In a pop culture landscape littered with genies , witches and talking horses, when it came to improbable concepts the Beverly Hillbillies was a stand out for 9 seasons starting in 1962. And Donna Douglas was a standout in the series.

Elly May was an eyeful!

No one sauntered around a ceement pond like Elly May Clampett.

With her swelling breasts and skintight, decidedly un-designer jeans, Donna Douglas a.k.a. Elly May fueled a generation of pre pubescent baby boomer boys fantasies.

When a voluptuous Elly May uncharacteristically donned a pricey Balenciaga gown at the prodding of spinsterish Miss Hathaway we watched with delight as she comes into site at the top of the stairs smiling, teetering down the winding steps on spiked heels as the camera lovingly lavishes attention on her hour-glass figure slowly panning from head to toe.

The admiring spell is broken moments later when her cousin Jethro snorts loudly “Always knew you was just a sissy, Elly May!” stopping Elly in her tracks.

Elly May Clampett could wrassle any man including cousin Jethro Bodine

“I can whup you any day o’ the week Jethro Bodine!” she shouts  as she trips down the stairs and starts pounding on her dim-witted cousin

Later when a polite young man tries to kiss her hand she spins him flat on his back, exclaiming that “he was fixin to bite me.”

She was totally oblivious to her charms,  and that was part of her appeal.

Donna Douglas who played Elly May for 9 seasons on CBS passed away last week , leaving us with one less TV icon.

Unlike the adult eroticism of a Playmate centerfold her utter naiveté made her a luscious but non threatening sexual object.There was never a hint of lasciviousness in this pig-tail-sportin’ critter-lovin’ buxom beauty.

And unlike the stealth required of a 1960’s youngin’ in sneaking a glimpse of a Playboy bunny, the curvaceous Clampett was displayed right there on our 17 inch RCA TV’s in our own wood-paneled suburban dens.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Ya Can’t Get a Gal With a Gun ! Donna Douglas as Elly May Clampett

Elly also appealed to girls who didn’t want to conform to society expectations. You see according to her father Jed, she wasn’t like other girls.

Because the Clampetts were strangers in Californy, and “getting powerful homesick,” Mr. Drysdale ( in the hopes of keeping their oil soaked millions in his Beverly Hills Bank) was always trying to introduce Elly May to “get meetin’ other gals like herself.”

“But Elly ain’t like other girls” explained Paw. “They dress up all fancy. You know she hates sissy things.” Says Jed “I reckon that’s the wrong way for her to be,” Jed admitted sadly, “and its my fault for tryin to go against nature.”

High class folks were always trying to get her to “fit in.” But as Jed pointed out “They don’t cotton to gals who wrassle or slide down banisters or climb trees.”

Shucks, I reckin’  Elly may have spoke to lots of girls too.

R.I.P. Elly May

Copyright (©) 2014 Sally Edelstein All Rights Reserved

LBJ created a storm of controversy when he lifted his beagle Him by the ears in 1964. Photo by Cecil Stoughton Courtesy LBJ Library and Museum

Sarah Palin steps in it again.

As the buzz swirls around Sarah Palin’s defense of her son Trig using the family dog as a step stool ( “At least Trig didn’t eat the dog” she explained in a dig directed at President Obama who admitted eating dog meat as a child in Indonesia ) she’s not the first politician to piss off PETA.

A look back at history would demonstrate that…gulp… even liberals can be cruel to dogs.

In 1964 President Lyndon Johnson took a lot of heat  when he picked up his beloved beagle Him by his ears . The press photo led to an outraged public crying “dog abuse” leading LBJ to eventually issue a public apology.

Can’t help but think  that if Sarah Palin had known animal cruelty would make her relevant again, she would have called a press conference and stepped on the damn dog herself!

Bye Bye Birdie – Mad Men’s Betty Draper

Like another Sally Beth, I too had to eventually bid my own Betty goodbye.

Though thankfully my own mother would live decades longer than Mad Men’s poor Betty Francis, as a teenager I witnessed the beginning of the slow demise of the happy homemaker.

Under the glare of the Women’s Movement, I watched as the job my own mother Betty and millions of her generation had performed devotedly suddenly become devalued.

During this period these women had seen all their own rules about love sex marriage, femininity and child rearing, overturned. They could hardly act as wise guides to their daughters as the gap was becoming too wide.

Scrutinized and trivialized the happy homemaker was characterized as trapped in a menial service job for which she didn’t get paid. Receding in relevance, she was replaced by the new liberated career girl.

Paradoxically in trying to liberate women and bring them the respect and opportunities they deserved, 1970s feminists devalued women’s traditional roles.

1970 sounded the death knell of the idealization of the Happy Homemaker.

The job a generation had diligently trained for became obsolete. Marriage let alone motherhood was not a high priority for the woman’s libber.

Happy Homemakers

Though Betty Francis, the former model turned mom was no model Mother, she was the epitome of the ideal mid-century housewife.

Beguilingly feminine in her cascading, stay-fresh bouffant dress nipped to a tiny waist, she went about her household tasks smiling like she hadn’t a care in the world.

And why not?

It was to be a life of self polishing ease, of no rubbing, no scrubbing, no waxing, no buffing,with twice the shine in half the time; a wash and wear world of no stretching, no stooping, no bending, and absolutely…no complaining.

Mrs. America

The mid century housewife knew in her heart- because all the magazines confirmed it to be so – that love, marriage and children were The career for women

The real Mad Men of Madison Avenue would have us believe that no one was the beneficiary of the cold war culture of casual carefree living more than the housewife of the 1950’s and 60’s.

The most envied woman in the world was the Post WWII American Housewife..smart…yet easy going with never you mind freedom. That was the new Mrs. America.

All manner of unparalleled ease from cleaning products to appliances promised the happy homemaker a life transformed, a life so carefree you could do as you please. So undemanding, it was a world of child’s play, so easy it turned routine into fun.

In her smartly tailored shirtwaist dress and Playtex Living Cross Your heart Bra, what gal wouldn’t want to achieve this new ideal- a Lady Clairol Colorful Cold war world of carpools, cookouts, cream of mushroom soup casseroles, and catering to contented children and happy-go-lucky husbands.

Mrs. Consumer

The happy homemakers life would be a carousel of Kodacolor memories

Her life was magical this bewitchingly new American housewife.

“Mrs. Housewife” advertisers boasted “your judgment and testate helped make Americas standard of living the highest in the world.

Her home is her castle. Snug within it she basks in the warmth of a good mans love, glories in the laughter of healthy children glows with pride with every acquisition.

For the up to date mid-century American housewife and helpmate, pretty and perky dressed in a festive apron and a fresh coat of pretty in pink lipstick, it was a life of comfort and convenience, flameless, frost-free, touch-tone, push button ease.

Brains and Brawn

Setting a table fit for a king

With everything so automatic no wonder she looked to a man to be in control. Despite this life of ease, she seemed often to be a damsel in distress waiting to be rescued by Dudley Do-Right.

For a successful marriage it was important that the proper cold war corporate wife understand the tensions of her husband’s job as breadwinner. When it came to who was in the driver’s seat there was no question who was in charge.

New Frontier Fantasy

A beautiful floor with no waxy build up was a clear reflection of your skills as a homemaker. Vintage Glo-Coat advertisement

With their gleaming Ipana smiles the  happy homemakers asked nothing more of others than to refrain from scuffing up the shine on their freshly Glo Coated floor.

Though the atmosphere of the early 1960s was one of infinite challenges, women were still chained to their Electrolux vacuum cleaners chasing dirt, debating the well-worn topic of ring around the collar and exchanging the latest busy day Jell-O recipes while men joined the Peace Corps to save the world.

While others were out marching for Civil Rights in the 1960s fighting the break the color barriers hermetically sealed housewives were cheerfully living a colorfast world obsessed their wash n wear laundry was not white enough.

The Feminine Mistake

Now I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

As discrepancies began to appear, the New Frontier would pave the way for Feminism as happy housewives were discovering how unhappy they really were.

During the cold war, the culture of containment was not just a foreign policy but applied to women and their identities as much as it did to the Soviets. Women were to contain their aspirations, their appetites and their bodies

In a world rampant with wars rioting and male entitlement these happy housewives may have been smiling but more than likely they were numb from Miltown or Valium.

The problem that had no name was quietly being spoken about, in beauty parlors, and suburban kitchen across the country
Like underground nuclear testing, anger was to be buried underground, beneath the surface, but the fallout was soon to appear.

Before the decade was out, women would become as agitated as their miracle two agitator washers.

The End of Camelot

The New Frontier years of Camelot came to a crashing halt and turned out to be just one more fairy tale.
It wasn’t long before the spell was broken and we realized not everyone would love happily ever after like Cinderella.

The only shining white knight coming to the housewives rescue would be the Ajax White Knight galloping into her suburban neighborhood destroying dirt in his path with his magic lance.

Lib it Up

Vintage greeting card 1970

By 1970 everyone was rapping about the new liberated woman and her newly raised consciousness.

Suddenly Happy Housewives with their smiling glowing faces shining with pink pancake makeup in harmonized shades keyed to match their appliances, were like those same retro appliances, replaced for a newer model.

Nuclear Family meltdown

The single gal exploded on the scene knocking the married housewife off her pedestal. Ads proclaimed “It’s your time to shine baby and we don’t mean pots and pans.”

The nuclear family detonated along with our notion of marriage and motherhood. As if hit by a strong dose of radiation the familiar 50s nuclear family in the media had mutated into monstrous families as June and Ward Cleaver were replaced by Lilli and Herman Munster.

Baby Bust

Parenting and partnering were not priorities for the newly liberated lady. An article written by Betty Rollins published in 1970 in Look magazine said it all: “Motherhood:Who needs it?”

Earth mothers were “in”. 1950’s suburban mothers were “out.”

Happy Homemaker R.I.P.

With the bewitching speed and ease of Samantha Stevens twitching her nose, the job a generation of women had trained for was suddenly obsolete by the 1970’s. Along with their bras, women’s libbers threw out the American housewife and June Cleaver got kicked to the curb.

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Copyright (©) 2015 Sally Edelstein All Rights Reserved

This once enviably svelte housewife now found herself among the masses of women who realized they needed to whittle their waists.

For decades, Memorial Day has long been a solemn occasion.

Besides reflecting on those brave souls whose lives were lost in service to their country, the holiday has also signaled the beginning of swimsuit season and with it the sobering reflection of the state of ones body as winter weary thighs and middle-aged spreads come out of hibernation.

In 1965 Winnie Roberts had one such sobering experience, bravely confronting herself in the harshly lit confines of a department store dressing room.

One glance in the triple view mirror and poor Winnie did a double take. The new slim fashions were not for her. Crestfallen, she knew in her heart that “her size” just wasn’t “her size” any more. Suddenly for the formerly winsome Winnie, dressing up wasn’t as exciting as it used to be.

Hangers filled with this seasons must-have figure flattering swimsuits in stripes , ruffles and pleats beckoned forlornly.

As she struggled unsuccessfully to wiggle into a new Rose Marie Reid swimsuit in unforgiving Banlon, her reflection in the dressing room mirror confirmed what she already suspected.

It was time for Winnie to whittle her waist.

