Things changed in 1969, but underneath it all, we didn't

http://www.scrippsnews.com/node/41004

02/17/2009
By MARK PATINKIN, The Providence Journal

There's a new book out that brings an unsettling reminder. It's 
called "1969 -- The Year Everything Changed." It claims, credibly, 
that 1969 was the height of the youth culture. The grim reminder is 
that its publication comes on the year's 40th anniversary. I guess 
those of us who were part of it aren't youths anymore.

The author, Rob Kirkpatrick, 41, examines the era as an observer. At 
the time, he was 1 year old. He does a fine job cataloguing the main 
events, like Chappaquiddick and student strikes, and makes a good 
case that while 1968 was more about politics, 1969 was about the 
culture. I was 16.

Though it was a time of upheaval, it strikes me that many things were 
simpler. The closest anyone got to texting was passing notes in 
class. Playlists all came in pre-determined order on vinyl records. 
You did not have to take your shoes off before boarding an airplane. 
I didn't know a single woman who had a belly-button ring or a tattoo 
above her rear end. Typewriters occasionally jammed, but never wiped 
out your data. Toyota made tinny junk, no one had heard of AIDS and 
people did not walk around the mall talking out loud into Bluetooth earpieces.

I understood things in 1969.

Usually, when folks recall that year, they focus on the drama -- 
street demonstrations and Woodstock. There's an impression everyone 
was caught up in big events. But there was another side. At least for 
people around my age, if you looked past the bell-bottoms and long 
hair, young folks had the same concerns as in most times.

I remember reading a book called "The Strawberry Statement," written 
at age 19 by James Simon Kunen, who was in the epicenter of student 
protests at Columbia. He fancied himself an heir to the great 
revolutionary movements in history, but paused during one fiery 
meeting to wonder whether Lenin paid as much attention to the chest 
size of his fellow female revolutionaries as he did. Boys, even the 
radical kind, remain boys.

It was typical enough. You didn't turn on your lava lamp with your 
male friends and talk about rebelling against the Establishment, or 
if you did, you quickly moved on to the subject of girls, music and 
sports. Back then, Kareem Abdul Jabbar was still Lew Alcindor, and 
both the Mets and the Celtics were 1969 champions. Harmon Killebrew 
hit 49 home runs, presumably without the help of steroids.

I'm still convinced it was not 40 years ago, but distance offers 
perspective, and it's clear my 1969 experience wasn't just about the 
counterculture. I did wear bell-bottoms and longish hair, but even as 
we rebelled against the more traditional 1950s era, we were 
influenced by it, and not in a bad way.

One prominent movie of that year was "Bob and Carol and Ted and 
Alice," which was all about free love and group therapy -- an early 
reflection of Tom Wolfe's "Me Decade." But 1969 was also the year 
that John Wayne starred in "True Grit," for which he won the Best 
Actor Oscar. I may have been listening to the Stones and Hendrix, but 
on some level, Wayne, a classic pre-'60s conservative icon, was a 
shaping influence, too. It's easy to forget that both "Gunsmoke" and 
"Bonanza" were Top 10 TV shows in 1969, and Clint Eastwood was a 
superstar. Even if you horrified your father by arriving home one day 
with love beads around your neck, there was something in the American 
male DNA back then that made you want to be a self-reliant cowboy.

Similarly, I may have worn ripped jeans and sandals, but I often 
daydreamed about being a short-haired, tuxedoed James Bond. I don't 
think the two things were a contradiction. We were more normal than we looked.

The year also embodied contrast in the way people my age saw America. 
Richard Nixon was president, and may have been embraced by what he 
that year called the "Silent Majority," but he was a reviled figure 
among the young. Most kids were vehemently against our foreign 
policies, not just the big one, Vietnam, but the sense that we backed 
dictators if it was good for American business. We were angry, and alienated.

And yet.

I went to a monthlong summer journalism program at Northwestern 
University for high-school students, and on July 20, dozens of us 
were crowded into a dorm lounge, watching a real-time black-and-white 
image of Neil Armstrong stepping onto the surface of the moon. I 
still remember the exhilaration.

We resented America, but at certain moments, couldn't have been prouder of it.

That was 1969. It was indeed a year in which everything changed; and 
yet the unwritten story is that, underneath, so much of it was the same.
--

(mpatinkin(at)projo.com.)

.


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