Boom! Aftershocks of the Sixties

Chapter 1 A Loss of Innocence I felt everyone else wanted to be in our world. We were the last generation to be cooler than our kids. Tom McGuane There's a big "what if" over the Sixties. . . .Who knows what would have happened if King and Kennedy were alive? Tom Hayden In 1968 America was deeply divided by a war in Southeast Asia and it was preparing to vote in a presidential election in which the choices were starkly different. The country was in the midst of a cultural upheaval unlike anything experienced since the Roaring Twenties. Everyone wondered whether America could regain its balance. Forty years later, another war, this one in the Middle East, was deeply dividing the United States. Republican and Democratic candidates for president were laying out starkly different scenarios for the country's future. The place of America in the world was hotly debated. The popular culture was again an issue. The eve of 2008 was not exactly the Sixties all over again, but we still have a lot to learn from that memorable, stimulating, dangerous, and maddening time in American life forty years ago. I arrived in Los Angeles to join NBC News in 1966, and by then, Charles Dickens's opening lines in A Tale of Two Cities had never seemed so prophetic. Were these the best or the worst of times? I wish I could say I felt the tremors of seismic change beginning and spreading out across the political and cultural landscape, but I was mostly trying to find my way. I was a twenty-six-year-old pilgrim from the prairie heartland, raised with the sensibilities of a Fifties working-class family. I was the father of a toddler with another child on the way. I fit the prototype of the typical young white male of the time. I had been a crew-cut apostle of the Boy Scouts, reciting the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag, attending Sunday school and church, drinking too much beer in college but never smoking dope; marijuana in the Fifties and early Sixties was the stuff of jazz musicians and hoodlums in faraway places. Before I married the love of my life, my high school classmate Meredith, we had never spent a night together. In those days, parked cars and curfews were the defining limits of courtship. We were married in 1962, when Meredith was twenty-one and I was twenty-two, in a traditional Episcopal church wedding with a reception at our hometown country club. We left the next day with all our worldly possessions, including the five table cigarette lighters we had received as wedding presents, in the backseat of the no-frills Chevrolet compact car her father had given us as a wedding present. We were eager to see a wider world, but only one step at a time. California was still four years away. Our first stop was Omaha, Nebraska, which then was an unimaginative and conservative midsize city a half day's drive down the Missouri River from our hometown. We could barely afford ninety dollars a month to rent a furnished apartment, but when we went looking, in the stifling heat of a Great Plains August, I was dressed in a jacket and tie, and Meredith was wearing part of her honeymoon trousseau, including a girdle and hose. Five years later, I rarely wore a tie except on television, and Meredith was freed not only of girdles but also of hose and brassieres on California weekends. In 1962, I had an entry-level reporter's job at an Omaha television station. I had bargained to get a salary of one hundred dollars a week, because I didn't feel I could tell Meredith's doctor father I was making less. Meredith, who had a superior college record, couldn't find any work because, as one personnel director after another told her, "You're a young bride. If we hire you, you'll just get pregnant before long and wantBrokaw, Tom is the author of 'Boom! Aftershocks of the Sixties', published 2007 under ISBN 9780739326824 and ISBN 0739326821.