Vintage illustration by Dick Sargent for Post Grape Nuts Cereal Ad 1958

There came a time in every cold war housewife’s life when the safety of the containment policy offered by a good girdle simply wasn’t enough to keep those pesky curves in line.

That time had come for Winnie.

Now that she was nearly 38 and officially middle-aged, the pounds didn’t come off so easily. If she wanted to compete with the Pepsi Generation, she had to do more than get with the now taste of Tab !

Is This the Day You finally Do Something About Your Weight?

Vintage Weight Loss Ads (L) Sego 1964 (R) Metrecal 1963

Back home as she carefully dusted the Kimball upright piano, dousing the pecan wood with aerosol Pledge, Winnie’s eyes fell on the array of framed family photos that adorned the top of the piano.

Glancing at a photo from a trip to a ski weekend at Hunter Mountain with her husband Jack from several winters ago, she marveled at how slender she was in the glow of the fire. Her face darkened musing “Would he think so now?…..”

That settled it. It was  time to do something about her weight. She pledged to go on a diet.

Hunger Pangs

But true dieting takes will power. Those temptation hours between meals when hunger sets in, are the undoing of so many wishful weight watchers.

And all those calories to count could make a gal dizzy.

Like millions, Winnie had read Dr.Herman Taller’s hugely successful  1961 bestseller Calories Don’t Count.

But even if she didn’t have a head for figures ( as her hubby always pointed out), she figured the good doctor was dead wrong. Calories did count.

Lucky for her there was no shortage of new diet products to help m’ lady in her battle of the bulge.

Best of all, she could leave the counting to someone else.

By 1965 over 5 million had been helped with that mid-century miracle – Metrecal.

Metrecal came in a variety of delicious flavors including eggnog and tantalizing raspberry. They also offered wafers and soups as alternatives. Vintage Metrecal ads

It was while flipping through her latest issue of Ladies Home Journal that help came to Winnie. There nestled between tempting recipes for gay, festive cakes and hot day casseroles was a double page ad for Metrecal.

“Is this the day You do something about your weight?” the ad’s headline asked the reader.

“If you are overweight, if your clothes don’t fit right, if you don’t even feel as attractive as you should, isn’t it time you considered Metrecal? ” The copy seemed to speak directly to her.

Like most savvy gals, Winnie had heard about Metrecal. Since it was introduced in 1959, Metrecal had changed the dieting habits of the nation. The 225 calorie meal replacement drink taken 3 times a day melted the pounds in a jiff.

As the ad explained: ” Of all the ways people have tried to lose weight nothing approaches the record success of Metrecal dietary. Gave Americans a new solution to the dilemma of having to choose between embarrassment and danger of overweight on the one hand, and the hunger monotony and uncertainties of dieting on another.”

Winnie was ready to turn her  back on Lobster Newburgh for her figures sake and join the Metrecal for Lunch Bunch,  sipping her way back to her former slenderella self.

 Sip Yourself to Slenderness

Mead Johnson & Co. makers of Pablum, eventually morphed into the diet business with Metrecal. (L) vintage ad for Pablum 1958 (R) Ad for Metrecal 1961

By the early 1960’s several liquid diet meal replacements appeared to help sip your way to slenderness.

But the granddaddy of them all was Metrecal, a product of pharmaceutical company Mead Johnson & Co.

Along with a generation of busy mothers, housewives like Winnie Roberts had long counted on Mead Johnson & Co, makers of Pablum and Dextri Maltose, to feed her babies.

Purchased at the recommendation of their family doctor these ready mixes were quite useful in plumping up baby. offering “an adventure for baby’s first solid food.”

By the fall of 1960, these same mothers were buying a new Mead Johnson product, a powder called Metrecal, which promised just the opposite-to take those unwanted pounds off mama!

Now women could confidently begin their own adventure with the same peace of mind inspired in millions by the name Mead Johnson & Company.

Metrecal- A Marketing Miracle

For Mead Johnson & Company founded in 1900, Metrecal was just a new trick coaxed out of an old product.

In the great American marketing tradition, Metrecal was really an old product re-marketed to the newly diet conscious population.

Mead Johnson & Company was best known for inventing Pablum in 1931, a nutritional powder that could be mixed with water or milk and spoon fed to young babies. For decades the cereal had long been prescribed for millions of babies by thousands of doctors

But nearly 25 years later, concerned that the company was almost exclusively identified with baby products, they set up a research department to develop a diverse  line of products.

Savvy researchers at Mead Johnson stumbled across an invalid’s food called Sustagen. A mix of skim milk powder, soybean  flour, corn oil, minerals and vitamins, Sustagen- a precursor to today’s Boost- was designed for hospital patients unable to eat solid foods.

It worked so well at giving patients the feeling of having eaten a solid meal and diminishing between meal hunger pangs, that Mead Johnson decided to rename it  Metrecal and market it as a weight-reducing food. The only change was to recommend a limit of 900 calories of Metrecal a day.

Naturally as a drug company, Mead Johnson wanted to keep the good will of doctors who prescribed most of their other products, so they wisely started advertising Metrecal in the American Medical Association Journal, eventually branching out into general markets. Wisely ending  each advertisement with a plug to “see your physician” about weight problems,  gave Metrecal that all important AMA stamp of respectability that most other diet concoctions lacked.

Sales soared.

Your Doctor Knows Best

Like most homemakers, Winnie would never dream of starting any slimming regime without the advise of her trusted family doctor.

Once she could eliminate any glandular problem as the cause for her excess weight she was free to enjoy imbibing on the 900 calorie, full-bodied goodness of Metrecal with her doctors blessing.

Like most physicians, her doctor was very boosterish on the canned beverage as an aid to slimming down. Smiling paternally, he patted Winnie’s hand advising her to “take a can, and take it easy!”

Sternly he also instructed her to avoid undue exercise  as part of her slenderizing program as it was counterproductive.

Like many doctors, he felt it was of very little value since it was believed that exercise spurred ones appetite. So Winnie would leave Jack La Lanne and his jumping jacks and the good vibrations of a slimming belt at Vic Tannys to others.

As Metrecal confirmed “Your physician is the best source of counsel and guidance in problems of weight loss and control.”

 Metrecal or Martinis

Adverting began targeting men and weight loss too. (R) In a vintage Borden’s Skimmed milk ad from 1955, Elsie the Cow’s husband Elmo goes on a diet. “But dear you don’t have to starve while dieting,” Elsie suggests sweetly to her husband. To which Elmo replies in a blustery tone” “And what’s wrong with my shape?” (L) The Metrecal ad from 1961 is targetting the businessman.

Women weren’t the only ones watching their waistlines.

If Winnie’s husband jack wanted to cut a fine figure in his cabana set, he might have to do a bit of dieting himself and Metrecal was there to help him too.

Tapping into the manly world of 3 martini lunches, it wasn’t long before Mead Johnson started targeting men too, expanding their market as quickly as American waistlines grew.

Metrecal was originally introduced as a powder, mixed by hopeful dieters with water or skim milk. Soon it was available as canned Metrecal which was marketed for the bloated businessman. A 1965 print ad stated “Not one of the top 50 US Corporations has a fat president!”

Who needs a BBQ? For the beef lovin’ American man, Metrecal promised their tasty can of Metrecal had all the nutrition of a steak and potatoes dinner.

If  Jack started to develop a bit of a paunch, Mead Johnson suggested he keep those canned Metrecals refrigerated in a desk drawer for his noonday  meal joining the Metrecal for lunch bunch.

And if he took clients to lunch, he could rest assured, Metrecal was served up the finest establishments. While clients could imbibe on a Blue Hawaii at Trader Vics, the tiki themed restaurant also offered a 325 calorie lunch which was 1.5 ounces of rum mixed with nutmeg and Metrecal.

A Deluge of Diet Drinks

Vintage ads Borden’s Ready Diet

Metrecal was so successful it spawned nearly 40 imitators from other large companies: Sears Roebuck brought out  Bal-Cal, Quaker Oat’s  pitched Quota, Jewel Tea Company had Diet-Cal; even deep discounter Korvette’s hawked Kor-Val. to name just a few.

Winnie’s head was swimming from the choices.

If reliable Elsie the Cow who was apparently watching her waistline too,  claimed her product “Ready Diet” was “the happiest tasting drink,” maybe  she should try Borden’s rich and creamy elixir. Their scientific blend of 900 full-bodied calories was ready to drink from the gold carton with no measuring, mixing, dissolving or diluting.

Focusing on the women’s market, Pet Milk’s popular Sego stuffed more protein and 2 more ounces into the same 900 calories featured by Metrecal.

Vintage Diet Ads (L) Sego Liquid Diet Food (R) Sego Liquid Diet Food 1965

“Those temptation hours between meals when hunger sets in are the undoing of many a wishful weight watcher. Now new Sego diet food promised it had built-in help for nibblers. Its secret came from added protein: “10%  more than other 900 calorie diet foods.   Because protein is consumed at a slower rate,” they claimed, “ it stays with you longer, helping to delay hunger.”

Sego promised you would forget you were dieting with their 9 delicious flavors. “This is hardship?” they asked the reader. “These rich flavored drinks tasted right out of a soda fountain.”

Copyright (©) 2015 Sally Edelstein All Rights Reserved

L) Vintage Ray Ban Sunglasses Ad 1960 (R) Vintage Jantzen Swimsuit Ad 1950s, illustration by Pete Hawley

How To Enjoy The Sun In Style

In the summer of 1960 the glitter and glamor of my Grandmothers beach club often rivaled the showboating and schmoozing of the presidential campaign that summer.

A glittering spectacle, out dazzling the sun and each other with their gleaming potpourri of garish gold and sparkly diamonds, the club was filled with middle-aged sea nymphs in sun-frost green, icy turquoise and luminous gold, Riviera radiant from head to toe in their sun blazing Cote Azur colors

Like the other Beach clubs that dotted the narrow spit of Long Island, the club was always overrun with sun worshiping, jewelry glittering, deeply tanned women, their middle-aged-matronly bodies newly trim from a week at the milk farm pummeled and pounded by a host of masseurs,  squeezed into this seasons-must-have figure flattering swimsuit.

Splashing around happily in the shallow end of the turquoise tiled pool, my mother and I  watched the endless parade of equally shallow strutting ladies preening for lots of second glances.

Each gals  curve hugging suit equipped with molded bras to showcase bountiful bosoms,competed for attention-  a flurry of rhumba stripes, pleats, cotton shirred, piped ruffles, saucy anchor buttons, and bows placed just so.

Vintage swimwear 1962 Spiegal catalog

 It was a peculiar female universe at least during the week when women far outnumbered the men, but for the solicitous cabana boys, and the occasional group of stogie smoking, pot-bellied retirees dressed in eye-catching terry lined cabana sets in exotic patterns evoking the faraway South Pacific.

Whether playing pinochle or gin rummy, their lido straw hats dipped strategically below one eye, they always listened to the ball game.

Even with the southern drawl of Red Barber blaring loudly from their large Sylvania  transistor radio with the oversize dial and the CONELRAD markings, the folksy red head’s colorful play by-play of the Bronx Bombers reverberating  throughout the club  was not enough to dim the  high volume chattering of these strident ladies.

Ladies Only

Since the men were in such short supply during the week  they hoped to at least elicit envy from the other scrutinizing gals.

