People – Page 6 – I Remember JFK: A Baby Boomer's Pleasant Reminiscing Spot

Jack Webb’s TV Creations

I Remember JFK did an article on Dragnet back in 2007, but it really didn’t pay enough homage to the man behind the show, Jack Webb. With that, today’s offering will attempt to give credit where credit is due, to the creative genius that accompanied one of the most familiar faces that we Boomers grew up with.

Jack Webb had an oft-imitated style of his own on the screen, one that made for great fodder for comedians, school playground thespians, and B-movie method actors. But perhaps his greatest talent lie in giving us some unforgettable television moments from shows that he created and/or produced.

Webb’s first shot at creating a show without appearing onscreen was a home run to deep center. Adam-12 debuted in 1968, and enjoyed a seven-year run. The pilot revealed that officer Pete Malloy (Martin Milner, who had previously toured the country in a Vette in Route 66) was about to quit the force three weeks after losing his partner to a crook with a gun. Young, naive rookie Jim Reed was assigned to the depressed Malloy for a one-night deal, and by morning, the veteran decides to stick around and show the plebe how to survive. Thus began a show which would be a part of Boomer kids’ lives. It started out on a Saturday night, finished up on a Wednesday. But for the life of me, I can’t remember what night I watched it on growing up. Saturday, I believe. Any help from you readers?

Malloy was no-nonsense, by the book (except when he needed to not be by the book), and constantly reminded the greenhorn that it was life or death out there. In other words, he was Jack Webb. Jack Webb would thus “appear” in practically all of the shows that he would produce afterwards, you just had to look for him in a more sublime game of “Spot Hitch” (played every time a Hitchcock movie was on the screen).

The show strove for realism, right down to Shaaron Claridge. Hers was the voice that would come over the radio announcing “One adam twelve, one adam twelve, respond to a 211 in progress,” that of a real-life LAPD dispatcher. She even appeared personally in one episode, assisting Reed in running the plates of the next crook to be busted by the dynamic duo.

Malloy’s specialty was the Death Glare, given to Reed when the lighthearted newb would tread on sacred ground and offend the serious partner’s sensibilities. Example:

Malloy: You know what this is?
Reed: (smiling) Yes sir, it’s a police car.
Malloy: This black and white patrol car has an overhead valve V8 engine. It develops 325 horsepower at 4800 RPM’s. It accelerates from 0 to 60 in seven seconds; it has a top speed of 120 miles an hour. It’s equipped with a multi-channeled DFE radio and an electronic siren capable of admitting three variables: wail, yelp, and alert. It also serves as an outside radio speaker and public address system. The automobile has two shotgun racks – one attached to the bottom portion of the front seat, one in the vehicle trunk. Attached to the middle of the dash, illuminated by a single bulb, is a hot sheet desk, fastened to which you will always make sure is the latest one off the teletype before you ever roll.
Reed: Yes, sir.
Malloy: It’s your life insurance, and mine. You take care of it, and it’ll take care of you.
Reed: Yes, sir. You want me to drive?
Malloy: (Death Glare)

Oh yeah. Did I mention that Malloy did all of the driving?

Jack smacked another one to deep center with the January 1972 debut of Emergency! A mid-season replacement for Larry Hagman’s latest misfired shot at a post-Jeannie sitcom, the show soon caught fire among the viewers and took on a life of its own which would keep it on the air until 1978.

The show uniquely and separately told the story of the EMT’s and the ER staff. Gage (Randolph Mantooth) and DeSoto (Kevin Tighe) were the paramedics most frequently featured, with others making appearances as well, but these two have to be seen as the two main stars of the bunch who would go out into the trenches and extract victims.

Once they made their way back to the ER, the Webb clone made himself manifest. It was Kelly Brackett (Mark Fuller), the no-nonsense head ER doctor who didn’t have time for trivialities. He wasn’t above punching out unruly patients who might threaten his near-squeeze, nurse Dixie McCall (who, interestingly, had served in a Korean MASH unit before the CBS show made such a background famous).

The show was a favorite of mine, and lingered on as a series of TV movies after it ceased to be a weekly series in 1978.

Jack’s other creative efforts didn’t fare so well. They included O’Hara, US Treasury, Chase (Webb was the director for this one), The D.A., and Project UFO (it actually survived a second season). Jack’s company, Mark VII Productions, also was responsible for a few other series, including one success, Baa Baa Black Sheep (later retitled The Black Sheep Squadron).

