PE 1965

Martin Luther King and Selma rain on LBJ’s parade, and the cost of Vietnam cuts deep into social programs. TV tries to sell War Is Fun, but young Boomers turn to Folk Rock for amusement and protest. Rock & Roll becomes their official language and Teen Utopia sheds its dead skin on SoCal beaches and slithers up the West Coast to San Francisco. The FCC accidentally creates FM Radio.

1965: Days of Our LivesNever Too Young,A Time For Us, The Moment of Truth and The Nurses (New Soaps)

Poor Lyndon. He wanted so much to be able to step out of Kennedy’s shadow, and into the spotlight as one of America’s greatest Presidents. He might have made it, too, if a tiny, backward nation, half way around the world hadn’t shot him right in his Achilles’ heel. Play “word association” with any Boomer. The answer for LBJ is Vietnam. But contrary to popular contemporary Boomer thinking, Johnson wasn’t a complete idiot. Kennedy had taught him that, in modern America, the President’s image matters more to the public than the real man or his actions. Lyndon waited patiently for his turn, and now carefully molded his media reflection. LBJ leveled with a group of reporters on January 10, 1964: “If you play along with me, I’ll play along with you. I’ll make big men of you. If you play it the other way, I know how to play it both ways, too, and I know how to cut off the flow of news, except in handouts.” Lyndon had already written the scenario for his presidency, and those lowly newsboys better not mess it up. But sadly, even the President of the United States cannot write history in advance.

Act One of Johnson’s script actually worked. He looked good on TV during his State of the Union Message on January 8th, as he declared the War on Poverty and civil rights to be the major issues of the day. Congress passed the Civil Rights Act on July 2nd, and Lyndon signed it in a televised ceremony the same day. By the end of the year, 70% of Americans polled declared that LBJ was doing a good job, and only 10% said he sucked.

But the curtain barely rose on Act Two when an unexpected character from another story walked right out on to center stage. On January 2nd, Martin Luther King, Jr., just back from picking up his Nobel Peace Prize inSweden, pointed out that a law, such as the Civil Rights Act, is only a law if it is enforced. That line wasn’t in Johnson’s script. Martin was improvising! Lyndon had made a big show out of a Southern president signing the new-and-improved Emancipation Proclamation, and yet, not much had changed. Black adults were now guaranteed the right to vote, but local officials, especially in the South, blocked their registration with absurd “competency” tests and illegal voting taxes. King decided to expose the system atSelma,Alabama… the site of the Confederacy’s last stand at the end of the Civil War. Bigots there still fiercely protected their divine White Rights a century later. Most of the Caucasian adults in the town were registered to vote, but only about 3% of the African Americans.

During the past decade, coverage of a civil rights demonstration such as King’s would have been buried on the back pages of your local newspaper, but now, in 1965, “mobile” TV news crews finally lived up to their name. Cameras quickly reached the scene, capturing all the action: local police brutally unleashing bullwhips, night sticks, tear gas, fire hoses and attack dogs against unarmed demonstrators, of every race, including religious leaders and many women and children. A proud sheriff described the fine work of his men on network television, “You just gotta know how to treat them niggers.” The images outraged viewers, and instantly,Selmabecame a national problem demanding an immediate solution. Governor Wallace refused to protect the protestors, which forced Johnson (reluctantly) to send in the National Guard.

LBJ, however, didn’t hesitate to send teenage Boomer boys to the opposite side of the planet to protect a tiny third world country’s right to be ruled by an unpopular puppet government. As King planned a march from Selma to the state capitol at Montgomery on March 8th, the first American combat troops (3,500 Marines) landed in Danang, South Vietnam on Johnson’s orders. The event received only a brief sound bite on the network news, as did the first “teach-in” protest at the University of Michigan on March 25th, as did violent anti-USA demonstrations in Latin America, Europe and Africa a month earlier during heavy bombing of North Vietnam by the United States. These vague reflections would soon gain significance as they crystallized and magnified into the form of Lyndon’s Monster of the Id.

Vietnam loomed as the most threatening event in the lives of Boomers for the next decade. Ten million boys (out of thirty) served in the Armed Forces, more than three million saw duty in Vietnam, 58,000 died in action and hundreds of thousands returned maimed for life. Every Boomer was touched by the war.

The government recognized the plus side: the glut of Boomer teens did not affect the unemployment rates. Lyndon hired them. As the number of kids turning eighteen increased month by month (beginning in mid-1964), so did the draft quotas and the numbers of teens sent the combat zone. The only problem with this plan was the staggering cost of the war. Defense Secretary Robert McNamara estimated on April 26, 1965, that the price had surpassed $1.5 billion annually and continued to rise.Vietnamsiphoned off enormous chunks of federal money from LBJ/JFK’s domestic social programs, such the War on Poverty, enforcing Civil Rights, urban renewal and improving education, all of which Lyndon promised in his State ofUnionmessage. Now, he reneged, and many of the hopes and dreams that he and JFK stirred up in good faith, became blatant lies.

Thus began the year of the Gap. Johnson inadvertently caused a widening credibility gap, which in turn reopened the generation gap. A handful of students atBerkeleyin the fall of ‘64 kidded, “Don’t trust anyone over thirty,” but by the summer of ‘65, millions of Boomers accepted the joke as fact. This caused a communication gap. Teens shed their blind faith respect for politicians, teachers, and parents and no longer trusted the conventional communication network of newspapers, TV and schools. Boomers felt a compelling urge to communicate with each other, but not with “them.”

Rock and Roll

Rock & Roll became more than just entertainment for young people… the music transformed into a secret language in 1965, and Boomers only trusted leaders who spoke it fluently. R&R sounded foreign to our elders and separated us from them. So much the better, because the music brought our generation together as never before.

The British Invasion set up an International Teen Network, which turned out to be a two-way proposition. As the Beatles and their Brit buddies took over American AM radio, Dylan and folkie friends began nudging them off the charts inEngland. Each group influenced the other. Dylan morphed into a poet with an electric backbeat, and the Beatles realized that there was more to life and lyrics than just holding hands.

The young felt betrayed by their elders and this resentment reflected in their choice of music. Stop In the Name of Love, You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling and What the World Needs Now Is Love rode high on the pop charts. The Beatles released two albums (Help! and Rubber Soul) in 1965, and each showed a metamorphosis from their earlier upbeat, puppy-love lyrics to a thoughtful statement about the world around them. Help! reflected feelings of betrayal, and then moved beyond to accusation: “You tell lies, thinking I can’t see,” and “Were you telling lies the night before?” The next step, of course, is self-pity: “I’m down, I’m really down,” “Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away/ Now it looks as though they’re here to stay/ Oh, I believe in yesterday,” and even, “Gonna play the part about a man who’s sad and lonely/ And all I got to do is act naturally.” The next step is desperation: “Help me get my feet back on the ground/ Won’t you please, please help me?” In December, we heard the final step of anger from the Beatles on Rubber Soul: “I’ve got a word or two to say about the things that you do/ You’re telling all those lies about the good things that we can have if we just close our eyes/ Do what you want to do/ Go where you’re going to/ Think for yourself, because I won’t be there with you.” And let’s not forget, “He’s as blind as he can be/ Just sees what he wants to see/ Nowhere Man, can you see me at all?” All steps complete, Boomers prepared to let go and sever ties with the over-thirty Establishment.