They teetered and tottered about on perilously high raffia straw wedgies slides, sun-loving fun-loving play shoes studded with colorful sea shells or a gay spray of red plastic posies to brighten their footsteps, a cold Pepsi in one well manicured hand and a glowing Kool in the other, my grandmother called them the girls from Iponema by way of East Flatbush.

Vintage beach wear 1962 Spiegel Catalog

Beneath huge showy straw hats, some as large as pizza pies, their winter dull hair, had been miraculously enlivened by Miss Clairol in mouth-watering shades that ran the gamut from apricot soufflé, strawberry parfait, and lemon meringue.

Unlike Mom, their teased hair never seemed to melt or wilt, thanks to liberal use of Helene Curtis Spray Net, nor were their lips like Mom’s, covered in chapstick, but improbably colored by Hazel Bishop’s no smear lipstick, staying so perfectly you could swim with it-but-god forbid you got wet swimming and risk ruining your hair-do.

Vintage Ads (L) champion Papers 1957 (R) 7-Up 1958

Life’s a Beach

My grandmother was in possession of prime beach club real estate, a much coveted corner cabana, so we were treated to unobstructed vistas of the clean white sandy beach.

The powerful ocean waves were restrained by algae stone jetties that also served the purpose of dividing the white sandy beach into socially stratified enclaves.

These unofficial boundaries protected each beach club from the huddled masses lest it be turned into, my grandmothers worst fear,  a Coney island where the crush of crowds concealed the sand, the beach  filled with who knows what kinds of people who had been who knows where.

Living proof that the American dream was alive and well in mid-century America

But the white sandy beaches themselves were often deserted.

The ladies of the club much preferred to loll around the pool on chaise lounges as the cabana boys lavishly rubbed Bain de Soeillee Orange Gelee onto their mahogany burnished, Lady Norelco’d bodies.

Lest they lose their dollar tip at the end of the day the crew cut cabana boys were careful to avoid shmeering the goopy orange gel on m’ ladies new-this-season Rose Marie Reed swimsuit, the one featured at Saks but scooped up for a song at Loehmans.

They would make a splash without once getting wet.

No, the sandy beach was not for them- it was too messy with its gritty sand that got into all the inconvenient  nooks and crannies, its salty mist terrible for their elaborate do’s.

For the afternoon, while their balding overworked, overweight husbands labored in the steaming heat of the Garment Center, and their kids safely tucked away at camp these suburban satyrs were temporarily transported to a Riviera of their own making.

Copyright (©) 20015 Sally Edelstein All Rights Reserved -Excerpt From  Defrosting The Cold War: Fallout From My Nuclear family

© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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The scents and sounds of my 1960s childhood summers at my grandmothers beach club  would sizzle together creating the perfect summer cocktail.

 Along with the rhythmic sounds of the ocean waves breaking on the beach, and the staccato click, clack, click of the Bakelite mah jongg tiles, was the constant swatting sound coming from the pink plastic fly swatter that, like Hopalong Cassidy’s six shooter, never left my grandmothers side.

Nana was the fastest swatter in the west, knocking down a formation of enemy flies with one shot.

Any fly zeroing in for a landing anywhere near a peach or plum wouldn’t stand a chance. “Who knew where that fly had been?” was a constant refrain heard all summer.

Shoo Fly Don’t Bother Me

From the time she was a little girl, no insect put the fear of God in Nana like the house fly.

It was no wonder people of a certain age had a fear of insects and flies.

These deadly pests, they were told, were carriers of deadly diseases. All insects were bad but houseflies were by far the worst since it was thought you could get polio through an insect bite.

Which helped explain why even “nice people” who lived in careful and sanitary homes could still get polio and other diseases.

A Cornucopia of Fruit

While we waited for the cabana boys to deliver our lunch, Nana rummaged through her bags for something for us to nosh on.

She never traveled anywhere without a menagerie of shopping bags and bundles, whether it was a three-week vacation or a three-hour visit.

Out of Nana’s huge summer straw tote, the one with floral appliqués and exotic bamboo bracelet handles that she got in Haiti, would emerge all sorts of goodies to nosh on.

But the best summertime treats were the cornucopia of fresh fruit from her neighborhood Italian greengrocer.

The fruit stand on Columbus Avenue with its open air grandstands of vibrant fruits and vegetables added a vivid blaze of color to the otherwise drab city block.

Unlike the chaste fruit found in our own supermarkets that were tucked into styrophone trays, hermetically sealed in sanitary Saran wrap, the seductive sprawl of luscious fruit may have been protected from the baking sun by an awning, but it lay defenseless to the random touching, squeezing even tasting, by perfect strangers.

Lunchtime By the Cabana

Tempting creative salads

It wasn’t long before the accommodating cabana boys delivered our lunches to satisfy our ravenous sea-air appetites.

As Nana nibbled on her cool-la-la fancy cottage cheese salad, the pineapple slices curled and twisted decoratively dusted with a shower of paprika, Mom mindlessly picked at her Seafarers Surprise plate, tuna salad  festooned with fancy stuffed olives and a creative use of pimento strips worthy of a Picasso.

Suddenly Mom let out an audible gasp, nearly dropping the bottle of Sucaryl lo cal sweetener she was pouring into her iced tea.

Just as I was innocently  about to sink my teeth into a downy yellow peach plucked from a brown paper bag in Nana’s straw tote, Mom swiftly snatched the fruit away from me before I ever got a chance to bite into the juicy flesh.

Sternly I was admonished to make sure it was washed or else I would get a tummy ache.

Perils of Unwashed Fruit

(L) Vintage illustration Jon Whitcomb 1950s (R) Vintage diagram “A Fly is the Most Dangerous Animal Known” from American Red Cross Text Book on Home Hygiene 1933

But it was Nana’s look of panic at the sight of that unclean flesh entering my pristine mouth, that told me  some greater tragedy would befall me if I bit into an unwashed peach, maybe the very piece of fruit that God Forbid-a fly had rested on for a mille second before being squashed to its demise.

The fly this most feared and dangerous beast that frolicked and feasted greedily in uncovered garbage cans, the gutter, rotting food, or a dead horse even, could have landed on your nice ripe peach wiping his poisonous feet on the food.

Image Credit: Aloha Organic Fruit

Diarrhea would be the least of your problems. For in the dirt and dust on the fruit, I was warned by Nana, were many little seeds of disease.

Since the polio epidemics had occurred in hot summer months when flies were so prevalent, a popular theory circulated that in the hot sun, the skin of fruits nurtured the infantile paralysis germs which had been left there by, who else –the dastardly fly.

Which is why, in my family, unwashed fruit seemed to elicit the same terror as flies.

Protecting the home front especially the food supply against the dangerous fly became a cardinal rule for three generations of mothers in my family.

Copyright (©) 20015 Sally Edelstein All Rights Reserved -Excerpt From Defrosting The Cold War:Fallout From My Nuclear Family

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Beach Club Paradise on Parade

Be the first in your neighborhood to start a collection- you can have your picture with your choice of 200 players!  Vintage ad 1963

It Ain’t Over Till It’s Over

Note: In memory of Yankee Legend Yogi Berra, the beloved 20th century American sports icon who we lost Tuesday night, a replay of a past post. It’s deja vu all over again.

Picture You With Yogi Berra

What mid-century boy wouldn’t love having his photo hanging in an all-star’s locker?

“Kids! Get your photo with your favorite Big League Star,” grinning great Yankees catcher Yogi Berra beckons in this 1963 ad. “Imagine a photo of your favorite Big League star hanging your picture in his locker,” the ad entices.

No, you didn’t get to fly to NY to have your picture taken with Roger Maris or to Milwaukee to pose with Hank Aaron or even Los Angeles for a shutterbug session with Sandy Koufax.

Sponsored by Acme Markets and a company called Picture Pal, your dream could come true just by sending your snapshot with a special label from any Acme Supreme bread and $1.

Boys from Bayonne to Bayshore smiled eagerly for their Dads Brownie and made sure to ask Mom to get Acme Bread…top taste in every bite!

Way before Photoshop when you could create the same image in your very own home, this magic was achieved through old-fashioned cut and paste.

With a dollop of rubber cement, your Kodak snapshot could be plastered on an 8″ x 10″ glossy made to look like you were hanging in your favorite big league baseball stars very own locker!

What’s Wrong with this Picture

Today in the post Penn State scandal era, some eyebrows might be raised, but in those more innocent times, what could possibly be wrong for  a towel clad,  beefy ball player hanging a picture of a gap toothed ten-year old boy in his locker?

On most mid-century days, the suburban streets of my childhood were filled by a legion of door to door salesmen trafficking in fantasy.

The pavement belonged to this endless parade of post war peddlers, their sample cases bulging with promises for a brighter, cleaner, more attractive future for you and your family.

But on the last day of October the flock of high brow-invest-in-your-child’s-future encyclopedia hustlers, along with the Fuller Brush Man and the Avon Lady ceded their hard-earned territory to a motley crew of pirates and hobos.

“Here Kiddie Kiddie” Vintage Halloween Ad Milky Way Candy Bars 1955

From afternoon to evening on October 31 the peddler’s turf belonged to the trick or treaters who marched en masse from splanch to ranch in pursuit of Milky Way dreams.

Thanks to the baby boom, the concrete sidewalks of these newly built developments were as congested as rush hour traffic as they morphed into a magical world of make-believe filled with devils, gypsys, and Indian chiefs.

Halloween Costumes

Vintage article for Halloween Costumes by Singer Sewing Centers 1955. From Davy Crockett to Little Red Riding Hood, Moms could create Halloween costumes for the kiddies following EZ directions offered in the women’s magazines.

Costumes were the key to successful trick or treating and mothers were often enlisted in the effort.

Some sewing challenged moms, or those on a budget,  simply cut holes in their freshly laundered percale pillowcases sending Jr. out as Casper the Friendly Ghost. Other moms who were a whiz on their Singer sewing machine could whip up a believable costume from Pinocchio to Peter Pan,

Five and Dime Dreams

Vintage Ad Halloween at Woolworths

But for most kids when it came to Halloween costumes, the wizardry of Woolworths was unsurpassed.

“Only a broomstick ride away” the colorful five and dime store ads beckoned, and for a few dollars an ordinary suburban kid could easily be transformed into a black cat, a scary witch or Bugs Bunny, with the help of some plastic and polyester courtesy of Ben Cooper the king of costumes.

A Ben Cooper Costume for Sleeping Beauty. Early on the company secured the licensing rights to Disney characters

Sure the rubber band in the cheap, easily cracked mask often snapped and the plastic smocks were highly flammable, but for inexpensive costumes from Minnie Mouse to Snow White, the only question every year for my brother and I was which Ben Cooper costume we would choose.

A Cold War Halloween

However for Halloween 1962 my parents took our getups into their own hands.

There would be no glittering fairy princess with a magic wand for me. No ghosts or goblins for my brother.

No, my parents had something more ghoulish in mind.

Halloween 1962 would take on a chillier tone. There would be no glittering fairy princess masks for me. (L) Vintage Fidel Castro Mask (R) Vintage Sleeping Beauty Mask

Less than a week after the crisis that brought the world to the very brink of nuclear destruction, my parents thought it a hoot to masquerade their children as the culprits of that Cuban Missile Crisis, Soviet Leader Nikita Khrushchev and Cuba’s very own Fidel Castro.