One final note, Jack was the actor that was sought out by Animal House director John Landis to play the part of Dean Wormer. Jack turned him down.

He didn’t like the fact that the students were showing a lack of respect to authority.

Ivan Tors

The name is familiar, if you watched TV in the 60’s. But you probably don’t know a whole lot more about Ivan Tors than the fact that he was the producer of shows that we Boomer kids loved like Flipper, Gentle Ben, and Daktari.

Ivan Tors was born in Hungary in 1916. He was a successful playwright in his native country, but decided to move to the US in the 1930’s.

He soon landed gigs in Hollywood writing screenplays. His early works included That Forsyte Woman, a big hit.

Tors was fascinated with science fiction, particularly undersea stories, and he yearned to write in that particular genre. Thus, he created A-Men Films with actor Richard Carlson, and cranked out a few 1950’s scf-fi classics, including Gog and The Magnetic Monster. He also penned the stories for 23 episodes of Science Fiction Theater on TV.

But it was in the decade of the 60’s that Tors’ star would burn its brightest.

Tors had his first big hit as producer with Sea Hunt, which debuted in 1958.

Ironically, the lone episode of the show that is burned into my mind indelibly involved a diver who was eaten by a killer whale. The paradox of that will be apparent in a moment.

Tors next big hit was Flipper, beginning in 1964. He followed that success with Daktari in 1966, and Gentle Ben in 1967.

Daktari was a very African show. From its opening theme, loaded with African instruments, to its occasional on-location shots from the Dark Continent itself, it was Tors’ homage to the preservation of endangered wildlife over there. He believed strongly in the values that the show extolled. Daktari was inspired by real-life Dr. A.M. Harthoorn. He was a friend of Tors, and ran an animal orphanage in Nairobi, Kenya. Harthoorn assisted in inventing the tranquilizer gun, which allowed for the safe capture of wildlife.

I know I watched a few episodes of Daktari, because that theme has been stuck in my head since LBJ was President. In its final year, the show featured a cute kid named Erin Moran, who would achieve fame a few years later on Happy Days.

Another theme song burned permanently into brain ROM was that from the movie Namu, the Killer Whale. Prior to this movie’s 1966 release, killer whales were possibly more feared than sharks in the public’s opinion. They were called “killers,” for heaven’s sake. The bold black and white coloration seemed to scream “danger!” Even the US Navy classified them as serious threats to divers(a description that wasn’t removed from official manuals until 1973).

The real-life Namu was accidentally captured in a gill net by a couple of British Columbia fishermen in 1965. He was sold to the highest bidder, Seattle Public Aquarium owner Ted Griffin. Griffin exhibited Namu at the aquarium, and also worked with Tors to produce a movie featuring the whale.

The film did well, and was shown on TV later. It instantly changed the public’s view of killer whales to just bigger versions of Flipper. Unfortunately, it also created a mad rush to trap orcas for sale to other aquaria.

Tors went on to produce more TV series and movies. He died on June 4, 1983, leaving behind a legacy of vision that thrilled many of us Boomer kids while we watched his shows and became fans of the ocean, animal conservation, and even African music.

Howard Cosell

There are a few individuals out there who either inspire love or hatred. No in-between. I use the Dallas Cowboys as an example. Much of America loves the team, at least an equal amount despise them.

Howard Cosell was such a man. A poll in the 70’s revealed that he was both the most loved and most hated sports broadcaster out there. That summed him up nicely.

Born Howard William Cohen in Winston-Salem, NC, in 1918, he moved to Brooklyn as a child. His parents pressured him to become a lawyer, and he did just that, graduating from New York University School of Law and being admitted to the New York Bar in 1941.

However, instead of going to work as a lawyer, he joined the United States Army Transportation Corps and was quickly promoted to major.

When the war was over, he began practicing law in Manhattan. Many of his clients were professional and amateur athletes, and he found himself drawn to the whole athletic scene. In 1953, he was asked to host a show on ABC Radio involving Little League baseball stars. He did so, without pay, for three years. At that point, he decided to hang up his law diploma and pursue a full-time career as a broadcaster.