Bob Dylan played the role of angry young poet to a limited audience of War Baby Folk purists until he released the album Bringing It All Back Home. Dylan’s lyrics remained Folk Protest, but the music sounded suspiciously like Rock & Roll. Bob played his usual acoustic, but now an electric lead guitar was added and a rhythm section of drums and bass pushed the beat behind him. Dylan explained, “I may look like Robert Frost, but I feel just like Jesse James.” Jesse came out with guns a-blazing; taking shots at Lyndon: “Even the president of the United States must sometimes have to stand naked,” and his Vietnam policy: “Of war and peace the truth just twists/ Its curfew gull, it glides/ Upon four-legged forest clouds the Cowboy Angel rides/ With his candle lit into the sun, though its glow is waxed in black.” Bob took a shot at politicians in general: “Though the masters make the rules for the wise men and the fools/ I’ve got nothing, Ma, to live up to,” and “Don’t follow leaders and watch the parking meters.” Dylan hit capitalism: “Money doesn’t talk, it swears,” and commercialism: “Advertising signs they con you into thinking you’re the one who can do what’s never been done/ Who can win what’s never been won/ Meanwhile life outside goes on all around you.” Bob even proclaimed to the Great Society, “Your ancient, empty street’s too dead for dreaming.”

The path from betrayal to anger had been a long one, but Boomers completed the trip by mid ‘65. Is it any wonder that the number one song for most of that summer screamed, (I can’t get no) Satisfaction? The Bad Boys of Rock & Roll (the Rolling Stones) delivered the message. The lads tried their best to follow the advice of manager, Andrew Loog Oldham, who told them: “Drive parents up a bloody wall.” Obediently, they sang, “A man comes on the radio/ He’s telling me more and more about some useless information/ Supposed to drive my imagination/ I can’t get no satisfaction/ I can’t get no girl reaction.”


That same summer, TV continued their stale old sales pitch of War is Fun, with new shows like Hogan’s Heroes, The Wackiest Ship in the Army, Mr. Roberts and Mona McCluskey added to the ongoing Gomer Pyle, McHale’s Navy, No Time for Sergeants and Broadside. In honor of Texan, LBJ, TV even presented Army fun set in the Old West on F-Troop. Boomer boys did not rush right down to their local Army recruiters. TV networks decided to pull another old trick out of the hat… the Red Scare. “Look out! There are Commie spies everywhere!” Television then offered to save us with its amazing group of counterspies: a British spy (in honor of the Beatles) on Secret Agent, a black spy (in honor of MLK) on I Spy, and, “Would you believe,” a silly spy on Get Smart? Again, in honor of Lyndon, the networks even claimed that spies and counterspies once roamed the Old West in The Wild, Wild West.

“Like, sorry Mr. TV network Dude. Boomers aren’t digging the ‘War is Fun’ or the ‘Commies are hiding under our beds’ concepts. Kind of stale. Leaves a bad aftertaste in our mouths.” TV moved on to Plan C… Teen Utopia. That whole scene began with the movie Gidget in 1959, and TV tried to revive the dead with a series with the same name, staring Sally Field. The Beach Boys jumped back on the Beach Party bandwagon, with (I wish they all could be) California Girls.

Hollywoodjoined in, offering misleading hints of sex in Beach Blanket Bingo and How to Stuff a Wild Bikini. Boomers passed on Teen Utopia, and the Movie Industry snapped back (like a woman scorned) with Village of the Giants… a horror film that delivered a warning to, and about, rebellious teens. Plot: Six Boomer teens steal a young boy’s scientific experiment, and the formula enables them to expand their bodies to six times their normal size. The rebellious giants take over the town, terrorize the citizens, laugh at the local authorities and dance to a lot of music that could only be called Rock & Roll in the context of a low-budget teen-scene screamer. The tyrant teens overpowered the adults, but preteen scientist, Ronny Howard, saved the day by spraying an antidote on the big punks to shrink them back to normal size. The message was aimed at younger, preteen Boomers, to warn them that they must avoid the evil influence of their older siblings. Boomers, of all ages (the few that saw it anyway), thought that Village was the silliest flick of the year.

Rock and Roll

The Stones provided an answer to the Great Society’s sales pitch to the youth of America: Hey, You, Get Off of My Cloud and (Don’t play with me ‘cause you’re) Playing With Fire. The naughty band headlined the T.A.M.I (Teenage Music International) Show, which promised something for everyone… soul, teen idol, beach sound and British Invasion. But the raw power and excitement of Jagger and the Stones brought a live concert ambiance to the movie. When Mick sang, It’s All Over Now, the performance served as an obituary for jukebox musicals and lip-synch TV shows like Hullabaloo, Shindig and Bandstand, because now, the old styles seemed hopelessly out of date by comparison.

Barry McGuire, no less subtle, sang (“Why don’t you tell me over and over again, my friend, that you don’t believe we’re on the”) Eve of Destruction: “You’re old enough to kill, but not for voting/ You don’t believe in war, then what’s that gun you’re toting?” The song belonged to the new “Folk Rock” genre that saturated the pop charts in 1965. Dylan opened the doors with Subterranean Homesick Blues in March, and an army of imitators followed. The lyrics shouted angry protest, but the music rocked for fun… the ideal combination that Boomers needed. Many Rock bands covered little-heard pure folkies, much the same way that White Teen Idols covered Black R&B originals in the mid-’50s. The Byrds hit the charts for the first time in April with Mr. Tambourine Man, just a month after Dylan’s folkie version failed to dent the list. In June, they also covered Bob’s All I Really Want to Do. The Turtles debuted in July with Dylan’s It Ain’t Me, Babe. Glen Campbell scored a big hit with a cover of Buffy Sainte-Marie’s powerful anti-war song Universal Soldier in August (The original version had flopped in 1964).

Dylan announced the birth of Folk Rock when he walked onto the stage at the Newport Folk Festival on July 25th with an electric guitar in his hand. Accompanied by the Butterfield Blues Band, Bob blasted the sedate audience out of their seats with a rocking version of It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue (Was he talking about acoustic music?). Folk purists (War Babies) hated it. Their Bob Dylan had defected to the Boomer Camp, and he smirked, Don’t Look Back. The Animals warned, We’ve Got to Get out of This Place, and some Boomer teens acted on their advice and ran away from home. A month later, Dylan asked, “How does it feel to be on your own/ With no direction of home/ A complete unknown/ Just like a rolling stone?”

Boomer kids still watched The Fugitive (an innocent man, forced to run and hide), and now, found a new show to identify with. In Run for Your Life, Paul Bryan learns that he has an incurably illness with only a few months to live, and then decides to use what little time he has left in the pursuit of adventure and happiness. With the draft hanging over their heads, Boomer boys could dig it. Didn’t Dylan just tell us, “Let me forget about today until tomorrow”?

Boomers understood images of alienation and isolation in Simon and Garfunkel’s Sounds of Silence: “Hello, Darkness, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again.” Gillian’s Island felt like a tragedy now, and a new show, Lost in Space symbolized a dead end for Kennedy’s New Frontier. TV also created another presidential oater tribute to LBJ with A Man Called Shenandoah, in which Robert Horton, an amnesiac, roamed the Old West in search of his identity. (Lyndon in search of his Great Society?).

A riot exploded in Wattson August 11th… 35 people killed, hundreds wounded and $200 million in property destroyed. A year prior, Motown played Dancing in the Streets, this summer, inner-city kids dug Shotgun and Otis Redding’s (You’d better give me some) Respect. The reflections on TV news stunnedMiddle America. “Anger and frustration among Blacks in southernCalifornia, just a few miles from the Beach Boys’ Teen Utopia? I thought that sort of thing was isolated in theDeep South.”

The Defense Department issued the largest draft call since the Korean War on October 14th. Anti-war demonstrations on college campuses across the country broke out the next day, and young men burned their draft cards in mass for the first time. Phil Ochs released I Ain’t Marching Anymore and tension filled the air. TV debuted The FBI and abrasive talk show host, Les Crane, pointed a shotgun microphone at his audience.

Young people talked about returning to nature, escaping the Great Society and leaving the corporate/ military machine/ urban sprawl behind. TV’s response to their dream was Green Acres. Many Boomers pulled the plug on television for the next decade.

