1969
“Bright Promise”
“…The Summer of ‘69/ Those were the best days of my life.” What a strange declaration from Canadian Rocker, Bryan Addams in 1984. Most American Boomers (during the nostalgic Seventies) chose 1962 as their favorite year. (The poster for American Graffiti read, “Where were you in ‘62?”). We remembered fondly the innocent bliss of Camelot, a time before Vietnam and the assassinations of JFK, RFK, MLK and the American Dream. But, the Eighties provided the insight of distance, and thus removed the pain and disillusionment associated the era. Only then, were we finally able to recall the “Bright Promise” of 1969.
Boomers declared this an age of miracles…bigger and better than ‘55 and the First Golden Age of Rock & Roll, or Kennedy’s Camelot in ‘62, with our last complete year of emotional virginity. We put the violence of 1968 behind us, as 1969 presented us with an American on the moon, a UFO sighting by Jimmy Carter, and the first rock opera, Woodstock, Broadway Joe and the Amazing Mets. All these lovely miracles have been overshadowed for decades by the trauma of Nixon, Charles Manson, Altamont and Lt. Calley, but now the time has come to think back to a time when Boomers stood united against the system. Society beat them back, but the kids put up one hell of a fight. No American generation since the Revolutionary War can claim to have been a greater thorn in the side of an oppressive government.
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A funny thing happened on the way to Woodstock… Rock & Roll became the official Boomer religion and, as a result, the counterculture lost its sense of humor and an overall perspective. The new church canonized John Lennon as its initial saint. The Rolling Stone named him as their first “Man of the Year”. Actually, John looked and sounded more like the Second Coming than a Rock Superstar. “All’s we are saying is Give Peace a Chance”… a plea for sanity from a man of peace. Who in their right mind would argue with that? Nixon honored the celebration by placing St. John high on his infamous “Enemies List”. Lennon, at the appropriate season, staged the holy “Merry Christmas, The War is Over” bed-in with Mother Yoko (apologies to Phil Ochs- 1967).
The Who unveiled a newer New Testament and a prophet named Tommy. That deaf, dumb, blind kid obviously operated on a higher plane of consciousness… something that Boomers tried and failed to achieve with LSD. Tommy’s heightened sense of touch was nothing short of miraculous: “See me, feel me, touch me, heal me.” But the masses wanted more. As with Jesus, the public admired Tommy, then worshipped him, but finally rejected their idol when they realized that he offered no easy path to enlightenment. R&R critics erroneously predicted that Tommy would be the first of many Rock Operas… the wave of the future for Rock & Roll.
Paul McCartney pleaded, “Hey, Jude… Make it better” early in the year. St. Jude is the Catholic’s patron saint of hopeless causes. Who else would one pray to in this year of expecting miracles?) Ocean sang “Put Your Hand in the Hand” (“…of the Man who walks on water”) and Edwin Hawkins declared “Oh, Happy Day” (“…when the Lord washed my sins away). True believers took to the road on a pilgrimage to the holy city of Woodstock (Dylan, and later Jimi lived there for a time) to worship in their own way, and listen to the gospel of the high priests of Rock. The pilgrims received inspiration along the way as the Zombies preached, “It’s Time of the Season For Love” and the Youngbloods added, “Come on, people now, Smile on your brother/ Everybody get together, try to love one another right now”.
From the heavens there came a sign, just three weeks prior to the festival of the holy Rock & Rollers. Neil Armstrong set foot on the surface of the moon and declared, “One small step for man and one giant leap for mankind”. We time-warped back to Camelot. Kennedy’s dream, like Lazarus, had been resurrected. Jack predicted that a miracle such as this would happen far off in the New Frontier before the end of the Sixties… and here the heavenly event appeared as promised, long after the departure of our cosmic seer. Every American forgot his or her problems for a moment, and stopped to watch and take great pride in the accomplishments of our nation. Proud citizens took a pleasant stroll with our astronauts along the shore of the Sea of Tranquility. Our only regret was that JFK could not join us here to see his dream come true.
How ironic that only the day before (July 19), little brother, Senator Edward Kennedy stumbled along the shore near Chappaquiddick Bridge, searching for his clan’s last hope of reentering the White House… now dead beneath the water’s surface.