His first big gig was conducting pre- and post-game shows alongside Ralph Branca for the brand-new New York Mets. Showing the style that would be his trademark, he spared no mercy to the hapless team as they bungled their way through their first seasons.

About this time, he began hosting a syndicated radio show called Speaking of Sports. I heard it many times in my life. I know that WLS radio carried it, among many, many others. That show lasted until he chose to end it in 1992.

Cosell continued to be used by ABC, moving into television as the 60’s wore on. One of his most famous gigs was calling boxing matches. A rising star named Cassius Clay began to capture the country’s attention, and Cosell was heard to announce many of his fights.

One such bout was the night Ali (then Clay) knocked out Sonny Liston with the “phantom punch.”

Then, in 1967, Ali announced his intention to go to prison rather than serve in the US Army. Much of the country castigated him, but Cosell defended his decision. He criticized the stripping of his title, drawing the anger of those who considered Ali a draft dodger.

In 1970, Roone Arledge invited Cosell to be one of three announcers for ABC’s Monday Night Football. His acerbic observations were a perfect compliment to Don Meredith’s cutting up and Frank Gifford’s strictly business calling of play by play.

MNF became the most successful sports show in history. As Howard grew more confident in his role, his observations became more barbed. Much of the public began despising his “telling it like it is.” Bars began holding contests where the winners would get to heave bricks through TV screens when Howard began rolling.

Cosell continued to broadcast boxing matches, too. His call involving Joe Frazier getting decked by George Foreman is one of the most famous ever made.

But in 1982, while broadcasting a bloody bout between Larry Holmes and pathetically undermatched Randall “Tex” Cobb, he announced that he was through with the sport. The awful match came just two weeks after Duk Koo Kim had died in the ring at the hands of Ray Mancini. Cosell said during the broadcast “I wonder if that referee is [conducting] an advertisement for the abolition of the very sport that he is a part of?”

In September 1983, he drew the wrath of some hypersensitive morons when he used one of his pet phrases he had used for small, quick players, “little monkey,” to describe Alvin Garret (yes, he was black) during a particularly exciting run. Cosell, who was colorblind in the truest sense, suffered shame as a result of the public outcry.

Oh joy, the PC era had officially begun.

He quit MNF the next year, then penned a harshly critical book called I Never Played the Game in which he trashed practically everyone who had worked alongside him over the years while doing his Monday Night gig. ABC fired him shortly afterward.

I never like Cosell when I was a teenager. That’s because I didn’t understand him. He was never in awe of athletes. He would call a spade a spade (that’s not a racial statement, PC police) and would never hold back criticism that was earned. I feel he sadly let his bitterness get in the way of his objectivity when he wrote his book, but I miss him.

I wonder what he would have to say today about Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens.

Hometown Boy Makes Good

Growing up in small-town America Miami, Oklahoma in the 60’s was a rich experience that I wouldn’t trade for anything. It was wonderful living in a community where everyone knew who you were, where you could go anywhere you wanted as long as you were home for supper, and where civic pride was tangibly real.

The city’s pride swelled to the breaking point in 1969, the year hometown boy Steve Owens won the Heisman Trophy.

Owens was a kid that, of course, everyone in town knew. I never met the man myself, but his brother (named Bill, I believe) lived on my street, and Steve’s nephew Tony, who was my age, was a familiar face in the neighborhood gang. And my schoolteacher mom was quite proud of the fact that Steve was one of her students.

I’ve always stated that Miami was Steve’s home town, but I stand corrected. He was actually born in Gore, Oklahoma, and moved to Miami at an early age. While he was a young kid, OU was in the process of compiling an incredible 47 game winning streak. Any football-inclined youngster in Oklahoma dreamed of playing for the Sooners, and Steve was no exception.

In high school, Steve shined for the Wardogs. He averaged 7.2 yards per rush and gained over 4,000 yards in his four years. He caught recruiters’ attention, and happily signed for his favorite school.

Oklahoma’s 1969 Heisman Trophy winner Steve Owens speaks at the unveiling of a statue of the Heisman Trophy winner before the Oklahoma-University Alabama-Birmingham’s college football game Saturday, Aug. 2, 2006 in Norman, Okla.

But the coaches weren’t sure what to do with him. Owens was a bit of a paradox. He was a track star who was quite speedy, but he looked slow on the field. The Sooners considered making him a tight end. But in the end, they played him at running back his freshman season.