The Lovin’ Spoonful suggested a new lifestyle in Do You Believe in Magic?: “The magic’s in the music and the music’s in me.” Dylan asked Mr. Tambourine Man to “Take me on a trip upon your magic, swirling ship… Let me forget about today until tomorrow.” Buffy Sainte-Marie added “Don’t ask forever of me, just love me now.” The Beatles saw the light, and shared their revelation, “In the beginning, I misunderstood/ But now I’ve got it and the word is good/ Say the word, the word is love.” All these pieces of the puzzle began to mesh. Peace, love (both free and brotherly), drugs and Rock & Roll. Teen Utopia shed its dead skin and slid up the coast toSan Francisco.

The US government unwittingly gave the fledgling hippie movement a tremendous boost in 1965, as the Federal Communication Commission ruled that radio stations in cities with more than 100,000 people must avoid duplicating AM/FM programming for more than 50% of their schedule. Station managers scrambled to fill the time as cheaply as possible, and thus, opened the door for Underground FM radio. The counterculture would soon have a voice.

PE 1966

Hippies died and Yippies take their place and head to Chicago. Lyndon quit and everybody runs for president. Hair invades Broadway. TV cancels all War Dramas, but adds Gomer Pyle . The oldest Boomers become eligible to vote…Antiheroes flood the big screen and riots in Chicago and assassinations of MLK and RFK  inspire ultraviolent flicks.

1966: Dark Shadows

President Johnson declared in his State of the Union, “The United States will remain in Vietnam until aggression there ends.” According to the polls, LBJ scored high with nearly 70% of the general public. Teenage Boomers rated him zilch, but since none of us were eligible to vote, no one (over thirty) asked for our opinion.


The Generation Gap dwarfed the Grand Canyonin 1966. If you flipped on Top 40 radio the day of Lyndon’s speech, you probably heard Sgt. Barry Sadler singing the praises of the good soldier in The Ballad of the Green Beret, followed by Lennon’s (He’s a real) Nowhere Man. Or, Frank Sinatra reminiscing on different periods of his long life, declaring after each verse, It Was a Very Good Year, followed by the Who, stuttering “People try to put us down/ Just because we get around/ They don’t dig our hair or clothes/ Hope I die before I get old/ Ta-ta-talking ‘bout my generation.” Teens were California Dreaming with the Mamas and the Papas, except for thousands who had already run away, and then wished that they Homeward Bound like Simon and Garfunkel. The Rolling Stones delivered the Boomer State of the Union: (Here comes your) 19th Nervous Breakdown.

Teenagers rode an emotional roller coaster. Paul Simon boasted of Feeling Groovy one minute, and then appeared isolated and withdrawn the next in I Am a Rock. A year prior, Dylan and Byrds begged, “Take me on a trip upon your magic, swirling ship.” This year, the Beach Boys sailed on board the Sloop John B, felt homesick, and complained, “This is the worst trip I’ve ever been on.” A bit later, the band was (I’m Picking up) Good Vibrations, while ? and the Mysterians cried 96 Tears. The Beatles declared Got to get you into my life, but the Supremes had another idea with, “Get out of my life, why don’t you, Babe?” Again, the Beatles were optimistic, “I can wait forever, I’ve got time,” but not so the Outsiders, who sang “I can’t wait forever/ Time won’t let wait that long.”

We heard songs of great faith from the lightweights: (You’re my) Soul and Inspiration by the Righteous Brothers, I’m a Believer by the Monkees, God Only Knows by the Beach Boys… And songs of no faith from the heavyweights: Dylan sang, “Human Gods… made flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark/ It’s easy to see without looking too far/ That not much is really sacred.” Along that same line, the Beatles told us the story of “Father McKenzie, writing the words of the sermon that no one will hear… All the lonely people/ Where do they all belong?” Perhaps aboard the Yellow Submarine? The Stones nixed the idea, “No colors anymore/ I want to paint it black.”

The radio played tunes that created images of ideal love, as in Soul and Inspiration and Cherish, and reflections of raunchy, get-down lure in (My Baby does the) Hanky Panky and Wild Thing. Even eternal teens, the Beach Boys, admitted that they lusted in their hearts, in Wouldn’t It Be Nice (“If we could sleep together?”). Cherish wasn’t a word to be found in the vocabulary of the Rolling Stones in 1966 in (Look at that) Stupid Girl and (She’s) Under My Thumb.

Nothing was simple… black and white… clearly right or wrong. Even the names of the groups were confusing. The Lovin’ Spoonful (Mary Poppins’ Spoonful of Sugar, or a junkie’s spoonful of smack?) felt up with What a Day for a Daydream, then down with “Hot town, ‘Summer in the City’ / Back of neck feeling dirty and gritty,” and then perfectly happy again with “You and me and ‘Rain on the Roof.’” Finally, even they had to admit that “It ain’t often easy, It ain’t often kind/ Did you ever have to make up your mind?”

In an intense comeback attempt, Phil Spector reflected the wide spectrum of changes going on inside our heads, as he produced River Deep, Mountain High for Ike and Tina Turner. But he used the same old Wall of Sound technique and the record flopped. Spector announced his retirement at the age of 26.

Defense Secretary McNamara revealed on March 2nd that US troop strength in Vietnam already topped 215,000, with 20,000 more Boomers on the way to the combat zone. That same month, the Beach Boys declared, “I feel so broke up, I want to go home,” and Peter, Paul and Mary released The Cruel War. Dylan, with tongue firmly in cheek, declared, “Everybody must get stoned.” Why not? The Great Society sends you half way around the world to get stoned in the Biblical sense, so why not stone yourself in a way that’s a lot more fun? The Byrds soared Eight Miles High in the “5-D” (Fifth Dimension), tripping with Mr. Space Man. The Stones’ Mother’s Little Helper pointed out that pill popping had become a traditional, popular sport for our hypocritical elders. The Beatles confirmed their diagnosis with a second opinion in Dr. Roberts. Dylan observed that Boomer daughters had inherited a pill-popping habit from their moms: “With your amphetamines and pearls… Just like a woman.”

The Association celebrated the arrival and acceptance of marijuana into mainstream pop culture, with Along Comes Mary. The Beatles encouraged us to “Turn off your mind and gently float upstream,” as the Trade Winds offered to take us on a Mind Excursion. Kicks attempted to be an anti-drug song, but Boomers interpreted the line “Kicks just keep getting harder to find” to mean that supply fell far short of a rapidly growing demand among young people. Teens rejected the recreational vehicles of the past, such as booze, prescription uppers and downers, and searched for kicks of their own. Pot was king, with LSD catching on fast. Donovan boldly (and erroneously) predicted the future: “Elec-a-tricka banana (smoking banana peels), it’s bound to be the very next craze.”

Before AM radio station managers and parents deciphered the hidden, trippy lyrics on several new records, the damage had been done. Dr. Timothy Leary spread the word for years, but Boomers heard the message for the first time: “Tune in, turn on, drop out.”


Teens turned off Television. The network cancelled Gidget because kids refused to be sucked back into the beach scene. Then Shindig and Hullabaloo bit the dust… Go-go dancers and lip synch looked too phony now. TV offered teenagers a compromise, and tried to coax them back to the innocent, I-Wanna-Hold-Your-Hand era with The Monkees (modeled after the Beatles’ movie, A Hard Day’s Night). But the TV program had none of the rebellious spark of the flick. Don Kirshner put the package together, and his old Brill Building ex-assembly-line songwriters cranked out most of the songs on the show. Some Boomers (mostly 9 to 12 year-olds) took the bait, but First-Wavers just laughed. The Monkees exposed glaring proof of the communication gap…the exact opposite of the direction in which Rock & Roll was headed.

