Madame Was Always a "Daydream Believer."
February 29, 2012
Today, like millions of others, I mourn the loss of Davy Jones. For our younger fans who may not know, Davy was the world's biggest teen-heartthrob, and part of the first boy-band, The Monkees in 1966. He was my first crush. I was captivated by him and his voice when MTV began re-airing the campy, fun "Monkees" television series in the mid-1980's.
The Monkees were my first rock concert, at Stabler Arena in 1987. I had every single album on vinyl, and got up at 2:00 in the morning to watch the repeat of the repeat episode I had watched earlier in the day. I coped with big-time bullying by the popular girls at school for my choice of music. And everything else, actually. I had every reprint of Tiger Beat Magazine, several autographs, and a bedroom plastered with his posters.
My mother was kind enough to take me to meet Davy on a few occasions. He lived in PA, and often did local events in addition to his schedule of national and international dates. One memorable day, I came home with the holy grail of artifacts... I hugged him at a book signing of his autobiography, "They Made a Monkee Out of Me," and came away with a strand of his hair on my sweater. I knew because it clearly showed the red highlights of his not-too-obnoxious mullet. It was 1988, after all. I swooned for months.
This would all just be the musings of yet another teenage fan, if it weren't for my unanticipated foray into the position of Burlesque producer and hostess. When I opted to host the "Big Reveal" for my first Jim Thorpe Burlesque Festival, it was to visibly thank the members of my community who came out in force to support my efforts. It was also to control the quality of the show. I had never even held a microphone, let alone been in a position to wade into a crowd of people who were all of a sudden "fans." I had to figure out, and fast, how to engage, entertain, and make myself real to the people who had paid money for an experience I had promised to give them.
It turned out to be easy for me. I started looking at the entertainment-type things, such as concerts, music, and DVDs, that had made me happiest, and that, as a consumer, I felt were money well-spent. The first person on the list was Alice Cooper. Then Rob Zombie. Both amazing showmen, with a concert format that would leave you wanting more, even if you weren't a fan of their music. Molly Sugden as Mrs. Slocome from "Are You Being Served?" The DVD collection of that series would be worth it at three times the price. Monty Python. Mae West. And, then, drifting up from my distant past, Davy Jones. I had spent what would be thousands of dollars on merchandise, untold hours in the car and waiting in line for a photo and autograph, and stoidly endured the ridicule of my classmates. Of all these stars, he was the most inspirational.
Aside from the mega-stardom that came from the Monkees, Davy interacted with his fans easily. He was always kind, easy-going, and accessible. He laughed loudly and smiled broadly. There was never anything snobbish or "too busy" about him. He could have insulated himself, and perhaps rightly so, given the scale of his celebrity, but he chose not to. He was content to be hugged, kissed, and probably goosed by the people who loved him. It was plain to see that he embraced their warmth because he knew his job as an entertainer did not end when the curtain came down. His fans loved Davy Jones 24/7, and he made the same committment to them. And it was very sincere.
The way I felt as a fan of Davy Jones was the way I wanted Jim Thorpe and PA Burlesque Festival fans to feel, too. I don't want to be a celebrity, I want to be the hostess of a party that I threw just for them. I make it a point, during each intermission, to come off the stage and chat with our audience. I want them to know that it's important to me that they have an incredible time. I have an after-party whenever it is possible, so that fans and performers alike can get a chance to show how appreciative they are to see one another.
People who successfully lead by example aren't always the ones who have the most flash or are currently at the top of the charts. They're the people who unbegrudgingly reciprocate the joy and gratitude they receive from all areas of their life. They're the ones who are in it for the long haul, side by side with the folks who helped them get where they are. They realize that nothing is too small to make a difference, and they work ceaselessly to pay dividends on the monetary, emotional, or spiritual investment that has been made in them.
They are you and I.
Madame Corsetiere
The Monkees were my first rock concert, at Stabler Arena in 1987. I had every single album on vinyl, and got up at 2:00 in the morning to watch the repeat of the repeat episode I had watched earlier in the day. I coped with big-time bullying by the popular girls at school for my choice of music. And everything else, actually. I had every reprint of Tiger Beat Magazine, several autographs, and a bedroom plastered with his posters.
My mother was kind enough to take me to meet Davy on a few occasions. He lived in PA, and often did local events in addition to his schedule of national and international dates. One memorable day, I came home with the holy grail of artifacts... I hugged him at a book signing of his autobiography, "They Made a Monkee Out of Me," and came away with a strand of his hair on my sweater. I knew because it clearly showed the red highlights of his not-too-obnoxious mullet. It was 1988, after all. I swooned for months.
This would all just be the musings of yet another teenage fan, if it weren't for my unanticipated foray into the position of Burlesque producer and hostess. When I opted to host the "Big Reveal" for my first Jim Thorpe Burlesque Festival, it was to visibly thank the members of my community who came out in force to support my efforts. It was also to control the quality of the show. I had never even held a microphone, let alone been in a position to wade into a crowd of people who were all of a sudden "fans." I had to figure out, and fast, how to engage, entertain, and make myself real to the people who had paid money for an experience I had promised to give them.
It turned out to be easy for me. I started looking at the entertainment-type things, such as concerts, music, and DVDs, that had made me happiest, and that, as a consumer, I felt were money well-spent. The first person on the list was Alice Cooper. Then Rob Zombie. Both amazing showmen, with a concert format that would leave you wanting more, even if you weren't a fan of their music. Molly Sugden as Mrs. Slocome from "Are You Being Served?" The DVD collection of that series would be worth it at three times the price. Monty Python. Mae West. And, then, drifting up from my distant past, Davy Jones. I had spent what would be thousands of dollars on merchandise, untold hours in the car and waiting in line for a photo and autograph, and stoidly endured the ridicule of my classmates. Of all these stars, he was the most inspirational.
Aside from the mega-stardom that came from the Monkees, Davy interacted with his fans easily. He was always kind, easy-going, and accessible. He laughed loudly and smiled broadly. There was never anything snobbish or "too busy" about him. He could have insulated himself, and perhaps rightly so, given the scale of his celebrity, but he chose not to. He was content to be hugged, kissed, and probably goosed by the people who loved him. It was plain to see that he embraced their warmth because he knew his job as an entertainer did not end when the curtain came down. His fans loved Davy Jones 24/7, and he made the same committment to them. And it was very sincere.
The way I felt as a fan of Davy Jones was the way I wanted Jim Thorpe and PA Burlesque Festival fans to feel, too. I don't want to be a celebrity, I want to be the hostess of a party that I threw just for them. I make it a point, during each intermission, to come off the stage and chat with our audience. I want them to know that it's important to me that they have an incredible time. I have an after-party whenever it is possible, so that fans and performers alike can get a chance to show how appreciative they are to see one another.
People who successfully lead by example aren't always the ones who have the most flash or are currently at the top of the charts. They're the people who unbegrudgingly reciprocate the joy and gratitude they receive from all areas of their life. They're the ones who are in it for the long haul, side by side with the folks who helped them get where they are. They realize that nothing is too small to make a difference, and they work ceaselessly to pay dividends on the monetary, emotional, or spiritual investment that has been made in them.
They are you and I.
Madame Corsetiere
Posted by Brooke Au Buchon.