What better way to keep a cold war chill in the air than to dress my brother and I as those two  lovable cold war communist cut ups.

Mask Appeal

With the promise that these two true-to-life masks would elicit plenty o’cold war chuckles ( nothing says funny like a pair of ruthless dictators) Andy and I agreed.

My older brother had first dibs on choosing masks and he immediately claimed the swashbuckling, bearded Castro as his own. Because the charismatic Cuban was always dressed in army fatigues, my brother’s choice entitled him to wear my fathers moth ball scented WWII army uniform and a White Owl cigar clenched between his teeth.

Cold War Cowboy

(L) Vintage child’s costume for “Have Gun Will Travel” the popular CBS Western that followed the adventure of Paladin a gentleman gunfighter who traveled the Old West as a mercenary gunfighter (R) Nikita Khruschev

Though disappointed to be relegated to the balding, wrinkled Khrushchev, my parents gave me free rein in how to accessorize the Soviet Premiere.

Best known for his off-the-Russian-racks suits, I decided to opt for the cold war cowboy look.

Because I was still deep in my “gunslinger stage” picking my official “Have Gun Will Travel” togs was an obvious choice. Dressed in black, sanforized cotton from head to toe, my Khrushchev would look quite cunning in his regulation “Paladin” black felt hat.

Strapping on the leatherette holster set with two caps guns was the final touch. Short and pudgy Khrushchev wasn’t coy about his ample arsenal of missiles, nor was I.

Trick or Treat For UNICEF

(L) Vintage paper Halloween trick or treat bag (R) The famous orange UNICEF box would come later, for now we made our own.

After a hurried dinner, I was raring to go trick or treating, so I quickly grabbed my paper shopping bag not forgetting my UNICEF box.

For one day of the year,  schoolkids across the country could proudly show their latent philanthropic side, spurred on by a United Nations filmstrip shown in classrooms explaining that “One little penny for UNICEF buys 5 glasses of milk for hungry children around the world!”

Sure, charitable boxes were a dime a dozen in the suburban landscape.

Literally.

The ubiquitous March of Dimes tin canister with the heart breaking picture of little girls with steel braces on their legs was found on shop counters everywhere from butchers to TV repair shops, and the blue and white Jewish National Fund box with its Hebrew letters and map of Israel, graced most Jewish homes and establishments.

But the UNICEF box was for kids only.

Lovingly hand-made from wax milk cartons decorated with orange construction paper, we were pint-sized door to door UN Ambassadors for one night, proudly shouting in unison Trick or Treat For UNICEF!”

A Haunting We Will Go

Vintage Halloween ad for Necco candy 1951

With my brother illuminating the way with his plastic, light up jack o’ lantern, cleverly lit by an Eveready flashlight we stepped out into the chilly fall night.

Up and down the block as far as the eye could see the narrow sidewalks were filled with a spooky mass of taffeta, rayon, vinyl and cheap flammable plastic, most glowing eerily with “glitter glo” the blue glitter glued to the front of the costumes which would reflect headlights of passing cars, Ben Cooper’s contribution to Halloween safety.

Excitedly we joined the mass of cowboys and clowns, robots and princesses in all shapes and sizes, all of whom were far outnumbered by the  ragged packs of hoboes.

Vintage Halloween Hobo Mask Ben Cooper Costumes INC.

In the midst of post war plenty, suburban kids delighted in dressing up as depression era tramps – those tragic transients who had fallen from the once upon a time security of middle class.

Even without a Ben Cooper certified hoboe costume, the look of a downtrodden vagabond was easily and authentically achieved simply by raiding father’s closets for oversize clothes, smudging dirt on their Ivory fresh faces and carrying a handkerchief tied around the end of a stick.

The fact that many trick or treaters were but one generation removed from the fate of those forlorn, hungry hoboes, could now, in the flush of the soaring sixties,  transform these tragic icons of the 1930’s economic disaster into lovable begging imps, was quite the trick.

The neighborhood homes were all lit up in anticipation of the crowds descending on their stoops, a single carved pumpkin the only holiday decoration save for a stray skeleton scotch taped to the front aluminum door. Holiday decorations were still best left to school bulletin boards.

Vintage Halloween Costumes from Sears Catalog

Traipsing from house to house, we fell in with a coterie of trick or treaters consisting of Zorro, Frankenstein, an army nurse and a Spaceman toting a white pillowcase bulging with candy corn, tootsie pops and pixies, who insisted on ringing the bell on every front door.

Double Trouble

Vintage Halloween ad for Fleers Dubble Bubble Gum 1953

At every house, suburban moms with Jackie Kennedy boufants greeted my brother and I with bemused smiles.

In this mid-century mélange we were the only cold warriors in sight.

After a long parade of repetitious, predictable princesses, witches and creepy skeletons, a pair of suburban socialists begging for money for the UN caused gales of laughter.

As the housewives opened their front door wiping their soapy hands on their flowery aprons, manicured hands still damp from washing the dinner dishes, they tossed in fistfuls of  Mary Janes and  tootsie rolls.

Even unfamiliar, normally unfriendly neighbors winked at my brother and me, making sure to add a few extra shiny pennys for UNICEF.

The more we drew laughter – me in my gun slingin’ black-hatted Khrushchev disguise and my brother camouflaged  as a cigar chompin, khaki Communist – the heavier my UNICEF box seemed to grow.

In this make-believe night I could almost believe in the UN’s hope for friendly relations with all nations. For a few hours on that frosty night in 1962 my brother and I were doing our part in defrosting the cold war.

© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Wishing you and your family a picture perfect Christmas!

News flash: Barbie’s got some junk in her trunk!

After nearly 57 years, Barbie is finally packing on some healthy pounds and she’s not rushing to sign up with Jenny Craig to shed them!

In fact she’s quite okay with it and so are we.

Barbie Gets Real

Original Barbie (L) New Curvy Barbie (R)

Mattel has finally come out with 3 different bodies for Barbie.

Now Curvy and Tall  and Petite will be sold side by side with the familiar busty impossibly wasp-waisted original.

This marks the most startling change to the arguably most famous and famously dissected body in the world, a body that has spawned countless women’s study papers with concerns that Barbie reinforced a single impossible standards of beauty for girls to try to meet.

To those of us who were first generation Barbie buddies, Barbie was first and foremost a teenage fashion doll. Now there are whole new fashion challenges and choices for Barbie.

If today’s new Curvy Barbie wants to go all retro, she might want to check out some vintage fashions designed just for chubby girls and get some fashion tips.

“How Happy Can A Chubby Girl Be? As happy as a hit with a rollicking beat, or a serenade in a dreamy mood…as happy as one whose extra young pounds have been delightfully transformed by the designing magic of Chubbettes.” vintage ad

These ads from Chubbette Fashions ran around the same time that Miss Barbie splashed down and spun into the orbit of nearly every suburban girl in 1959.

Like most girls in the 60s I was mesmerized by Barbie and her seemingly impossible anatomy that seemed to fit so beautifully in all her many exclusive costumes.

Original Barbie came in flesh tone vinyl plastic. Besides adding 3 exciting new body types, they are adding 7 new skin tones to the line of Barbies.

“Barbie is the teenage fashion model who has a complete wardrobe of lovely new fashions to wear, the copy read in the enclosed booklet. “You can dress Barbie in the latest Paris fashions in glamorous party dresses, in school sportswear, swimsuits from the Barbie Teenage fashion collection styled exclusively for your Barbie to wear.”

Vintage Barbie Fashion Booklet

But I worried, After all those dates to the malt shop with Ken would she still be able to fut into those Gay Parisienne dresses?And she needed a svelte figure for her solo in the spotlight! To keep her in check I kept her nibbling on dainty Rye Krisp and sipping Tab with that one crazy calorie on any and all dates with Ken or her gal pal Midge .

No one wanted a plump fashion doll and no one certainly wanted a chubby daughter.

Fitting In

“Is she on the plump side? Send her back to school in the slenderizing magic of Chubbettes wardrobe.” vintage ad

Never a skinny Minnie as a child, I always felt I was a heart beat away from being considered chubby. .By the grace of God I was saved from the sheer embarrassment of having to ever wear any clothes with the horrifying name Chubbettes,- fashion designed to make girls 6-16 look slimmer.

Naturally no mid-century mother who was herself was part of the Metrecal for Lunch Bunch wanted a plump daughter.

Your Chubby Lass Can Be Belle of Her Class. “If your favorite little girl is on the plump side, dress her in Chubbettes and see her blossom into a lovely lass- as happy and self-assured as her slimmer schoolmates. Chubbettes are created for the chubby size young figure- a perfect combination of fit comfort and slenderizing design.” vintage ad

Body Shaming- No Laughing Matter

Little Lotta might be fun for laughs in the comic books but life was difficult for a chubby child. So along with the stylish fashion Chubbettes also provided concerned parents with expert advice from a reputable doctor about how to deal with the ridicule that fat girls received.

They could send away for Pounds and Personality a booklet of advice for parents of a chubby girl ( ‘For parents who wants to assure the happiness of their overweight girls…what to do about her nickname, what to do about tactless remarks….her place in the home, active play, diet, appearances etc.”)

Apparently there was no shame in body shaming.

Connie Chubbette goes back to school in slimming, thinning Chubbette fashions. Vintage article

Because fitting in was so important to a girl,  Chubbettes helped give the right impression and promised with their fashion magic your little plump dumpling could be the belle of her class. Take the case of Connie Chubbette:

Because this may be the year Connie forms lasting friendships the impression she gives is all important. This makes Chubbettes fashions important too because they’re designed specifically to slim and trim plump figures and let Connie ( and other chubby girls like Connie) look and feel their very best at school and play. Just a few of the Chubbette styles are shown in this catalog.

She Can Have a Tummy …and Still Look Yummy”

“Is your daughter on the plump side? She can and should look as pretty as her slim friends. And she will… if you dress her in Chubbettes, Send her back to school in the slenderizing magic of Chubbette wardrobe…dresses, skirts blouses and slacks cleverly designed to minimize extra pounds.” vintage advertisement

The new Curvy Barbie now with some meat on her thighs and a protruding tummy finally proves once and for all “You can have a tummy and still be yummy!”

Barbie just got a lot more bootyliscious.

Mattel, you really are swell!

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© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

In 1966 suave leading man Bill Cosby lamented “Why won’t they let me kiss on TV?” Perhaps frustrated at not getting enough action on the small screen he took matters into his own hands in his private life.

Exactly a half a century later that statement, laden with irony, feels downright creepy as Cosby heads to court for a hearing on criminal sexual assault charges.

50 years ago before this current scandal which now involves 50 women accusing the comedian of drugging their drinks, raping and coercing or sexually assaulting them, Bill Cosby was a hero in a groundbreaking show the first of its kind to feature a leading black actor. During its heyday his character in I Spy provided as much a role model as Dr. Huxtable would several years later

Secret Agent Man

Cosby’s character Alexander Scott on I Spy was cool, debonair, funny, good looking and intelligent. It is important to acknowledge the groundbreaking show which was the first to feature a leading black actor.

In 1966 Bill Cosby played Alexander Scott the dashing, debonair co-star on NBC’s spy thriller I Spy about two government agents posing undercover as a tennis champ and his tennis pro.