Boomers laughed even harder at Batman. Again, the networks aimed at the vast Boomer market, and completely missed the mark. War Babies bought American Dreamish DC Comics, such as Batman, Superman and The Flash, back in the dark ages of the 1950s. Boomer kids read the much hipper, Marvel Comics, including Dr. Strange, Spiderman, Silver Surfer, Fantastic Four, Captain America and The Incredible Hulk in the ‘60s. Because of this incredible misunderstanding, Batman became the first “camp” (Cannabis Aided Mass Popularity) TV series of the Baby Boomer Generation. The Caped Crusader acted just too good to be true… a hilarious bore, completely predictable and superficial, and yet, he displayed all of the correct characteristics and behavior that society had shoved down Boomers’ throats since birth. But the fact remains that Batman was a moron. Kids began to notice similarities between him and the heroes on serious law-and-order TV programs, thus diminishing their credibility. In fact, teens lost respect for most of the establishment’s champions of justice, and created their own counterculture heroes instead.

The television network remained clueless as they tried to slip in an old WASP favorite, Tarzan, into primetime. Since “uppity Blacks” at home, and “yellow Commie devils” abroad gave Lyndon such a hard time, TV decided that a little reminder of White Supremacy was in order. Television’s first Tarzan, Ron Ely, appeared naturally stronger, smarter and braver than all the Blacks in Africa. The Great White Hope defeated whole tribes of the inferior race without breaking a sweat. TV axed Tarzan right about the time of the Tet Offensive of 1968, when those sneaky Asian Commies caught us by surprise, and then seriously kicked some white butts.

The Green Hornet, the only new superhero on the tube with enough common sense to realize that some non-Whites may be equal, or even superior, hired Bruce Lee (as Kato) to watch his back. Who would you rather have on your side in a real fight, the Boy Wonder or Bruce?

The superhero shows in 1966 tried to provide little Boomer boys with macho role models, but how about their sisters? They received That Girl, a young, single woman with a career, making it on her own. Unfortunately, that girl was Marlo Thomas, child of Danny, the perfect 50’s parent on Make Room for Daddy. Marlo had a Teen Idol Era look: False eyelashes, stiff helmet hairdo and Mod clothing, just as First Wave Boomer girls moved out of Barbieville.

As teens tuned out, ratings dropped, and the networks wallowed in the mire. The titles of the new programs reflected their mood. Dark Shadows (with vampires) premiered as the only new soap opera, Rat Patrol as the new war show, and Felony Squad as the new law-and-order show. Could they win hippie Boomer teens back to tube with their new spy thriller? Mission Impossible.


Boomers lost all faith in television as a tool to provide role models and morals, and turned en masse to the silver screen for more accurate reflections. Just beyond the American Dream’s perfect love/marriage/family myth, came another British Invasion, this time of films about broken marriages and empty affairs: Alfie, Morgan, Georgie Girl, and a carryover from 1965, Darling. Buffy Sainte-Marie sang, “Don’t ask forever of me, just love me now” on the radio, and teens reconsidered attitudes toward love and sex. Teen girls tried to explain, “But Mom, you didn’t have the pill as an option when you were my age. The world isn’t flat anymore.”

Boomers couldn’t find any relevant heroes on either the tube or big screen in 1966, so they began their first serious celluloid flirtation with antiheroes. War Babies had Brando in The Wild One back in the Dark Ages, but Marlon and his biker buddies spent all of their time boozing, cruising, bruising and terrorizing just for the hell of it. Boomer kids identified more with The Wild Angels… a bunch of long-haired, pot-smoking, acid-dropping (Ken Kesey turned on the real Hell’s Angels in 1965) hippieish bikers, just looking for a little space. The Angels never played the aggressors in these stories; instead, they appeared as innocent victims of an oppressive police state. Peter Fonda astride his chopper looked just as romantic an image to Boomers as his father, atop his steed had for our parents. But now, the quest was no longer to tame the wild frontier, but to escape Big Brother… to hang on to your freedom and individuality at any cost.

The antihero in Fahrenheit 451 faced the same challenge in a society where television grew all-consuming and “firemen” burned books in an effort to “make history more flexible and to maintain sameness among the masses.” This movie inspired a few Boomers to drastic action… they actually began to read. 1984, Animal Farm, Stranger in a Strange Land, Catch 22 and Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest all contained a favorite hippie theme similar to that in Fahrenheit 451: “Who should be called sane in an insane society?”

Americans watched TV news in horror as nightmare images filled their living rooms with mass murderers, Richard Speck (eight student nurses, stabbed and strangled in Chicago) and Charles Whitman (13 cut down and 31 wounded in a sniper attack from a tower at the University of Texas at Austin), more race riots (the biggest in Cleveland’s Hough Ghetto), a riot of WASP kids on the Sunset Strip, growing antiwar demonstrations at the White House and at Dow Chemical (makers of napalm and Agent Orange) headquarters, as McNamara calmly announced to the press that more than 2,000 American kids died in Vietnam during the first five months of the year, and that more than 285,000 Boomer teens were now in the combat zone.


Dylan sang, “Sooner or later one of us must know/ And only time will tell/ Which one of us has fell/ And which one was left behind/ When you go your way and I’ll go mine.” Boomers dropped out of the Great Society in droves, but where were they headed?

Boomers turned away from TV, traditionalHollywoodfilms and Top 40 radio for the remainder of the decade, and instead, searched for better reflections in counterculture flicks, underground newspapers and psychedelic music from small, independent FM radio stations. They dug a subterranean counterculture Teen Utopia all their own.

“Who could imagine that they would freak out in Minnesota, mina-mina-mina-Minnesota?” mocked Frank Zappa in the title cut of his first album, Freak Out, in late 1966. It was true… Boomers all over theUnited States rapidly converted to hippism.

Dylan warned in Subterranean Homesick Blues, “Look out, Kid, they keep it all hid,” and the obscure lyrics cleared the censors, and gave Bob his first Top 40 hit. Zappa didn’t care about his chance on pop radio in Trouble Every Day: “And there ain’t no Great Society as it applies to you and me/ Our country isn’t free and the law refuses to see/ That all you can ever be is just a lousy janitor/ Unless your uncle owns the store.” Frank belonged to a new breed of Rock musicians who mocked hit singles and Bandstand. The Mothers of Invention packed them in on the Sunset Strip and didn’t need the Music Establishment. In Who Are the Brain Police? Zappa enticed Boomers to question traditional values: “Is that what you really believe, or is it what the media hype and your mama told you to believe?” First Wave Boomers understood, and then began to resent all the media manipulation and censorship on TV and AM radio. As Zappa continued to insult everyone, including his fans, the audience grew: “You’re probably wondering why I’m here/ Not that you care, you plastic freaks.” The Mothers traveled toNew York in the fall and advertised their show as “Absurd and a total waste of three dollars.” Anti-hype instantly caught on with the counterculture.

The music scenes in LA and NYC were just a seed in the lid compared to the explosion in San Francisco. An estimated 1,000 psychedelic rock bands called the Bay area home by 1967. San Franciscoalready claimed the title of “dropout capitol of the West Coast” (Greenwich Villagein the East), dating back to the Beat era and Kerouac’s On the Road. Hippies and freaks fit right in. Freedom of Speech headquarters lay just across the bay at Berkeley, and underground newspapers, like the Berkeley Barb and Mojo Navigator put the real buzz out into the community.


