met! Peter knew that their arguments brought me down. How could he just leave me with them?

I despised the fact that Peter had decided to leave the Monkees. I felt as if his casual demeanor was a mockery to me. A show of, look at me! I'm getting out! I have the freedom to get out!

It was a mockery because I didn't have that freedom. I couldn't just leave the Monkees, I had no place to go.

Luckily today wasn't either one of those terrible days. This day went rather smoothly. Mike had come in announcing that Phyllis had agreed that he could have Christian on the weekends.

Today was a happy day for all of us. Christian was Michael's son from his first marriage which had ended mid1969. It had been a nice, easy divorce. No complications or arguments over belongings. Surprisingly the only thing Mike found to fuss about was visitation of his son. Even then it wasn't much of a fight. Phyllis had been completely on board with Mike seeing his son. She just didn't want Mike to keep him for a full week. Once Mike became desperate to see Christian, he offered to come down to only the weekend. Phyllis finally agreed.