Their real work usually kept them busy chasing villains, spies and of course a bevy of beautiful women.
But when it came to making-out with the fairer sex, Bill Cosby’s character just wasn’t getting his fair share.

That is , according to Photoplay magazine the fan magazine du jour for up-to-date reliable scoops on Americas favorite stars.

Most of the articles in these movie magazines were just rehashes of press releases and used as vehicles for publicity. Relying on lurid provocative headlines the articles were generally fluff pieces. Vintage Photoplay Magazine July 1966

Nestled between scandalous articles about Jackie Kennedy’s first disagreement with Bobby Kennedy, Batman’s Adam Wests mother telling all  and the jealousy tearing the Lennon Sisters apart  was this provocative article about Bill Cosby’s on-screen love life.. or lack of it.

Like most of the articles in the screen fan magazines, the publicity was carefully orchestrated by the studios and publicists who controlled the narrative. These magazines might have alluring headlines but articles tended to be significantly tamer.

Such as  this provocative  piece on Bill Cosby from July 1966:

“Why Wont They Let Me Kiss on TV?”

From Photoplay Magazine July 1966 Bill Cosby:“Why Wont They Let Me Kiss on TV?” by Bill Goode

“Bill Cosby may not have used those precise words,” the article admits, “but what he said last winter added up to the same thing. Halfway through the first year of NBC’s top rated I Spy  series, Cosby wryly observed of his role: “If Alexander Scott doesn’t get to go out with a girl once in a while, people are going to wonder about me.”

In a great twist of irony, it was only recently after his philandering and multiple sexual assault allegations came to light that people really began to wonder about him.

I Spy ran for three seasons on NBC from 1965 to 1968 and teamed Robert Culp posing as an international tennis player, Kelly Robinson with Bill Cosby as his trainer, Alexander Scott

According to Photoplay, viewers were concerned why Cosby wasn’t wooing the ladies.

It so happened that a great many viewers felt the same way, the article continues. “They sent letters. By the sackful. The adventures of Alexander Scott and Kelly Robinson ( Robert Culp), they wrote were exciting and believable. When Robinson occasionally waltzed off with a leading lady at the fade out, it was romantic and believable.

But picturing Scott as an undercover agent too dedicated to his job, too intelligent or too busy to bother with the opposite sex- that was downright unbelievable.

Heroes in a continuing series, of course , never get involved in “forever and a day” type romances; each weekly episode presents not only new and different dangers, but new and different girls. Although the 2 spies shared the dangers on a 50 /50 basis the ratio of women wooed and won was about 25 to 1 and…in favor of Robert Culp.

If Cosby wasn’t getting enough action on the screen, he clearly made up for it in his off-screen life. His infidelity and promiscuity are now legendary, many beginning not long after his I Spy days, and we know of at least 50 women he wooed and won thanks to Quaaludes and aggressive behavior.

We Shall Overcome

The article continues with their love scene statistics

That is out of the 26 shows in the ’65-’66 season in only one did Bill Cosby have a chance to play a love scene. The girl was Diana Sands, one of the 3 Negro actresses who have given outstanding performances on the series. Cicely Tyson and Eartha Kitt are the others, but neither of them became romantically involved with Alexander Scott during the course of the program.

The first of the 50 allegations was in 1965 by a woman who was a 22-year-old secretary at a talent agency. There were also  incidents in 1967 and 1969 where a woman accused he raped her ( the same year he made jokes about spiking women’s drinks with drugs)

Against the backdrop of the civil rights movement and political upheaval, the article attempts to offer an explanation as to Cosby’s character lack of sexuality.

There are different- and not necessarily conflicting- reasons presented to explain why Cosby invariably ends up in empty arms. According to producer Sheldon Leonard, the character of Alexander Scott was originally conceived as a brainy, no-nonsense type of person to be a foil for the insouciant Kelly Robinson.

“But we got letters.” Leonard admitted recently, “pointing out that even a Rhodes scholar who speaks 7 languages would be interested in girls.” However, he added, “I’m not going to feed the public the inaccurate concept that a Negro responds only to the sex drive…We want him to have girls, but there has to be sweetness and dignity to it.”

When Cosby himself was asked if he thought perhaps fear of adverse reaction from the viewing audience was the reason, he shrugged and said, “Could be.”

Black Stud Stereotype

Daily News Headline Dec. 31. 2015

In the midst of the tumultuous  civil rights movement the network clearly wanted to avoid the old stereotype of the hyper-sexualized black male. And not tap into old stereotypes of black men’s lustful, and uncontrollable behavior to white women, the same ugly  stereotypes that had historically caused countless  African-American men to be lynched, castrated or burned alive.

This racialized history of rape is a crucial factor in the sexual assault accusations  being brought against Cosby today. Some African Americans   have referenced this horrific history and feel  agitated and suspicious when they see a white woman charging an African American with sexual violence.

TV So White

His breakout role came on “I Spy,” which debuted in 1965 in the midst of the civil rights struggle. The series helped change the perception of African-Americans in mainstream media.According to figures compiled by the association of Motion Picture & Television Producers, during the quarter ending Jan 31 1966, a total of 3,603 roles were cast in 330 tv episodes. Only 131 out of these were more than 3000 roles were filled by Negros actors.

The Photoplay article goes on to cite the importance of putting the first black man as a leading man:

A longtime observer of the Hollywood scene was more positive. “Look just putting a Negro on-screen as a hero and not mentioning a word about his color was a giant step. It was revolutionary. I’m sure the producers sponsors and everybody else connected with the show were holding their breath to see if the public would buy it.”

“To complicate matters at the very start with a lot of smooching- look, that’s almost $200,000 every week you’re playing around with.

The encouraging fact is the public not only bought the idea of a Negro hero on television but they are demanding full equality for him.

Last winter Cosby told a reporter, “As far as white girls go, I want Scotty sterile. I believe in my women first.”

“Since that time,” we learn “several attractive young Negro actresses have worked on the show.

Equal Opportunity Black and White

More than 50 women have surfaced accusing him of drugging and sexually assaulting them.  Allegations occurred between 1965-2004 from his I Spy days to his years as sweater wearing patriarch on Cosby. New York Magazine photo Amanda Demme for NY Magazine 2015

Bill Cosby’s victims were a racially diverse group of women.

When it came to sexual abuse, he was an equal opportunist.

It took many women decades to gain the courage to reveal their stories publicly of being drugged and assaulted by Cosby. For some black victims it was particularly difficult.

As poet and author Jewel Allison has powerfully written “Bill Cosby sexually assaulted me. I didn’t tell because I didn’t want to let black America down,” “I let race trump rape.” Allison realized all too well her own, and the African-American community’s, desire to protect the Cosby/Huxtable image and not feed the stereotype of the black male as rapist.

In Living Color

Vintage Comic “I Spy” Gold Key Comics

Photoplay continues applauding  the revolutionary idea of having a person of color as a leading man:

The wide acceptance of Cosby as a hero is a big plus factor; only 4 stations in the deep south , out of some 200 NBC affiliates refuse to air “I Spy. Trouble with sponsors? When they first cast him everyone said they’d have problems with sponsors but none of the boogie men they feared has materialized.

“And you know, we make it possible for NBC to live up to its slogan as the network of living color!”

Of course the color that mattered most to NBC was green… the show was a huge success.

 Rights and Romance

Producer Sheldon Leonard had a sixth sense that tells him it is time for some romance in the hero’s life. Already in the can are several episodes of “I Spy for next season in which the emphasis is on Cosby and the girl playing opposite him.

In one, Cosby and a female agent work together on a mission and the love that develops between them adds poignancy.

“It’s about time,” was Cosby’s comment when asked how he feels about it.

Cosby is quick to deny that he uses his TV stardom as a civil rights crusader. When asked why he took the I Spy role he said frankly “Money!” yet his weekly appearance on the small screen cannot help but pave the way for the fuller participation of Negro actors on TV.

Family Man

Secret Agent Man Cosby at home with his wife and daughter Ebony Magazine 1966. Sexual Allegations occurred between 1965-2004 from his I Spy days to his years as sweater wearing patriarch on Cosby.

As with most of the publicity, at that time it was important to showcase Bill Cosby as the loving family man.

We walked out from the sound stage out into the bright sunlight of the streets of Desilu. Outside Cosby’s dressing room was parked his big Imperial with the whimsical California license plate DAD048. Standing in the doorway of his two room suite was Bill Cosby leading his tiny daughter Erika by the hand.

America’s Dad

The well spoken, well-heeled Dr Huxtable offered promise and inspiration to many. These were the same years that the charges that Cosby had assaulted women were beginning to emerge. Even as the sexual allegation came out many African-Americans struggled to part with their idealized image of him with many celebrities defending him. Malcolm-Jamal Warner, Keshia Knight Pulliam, Bill Cosby, Phylicia Rashad and Lisa Bonet (top row, from left), Tempestt Bledsoe (bottom)

In 20 years, Alexander Scott would morph into America’s dad as Cliff Huxtable, on  the blockbuster Thursday night sitcom that in 1984 provided the nation with an inspirational vision of a loving, successful, upper-middle-class black family.

 Ladies Man

Bill Cosby and his wife Camille in 1966 as he received an Emmy for his role in I Spy

Photoplay next introduces us to his lovely wife of 2 years Camille, and the other important ladies in his  life.

Returning to his dressing room, Cosby emerged with his lovely wife Camille – who is expecting their second child – and his mother. Seeing Bill Cosby surrounded by 3 women in his life, enjoying a bounty of success far beyond his wildest dreams back in the days when he was an unknown comic, one could not help but wonder how the new romantic phase of his acting career might affect his personal life.

Making make-believe love to luscious leading ladies has resulted in marital problems for more than one actor. On one wall of Cosby’s combination office and dressing room is an autographed photo from his good friend Sidney Poitier. The Oscar-winning Poitier’s romantic involvement with Diahann Carroll lead to the near breakup of his marriage of several years.

Could the same thing happen to Bill Cosby? the article asks is readers.

Stand By Your Man

Today Camille Cosby has persisted in defending her husband, even as the number of women accusing him of rape has risen to nearly as high as the number of years they’ve been married.

Cosby denied the rape allegations, but in several cases conceded that he had had consensual relationships outside of his long marriage to wife Camille. This alone should have provoked some criticism:  a man who held his own marriage up as a model of commitment, had in fact been repeatedly unfaithful.

Camille Testifying

Now lovely Camille may have to testify in a deposition for a civil suit questioning Camille about what she knew about her husband’s extra-martial activities over the past couple decades. She may be grilled about her husband’s quote “sexual proclivities” and whether or not she ever “procured drugs for him.”

Cosby One Cool cat

If nothing else, Cosby has proven he’s got some balls.

Nearing the end of the article Photoplay ponders the big question –  if on screen romances might affect the Cosby marriage.

When the question was broached to a long time friend of Cosby’s he scoffed.

“Look man,” he said confidently, “Bill is one cat who’ll never blow his cool. Right now he’s making more bread (money) than the average guy can count and he hasn’t changed a bit from the days when he was getting started back in Greenwich Village coffee houses.

Playing a love scene in front of the cameras will be no different from doing in a bad guy with a karate chop- just a job for him.

So I say, bring on the girls! It’ll mean more jobs for us actors who happen not to be white.