As might be expected, the US government supplied the largest single contribution in the development of the counterculture. They selected Ken Kesey as one of their $75-a-day human guinea pigs for a “mind control” experiment with LSD at Menlo Park Clinic in late 1959 and early 1960 (before Leary’s research at Harvard). Ken helped himself to some free samples, and soon he and friends back at Perry Lane conducted their own experiments. They deduced that LSD was a mind-expanding, rather than a mind-controlling drug, and thus, felt compelled to spread the good news to the freak community. By 1965, Kesey, Augustus Owsley Stanley III (“The Henry Ford of acid”), a little-known band called the Warlocks (who soon renamed themselves the Grateful Dead) and a group of Ken’s friends presented The Merry Pranksters’ Acid Tests. Kesey explained his mission: “As navigator of this venture, I try, as much as possible to set out in a direction that, in the first place, is practically impossible to achieve, and then along the way mess up the minds of the crew with as many chemicals as we can lay our hands on.” With everyone in the proper frame of mind, the Pranksters proceeded with their mixed media experience: strobe lights, movie projections, taped sound effects, live cosmic raps, black lights, and some stoned-out Rock & Roll from Jerry Garcia and company, in an effort to provide a thought-provoking, mind-expanding experience and a lot of fun. The performers encouraged the audience to join in the fun, as Garcia explained: “We all preferred the anarchy of the Tests in a lot of ways. Every person was a participant and everywhere was the stage. We didn’t have to entertain anybody. We were no more famous than anybody else.”

Teens considered LSD a noble, brain-building exercise in 1966… just the thing to help shed the blind faith tunnel vision of their elders. Hippies and freaks rejected the Great Society, and the human mind became their New Frontier. They expected to explore time and space, and then to push imagination to the limit in search of a better world.


TV claimed to be hip to the scene, but as usual, stumbled in the wrong direction with It’s About Time. Plot: two astronauts broke though the time barrier and crash-landed in a prehistoric cave-dwelling neighborhood. In Irwin Allen’s The Time Tunnel the heroes bounce helplessly from past to future and back again, but were never able to connect with the present. (television networks suffered from that same affliction throughout the ‘60s.) TV finally took a lucky stab and hit a spot where teens might find happiness… aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise, working in harmony to rid the universe of evil for the benefit of all. The crew included women, Blacks, Asians, a Russian, aliens, and even a Scotsman! The well-written scripts were usually thinly disguised studies of contemporary social problems, cloaked in extraterrestrial settings. Star Trek reflected the highest ideals and aspirations of teens… definitely the classic show of the entire Flower Power ear. Unfortunately, hippies didn’t own TV sets and none of them bought the sponsors’ products. Most of them didn’t see Star Trek the first time around.


Very few members of the hippie/freak counterculture held steady jobs, and “rent parties” became an acceptable way of raising money without selling out to the system. Plenty of garage bands in the San Francisco bay area played free every weekend. Everyone chipped in a buck or two at the door, to postpone the money hassles of everyday living for another month. Local Teens asked themselves, “Let’s see. Should I 1) live on the mean streets, or 2) work forty hours-a-week at minimum wage, or 3) host a rent party once a month for a place to live?” A no-brainer for young people at the time. An enterprising group of kids known as The Family Dog decided to try it on a large scale. They borrowed money from their parents, rented the Longshoreman’s Auditorium, tacked up colorful flyers all over town, and on October 16, 1965, put on a concert called Tribute to Dr. Strange. The show featured The Jefferson Airplane and The Great Society (with Gracie Slick), and was such a hit that the following week The Dog added a light show in A Tribute to Sparkle Plenty with the Lovin’ Spoonful.

The ultra political San Francisco Mime Troupe desperately needed money to pay the legal fees from the frequent obscenity busts, and the Family Dog shows impressed their manager. Bill Graham organized a benefit, introducing New York City’s Fugs to the West Coast. The band wowed the audience with such underground classics as I Couldn’t Get High and Kill for Peace. Graham then put together a three-day “Trips Festival” for the Merry Pranksters at the Longshoremen’s on January 21-3, 1966. Anarchy ruled. Someone slipped LSD to the rent-a-cops, last seen playing with a Slinky. But one thing did become clear at this chaotic concert… people paid to see the bands, Big Brother and the Holding Company and the Grateful Dead, not for the psychedelic “experience.” Rock stepped forward as the dominant force of the counterculture.

The success of the Trips Festival amazed Bill Graham, and he searched for a permanent home for hippie concerts. He found the Fillmore Auditorium (capacity- 1,500) in the heart ofSan Francisco’s ghetto and teamed up with a couple of guys from the Family Dog to get it open. But they needed a bigger hall to hold the egos involved, and the two Dogs went to look for their own place. They grabbed the Avalon (capacity- 1,600), just a mile away.

All of the elements fell into place for the SF Psychedelic Music Scene: the bands, the drugs and venues to play. The hippies and freaks created their own music industry, ignoring most of the rules along the way. Paul Kantner of the Jefferson Airplane commented, “Nobody (of the kids in SF) listened to Top 40. We didn’t start out wanting to be on the radio or even working in that direction. We didn’t want to know anything about that stuff.” Teens didn’t swarm to the Fillmore and Avalon for a note-for-note rehash of hit singles. They expected a new and unique rendition each time and bands delivered. Pace and length varied each performance and groups like the Dead would often stretch a tune out for twenty minutes or more with long improvisations. If it felt good, the band played on. Marty Balin declared, “The stage is our bed and the audience is our broad.”

The chauvinistic counterculture movement improved a bit in 1966 as Janis Joplin joined Big Brother and Grace Slick dumped the Great Society in October to front the Jefferson Airplane. Now, two Queen Bees ruled the hive.

Teens felt great strength in brother (and finally, sister)hood. The counterculture formed its own society, dedicated to survival outside the system. Zappa sang a new Declaration of Independence:

Mr.America, walk on by/ Your schools that do not teach

Mr.America, walk on by/ The minds that won’t be reached

Mr.Americatry to hide the emptiness that’s you inside

But once you find that the way you lied and all the corny tricks you tried

Will not forestall the rising tide/ Of Hungry Freaks, Daddy…

Those who aren’t afraid to say what’s on their minds

The left-behinds of the Great Society.

Or, was that a Declaration of War and a shot at LBJ? On the opposite coast the Fugs sang, “If we don’t kill them, the Chinese will/ And you don’t want America to play second fiddle/ So, kill, kill, kill for peace.”

Dark Shadows, indeed, and things would get even darker. Bob Dylan broke his neck in a motorcycle accident on July 29th, and rumors circulated that he lay near death. California elected the new Old Ranger from Death Valley as Governor on November 8th. WASP kids rioted on the Sunset Strip. Walt Disney turned in his rodent ears on December 15th and asked to be placed on ice, with a wake-up call for better times.

Lyndon’s camp blamed the whole mess on a few drug-crazed hippies, but the Establishment got a shock on December 30th as The New York Times published (on page one) an open letter signed by several hundred student body presidents and college newspaper editors protesting the war in Vietnam: “Unless this conflict can be eased, the United States will find some of her most loyal and courageous young people choosing to go to jail rather than to bear their country’s arms.”

“… And only time will tell which one of us has fell and which one was left behind when you go your way and I’ll go mine.”

PE- 1968

Hippies died and Yippies take their place and head to Chicago. Lyndon quit and everybody runs for president. Hair invades Broadway. TV cancels all War Dramas, but adds Gomer Pyle . The oldest Boomers become eligible to vote…Antiheroes flood the big screen and Chicago riots and assassinations of MLK and RFK inspire ultraviolent flicks.

1968:  One Life to Live and Hidden Faces (New Soaps)

Time published the official Hippie obituary in October of 1967, and on New Year’s Day of 1968 “YIPPIES!” were born. Mainstream media painted a negative reflection of counterculture teens for WASP America throughout the mid- ‘60s. Hippies were portrayed as no-good, lazy, filthy, smelly, longhaired, sex-crazed drug addicts, etc. The underground now denied the existence of any such animal. A confused press asked, “So, what the hell is a Yippie?” Abbie Hoffman, one of the inventors, explained: “A political hippie. A flower child who has been busted. A stoned-out warrior of the Aquarian Age… A Yippie is someone going to Chicago.”

