The Sixties, Wonder Years

Calumet Regional Archives volunteer Maurice Yancy came across his name and photo in my Sixties Steel Shavings (volume 25, 1996, subtitled "Social Trends and Racial Tensions"). On the inside of the front cover with the editor's note is a photo taken by Ray Smock showing me attending the 1967 March on the Pentagon with Professor Louis harlan and fellow grad students Pete Daniel and David Goldfield. I mentioned that the decade easily lends itself to stereotypes either in the form of Sixtophilia ("those were the days") or Sixtophobia ("there went standards"). As traumatic as that time was, I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Whenever I came to the Sixties in my survey American History course, I'd pass volume 25 around (among the photos in it are of IU Northwest's first graduating class and Gary Mayor Richard Gordon Hatcher campaigning in 1967) and read an article former student Molly Harvey wrote that served as a prologue. She began: "Growing up, for a long time I wished I lived back in the 1960s, at least Hollywood's version of the "Age of Aquarius." My favorite TV shows were reruns of "Gidget" and "The Monkees." I wanted to be just like Gidget, and I'd fallen in love with Davey Jones. I used to turn on these shows and wish I were there in that funky, psychedelic dream world where everyone was free to do their own thing. I'd take out my mother's old high school yearbooks, reading them over and over and observing the fashions and styles. I'd listen to an oldies radio station that played soul music by the Shirelles and folk songs by Peter, Paul, and Mary. I loved the Beach Boys and Jimi Hendrix, especially his version of the National Anthem. I added such expressions as "groovy" and "far out" to my vocabulary.

Harvey continued, "After a while, I decided I wanted to be a hippie like the older sister, Karen, on "The Wonder Years." In my fantasy my name would be Sunshine, and I'd paint little peace signs on my face and go to Woodstock. Sometimes, in a more political mood, I'd put on my father's old dashiki and go around the house saying "Black Power! Black Power!" My mother would joke that God had made a mistake, that I'd been born in the wrong era.

Molly wrote, "When I started reading up on the decade, however, I discovered that real life then wasn't as carefree as I thought. There was an ugly side to it: violence, racism, generational confrontation, battles between the sexes. At one point I was so disillusioned that, to borrow a phrase from "Peanuts" creator Charles Schultz, I wondered, "Good grief, what was I thinking?" Of course through interviewing people I learned that despite its bizarre elements, some things remained normal. One thing for sure though, young people voiced their opinions as never before; and thankfully, minority groups demanded to be treated with respect. However one remembers those years, they left a unique and enduring legacy."

Molly let me use a photo on her parents Dennis and Sally (he is African American, she is white) to go along with the article. She graduated before volume 25 was published, but I wasn't able to track her down to give her a copy unfortunately.

Old Salts

The Sunday Post-Tribume's Neighbors section is a treasure trove for Calumet Region historians. Until recently, Bob Burns had a column dealing with the origins of small communities. Now there's a "Behind the Name" feature that on August 23 concentrated on former U.S. Steel plant superintendent William Palmer Gleason. My "Gary's First Hundred Years" Centennial history of Gary is quoted several times, including my assessment that Gleason treated workers like cogs in his machine. Here is another quote: "Like his hero Napoleon, Lane has written, "he was overbearing, egotistical, and tyrannical. E.C. Rosenau called Gleason the 'Godfather of the Steel City.' His motto was 'It Can Be Done' and when he wanted something, he had little use for those who questioned his methods."

Also in Neighbors are columns by octogenarian Carrol Vertrees on the perils and pleasures of old age and by Jeff Manes on Region characters that he calls "Old Salts." On my advice he did one on Elvis Tribute Show producer and Vietnam Vet Omar Farag (a friend of mine and former softball teammate), and now he wants to do one on me when my retirement journal comes out next month. If I had more funds available, I'd do a special issue of Shavings featuring his "Old Salt" columns. The most recent deals with bean-spitting champ Willie Curtis. Manes always starts his column with quotes - this time it's from a Jim Croce song about pool shark Willie "Slim" McCoy.

Speaking of Salts: Coincidentally, my tenth grade girlfriend Mary Delp (Harwood) now uses an email address with “oldsalt” in it because she and her husband are Lake Michigan boaters. We still see each other every 5 or 10 years at Upper Dublin High School “Class of 1960” reunions and in between trade information on classmates and our respective families. A couple years ago, in Mary's Christmas card was a photo of the two of us on our way to a formal dance. I look about 10 years old but drove us in the family’s 1956 yellow and white Buick. I recall trying to pass a truck on a three-lane highway when suddenly a car was coming down the middle lane in the other direction. I’m lucky we weren’t killed. I don’t think Mary even realized what a close call it was. I'm also in touch with Bob Reller (Rel), Phil Arnold, Joe and Barbara Ricketts, Gaard Murphy (Logan), and Pam Tucker (Randolph). While my high school days were not without trauma and insecurities, I'd relive those "Happy Days" in a minute, especially knowing what I know now.