When I mention to Denny Doherty that I’m reading Michelle Philips’s book, California Dreamin’, he laughs and says, “Well, I can’t stop you.”

Does that mean it’s not accurate?

“I mean,” he says, “everyone has their own point of view. And there’s only Michelle and me left, so...”

So?

So now he’s telling his story of the Mamas & the Papas. He’s telling it – and singing it, and showing it with lots of projected photos – from the stage of the Cleveland Play House’s Bolton Theater in his show Dream a Little Dream: The Nearly True Story of the Mamas & the Papas, opening April 5 and running through April 29 (previews begin March 31). In the show, Doherty sings about 20 songs, from the folk songs he started with to the Mamas & the Papas hits, with an onstage band and singers, in between imparting funny and fascinating tales of his career, beginning as a folksinger in Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Even in an early rehearsal – in a big, empty room with no costumes, lighting, stage sets or anything but instruments and vocal mics – the songs are chill-producing and clearly evoke the Mamas & the Papas’ sound. And Doherty’s stories are riveting. The male lead singer of the Mamas & the Papas – who scored one of their early hits, “Monday, Monday,” exactly 40 years ago this month – Doherty can still sing.

As you might guess, Michelle Phillips does not appear in this show, but her Mamas & Papas parts are sung, at least as well as she ever sang them herself, by the multitalented Lisa MacIsaac. The sister of Cape Breton fiddler Ashley MacIsaac, Lisa – who is also a member of the Canadian folk-pop duo Madviolet – plays the fiddle in onstage Dream a Little Dream band as well. And the fact that she is as striking looking as Mama Michelle will probably not detract from the show.

Canadian Doris Mason plays keyboards in the band, but more significantly, sings the parts of Cass Elliot, the Mamas & the Papas’ female lead singer. Large, but nowhere near Mama-Cass large, Mason produces a big sound as well.

The Mamas & the Papas, a pioneering folk-rock group epitomized the music-business term “meteoric success”: All of its 10 Top-40 hit singles and five top-selling albums were created in just three years. And when the group ended after three years, it had already gone on for three years too long.

It was ill-fated from the start, nearly not happening at all, even after several potential beginnings. Three of its members – Doherty, John Phillips and Michelle Phillips – were always entangled in various interpersonal dilemmas, some of which included Cass Elliot as well.

And the Mamas & the Papas’ first hit record, “California Dreaming,” was practically an accident – in fact, when it became a hit, not only did Doherty not know it was a hit, he didn’t even know it was out. It was David Crosby – then a member of the Byrds and later of Crosby, Still and Nash – who told him, by driving his Porsche onto the sidewalk on the Los Angeles street where Doherty was walking, nearly pinning Doherty to a wall, and screaming at him through his sunroof that Doherty had a hit.

But while most musicians’ reaction would be one of elation, Doherty’s was, “ What does this mean – we have to stay together? How are we gonna do that, with Michelle and John and I having this … and Cass is mad at us for … what are we gonna do? I wanna get off the ride. ‘But you caught the brass ring, man.’ I don’t care – I wanna get off the ride; I didn’t wanna get on the ride; I didn’t know we were on a ride. ‘You can’t – we need product.’ “

And then, after the group’s initial success, and throughout its lifespan, most of its members inadvertently did as much as they could to ensure the group’s demise. “Except Mama Cass” – to borrow a phrase from one of the group’s big hit records, “Creeque Alley,” which was, oddly enough, a song by the group about the history of itself. Elliot, he says, was the one who brought the group together and tried to keep it together, but who finally had too much and gave up, which was when the group officially disbanded – though, he says, it was never together much. Elliot died in 1974, just as she was beginning to enjoy great success as a solo artist. John Phillips died in 2001. This show, Doherty says, besides being his personal story, is also a sort of tribute to Elliot, which is, at least in part, why he’s titled it Dream a Little Dream, the title of Elliot’s biggest solo hit record.

The show is directed by Randal Myler, an award-winning playwright and director, who is known for his thoughtful, substantial theater works about significant musical artists and eras, including Lost Highway: The Music and Legend of Hank Williams, It Ain’t Nothing But the Blues, and Love, Janis (about Janis Joplin).

Doherty, who co-wrote Dream a Little Dream with playwright Paul Ledoux, started working on it about 10 years ago and has performed it two or three times, each time honing it a little more. Doherty says that despite the awkwardness and pain of having to work with the Mamas & the Papas for three years, “when we’d sing those songs, everything else would take a back seat for those few hours. “

You can take a theater seat for a couple of hours and go back in time.

Dream a Little Dream: The Nearly True Story of the Mamas and the Papas, Cleveland Play House, Bolton Theater, 8500 Euclid Avenue, Cleveland. For ticket info, call (216) 795-7000 X4, or visit http://www.ClevelandPlayhouse.com.

From Cool Cleveland contributor David Budin popcycles@sbcglobal.net (:divend:)