The Yippies’ immediate goal focused on stopping LBJ’s war machine, and as their first project, encouraged everyone to run for President in the upcoming election. Many unusual characters accepted the challenge. Dick Nixon, loser to JFK in 1960, and antiwar candidate (most Americans still believed in dominos at the time), Senator Eugene McCarthy ran on the Underdog ticket. Two great comedians from opposite ends of the humor spectrum, Dick Gregory and George Wallace, also entered the race (Wallace had captured a governorship with his absurd, deadpan style of comedy; so effective that some of his fans actually took him seriously!) Louis Abolafia, the favorite candidate of the Yippies, ran on the Love/Peace ticket. A nude photo of Louis adorned his campaign posters with his slogan, “I’ve got nothing to hide.” Abolafia had a chance until two other political rookies horned in and split the youth vote. Alfred E. Neuman announced his candidacy on the cover of Mad Magazine, and Pat Paulsen on the Smothers’ Brothers program. Pat represented the “Straight Talking American Government” (STAG) Party, whose motto declared, “We can’t stand Pat.” All of these wonderful choices fell by the wayside, however, during the moment of truth in Chicago, as the Yippies stood united behind their last minute entry into the race: “Pigasus” (a 500 pound porker from a local farm).

Lyndon had enough problems without all this competition. His popularity hit record lows in recent polls, and well-respected citizens spoke out openly against him. Dr. Benjamin Spock, writer of the bible of how to raise a Boomer, added a new chapter on common sense care for draft-age teenage boys. The government indicted Spock and the Rev. William Sloan Coffin of Yale on January 5th for “conspiring to aid and abet draft resisters.” Eartha Kitt, at a ladies’ luncheon in the White House a couple of weeks later expressed her opinion, “Discussion of theU.S.domestic problems is pointless while the Vietnam war rages.” Hostess Lady Bird looked liked a deer caught in the headlights.

Johnson and his staff had been telling the American public for some time now that “the war is near a turning point.” Unfortunately, they were correct. The Communists launched a massive Tet offensive on January 30th, against nearly every major population center inSouth Vietnam. In laymen’s terms, we got our white butts kicked. To make matters even worse, NBC-TV and the Associated Press sent back film of South Vietnamese National Police Chief Nguyen Ngoc Loan casually blowing out the brains of a handcuffed Viet Cong suspect. That one mass-media reflection changed the hearts and minds of a lot of Americans. Even the most devout hawk had a problem justifying cold-blooded murder.

Disturbing reflections bombarded the American public from every direction. Every TV newscast and newspaper front page carried bad news about the war and opposition to it. Entertainment sources offered little escape. The Moral Majority remembered fondly the quiet days, before hippies and Yippies, when Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Doris Day dominated the pop charts. Frank’s only recent hit came when he shared the spotlight with Wild Angels’ daughter, Nancy, on Something Stupid. Jumpin’ Jack Flash (Mick Jagger) declared himself a Street Fighting Man and asked Sympathy For the Devil. Teens took over FM radio, which led to a complete surrender of AM Top 40 radio and the record industry. The top selling albums had always been Broadway musicals or blockbuster movie soundtracks (Dr. Zhivago and The Sound of Music topped the charts in 1967). But in 1968 a hostile revolution occurred in the record industry, and Disraeli Gears by Cream placed number one, followed by Are you Experienced by Jimi Hendrix. The Beatles and Simon and Garfunkel occupied the next four spots. The Boomer cabal controlled the music industry.

Yippism invaded Broadway. With controversial language, irreverence, counterculture philosophy and the famous nude scene, Hair became the hit of the season. The characters on stage debunked the previous media stereotyped hippie image, and instead introduced the audience to a bunch of sensitive, intelligent teens who willfully chose voluntary poverty and nonparticipation in the system. But our free society denies them an alternative lifestyle, as it inducts Clyde into the Army. His friend, Berger temporarily takes his Clyde’s place in Basic Training so the young draftee can have one last quick rendezvous with his girl. But Clyde’s unit suddenly ships out to Vietnam, and Berger soon becomes another unfortunate statistic of the Great Society. Clyde transforms from an All American boy into a full-blown Yippie by play’s end. Next stop, Chicago? WASP, Middle-aged, Middle-class American for the first time heard and applauded lines like, “My hair like Jesus wore it/ Hallelujah, I adore it/ Christ was loved by Mother Mary/ Why don’t my mother love me?” and “The war is White people sending Black people to kill Yellow people to defend land that they stole from the Red people” (apologies to Muhammad Ali). In this context, “Peace, love and understanding” no longer seemed like such an outrageous demand, especially in the Dawning of the Age of Aquarius. Five of the songs from Hair hit the charts, and kids all over the United States explained to their parents, “But you told me to listen to Broadway musical soundtracks.”

America looked to Hollywood to strike back with a patriotic blockbuster. The studio chose America’s greatest celluloid hero to lead a gallant group of fighting men in defense of Old Glory. The Duke even co-directed The Green Berets to emphasize the importance of our noble cause in Vietnam. John Wayne convinced an American journalist (David Janssen) in fantasyland on the big screen of our good intentions, but after the show, audiences returned home to watch the real war on the small screen news. They saw no heroes, only blood and violence, with no end in sight (Vietnam recently won the dubious distinction as the longest running war in American history). Hollywood had conditioned fans to expect the Duke to wipe out the Japs and Krauts in ninety minutes. Olive drab Berets became one of the biggest bombs of the decade.


Television is, was and will be forever more, be the problem when America tries to get a good war rolling. Vietnam was the first war to receive live coverage, and the images that the public saw weren’t pretty. Support during times of great conflict always depended on the glorification of heroes, the creation of legends and an optimistic appraisal of the last battle, but horrible visuals on TV killed all those romantic notions about war. Television news gave us the eyes of the child who saw through the Emperor’s new wardrobe. There are no winners or heroes in war… at best, only survivors.

With their own news programs working against them, TV networks struggled to win back the audience in primetime. The good guys always won in Adam 12, Hawaii Five-0, Mannix, The Avengers, It Takes a Thief and the Mod Squad. The last two of these tube law enforcement organizations offered amnesty to ex-outlaws. The heroes of these shows had been caught red-handed committing a crime, and in lieu of serving time, agreed to help police arrest their peers. There are names for people like that… rat, fink, stool-Pidegon or squealer. Their methods included illegal entrapment, but the end justified the means in the minds of Middle America. Thirty-something Julie, Pete and Linc, as undercover spies in high school, busted troublesome hippies every week on Mod Squad without a trace of regret. The show flopped with its intended audience, due to all the recent bad publicity about narcs, CIA and FBI agents, using dirty tricks to infiltrate student groups on campus. The dream machine (TV) refused to compromise. The Mod Squad preceded It Takes a Thief, followed by NYPD on ABC on Tuesdays. The only possible conclusion at 9:30: That’s Life.

The television networks took heed when Phil Ochs proclaimed The War Is Over in 1967 (Yes, two years before John Lennon), and they cancelled Combat, Twelve O’Clock High, F-Troop, Rat Patrol and Garrison’s Gorillas during the 1967-68 season. The fate of our nation now lay in the hands of our only new noble warrior, Gomer Pyle.

The ignorance-is-bliss philosophy spread throughout the networks’ schedule. Yippies and the counterculture didn’t exist. A pair of Jacks (Lord on Hawaii Five-0 and Webb on Dragnet) trumped any longhairs who wandered into primetime. In television land, clean-cut young people found the meaning of life, as couples revealed intimate secrets on The Dating Game, and then graduated to The Newlywed Game. Here Come the Brides joined the celebration and they brought along The Mothers In Law.