He didn’t play much, and didn’t dazzle when he did. But the next year, he ran for 813 yards and scored 12 touchdowns. He also scored a TD in OU’s Orange Bowl victory over Tennessee.

In his junior year, he gained 1,536 yards and started getting attention from the press. That year, O.J. Simpson blew away everyone else for the Heisman, but he called Owens and predicted he would win it the next year.

Owens shined in 1969. His team had problems, though, and lost four games. But Steve began putting together a string of 100-yard games the previous year that continued into his senior season. Once, during a shellacking of Colorado, Owens wanted to let up on the hapless Buffaloes. He was reported to have said “Let’s just fall on the ball and forget this 100-yard stuff. It’s not that important.” Offensive guard Bill Effstrom’s response to him was “It might not be important to you, but it’s sure important to us.”

Owens ran hard and picked up 112 yards. He ended up with 17 straight 100 yard games, a record that still stands.

When Owens won the Heisman that year, a small town became ecstatic. Unfortunately, I had moved away by then, so I missed out on the fun. But I was pleased to drive down Steve Owens Boulevard during a visit there a few years ago.

Nowadays, Owens is CEO at a big insurance agency in Oklahoma City. Life turned out well for the gentleman, I’m happy to say. So here’s to a small town boy who made good, and gave perennial bragging rights to everyone from Miami, Oklahoma.

Hippies

The word “hippy” used to conjure up some very strong emotions. WWII veterans would snort with disgust at the idea of a bunch of smelly, pot-smoking longhaired kids who dared to defy Uncle Sam by burning their draft cards. Why, such yellow cowards would have been tarred and feathered back in the day!

Youngsters had different point of view. Many admired people who would dare to live an unconventional lifestyle. And the idea of protesting a war that made less and less sense every day was easily related to. And long hair was decidedly cool. And you didn’t HAVE to smoke pot. Beer was easily obtainable in those days for Saturday night fun.

So many small towns sported their own versions of hippies. My parents were quite strict, so no long hair in the Enderland household. However, many kids’ parents were quite tolerant of their children’s appearance, as long as they stayed out of trouble. So Miami, Oklahoma had a few kids running around in tie-dyes, jeans, sandals, and sporting long, glorious hair.

We didn’t have any organized Vietnam protests in our cozy town of 10,000. But there were plenty of peace signs on t-shirts. There was lots of graffiti like “Draft beer, not our boys” scrawled prominently in places like the nearby Baxter Springs drive-in theater (The back side, of course. It wouldn’t be very neighbortly to ruin the movie screen). So while we saw “unkempt” youth wandering the streets, we watched the classic hippies on TV or viewed them in Life Magazine.

But hippies were hated by many who were not young. They were viewed as a serious threat to the very fabric of society. And they felt slapped in the face by these young, mouthy protesters.

It’s not like their point of view didn’t have merit. Hippies weren’t known for tactfulness. It wasn’t unusual for outspoken hippies like Abbey Hoffman to deride anyone who didn’t agree with their views by trashing their opposers with obscene language and call them things like baby burners (or parents of baby burners, that hurt even more).

Of course, many hippies were simply kind, peaceful folk who didn’t like the turn society was taking. But they were lumped in with the loudmouths by the right-wing Hawks.

This led to bumper stickers like “You don’t like cops? The next time you need help, call a hippy!” But nobody was tarred and feathered, to my knowledge.

Hippies made their way into TV and the movies, besides the big weekly pictorial periodicals. Easy Rider featured the hippies on the commune out in the desert, cultivating the ground in vain, in Billy’s opinion. But Captain America assured him that things would work out well for the gentle rebels. Dragnet would frequently feature mouthy hippies being taught a tough lesson by Joe Friday. And Mod Squad attempted to meld youthful idealism with more traditional values with three cool cops (who also crossed paths with hippies from time to time, but attempted to relate a little more than Friday).

The Summer of Love in 1967 put hippies front and center. As they gathered at Haight-Ashbury at San Francisco, the rest of the world watched nervously. The previous year, opposition to the war was sparse. But in 1967, every peace sign was seen as a nose-thumbing (once considered an obscene gesture) at The Powers That Be. Suddenly, there was organized resistance to Vietnam, led by these long-haired freaks.