And bring on the girls he did!

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© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Vintage Comic Young Romance, 1970. Art by Don Heck and John Verpoorten

Due to a faux pas on Friday, a feminist icon found herself in a very politically incorrect moment.

Gloria Steinem got into hot water when she commented that young women are supporting Bernie Sanders for only one reason… to meet boys, as if the Sanders campaign was the new Tinder for millennials.

Steinem quickly apologized for the regrettable remark clarifying on Facebook that she had not meant to imply “Young women aren’t serious in their politics.”

Grateful for the clarification, it still stings a bit.

That such a retro remark worthy of a Republican could come from the mouth of a brilliant feminist was all the more ironic, because Steinem is certainly aware of the long sexist history of women activist in politics.

Politically Correct in the Sixties and Seventies

Women who were activist in the 1960 and 1970s and were subjected to sexist treatment. Young Romance May 1973

In the 1960s and 1970s when women were politically active they were often dismissed in the campaigns; ironic because of that very dismissal the women’s movement would grow.

In that tumultuous time of political upheaval, the presidential election of 1968 and 1972 stimulated a massive youth involvement and young women participated in droves

Did girls sign up to work for Gene McCarthy because of the abundance of cute boys or volunteer to work the mimeograph machine for McGovern because of the cool dude with James Taylor locks? Possibly, but doubtful.

Politically Incorrect…Literally

During that time, young women were thoughtfully active in the anti-war movement, the student power movement, and the civil rights movements. Within all these movements, however, women activists were denied the recognition and the responsibility that they deserved and that they had earned.

Despite their commitment and contributions they were all too often refused leadership positions, treated as second class citizens. Gender subordination was rampant. Women in campaign offices were often relegated to “female” tasks such as running the mimeograph machine, typing and fetching coffee.

Most men didn’t take the women that seriously.

Sexism

I Am Woman Hear Me Roar. Activists Gloria Steinem and Dorothy Pitman Photo by Dan Wynn 1970

By the middle 1960s many of these women began to react to and organize responding to the contradiction within these social movements which fought for self-determination and equality and yet which denied these same basic rights to women in these organizations.

First in the civil rights movement, and soon afterward in the anti-war movement, SDS, and other social movements, women radicals began to demand equality and respect as activists.

Women argued that sexist assumptions – that they were followers and men leaders, that women naturally were “better” with children and men “better” at organizing, that women should type and men should discuss issues – that all these assumptions were deeply political, denying women not only equality within these progressive movements, but even more basically the freedom to choose for themselves what they could and should think and do.

On Our Own – Women’s Liberation

When most men refused to listen, many women left the movement to, as they put it at the time, “organize around our own oppression.”

They began a liberation movement dedicated to eliminating the ways in which women were constrained and harmed by sexist assumptions and behavior.

A movement Gloria Steinem is quite familiar with.

© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2016.

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Patty Duke Album Cover “Don’t Just Stand There” 1965

As an actress, Patty Duke was a true miracle worker.

The fact that viewers of the popular Patty Duke Show bought into this improbable story of identical cousins who looked alike, laughed alike, walked alike and  at times even talked  alike…well, the fact that we didn’t lose our minds was a miracle itself and a testament to her acting skills.

Patty Watusi’d her way into our hearts.

In a television season of improbable sitcoms like The Beverly Hillbillies, Bewitched  and My Favorite Martian, the story of “this crazy pair, ”one pair of matching bookends, different as night and day,  made an indelible impression on my pre-teen sensibility.

Serving as a wholesome yet, wacky template for teenage angst, it helped to maneuver the minefield of teenage years that would loom in the near future.

Patty Duke was part of our collective consciousness.

Is there a baby boomer who doesn’t know that Cathy adores a minuet, the Ballet Russes, and crepe suzette, yet, our Patty loves to rock and roll, and a hot dog makes her lose control …”-

Is there a baby boomer who didn’t dig that wild duet?

While every self-respecting boomer can recite the lyrics to the Patty Duke Show theme, her short-lived career as pop star may not have made as indelible an impression.

But it did to me.

Don’t Just Stand There

Patty Duke’s “Don’t Just Stand There” reached #8 on Billboard charts in 1965. Back cover of the album

The liner notes for the album are as effusive as Party Lane herself.

When sparkling, eighteen-year-old PATTY DUKE is called America’s most popular teenager, there can be no argument. The talented young New York City-born lass first conquered Broadway, went on to win a coveted Oscar for her performance in the film, “The Miracle Worker,” then continued her string of triumphs via “The Patty Duke Show,” one of television’s most highly-rated programs.

Just a short time ago, the amazing and precocious Miss Duke signed with United Artists Records and shortly thereafter, her initial single was released by the company. Patty scored heavily again with “Don’t Just Stand There” which became one of the big hits of the year.

This impressive roster of overwhelming conquests continues. Now Patty is starring in the motion picture, “Billie,” already being touted as one of the most delightful giants of the season, and she is presently hard at work on still more of “The Patty Duke Show,” more spirited, more refreshing and more entertaining than ever.

“DON’T JUST STAND THERE is PATTY DUKE’s first album ever, and just like everything else she touches, it is pure gold. It is certain to find a huge throng of eager fans waiting to purchase it and catapult it quickly high on the nation’s best-seller lists.

In addition to the title tune, it contains a wonderful selection of the great songs of the day — all eminently youthful and all hand-picked by our star of stars. As can be readily ascertained in these selections, Patty is a singer with tremendous charm and appeal. She is always an actress, putting a meaning into the lyrics that she seldom been equaled by one of such tender years. She is indeed a lyricist’s delight, in addition to being a delight to hear.

United Artists Records is proud to offer “DON’T JUST STAND THERE” by MISS PATTY DUKE — only eighteen years old — and already one of the truly big names in the entertainment world.

Patty Duke Does  Shindig

Patty Duke on Shindig

In June of 1965, an appearance on Shindig solidified her place in pop history for me.

By any standards 1965 was a stellar year for music with “Satisfaction,” “I Got You Babe” and “California Girls”  all competing for airtime on top 40 stations. How could poor Patty compete with the likes of the Rolling Stones and Sonny and Cher?

Yet her hit “Don’t Just Stand There” stood out for me.

Foregoing my usual Wednesday  night habit of the Beverly Hillbillies I crossed channels to ABC to tune into Shindig, not to hear Maryanne Faithful but  for the chance to hear Patty Lane  sing.

This multi talented actress may have been a short-lived pop star,  but her album would be the very first LP I bought.

Filled with infectious enthusiasm she covers Petula Clark’s “Downtown” and even does a version of  “Danke Schoen,” putting Wayne Newton to shame.

“Don’t Just Stand There”  has been compared to Leslie Gore’s “You Don’t Own Me,” yet Patty’s career as pop star never got off the ground.

But not to worry.

“Valley of the Dolls”  beckoned.

Menstruation and the Mid Century Girl

Lady talk has gone viral.

A woman’s period, once cloaked in privacy  lingering on the periphery of polite conversation  has now permeated public discourse.

Credit  in part goes to the heated debate about the inequity of tampon taxes as well as Donald Trump’s sexist comment about “blood coming out of wherever”  which  stirred conversations challenging culturally conveyed ideas about periods being something unseemly.

The last time I remember menstruation being so publicly discussed was when I was in fifth grade.

2015 might have been dubbed the year of the period by various publications, but for me that honorarium goes to 1966.

That was the year when girls in my grade were initiated into the wonderful world of womanhood  via a film called Growing Up and Liking it.

Now That You’re a Mid-Century Woman

Menstruation booklet by Modess 1966

In the spring of 1966, all the fifth grade teachers in my suburban school took the girls aside informing us we were soon to see a “very special” movie especially for us about “growing up.”

Like going to an R rated movie we would need to be accompanied by an adult woman  to view this facts-of-life film, so were handed  a formal invitation to  give to our mothers  as though inviting her to a tea.

Included with the invitation was a little booklet  provided  by Modess ( makers of fine sanitary napkins)  which we were to review with out mothers to prepare us for this corporate  sponsored  movie about menstruation “Growing Up and Liking It: Now that You’re A Woman.”

Like generations of American girls, my initiation into menstruation was corporate all the way

“Nicest way to prepare your daughter for menstruation and sanitary protection ( best before her 11th birthday.)” Kotex ad 1965

Heavily competitive, both Kotex and Modess, the big guns in sanitary feminine products, offered free booklets to mid-century mothers to help guide their daughters through this most miraculous time.

And make loyal lifetime customers to their brands.

Vintage Kotex ad illustration by Jon Whitcomb

Girl Talk

Even tomboys get their period. Vintage Kotex ad 1935

The competition between the two  companies for Lady Time loyalty had been waging for decades.

Starting in the  1930’s  corporate sponsorship had come to the rescue of timid mothers who couldn’t bring themselves to have the talk  with their daughters.

Shamelessly promoting their products, educational divisions within the Feminine Personal Products industry began to supply mothers, teachers and the PTA with free ready-made programs of instruction on “menstrual health” including  booklets, films and pamphlets with catchy names like Personally Yours, and You’re a Young Lady.

“From lollipops to lipstick was a long jump!” explained the introduction to this Kotex booklet. “Pigtails change to perky curls…grubby nails grow long and lacquered. And that wicked little boy next door may soon make stars dance in your eyes.”

In 1940 coming to my own teen age  mother Betty’s  rescue, was the Kotex classic  “As One Girl To Another.”

Kotex booklet “One Girl to Another”

Lucky for a young bobbysoxer like Betty,  her own on-the-ball modern mother had sent away for that  free booklet from Kotex.  The new book, the ads promised   “tells all…gives answers to intimate questions.”

Like so many girls, Betty fretted, “Hows a girl to learn what to do what not to do on difficult days?”

Kotex offered the answer:

Things to avoid when you have your period from “As One Girl to Another Kotex 1940

Growing Up and Liking It

Growing up and Liking it booklet by Modess 1965

Compared to Mom’s booklet,  my manual from Modess “Growing Up and Liking It”  was modern all the way targeting  the  now generation.

Flipping through the book , I sensed its  upbeat tone:  The Fun is just begining, it claimed right off the bat.

“This is what you’ve been waiting for,” it gushed assuring readers that “someday when you fall in love and marry, you will want to have children.” Menstruation was “part of being female . . .part of growing up . . . part of the wonderful process of changing from a child into a woman.”

Modess Growing Up and Liking It 1966

Geared to the Pepsi generation, the photos of girls were as bubbly and effervescent as a bottle of pop, and as perky as any teen in a Pepsi ad.  These happy-go-lucky gals sporting Patty Duke flips and Ship n’ Shore separates were pictured dancing,  shopping and playing ping-pong. The girls just glowed with happiness …all because they had  proper menstrual education.

Properly Equipped

“Remember your sanitary belt is as important to your protection and daintiness as your sanitary napkins.” Growing Up and Liking It” Booklet

Tampons were not an option for well brought up young ladies so  bulky sanitary napkins were your only option. A thick wad of cotton shielded with blue polyethylene strip  guaranteed protection from those embarrassing moments.

The right sanitary belt to secure the monstrous  napkin was a gal’s best friend. Modess promised  that “The proper sanitary belt would prevent tell-tale bulges and stay neat and undetectable.

