How Circus Boy Became a Monkee—and a Non-Drummer Became the Drummer
The American Time Capsule is a collection of stories celebrating the people, places, traditions, and everyday moments that quietly shaped our lives—and became the memories we treasure most.
Most people remember Micky Dolenz as the drummer for The Monkees.
There’s just one problem.
When he got the job, he didn’t know how to play the drums.
Not poorly.
Not as a beginner.
Not at all.
The future drummer of one of the biggest television bands in history had never touched a drum kit.
Yet somehow he ended up behind one.
And that’s only part of the story.
Before He Was a Monkee, He Was Circus Boy
Long before screaming fans and hit records, Micky Dolenz was already a television star.
Dolenz grew up in an era when a successful television show could make someone recognizable to millions of Americans almost overnight. With only a handful of networks, families often watched the same programs and knew the same stars—a world I remember in When TV Had Three Channels and Everybody Watched the Same Thing.
His constant companion was an elephant named Bimbo.
To avoid accusations of nepotism, the young actor was credited as Mickey Braddock rather than using his famous family name. His father, George Dolenz, was already a successful actor.
For many children growing up in the late 1950s, Micky Dolenz wasn’t a musician.
He was Circus Boy.
Back to the Same Studio
One strange detail often gets overlooked.
Fast forward nearly a decade.
In 1965, Dolenz found himself auditioning for a new television series about a struggling rock band.
The timing couldn’t have been better. The Beatles had helped ignite a new level of teenage music culture in America, especially after their historic television appearance in 1964—an explosion I explored in Beatles on Ed Sullivan: 8 Minutes That Changed America.
The kid who had learned to work with circus elephants was now auditioning to play a musician.
On the same studio lot where he’d once worked as Circus Boy.
The project would become The Monkees.
“You’re the Drummer”
Dolenz arrived at the audition with one advantage.
He could play guitar.
The producers liked him.
There was only one problem.
They already had guitar players.
Mike Nesmith played guitar.
Peter Tork played guitar.
The producers needed somebody behind the drum kit.
So they looked at Dolenz and essentially said:
In effect, the decision was:
You’re the drummer.
There was just one issue.
He wasn’t.
Learning to Become the Drummer
Many people would have panicked.
Dolenz didn’t.
Years earlier, he’d been told he needed to learn how to work with an elephant for Circus Boy.
Now he was being told he needed to learn how to play the drums.
To an actor, maybe it wasn’t all that different.
Learn the part.
There was just one problem.
This part came with a physical complication nobody watching The Monkees on television would have known about.
As a child, Dolenz had suffered from Perthes disease, a condition affecting the hip joint. It left his right leg weaker than his left.
That mattered because a conventional drum kit generally requires the drummer’s right foot to operate the bass drum pedal while the left foot controls the hi-hat.
For Dolenz, that arrangement was difficult.
So instead of forcing his body to conform to the drum kit…
he made the drum kit conform to his body.
With the help of his instructor, Dolenz adapted the setup.
His left foot operated the bass drum.
His right foot operated the hi-hat.
But above the waist, he continued playing primarily right-handed.
The result was an unusual hybrid arrangement—part right-handed, part left-handed—that allowed him to compensate for the weakness in his leg.
It may have looked unconventional.
But it worked.
And there is something wonderfully appropriate about that.
The producers had taken an actor who wasn’t a drummer and told him to become one.
His body presented another obstacle.
So he adapted.
He learned.
He practiced.
And eventually the guy hired to pretend to be a drummer became capable of sitting behind the kit in front of thousands of screaming fans.
But there was still one awkward piece of the Monkees story to deal with.
Who was actually playing on the records?
Then He Had to Become the Real Thing
The early Monkees recordings relied heavily on professional session musicians, as was common in the Los Angeles recording industry of the era.
But television success created a challenge no studio musician could solve for Dolenz.
The Monkees had to go onstage.
Thousands of screaming fans weren’t coming to see session musicians.
They were coming to see The Monkees.
Screaming teenage audiences had already become one of the defining sights—and sounds—of 1960s pop culture. I witnessed that phenomenon myself when I watched the Beatles perform at Busch Stadium in 1966, a night I remember in Beatlemania in the Rain.
Dolenz had to become a real drummer.
Fast.
He practiced relentlessly.
Television could create the illusion.
The recording studio could bring in professionals.
A live concert couldn’t.
And that meant Micky Dolenz had to become what television had already told America he was.
The drummer.
The band fought for greater creative control.
By the time The Monkees recorded their third album, Headquarters, Dolenz was playing drums both live and in the studio.
The actor hired to portray a drummer had transformed himself into one.
The Actor Became the Part
Micky Dolenz was hired to play a drummer on television.
Then television success forced him to become one.
He learned.
He adapted.
He practiced.
He went onstage.
And somewhere along the way, the actor stopped merely playing the part.
He became the part.
More than sixty years after Circus Boy, Dolenz has continued performing the music that made The Monkees part of American pop culture.
Which makes the strangest part of the story the simplest.
They hired an actor who couldn’t play the drums to portray a drummer.
And they ended up creating one.
Your Turn
Were you a Monkees fan?
Did you watch the television show, buy their records, have a favorite Monkee, or maybe even see them perform live?
And back then, did you care whether they had started as a band or as four performers brought together for a television show?
For many of us, none of that mattered. We liked the songs, laughed at the show, and watched Micky, Davy, Mike and Peter become part of the soundtrack of the 1960s.
What do you remember about The Monkees—and what was your favorite song?
Tell us what you remember.
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Bunker Rule
You can love The Monkees, hate The Monkees, or still be wondering why your sister had a picture of Davy Jones taped to her bedroom wall.
Debate the music, the television show, the “manufactured band” label, or which Monkee was your favorite—but keep it friendly.
Memories don’t always agree, and neither do music fans.
Disagree with the opinion. Don’t attack the person sharing it.
Bunker Notice
This article is a nostalgic look at Micky Dolenz, The Monkees, and one of the more unusual journeys from television actor to working musician.
The Monkees began as performers assembled for a television series, and professional session musicians contributed substantially to their early recordings. That history doesn’t erase what Dolenz and the other members subsequently learned, performed, recorded, and accomplished as musicians.
As with many stories from the early years of television and rock and roll, recollections and accounts of specific events can differ after more than half a century.
The purpose here isn’t to settle the old argument over whether The Monkees were a “real band.” It’s to remember how an actor hired to play a drummer eventually became one.