Well, society didn’t crumble. The war mercifully ran its course. We now do business with the same commies in Vietnam that many, many brave young men and women died to eradicate. Life is pretty weird.

Maybe the hippies who began living their lives in such an unconventional manner so long ago had a better grasp on reality than we thought.

Here’s Johnny!

In 1954, Red Skelton had an unfortunate accident. During a rehearsal, he plunged headlong into a “breakaway” door which failed to give. The resulting concussion landed him in the hospital.

What to do? A live show was about to be broadcast in just thirty minutes!

A writer named Johnny Carson had another gig as host of a show called Earn Your Vacation. He was obviously used to being in front of the camera. So he was persuaded to host that night’s episode.

He was brilliant. NBC execs watched, and remembered.

In 1962, tumultuous Tonight Show host Jack Paar called it quits for the final time. NBC contacted Carson’s agent to see if he wanted the job. Carson said sure, as long as long-time friend Ed McMahon could join him. Thus began a run that would last for thirty years.

Carson’s immaculate sense of timing and delivery, as well as having the best comedy writers in Hollywood, let him build a legacy that Jay Leno will have a hard time surpassing. His anniversary show that aired each year cemented certain routines into our minds, like the Jack Webb copper clapper caper, Ed Ames throwing a hatchet and nailing a human cardboard figure in the crotch (Carson’s classic ad lib: “I didn’t even know you were Jewish!”), and the night he burst in on a filming of CPO Sharkey to berate Don Rickles for breaking his cigarette box during the previous night’s co-hosting.

The show also spawned urban legends. Who hasn’t heard of the off-color remark made to Winnie Palmer after she allegedly informed Johnny that she kissed Arnie’s (golf) balls before each tournament? Or the remark made to Zsa Zsa Gabor after she offered to let him pet her “cat?” Snopes.com disproves both of them, but one of the truest marks of greatness is to inspire such legends.

Carson was a huge influence on this particular class clown. I would do my best to imitate his timing, and I would get laughs, even reluctant ones from teachers trying to maintain order.

I would get a rush when each night’s announced guests included the Mighty Carson Art Players. That meant an appearance by Carnac the Magnificent, who would curse the audience when they applauded that the FINAL envelope containing the hidden question was announced. Or maybe Floyd R. Turbo, American would be delivering a comical right-wing bombast. Perhaps it would be Art Fern hosting a Tea Time Movie, sneaking kisses from foxy Carol Wayne in between hot-pitched commercials (“Drive to the Slausen Cutoff, Stop the car, get out and cut off your slausen”). It didn’t matter who it was, it would be great.

One last legend that turned out to be true, because I watched it live: Johnny really DID tell Dolly Parton that he would give a year’s salary to peek under her blouse. And I believe he was making about $4,000,000 a year at the time.

Growing Up with War

This column is not about opinions. There are plenty of them to go around without adding mine. Rather, it’s about the sadness that exists when children are raised in an environment where war is considered normal.

My first coherent memory, as my regular readers know, was the assassination of John Kennedy. At the time of his death, American soldiers were being deployed as “advisors” to the nation formerly known as French Indo-China, now split into North and South Vietnam. Within two years of the President’s murder, the United States would be embroiled in a quagmire of a war that would strongly divide a nation, that would reek of bureaucratic mismanagement, and that would cause many mothers and fathers to weep tears of agony.

I have many, many memories of the Vietnam War. Both of my brothers served during that time, one in the Navy on an LST, the other in the Air Force flying C-130 missions. Thank God, they both came home okay.

But I also recall a widowed neighbor across the street who twice became hysterical and had to be comforted by family, friends, and neighbors. The first time was when she received news that her son had been wounded. The second, about a year later, was when she was informed of his death.

The war was something that dominated the news every night. Scenes of napalm bombings, of big guns firing at unseen targets, and of soldiers running through gunfire became repeated so many times that they lost any shock value that they might have had on a seven-year-old. Only Life magazine delivered the true horrors of war to my mind, as I stared breathlessly of images like the street execution of a Viet Cong operative, the Buddhist monk setting himself on fire while a Vietnamese soldier watched and searched for a lighter for his cigarette, and the children running and screaming as they are hit by splashes of flaming napalm.