Ghetto riots? You’ve got to be kidding. African Americans were happy in primetime. Diahann Carroll became the first Black woman to star in her own series since Beulah, 16 years prior. She played a respected professional, rather than the normal domestic servant role that African American actors usually had to settle for. And if that wasn’t enough to calm racial tensions, corporateAmerica offered a special bonus: Barbie received a token Black friend (Christie) in 1968.

So what if the hippies owned the pop charts? TV offered Dean Martin Presents the Golddiggers and The Doris Day Show, and even gave Lucy a new program.

The Smothers Brothers tried to penetrate the video soma, but CBS prescreened each show with editing scissors in hand. In 1968 they cut out a skit on film censorship, an interview with Dr. Spock, a Mothers’ Day message that ended with the words, “Please talk peace” and a segment in which Harry Belafonte sang, “Lord, please stop the Carnival,” superimposed over a montage of the Democratic Convention riots. The boys did finally get to play Pete Seeger’s Waist Deep in Muddy Water, which had been cut from their premiere show in 1967. But the brothers fought a losing battle. Hidden Faces loomed as an appropriate reflection of the state of television in 1968, and was also the title of a new soap opera.

One Live to Live, another new soap, tried to cash in on the hippie attitude of “Live for Today”, but, of course, never moved past the title. Meanwhile, Teens pondered blacklight posters that read, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life,” while listening to the Rascals sing, It’s a Beautiful Morning and People Got to be Free. The kids lived in the Dawning of the Age of Aquarius and hoped everyone would “Open up your heart and let the sun shine in.”


1968 will always be remembered as the first national election in which Boomers were eligible to vote. First Wavers wanted to make the most of the opportunity, and a “Children’s Army” of student volunteers helped Senator Eugene McCarthy campaign in the snow in the New Hampshire Democratic Presidential Primary. On March 12th, they stunned Lyndon, the press, and Middle America as the long-shot, anti-war candidate made it a very close election. Obviously, the number of Americans opposed to the Vietnam War now extended far beyond the counterculture. Bobby Kennedy saw just how vulnerable Johnson had become, and four days after McCarthy’s great showing, announced his own candidacy. Boomers were ecstatic. The odds on Eugene still sat at a hundred to one, but Bobby was even money. RFK could unite the anti-war groups, minorities (especially African Americans), the “Let’s return to Camelot” escapists and the Barbie faction (who judges candidates strictly on looks). With McCarthy on the ticket as VP, Bobby appeared to be a lock.

That was the final straw for the old Texan. Johnson, intimidated by the Kennedy image, hadn’t selected Bobby (the obvious choice) as his running mate in 1964, and now RFK returned to haunt him. Lyndon’s Lone Star pride and his obsession with history forced him to hang on to Vietnam as if he had a tiger by the tail. He didn’t want to be remembered as the first American President to lose a war, and now, LBJ couldn’t face the probability of becoming the first incumbent President to lose in the primaries. Why was America shocked when Lyndon announced on the tube, “I will not seek and will not accept my party’s nomination for the presidency for a second full term”? Yippies loved it, but that didn’t change their plans for Chicago. The war machine rolled on with Hubert now waiting to take the helm.


Baby Huey was a popular comic book among Boomers children in the ‘50s. Bullies outwitted and threatened the naïve youngster, Huey and his friends, but the vast size and raw power of the duckling always saved the day. Huey was a freak… much too large for his age. His incredible strength surprised himself and his buddies on a daily basis. Baby Boomers, as a group, seemed just like Huey in 1968, a young, naïve, clumsy giant freak with a good heart. They took great pride in their part in the downfall of LBJ. They thought that maybe they really could change the world. And why not? Boomers controlled the music industry, and after Green Berets tanked, Hollywood had no choice but to bend their way.

The films offered at neighborhood theaters shocked the Moral Majority. The success of The Wild Angels in 1966 spawned a host of Boomer biker operas in 1967: Rebel Rousers, Hell’s Angels on Wheels, Wild Rebels, Devil’s Angels and Born Losers (the first Billy Jack flick). Hollywood made big bucks off these low-budget quickies, and pressure from parents in 1968 merely caused a slight change in titles: Glory Stompers and The Savage Seven.

The recreational activities of the Angels in these movies began another new genre of chemical celluloid: The Trip in 1967, and in 1968, Psych-Out (Producer, Dick Clark’s one attempt to get hip) and Yellow Submarine. The last film looked like the Beatles on an acid trip to Pepperland, where they defeated the Blue Meanies with Rock & Roll (All’s You Need is Love). At the same time in the real world, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band attempted to create an artistic utopia of their own: Apple Corp.

The big screen also offered Boomers Monterey Pop, Cream’s Farewell Concert (at concert prices) and One Plus One (Sympathy for the Devil). The Monkees renounced pre-puberty Pop, and made a desperate attempt to join the counterculture with Head (co-scripted by Trippy Jack Nicholson and co-starring Frank Zappa and Annette Funicello!). This defiant act caused Don Kirshner to dump his prefab group.

The strangest reflection of the growing strength of the counterculture and the darkest fears of Middle Americaappeared on the screen in Wild in the Streets. Society lowered the voting age to fourteen in this little gem, and Rock singer, Max Frost (Christopher Jones) became the first Yippie president. The new Commander and Chief then moved to eliminate the generation gap by herding all adults over the age of 35 into concentration camps, and then forced them to ingest LSD. Planet of the Apes showed another version of what the world might be like if the Moral Majority lost control to scruffy barbarians. Rebellious Boomers have been called worse.

The most popular Boomer flick in 1968 was 2001: A Space Odyssey. Many of the older crowd walked out at a New York premiere, and most of the critics hated the film. Their opinions didn’t matter. Teens dug it and made the flick a hit. The director invited the audience to participate in the experience: “You’re free to speculate as you wish about the philosophical and allegorical meaning of the film.” The loose structure of the film confused old time film buffs and critics, but the kids loved filling in the spaces. To First Wave Boomers, the black Monolith symbolized LSD and HAL (the letters immediately preceding IBM in the alphabet) was Big Brother. Adults didn’t understand the famous psychedelic “trip sequence” at all, but teens agreed that the colorful light show topped anything offered at the Fillmores (East and West) or Avalon. The expression, “You’ve got to see it stoned,” for the first time in film history became a natural addition to a counterculture, word-of-mouth movie critique. Boomers had searched for a sign… an omen, and now the rebirth of Bowman as the Starchild, just after the Dawning of the Age of Aquarius showed us the way.


However, before there can be rebirth, there must be death. None of us realized how painful that might be. Martin Luther King became the first victim in Memphis on April 4th. On the eve of his death, King told a crowd of his admirers, “I have been up to the mountain top. I’ve looked over and I have seen the Promised Land. I may not be there with you, but we, as a people will get to the Promised Land.” Martin recently, against the advice of his associates, spoke out against our involvement in Vietnam, pointing out that the number of young African American men fighting on the front lines (and the number being killed) far exceeded the percentage of Blacks in our country. Within hours of the assassination riots broke out in 120 American cities, leaving 46 people dead, 2,600 injured and 21,000 arrested. Mayor Daley in Chicago instructed police to “shoot to kill arsonists and shoot to cripple or maim looters.”

Bobby Kennedy won the California Primary on June 5th and immediately received a bullet for his effort.America cried, “No, not again!” Had this been Pepperland, Eugene would have conceded on this day, and then join the movement as Bobby’s Veep candidate. This dynamic duo would then unite with Martin to form a powerful trio to dismantle the grim war machine. That dream team would certainly drive away all the Blue Meanies. But we lived in a violent America in 1968, and now Chicago seemed more important than ever.

