What Really Happened To The Monkees

"Special delivery!"

An envelope appeared from under the front door and slid several feet into the room of the beach house where four struggling young musicians lived. Despite getting along and playing well together, they had struggled to find work since forming the band several years before. Most of their bookings had been for birthday parties, small clubs and a particularly bad children's variety show. Peter, who had been trimming the Christmas tree, walked over to the front door and picked it up. "Hey guys, some guy just delivered an envelope for us. I thought we just bought envelopes last week."

"We did you dope" chided Mike. "There must be something inside. Open it and see what it is." Peter attempted to open the envelope and injured his finger. "I hope it's instructions on how to treat a paper cut."

"Give me that" said Micky. He opened the envelope and took out a letter and read it out loud:

Boys, there's an important meeting tomorrow
about a possible job on television. Meet me
and we'll discuss what the network is looking
for in a group. Signed, your manager.

The three boys started bouncing around excitedly, repeating "A job. A real job. A TV job."

Davy came down the stairs. "I heard Micky reading. Where and when are we supposed to meet?" They stopped their celebration and paused. Micky reread the letter. "It doesn't say."

A voice shouted through the front door. "10 am in the network's lobby." "That's better" said Davy and all four resumed celebrating.

"Wait," said Mike "which studio?"

Their manager opened the front door. "The one on Main Street." He slammed the door shut.

"That was the specialist special delivery I ever got" said Peter.

The next day the group drove down and parked in front of the studio lobby. The valet took their Monkeemobile and they walked into the building. Then they backed up, rubbed their noses and walked through the doorway into the building.

"I've never seen a valet take a vehicle with a tow truck before" commented Peter.

"Probably just wanted...to save us gas" guessed Micky.

They made their way past some Christmas carolers and met their manager who took them up to the office of the network's assistant secretary to the vice-president's chief consultant on Ratings, Programming and Other Content, Mr. Nielsen.

"Hello boys, thanks for coming down. I'll be direct and to the point. The market is changing and we like to change with it. We've seen you playing around town and really dig the sound, but your audiences are getting smaller and what popularity you have is beginning to slide."

"I like slides" said Peter.

"We want the people to listen to you, REALLY listen. We want them to buy records and watch a TV show we're going to make about you. We're going to have to mold you guys into something America can fall in love with."

"I like love" said Peter. "I'm not crazy about mold, though."

"We've done a ton of research, and we have the answer on how to do this." Nielsen walked over to a large curtain and pulled a cord. The curtain parted and a large box the size of a closet was revealed with the words 'Makeover Machine' on the side, with a doorway on either side. In large helpful letters the sides were marked 'In' and 'Out'.

"First up, Micky. I know you're the lead singer on many of the songs but a lot of girls buy records, posters and magazines. We don't want to drive away the buyers with a lead singer that is getting too old; we need new, so we have a special for you." Some burly men walked into the room and picked up Micky and pushed him protesting into the machine. Lights whirled and flashed, and out walked a woman and a young man.

"Shirley, Keith, stand over there please. A mother and son combo should appeal to a wide swath of the heartland; a fresh-faced young man and a wholesome mother. By the way, you're a widow now Shirley; you know, get some sympathy votes from the audience."

"Next we have Davy. You're good lad, but the British Invasion is over and the Beatles are history. We need someone instead that will appeal to the young men of America and get them to watch the show too." It only took one strong man to toss Davy into the machine. After a brief time a young woman emerged. "Laurie, stand over there with the others."

"Now Mike. You're the closest thing to brains in this group, but you don't have anyone to parry with, you know, exchange witty banter. If you're going to have a TV show you have to think dialogue." Over strode the strong men again, and escorted Mike into the machine. Out came a pre-teen and a middle-aged man. "Danny, Reuben, over there with the family. Changing that wool cap for the red hair should shake things up."

"Lastly Peter. You're lovable kid, but the 60's are pretty much dead. You really connected with those young kids at those parties you played so we're going to aim at that demographic." Peter saw the handwriting on the wall and threw himself into the box. Out came two young children. "Tracy and Chris, go stand over there with your family. It's all set now; all we need is a name. You folks go downstairs where we've got a special bus for you to take to your new home so you can start practicing your new sound."

The family trooped out and left Nielsen and the agent by themselves. "I think we can finally sell them on TV. I'd still like an animal name if possible, but Monkees and Beatles are definitely out."

"And certainly not Turtles" added the manager.

As they pondered a new name, the carolers came by singing "…and a partridge in a pear tree."

The End

A/N: I grew up watching both of these shows. My older sister listened to her Monkees albums on an old record player; you had to tape two quarters onto the end of the stylus arm to keep the needle from skipping out of the groove. Thanks to TimeSpace64 pointing out I spelled Micky's name wrong (the shame!) and suggesting I make more of a point presenting the Monkees as the TV characters and not the actors/musicians.