The nation was deeply divided over the unfortunate conflict. The veterans and their associations would never dream of questioning what their Commanders-In-Chief were asking of them, or their offspring, for that matter. But as the war was handed from President to President, its focus seemed to wander, its backing from its own government seemed to become dubious, and ultimately, history made its entire purpose one big question mark. Vietnam is now a Communist nation with considerable freedom compared to, say, North Korea. And, in fact, it’s a nation that does business with the United States.

Yet, many brave young men lost their lives trying to protect the nation from Communism. Perhaps they would have better been used dispatching Cambodian homicidal madman Pol Pot, who executed a large percentage of his nation’s population in the Killing Fields.

The war caused much protest, many times the violent sort, and that was a steady source of news coverage in those days as well. Anyone can have an opinion, but when returning servicemen were reviled and spat upon as “baby burners,” well, that just sucked.

That’s like chewing out the checker at Wal-Mart because their employer does billions in business with ANOTHER Communist nation: China.

Indeed, the world is a convoluted, complicated place where what’s right and what’s wrong often cross over each other to a great degree.

Going to the Doctor

I had all of the childhood ailments common to Boomer kids. Fortunately, by the time I was born in 1959, serious diseases like whooping cough, polio, and smallpox had been largely eradicated by vaccinations. But there were less dangerous but unpleasant illnesses like chicken pox, the mumps, and the flu that would require those dreaded trips to the doctor.

It seemed like I caught everything that came through town. So I was a regular customer of Dr. Wendlekin.

So, if I had to go to the doctor, I would try to concentrate on the positives.

The biggest plus, of course, was getting the sucker after all of the unpleasantness was behind you. Dr. Wendlekin had safety suckers, with a thick string for a handle. I don’t know how many kids had unfortunate experiences with cardboard sticks, but you were safe running with a safety sucker!

Another positive was Children’s Highlights magazine. Man, that Goofus was always getting into trouble, but he sure had a lot of fun! I guess he might have been one of my early role models. I enjoyed reading the magazines in their thick bolt-down plastic covers.

Then, that nurse would step out and call your name. With reluctance, you dragged yourself out of the chair and headed back to the torture chamber.

But the doctor’s office was a fascinating place in itself. All of those metal instruments were just begging to be handled out by a curious child, but I always refrained. I knew the pain that their owner could inflict, and didn’t want to give him any excuses to add to it.

Finally, Dr. Wendlekin would wander in. He was a pleasant sort who would seem genuinely pained to inform me that I needed a shot. At least he wasn’t sadistic about it. No, he was kind and patient. In those days, pediatricians weren’t so common in small towns. He was a G.P. who also delivered me at Miami Baptist Hospital, so he truly remembered me from my earliest times.

So, I would go through the exam, feeling that cold stethoscope on my chest, keeping that blasted thermometer in my mouth for an eternity, then getting jabbed in the wazoo with that hated needle.

On the way out, I would collect my reward of a safety sucker, then off to home.

At least I got a day or two off school out of the deal.

Four Dead in Ohio

One of the great societal changes that took place during the 60’s was the banding together of the nation’s youth under a common shared cause.

That cause was protesting the war in Vietnam. The war itself was a drawn-out affair that was mired in red tape and bureaucratic rules of engagement, and the only sure thing that was coming out of it was lots of young men in the primes of their lives being sent home in bodybags.

By the end of the decade, protesting had reached its acme, as students at universities all over the nation staged protests, some peaceful, some, like that at Kent State University in 1970, tragically violent.

Four students gave their lives on may 4, 1970. Another suffered permanent paralysis. But one can’t simply point a finger at the Ohio National Guard and cry villainy. There is more to the story than that.

Before the storm, placing flowers in gun barrels

Sometime around 1990, I read James Michener’s book Kent State: What happened and Why. It was a real eye-opener to me, and I recommend you search your own local library to see if a copy is available.

Michener painted a picture that is far from that described by those who would decry the incident as a case of trigger-happy Guardsmen who decided to take out students in an act of murder.

The protests at the university were caused by Nixon’s April 30th speech announcing his plans to accelerate the war by invading Cambodia. A noisy protest took place the next day on the campus’s commons area. Plans were made for a further demonstration on May 4.

That evening (May 1), large groups of students were gathering at downtown bars, still seething over the latest news from Washington. By now, according to Michener’s account, professional rabblerousers were strategically whipping the students into an uncontrolled frenzy.