Why not go after Nixon in Miami? Boomers at the time considered him a loser, without a chance of beating Humphrey. Dickie also promised a secret plan to “de-Americanize” the war in Vietnam, and that seemed better than nothing (Hubert)… if Nixon spoke the truth.

Nixon or Humphrey looked like a no-win situation to most African Americans. A riot broke out in Miami’s ghetto on the third day of the Republican Convention, leaving more than 300 dead. Young Blacks grooved with the hippies on a Stoned Soul Picnic earlier in the year, but after King’s assassination, they switched to Otis Redding’s final hit: “Looks like nothing’s going to change/ Things ‘round here just remain the same/ So, I’m Sitting on the Dock of the Bay, wasting time.” The song revealed a growing sense of frustration, and James Brown’s tribute to King, Goodbye, My Love revealed a great sense of loss. Brown’s Say It Loud: I’m Black and I’m Proud scored the biggest hit among African Americans in 1968. WASP America watched in horror on October 18th, as the Olympic Committee suspended US track stars, Lonnie Smith and John Carlos, at the XIX Olympiad in Mexico City because they gave the Black Power salute during our National Anthem.

The Moral Majority watched the hippies arriving in Chicago in August. Mayor Daley prepared for the invasion with more than 12,000 police and National Guardsmen. His office ordered landlords to deny longhairs housing and for restaurants to refuse them meals. The city turned down requests for permits to sleep inLincoln Park. The Yippies, in response, turned the city into a circus. Allen Ginsberg carried a briefcase labeled “Secret Plans” and 20,000 teens wore buttons that read “Yippie Leader.” Rumors circulated that the Yippies threatened to drop LSD into the public water system, and Daley dispatched thousands of troops to defend the reservoirs. McCarthy had no chance, and the Yippies nominated a new candidate: Pigasus (a pleasant-looking boar from a local farm). Daley failed to see the humor. Police took the real pig candidate and his common-law wife, Piggy Wiggy, into custody, before the porker had officially entered the race. The Yippies rallied around the animal shelter, chanting, “Free the Pigs.” Meanwhile, the police set up a command center in the Lincoln Park Zoo.

The inevitable confrontation began. The Yippies organized a Rock concert in the park on Sunday… the eve of the Convention. Most of the major bands promised to be there, but when the shit hit the fan, only the MC-5 and the Fugs had the courage to show up. The heat, in full riot gear, moved in on the crowd at exactly 11 PM (Daley’s curfew). Police clubbed and tear-gassed Teens for the next three days, as photographers and TV news cameramen recorded the scene. The action spilled out onto the streets, where surprised residents, just out for an evening stroll, were beaten and arrested (even Hugh Heffner got clubbed). Police and National Guardsmen beat up and/or arrested several newsmen (including Dan Rather in the hall) during live TV coverage. Walter Cronkite made his outrage public, calling Daley’s gang “nothing more than a bunch of thugs.” Senator Ribicoff declared from the podium “Gestapo-like tactics are being used in Chicago.” Daley, just a couple of rows away, stood up and yelled obscenities. A shocked Middle America read Daley’s lips: “You mother-fucker Jew bastard. Get your ass out of Chicago.”


Tension ruled the day. Even on AM in Middle America teens heard, “You ask who killed the Kennedy’s? After all, don’t you know that it was you and me (Satan)?” from the Stones and a new Boomer anthem, “They’ve got the guns but we’ve got the numbers” from the Doors.

The turmoil caused heartburn in the heartland. Devout red-white-and-blue necks heard a strange song on the Country/ Western AM stations. In Harper Valley PTA, the parent group accuses a single-parent mother of being “loose.” She proves that her peers are all hypocrites, and forces the Moral Majority to reexamine their own moral values. When did a message like that become legal on a Country Western station? Rednecks began questioning values and authority, and songs with a rebellious outlaw image rode the C&W, as well as the R&R chart.

Bob Dylan finally returned to the music scene after a long layoff following his near fatal motorcycle accident in 1966, and released his new, country-flavored, John Wesley Harding album. The title cut fit in nicely with the emerging country outlaw image, but the songs sounded tame to Boomers… expect for one cut, All Along the Watchtower, in which Bob sang, “There must be some kind of way out of here/ Said the joker to the thief/ There’s too much confusion, and I can’t get no relief…There are many here among us who think that life is but a joke/ But you and I, we’ve been through that and this is not our fate/ So let us stop talking falsely now, the hour’s getting late.” The last line, “And the wind began to howl,” left us with a feeling of impending doom. Hendrix released a cover of the song a few months later, in which the howling wind became an angry hurricane. The violent nightmares of two assassinations and riots in Chicago occurred between the two versions of Watchtower. Jimi’s Electric Ladyland contained other reflections of the dramatic increase in violence in songs such as House Burning Down.

In some extreme cases, shelled-shocked Americans went into full catatonic withdrawal, causing a brief resurgence of total escapist, pre-puberty Pop. Glucose classics like Yummy, Yummy, Yummy, Chewy, Chewy and Simon Says played AM, and Don Kirshner traded in his rebellious Monkees for a Saturday morning cartoon band, the Archies. LBJ, and later, Nixon wished that they could eliminate their problems so efficiently… by simply exiling protesters into the second dimension.


The violence of 1968 reflected off the silver screen. George Romero began the ultra-violence-as-high-camp school of horror with his first film, Night of the Living Dead. Boomers took this as a literal reflection of the Establishment: expressionless zombies, whose only purpose was to eat their victims alive, and in doing so, make everyone just like them. Only one character (the Black guy for once!) survives to the last scene, at which time the “rescue party” rashly identifies him as a zombie and shoots him through the head (friendly fire). The last sane man in an emotionless, dead society had to be eliminated.

Peter Bogdanovich made his directorial debut in 1968 with another low-budget horror film. Targets lacked the graphic blood and gore found in Romero’s quickie, and yet managed to hit a raw nerve in modern urban terror. The film contained an old theme that had been passed down from William Blake to Huxley to Jim Morrison and finally to Bogdanovich: “The Doors of Perception”: “On one side lies reality, on the other side, fantasy, yet when one stands in the doorway, he finds impossible to tell which is which.” Peter’s film updates the concept to 1968, as the era demands that reality becomes violence and fantasy turns into nightmare. A sleepy little drive-in movie theater provided the setting. An aging B-movie star (Boris Karloff) made a public appearance to plug his new cheapie horror film. As the audience watched the movie in their cars, a sniper climbed up behind the screen and began to pick them off one at a time. The targets in each car were completely unaware of the horrible bloodshed happening in the vehicle next to them, as the sniper invaded their individual worlds. The horror of the film-within-a-film failed to match the real parking lot massacre. The terror continued until the sniper became trapped in the doorway of perception between a thirty-foot close-up of Karloff on the screen, and the real flesh-and-blood man now in pursuit. The dazed killer paused for a reality check, which led to an easy capture. Watching Targets made the viewer nervous. “Could it be that I am in the sights of some copycat nut at that very moment?” The public had just witnessed the assassinations of two of the most powerful men in America, race riots in every major city and cops clubbing innocent citizens and newsmen in Chicago. With the escalation of the war in Vietnam, every Boomer boy feared that his body might soon be scattered in a distant rice paddy. Recently, there was talk of drafting women. Everyone seemed a target in 1968.

The Beatles’ White Album hit the stores late in the year with, “When I hold you in my arms/ And I squeeze your trigger, oh so tight/ I know that nobody can do me any harm/ Happiness Is a Warm Gun” and “Hey, Bungalo Bill, what did you kill?”

In 1968, Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, author of The Power of Positive Thinking (1952), rethought his position and remarked, “This is an awful world, just frightening, and we’re stuck with it.”US troop strength peaked at 550,000. 14,500 Boomers died in combat in 1968…

“They’ve got the guns, but we’ve got the numbers.”