< PREVIOUS ] [ 1989 Index ] [ Ed Quillen HOME ] [ SEARCH ] [ NEXT >
Every time I look up this week, somebody is mentioning Woodstock and how groovy and righteous it was 20 years ago.
So let me make one thing perfectly clear. As far as I know, I am the only baby boomer in America who was not at Woodstock.
My 60s resume comes up short in many other vital areas. I wasn't at Altamont, either. I missed the Monterey Pop Festival. I wasn't at Newport to boo Bob Dylan for playing electric. The Free Speech Movement moved without me. My feet were never among those marching for civil rights in Alabama. I wasn't in Chicago for the 1968 Democratic convention, so I was deprived of the joys of getting gassed and beaten in Grant Park, all in a good cause.
When Moratorium Day came in 1969, I was working. Every protest I attended was in a professional capacity as a reporter; never did I chant slogans or tote signs. I never wrote for the Berkeley Barb or the East Village Other; I never saw the Jefferson Airplane on stage; I never ate any magic mushrooms or peyote buttons.
Such confessions are painful, because I used to think of
myself as a product of the 60s. But with all the hipper
than thou
sorts running at large right now, I realize
that I must have missed the 60s entirely.
Granted, I still have long hair (what's left of it) and
a full beard -- but so did my great grandfather, William
Henry Quillen, who died in 1934. I prefer to wear blue
jeans and casual shirts, but my dad always did, too. I
still like a lot of 60s music -- but the enduring stuff is
quite derivative from the 50s music of Chuck Berry, Bo
Diddley, etc., and the other stuff (i.e, Psychedelic
Lollipop
by the Blues Magoo or Pictures of
Matchstick Men
by the Status Quo) is as eminently
forgettable as a campaign promise.
So what did the 60s leave us that was effective and enduring?
Early in the decade, there was the civil rights movement, and late in the decade, women's liberation appeared.
Now consider some of the main players in the recent HUD
scandal: Samuel Pierce, who is black; Deborah Gore Dean, a
woman; Lance Wilson, black; Marilyn Harrell, a/k/a Robin
HUD,
a woman.
That their names have all come up in a multi-billion-dollar scandal is one of the finest legacies of the 60s.
Why? Look at it this way. In order to pull a major raid on the public treasury (we're not talking about Ronald Reagan's nickel-and-dime Cadillac welfare queen here), you need power and influence. Your connections aren't worth selling if you're a nobody.
One result of those years of protests is that there are now blacks and women in positions to abuse their public trusts. This means that two groups which had once been generally excluded from the American establishment are no longer outsiders, but true insiders whose hands are able to reach the till.
When America was run solely by white males, political corruption was also the sole province of white males. The civil rights and the women's liberation movements started in the 60s, and their goal was to broaden the American power structure. The emerging HUD scandal may be disgusting, but it is also clear evidence that the two movements achieved substantial success.
After all, if you're in a position to profit, you're also in a position to do some good. The scandals make the news, but in many other ways, we all benefit because society has opened up and now utilizes the talents of millions of capable people who would have been excluded 25 years ago.
That's an enduring legacy of the 60s, and it's worth a dozen Woodstocks.
< PREVIOUS ] [ 1989 Index ] [ Ed Quillen HOME ] [ SEARCH ] [ NEXT >