The biggest sign in Los Angeles is perched on the top of a high hill overlooking the Sunset Strip. It says simply HOLLYWOOD. It is the tourists’ delight and, at night, it carefully screens one of the Hollywood Hills’ most popular “lovers’ lanes”. All of this is of little or no concern to a nearby resident (he lives two blocks down from the giant-sized H—namely, Peter Tork. At times Peter has a highly developed sense of indifference, probably mastered as a direct result of becoming one of the most popular and sought-after young men in the world!
Once in a blue moon Peter Tork manages to get a day of his very own—a marvelous day in which he can do exactly as he pleases. You are now invited to join Peter on just such a glorious day as this. Rumpled and smiling (Peter is always in a good mood—well, nearly always), he rises at about 11 A.M. After some bathroom noises—such as cold water on the face and teeth-brushing—Peter bumbles into the kitchen, where he carefully prepares his favorite breakfast: a steaming dish of hot cereal (oatmeal or the likes). While his breakfast is boiling, Peter goes to his brand-new stereo, puts on Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, and turns it up full blast. He pulls open the draperies of the upstairs part of his duplex apartment so that the sun comes streaming through one entire side of his living room. Then, as happy as W.C. Fields when he has just kicked a kid, Peter sits down with his bowl of cereal, listens to the music and watches the sunlight dance across the living-room rug. There is something so disarming, so innocent and charming about everything he does that you find yourself quietly falling in love with Peter Tork.
Suddenly, your host seem to “wake up”. At once he is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed; jumping about, cleaning up the pad, combing his hair and getting dressed. The phone is ringing merrily and, before you know it, Peter has invited a whole passel of his buddies to drop by for the afternoon. When the door bell buzzes, you meet such people as Davy Jones, David Pearl, Micky Dolenz, Henry Diltz, Joey Richardson (a buddy from New York City), Denny Doherty—and a complete cast of utterly charming characters. Enough soda and potato chips for everyone seems to materialize out of thin air, and for a moment you wonder if powerful Peter isn’t really a magician after all!
Peter has as many girl friends (and that’s friends, not sweethearts—so please don’t misunderstand) as he does boy friends, and some of them vanish into the kitchen from time to time. Just before the California sun starts to sink the delicious aroma of a home-cooked meal fills the living room. Peter himself makes the salad and salad dressing, and soon everyone is sitting about cross-legged, eating a plateful of roast beef, zucchini and salad.
An informal sing-in, play-in begins to happen. Banjos and guitars appear and voices begin to harmonize, in everything from folk songs to the latest number one hit records. You secretly kick yourself for not having a tape recorder to capture this beautiful and historical moment forever. Later, the guests begin to leave—in couples or one at a time. When the last guest has departed, Peter starts to clean the dishes, stops halfway, and suddenly becomes very quiet. He turns off the lights and lights a candle—and the last thing you hear as you leave your perfect day in the life of Peter Tork is the haunting strains of the sitar of Ravi Shankar, coming from the stereo set.