A fire was lit in the middle of Kent’s Main Street, windows of businesses were broken, and the cops showed up to close down the bars.

The next day, a Saturday, the mayor of Kent called in the Ohio National Guard to help maintain order. Students held another protest on the campus, and someone torched the ROTC building. Incidentally, the building itself had been boarded up and was soon to be demolished.

Again, Michener presented evidence that outside entities set the building on fire, making it appear that the students were behind it.

Then, there are the Guardsmen themselves. Some of them were, indeed, patriotic WWII vets who despised the fact that the students were defying Uncle Sam. But many of them were youngsters themselves, the same age range as the kids on campus, and many Guardsmen of all ages were sympathetic to the students’ cause. But the overwhelming emotion that the troops felt was fear. An unruly, angry mob is a frightening thing indeed, especially when driven by those whose business it is to stir up trouble.

On Monday, May 4, students gathered to attend the rally which the school itself had announced had been canceled. About 2,000 students gathered anyway, and attempts were made to break up the assembly. This climaxed with a thirteen-second volley of shots being fired, causing the four deaths and nine injuries.

Much investigation took place afterwards, with officials at the school being given the primary blame for what had happened. Two of the dead students had never participated in the protests, one of them being an ROTC member. The injured and dead were all a goodly distance away from the troops when shot.

All in all, it was a tragic, terrible mess. And, according to Michener’s book, the ones that were most responsible all got away scot-free. Hey, that theory holds a lot more water than the average Oliver Stone fantasy.

Flying in the 1960’s

Traveling long distances commercially took an awkward twist during the 1960’s. Our parents (and we older Boomers) rode the rails during the 50’s. But passenger service was being phased out by the railroads. The government bailout known as Amtrak was far off in the future. So by the time the Kennedy era dawned, your choices to get from one coast to the other, or anywhere in the heartland, were basically three: cars, buses or airlines.

Let’s face it. Nobody traveled on the bus unless they simply had to.

That meant that you either drove the slick new Interstate Highway System, or you flew.

In my case, it mean car travel. It was 1982 before I took my first flight.

But many of us have fond 1960’s-era-memories of getting a ticket at the counter, heading directly to the departure gate, and enjoying a few hours of absolute luxury in the air.

A now-defunct website was a very valuable source of information in researching this column. For example, note these two observations by the author, who was a teenager during the 60’s:

# Flying was expensive. For example: A round trip ticket between Cleveland and Washington D.C. was about $75. This doesn’t sound like a bad deal, until you adjust the fare for inflation: That’s over $400 in today’s dollars! By contrast, I recently paid less than $100 for a round trip between Cleveland and Washington on one of today’s low-cost deregulated carriers. # There was no point in shopping around for the best deal, because all airfares were controlled by regulation. If a roundtrip ticket between Cleveland and Washington was $75 on one airline, it was $75 on all the airlines.

Lockheed Constellation at JFK’s TWA Terminal

That explains why my thrifty parents always drove, even up to Montreal for Expo 67 and Miami, Florida, both locations a long way from NE Oklahoma.

But many of us were fortunate enough to have flown, and were quite vocal about it afterwards. After all, we had just experienced the best treatment that a traveler could get. As the quote above asserts, it had to be that way, else how would we know whether Pan-Am was a better way to fly than Eastern?

The kids who had experienced air travel could hold the rest of us spellbound at recess, telling tales of seeing the earth below, the people and cars looking like ants, having stewardesses bring you food and drink until you couldn’t hold any more, and getting to places two long days in the car away in three or four hours.

Deregulation occurred in 1978, and, as mentioned before, I took my first flight four years later. Southwest Airlines sent shockwaves through the industry by offering fares for as much as half off the big boys. One of the ways that they did it was by squeezing more passengers onto a plane. They made up for it back then by offering free cocktails, but less room and less freebies would be the future of air travel, albeit with much more affordable fares.

Indeed, the glamor of air travel would be a thing of the past. In the 60’s, you wore a suit and tie or nice dress to fly. Nowadays, you wear sandals so that your footwear can be more easily scanned for incendiary devices. We are used to being crammed into seats barely wide enough for skinny wazoos. I don’t know how the more portly passengers manage. And if you want anything from the flight attendant, you’d better have your wallet ready.

But you have to admit that getting somewhere far away in a couple of hours at a bargain price is pretty nice.