Mark Volman, the curly-haired frontman of The Turtles, breathed his last in Nashville after a brief, unexpected illness. He was 78 years old.
Volman was born on April 19, 1947, in Los Angeles, where the Pacific sun and boisterous city life infused him with a lively spirit. It never abated. As he recalled, he met his lifelong partner in harmony, Howard Kaylan, in Westchester High’s choir; together, they graduated in 1965 and swiftly formed a band that would become The Turtles.
They were not just another sixties band. They were masters of melodic alchemy, taking folk, surf, and psychedelia, and mixing them into radio-ready delights: “It Ain’t Me Babe,” “Elenore” and, of course, the immortal Happy Together, a song whose grace belied the complex chords beneath. The tune became the summer anthem on Keener in 1967 that still populates air-checks today.
When The Turtles disbanded at the dawn of the seventies, Volman and Kaylan metamorphosed into Flo & Eddie, joining Frank Zappa’s Mothers of Invention and spreading their irreverent vocal alchemy across albums by T. Rex and Bruce Springsteen and on children’s television. Do yourself a favor and listen to the re-imagination of “Eleanore” on the Flo & Eddie “Moving Targets” LP. It’s a hot-rockin, danceable rendition that summarizes the irreverent party vibe we’ll always associate with their attitude.
If there was one word that captured Volman’s presence on stage, on record, in classrooms, in his memoir It was joy. Search YouTube for the Turtles’ playful performance on th Mike Douglas show. Mark was clearly there for the fun of it, playing or faking whatever instrument was thrust into his hands.
Even after his diagnosis with Lewy body dementia in 2020, a progressive illness that he publicly shared in 2023, his spirit remained irrepressible. He continued to tour under the “Happy Together” banner, leading revues of nostalgia and exuberance, refusing to let his voice fade. “Okay, whatever’s going to happen will happen, but I’ll go as far as I can,” he told People magazine with quiet determination.
Beyond his musical life, Volman embraced the academic rigor of storytelling. In his mid-forties, he returned to school, earning bachelor’s and master’s degrees in screenwriting from Loyola Marymount University. His commencement valedictory, delivered to the melody of Happy Together, earned him a moment on CBS Evening News. Eventually, he taught music business and entertainment industry courses at Belmont University in Nashville, where students affectionately called him “Professor Flo.”
His memoir, Happy Forever: My Musical Adventures With The Turtles, Frank Zappa, T. Rex, Flo & Eddie, and More, published in 2023, reads like a love letter to the counterculture, the road, and the absurd joys of backstage moments. There, he revisited tales of wild nights with Jimi Hendrix and John Lennon, the quirky battles over band names that morph into identity, and the halting triumph of reclaiming The Turtles name itself.
At the end, Volman’s final days were threaded with tenderness. Emily Volman, his partner, spoke of his “big old smile even at the end,” and how despite fatigue and hospital visits, he remained playful, humorous, and serenely optimistic. He died, as he lived, with artistry, warmth, and a smile.
He is survived by Emily; his former wife Pat Volman; daughters Hallie and Sarina; and his brother Phil.
We’re seeing the inevitable passing of the voices who intoned the soundtrack of our lives. Volman’s marks the closing of a chapter in American music that wrote itself in smile-lines, tambourine swirls, and harmonies that echo in sleep-filled minds. He was, in every sense, a joyful force. A bearer of buoyancy in an often-bleak world.
He would want us to imagine him onstage once more: Technicolor shirt, curls bouncing, singing, lighting a thousand faces with anticipation. That memory, bright and crackling, may be gone from the physical stage, but the resonance as he’d say… that stays.
