Any of them "going" is inconceivable.
The Monkees were probably the first records (45s and LPs) that I purchased on my own with my saved-up babysitting money. They were definitely the first posters hanging in my bedroom, and the only time I ever purchased teen fan magazines.
My earliest forays into fiction writing was also Monkee-centric. It wasn't called fanfic back then. We called them "Monkee Stories." I remember my 6th grade teacher confiscating one, reading it, and telling that it was good, but I shouldn't pass it around during class.
TV Stevie saw Davy Jones on Broadway as the Artful Dodger in Oliver. He still has the playbill around here somewhere. Long before I ever met TV, he'd recorded all of The Monkees TV show off MTV. Later, when the Chromos were very young, they watched those tapes. So did I, lost in my memories.
TV had a chance to meet Davy several years ago, at the New York State Fair. It was TV's responsibility to escort Davy from the stage where he was performing to the news set of the television station for whom he worked. He said that Davy was less than gracious about it.
Here's a snippet of a chain of e-mails flying back and forth between TV and me this afternoon:
From: Molly(Yes, my middle name is Jean).
To: TV Stevie
How can you joke at a tragic time like this?
DAVY JONES IS DEAD!
From: TV Stevie
I'm not joking. Besides he dissed me when I walked him to the W--- booth at the Fair. Acted like I wasn't there when I was talking to him.
So cheer up, Molly Jean.
Oh what can it mean?
No more Day Dream Believin' or Pleasant Valley Sundays
Here we come...walkin' to the Pearly Gates...get the funniest looks from...everyone we hate.
Then I saw his face. Now I'm a Believer.
TV Stevie can always make me laugh, and today I need it.
Davy Jones is dead. Bits of my past keep slipping away.