Modern girls learned you  needn’t let having your period cramp your style. With the proper sanitary napkin and sanitary belt, you could frug the night away, confident and carefree.

“You’ll feel more confident if you know you can trust your sanitary napkin,” it told readers.

It was all a confidence game,

Red Letter Days

Of course sometimes you might get down in the dumps and the booklet was not lacking when it  came to helpful hints of getting rids of those red-letter day blues.

• Perk yourself up when a period is on its way!
• Dress just a little more prettily than usual.
• Walk as though you loved life.
• Hum a little tune to yourself,
• Smile a little wider than usual.
• Go out of your way to be pleasant to others.

Before you know if you’ll have yourself convinced that you really do feel glad to be alive, and YOU!

What Happens When You Grow Up

Growing Up and Liking It Booklet Modess 1966

The day of the film loomed with dread for me. Because my mother had long-standing plans  to be out-of-town on that day, I would tag along with a friend and her mother, which only added to the humiliation I was already feeling.

While the boys,  still blessedly innocent in their boyhood were sent off to perform some manly activity like dodge ball, we girls marched silently like lambs to the slaughter into our school auditorium, entering  as innocent young girls to leave an hour later as world-wise women with the weight of a woman’s burden on our young shoulders.

Menstruation we were told cheerfully  yet somberly, by our bespectacled school nurse  who served as our guide into womanhood, was a Gift something to Cherish nothing short of a Miracle to be hold.

It was a miracle I didn’t turn red, not from my period but from the sheer embarrassment of the whole ordeal.

The 16mm sound movie projector had already been wheeled in to place by some pimply faced boy  from the AV club and had thankfully long gone leaving us girls and our uterus’s to our selves.

As the movie began I felt a twinge of  disappointment. My hopes of being ushered into womanhood by Walt Disney were dashed.

In 1946, Walt Disney in partnership with Kotex’s Kimberly-Clark, released a classroom film called “The Story of Menstruation” featuring a Bambi eyed  redhead, who looked like she palled around with Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. The popular film with Disney animated ovaries,  cute little eggs, and wiggly sperm that looked like tadpoles, that had been shown to previous classes had been replaced.

Our film  though cheery and upbeat was standard PSA affair.

Taking Menstruation in Your Stride

“Lets face it, there is sometimes some distress and discomfort at menstrual time,” the deep baritone voice of the movie’s narrator informed us. “It need not be unpleasant when the woman has learned to take care of herself both physically and emotionally.”

We were advised to “let up  just a little in your more strenuous activities (no 10 mile hikes or marathon roller-skating just then, thank you.) Avoid anything with that will chill you through and through: ice-cold showers, being out unprotected in the rain or sitting with wet feet through class after class or staying in swimming overlong.”

“Of course if you really are laid low with this menstruation business, it will be wise to consult a doctor in whom you have confidence. Quite possibly he’ll try to help you feel a little happier about being a woman.” (Naturally being a male doctor he can speak from experience.)

I Enjoy Being a Girl

Vintage Kotex advertisement 1941

The narrator even tried  his hand at some pop psychology: “Way down deep you may be resenting being a girl or you may be rebelling against getting grown up and this is what makes you so miserable.”

Not everyone enjoyed being a girl and apparently you had to be coaxed as the reader learns in this ad from Kotex:

Ever get mad at the world…at the unfairness of your lot? Ever hear a voice inside you whisper  ‘Better not go out…you won’t have any fun?”

And do you ever wonder why some girls always seem to keep smiling no matter what time of the month it is? If only you could learn their secret.

Well, you’re not too old to learn! What you need is a lesson on how to grow a crop of confidence! How to be gay! Carefree!

Above all remember… an ounce of confidence is worth a pound of makeup.

No ravishing cherries in the snow lipstick can give you the confidence of the right sanitary napkin,

Getting your period was like a bouquet of daisys! “Growing Up and Liking It” Modess booklet 1965

“Yes, above all, be glad that you are a girl and don’t start feeling sorry for yourself,” the movie’s narrator continued.

“You’d be a lot sorrier if you never did menstruate, but remained an “It” ( whatever that would be!) without any of the normal manifestations of being a growing up and grown up woman. ”

© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A hot dog can make you lose control

Hot dogs, that very symbol of culinary democracy took on a special meaning during the cold war, especially in the summer of 1961.

The fate of Nathans Hot Dogs hung in the balance.

Barbecue Brigade

Backyard barbecues

Summer barbecues were a family staple in my childhood suburban backyard, and they often took on the precision of a military exercise.

With the precision used to plan a bombing mission in the south pacific, Dad calculated the wind velocity, temperature and cloud coverage when making the perfect fire, skills learned as a meteorologist in the Army Air Corp while serving in New Guinea.

While wives stayed safely behind the lines, the men folk were recruited and deployed to the front, where Dad was CO in charge of the Barbecue Brigade.

Well fortified to do battle with gin and tonics firmly in hand, they mobilized around the Weber grill in a primal huddle of their own as they anxiously awaited orders.

Like the infantry sent to do battle, these buttoned down bar-b-que enthusiasts, combat ready in their comfort-in- action-perma- press Bermuda shorts, gathered on all sides of the roaring fire.

The torch had indeed been passed to a new generation, our war hero President Kennedy had  informed us, and passed directly into the hands of these bespectacled men in clingy ban-lon, all of whom had served our country in the Second World War.

Strategically wielding the Big Boy barbecue tongs, Dad was ready for any BBQ maneuver. A king size cigarette dangling from his lips, barbecue apron round his regulation plaid Bermuda shorts, his smart masculine styling rated a fashion 21 gun salute.

GI Joe in Suburbia

That summer as the melodic sound of Connie Francis longingly asking “Where the Boys Are” drifted over the lilacs from a neighbor’s transistor radio, the men at my family barbecue could be found shvitzing over the red-hot coals of the grill, shooting the breeze.

When tired of arguing the un likelihood of  N.Y.C Mayor Robert Wagner running for  a third term successfully without the backing of Tammany Hall, libations were replenished as  the men brooded over the storm gathering in Berlin.

As the world poised for a showdown between those two cold warriors the USA and the Soviet Union, the risk of military conflict between them heated up that summer of 1961 over the crisis in Berlin. The city divided up between the victors of WWII was located deep in the Soviet occupied parts of Germany and now the Soviets were threatening to drag it behind the iron curtain.

Only sixteen years ago these sunburned suburban schmoozers had all been soldiers who had happily helped defeat Der Fuehrer in that greatest of all wars WWII.

Now with their missions done, their tooth-notched stainless steel rectangular dog tags with the letter H embossed on them safely tucked away, the roar of guns and bombs a dim memory now displaced by the whirl of a Lawn Boy mower and the effervescent bubbling of Canada Dry quinine water, they seemed willing to risk nuclear war to protect the former capital of that former enemy country from the evil clutches of our former comrades in arms, the Russians.

As if shifting gears between enemy and ally was as effortless as the automatic transmission in your Chevrolet, the considerable fury and fear that had fueled our hatred of those bloodless Nazi  had been seamlessly and swiftly re-routed to those God-less Russian Commies.

A Hot Dog Makes You Lose Control

Eagerly biting into a tongue scalding frankfurter hot off the grill, Mom’s cousin Milton, a short and stubby man, his GI regulation washboard abs having long gone AWOL leaving his ever-expanding belly stretching the outer limits of his Acrylan shirt, offered up a compelling reason why we needed to step up and protect West Berlin from the clutches of the soulless Russians.

“I have just one word for you-Nathan’s!” he stated firmly, gobbling his hot dog with as much gusto as he perceived the Soviets would gobble up Berlin.

The men nodded knowingly.

Vintage Schlitz Beer Ad

A Wonderland of Wieners

Ignoring the fact that the former Wehrmacht was a wonderland of wieners and wursts, its rowdy, German beer gardens filled with boisterous, red-faced patrons washing down their bratwurst with thirst quenching weizen glasses of dark amber Dinkel Acker, if Berlin got dragged behind the iron curtain, he argued, the poor Berliners would be deprived of one of life’s great pleasures – noshing on a Nathan’s hot dog.

No one needed reminding of that near-international incident a few years back when Assistant Secretary of State Averill Harriman went to the Soviet Union and was denied a simple request.

N.Y.’s  patrician former governor had asked the hot dog mavens at Nathans to airmail their specialty to him in Soviet Union, but the heartless Russians stopped the shipment of juicy franks at the border, fearful perhaps that if they let the poor Soviet people get even a whiff of good American hot dogs they’d revolt.

Nathans  was banned behind the Iron Curtain.

Nathan’s of Coney Island

That  was ironic considering those same Nathan franks  had once catered the big “Carving up the Post War World” party hosted by FDR at Yalta where along with Churchill and Stalin, the 3 big powers greedily chowed down on some red hots while redrawing the map. Only a few years earlier, Roosevelt had successfully served those “Kings of Coney Island” to British royalty, the King and Queen of England at his home in Hyde Park.

Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev enjoying a hot dog in Iowa when visited in September 1959.

The poor Russians may have been deprived of  a good American dog, but that didn’t stop Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev from enjoying a hot dog on U.S. soil when he visited in the fall of 1959. During the same trip in which he promised to “bury us” pounding his shoe on a podium of the UN, the rotund premier devoured his first American hot dog in Iowa declaring it “excellent.”

Tear Down That wall.

Thirty years later as the Cold War began to thaw in 1989, not only did the Berlin Wall finally come down, but Muscovites could finally chow down on some genuine Nathans hot dogs. That same year as the wall fell, the cry of  “Get your red hots comrades” could be heard when Nathan’s began selling their famous dogs in the heart of Red Square. Credit Perestroika for helping to  bring the King of Dogs to the Soviet Union.

 © Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

At what age does an African-American learn that “my life doesn’t matter?” These children will grow up to be the most feared, stereotyped and misunderstood in society.

At what age does a black boy learn he is perceived as menacing and dangerous?

At what age is he told of systemic racism and state sanctioned brutality against someone who looks just like him?

At what age does an African-American learn that “my life doesn’t matter?”

These Are the Facts

The facts of life are vastly different if you are black or white.

There comes a time when every Black parent must have “the talk” with their child. No amount of education, manners or talent will protect them from the facts of life of being Black in America..

These are conversations that  white people do not have to have with their children.

Those were facts of life I would learn late.

1967 – Burning Questions For the Baby Boomer

Vintage 1960’s Illustration Teens from The Life Cycle Library For Young People – Dating

It was 1967 the summer of love and the gaggle of diaper clad baby boomers who had first moved into my suburban Long Island development in the mid 1950’s were all now approaching puberty.

It was time to learn the facts of life.

In splanches and ranchs up and down the block, mothers and fathers were sitting down in their knotty pine early American dens with their offspring to awkwardly have “the talk.” Seated at pedestal dinette sets in swivel chairs bedecked in  flower power  vinyl  in their avocado hued kitchens, questions and answers about the facts of life were being uncomfortably discussed.

Inside one split level home tucked in the cul-de-sac, another set of parents filled with equal dread, sat their 13 year old son down for his “talk.”  But their discussion was less birds and bees and more about life and death. What did it mean growing from a black boy to being a black man in America.

Though the houses were identical, the talks were as different as black and white.

Earlier that year, a Negro family had moved into our lily-white neighborhood, with a son just my age.

Ensconced in their newly built American Dream split level with the immaculate manicured lawn, I never imagined their lives proceeded differently from mine. After all, his mother shopped at the same local Food Fair, his dentist dad religiously mowed the lush front lawn, and Roger their son bedecked in Henley shirts and perma-press pants seemed to fit right in. They certainly didn’t seem excluded from the American dream.

But behind closed doors his parents had to prepare him from a world I would never know.  But one that I got a glimpse of on TV that summer.

Smoke and Fire-  The Country Erupts

Riots South Bend Indiana 1967. A police officer and several youths surround bloodied teenager one of 7 wounded by gunfire or other violence on July 1967 the second night of the riots.

That ethereal summer of love contrasted sharply with the blazing race riots that spread from Detroit, to Newark, to Washington DC. It was a summer of smoke and fire as Blacks revolted across the nation as the renewed struggle for civil rights seemed to have a ripple effect.

All the uproar of the riots with exploding heat and violence crackled across the nation and across our RCA TV screens,  bringing the flames of black revolt, the burning ghettos, the  looting streets, and Federal troops in riot gear, directly  into out smartly decorated living rooms.

The riots made the police brutality and injustices all too visible.

Newark, New Jersey riots, 1967

I was oblivious that Black parents might have to parent their children differently than white kids because of these injustices. To give them different warnings and reminders when they left the safety of their home.

In the comfort of their Scotch-guarded sleekly designed Mediterranean living room, my African-American neighbors would have to teach their sons to be safe when there was a police encounter, to teach them to do exactly what the officer asked, even if they are being targeted because of their race.

Like generations before them, they had to prepare them for the realities that people of color face. When you leave the front door you would be judged as a black man first.

Facts of Life – It’s as Simple as Black and White

What Every Teenager Should Know. More than getting a date, the facts of life for a black teen means the goal is staying alive. The criminal justice system is broken when it comes to holding police accountable following deadly shootings.   Michael Brown 17 years old  and  Tamir Rice, 12 years old

Learning the facts of life remain vastly different for a white child than a black child.

Life’s biggest challenges according to a popular mid-century book  entitled Facts of Life and Love For Teenagers, explained what every  teenager should know. Besides brushing up on the birds and bees, the book was chock full of tips such keeping up a snappy conversation, what makes a great date, and the pros and cons of going steady.

What it meant to grow up was very different.

“Young people have always wondered about growing up and becoming men and women,” the book begins. “Some of life’s biggest questions arise as you leave childhood and approach adulthood. Of course you want to know what it means to become a full-fledged man or woman.”

For a white teen maturity came with big responsibilities. Getting “in trouble” meant either getting pregnant out of marriage, an awkward date  or the horrors of a conversational gap on your date.

Trayvon Martin, a 17 year old unarmed boy was confronted, shot, and killed by a neighborhood watch volunteer.

To be a full-fledged black man means to learn to survive.

Good Manners

Part of the facts of life and love for  white boys and girls was learning the importance of good conduct and courtesy  in  order to get and keep dates. Life was like a box of chocolates for young teens – you never knew what exciting opportunity you might encounter and you needed to be prepared for. Good manners would be a life saver in awkward situations.

“Remember that boasting and shouting complaining and pouting and temper tantrums are unpleasant to others and that courteous listening, thoughtfulness and consideration of others are always pleasing,” the book suggested.

Routine traffic stops turning deadly are becoming all too routine and women of color are often left out of discussion of police brutality. Sandra Bland

A Black teen will also learn good manners can be a life saver…literally.

Part of their “talk” is learning  rules of good conduct especially around police. If you get stopped for a traffic violation: Always use your Sunday school manners; answer questions “yes sir,” “no ma’am”; don’t slouch; keep hands where they can be seen and above all else do not argue. Do not ask questions. Do as you are told. Do not move suddenly. Do not run.

Good manners mean the difference between life and death.

Sometimes.

As the bitter debate about how our police force treats non white citizens escalates, it has exposed a truth many minorities know. After being stopped for a broken tail light, Philando Castile died from being shot through the window of his car by a Police officer in Minnesota.

A Normal Part of Growing Up?

“Whatever your worries, it’s all just normal,” the book reassure the teen. “Some young people may be happily surprised to discover that some of the things they have been worrying about are just normal part of growing up.”

For Black teens, fear will become a normal part of growing up. And it doesn’t matter your car, your college or the street you live on.

African-Americans learn too early their lives don’t matter.

That’s a fact of life.

It’s now time for white adults to have “the talk” among themselves. As a matter of fact, Black lives do matter.

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A Primer on Police and White Privilege

© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Junk Food Jubilee. A page from This Years Girl by Sally Edelstein. A paper doll romp through the life of a baby boomer

Junk Food a go-go circa 1966. “Happy National Junk Food Day” from “This Years Girl. “

Exactly 56 years ago a fresh faced democratic Senator won his party’s nomination for president and beckoned us into the New Frontier.

The 1960 Democratic Convention was a high-steppin, wild west of a  good time, and my family and myself had front row seats in front of our Philco. It was as rip roarin, rip snortin a time as any western on TV.

I wasn’t but knee-high to a lamb when Walter Cronkite shepherded me into the New Frontier that hot summer of 1960.

A trustworthy thoroughbred if ever there was one, Walter “Curly” Cronkite safely steered me and my family through the rough and tumble, wild west that was the 1960 Democratic Convention.

Life Magazine Cover July 25, 1960 Democratic Convention

That July was as hot as a whorehouse on a nickel night.

As the blazing sun set in the East, TV turned to the West for the coverage of the Final Showdown at the OK Corral Convention Arena in Los Angeles.

A Score Card For the Democratic Nomination 1960. The cart indicates the 4 top runners and votes committed to them, along with votes uncommitted or pledged to others. John Kennedy, Adlai Stevenson, Stuart Symington are classed as liberals. Johnson is middle of the road.

In those days, the nominee for President wasn’t a done deal. And the Vice President sure as  shootin’ hadn’t already been picked earlier like today.

The whole purpose of the convention was for persuading them there delegates still on the fence, to take a shine to your candidate. Then all fired up, they’d choose their party’s nominee for president.

It had the makins’ of  rootin-tootin, good-time.

Giddy Up to the Convention

(L) Kennedy sisters and sister in laws at the Democratic convention (R) Chuck Connors as Lucas McCainin ABC’s “The Rifleman”

Mom was fixin’ to get us cowpokes some cool ice cream, as the TV set warmed up.

My brother and I sure were hankering to watch The Rifleman on channel seven, but we were outnumbered.

“Hold your horses,” Dad calmly said.

He explained that the Presidential convention that only came around every four years  was as rip-roarin’, rip-snortin’ a time as any western on TV.

Last minute horse trading and fighting at the convention could rival that of the wild west

There’d be a lot of whoopin’ an’ hollerin’, fightin’ and cussin’; plenty of folks dickerin’ and goin’ at it hammer and tongs,” described Dad as his eyes lit up.

“It would be chock full of scalawags and boot lickers, pow wows and Indian Givers, and a whole lotta last-minute horse-trading, gambling, and  bellyaching; there’d be stallions and geldings a courting and a wooin’, and plenty of filly’s, fine as cream gravy, prancing around.”

“There were curmudgeon Congressmen who were mean enough to steal a fly from a blind spider, and Senators ornery enough to eat off the same plate as a snake. Some fellers were as crazy as popcorn on a hot stove, and so dumb they couldn’t track an elephant in snow,” he continued.

The main stars of this ultimate rodeo show filled with hope and a lot of gumption were a   young cowpoke from Massachusetts Senator Jack “Fandango” Kennedy, and Texas’s favorite cowboy and master of the Senate Lyndon “Longhorn” Johnson. Pulling up the rear was smiling Senator Stuart Symington and long shot Adlai Stevenson the Democrats favorite egghead.

“Mark my words,” Dad promised, “at the end of the convention one of ‘em will be grinning like a weasel in a hen-house and as pleased as a pup with two tails when he becomes the new Sheriff in town., and more than one of ‘em will be hurtin’ like the dickens, and high tailin’ it outta Dodge madder than an old wet hen.”

L) Walter Cronkite, the most trusted man in television covered the raucous presidential convention 1960

The convention  was crawling  with glitter, a continuous blaze of color with Kennedy cuties bedecked in red white and blue sundresses, sporting JFK buttons, banners and bows, snake dancing through the delegates.

This fandango of frenzy, flashbulb- popping fiddle- faddle, glad-handing gadabouts trading guffaws and favors, with party brass a huddlin’, and scalawags a scamperin’ was brought to you in  basic black and white, with the color enhancement courtesy of Walter Cronkite and his well honed ear to the ground.

The dense, smoke-filled hall full of scuttlebutt, was a bedlam of balderdash, brass bands and brass balls.

With scouts sent boldly  onto the convention floor to ambush any delegates willing to spill the beans, a vigilant Cronkite listened to every sound.

“Kennedy went through a heap of trouble to get that nomination,” Cronkite commented. “His high falutin’ Harvard friends did a bang up job. And his daddy who was powerful rich didn’t hurt none. And now by gum, he was the biggest toad in the pond.”

Photo Life magazine- 1960 Democratic Convention

Dad was dumbfounded; he thought anyone was plumb crazy to support a tenderfoot like Jack Kennedy.

“Criminy! He ain’t worth a hill of beans!” Dad snorted. “He’ll have a hard row to hoe if he runs against Vice President Nixon.”

Jack Kennedy 43 the youthful front runner taps Lyndon Johnson, 51, the Senate Master for his vice president 1960. Photo Life Magazine 7/4/60

Later when the new sheriff chose his deputy, a tall Texan who sounded just like Deputy Dawg, Dad was incredulous.

“What in Sam Hill are they doing,” Dad cried out. “They got the wrong pig by the tail choosing Lyndon “I-don’t-play-second-fiddle-to-anyone” Johnson!”

New Frontier

Photos by Jacques Lowe (L) Kennedy addressing Connecticut voters (R) Jan. 2, 1960 Senator Kennedy declares his candidacy for Democratic nomination for President

Just before it was time for me to skedaddle off to bed, the victor climbed to the top of the podium and looked out at the wilderness spread out below him.

Just like Dad said he would , JFK was grinning like a weasel in a hen-house.

John Kennedy was one of the best woodsman in the frontier.

He was a hard livin’, hard lovin’, hard fightin’ believer in freedom, who like Lariat Sam couldn’t see anything but good in anybody.

After weeks of hard travel through every one horse town, he had reached the last Mountain in Los Angeles by the skin of his teeth.

He knew he would face many dangers.

But he had a mind to face them. Political life was not for the lily livered, or yellow-bellied, but John Fitzgerald Kennedy was tall hog at the trough.

Under skies that were not cloudy all day, a young, hell-fired up John Kennedy was fixin’ to accept his party’s nomination that blazing summer in 1960, inviting us all to “Saddle up Pardner,” hitch our wagon to his train and be pioneers in a New Frontier.

Boomer cowpokes and cowboys ready to enter the New Frontier. Wards catalogue 1959

With my Matt Dillon gen-u-ine leather holster embellished with bright metal jewels hugging my hips for fast draws, my matching pair of shootin’ irons with the big hammer-head for quick fanning action – A-RAT-TA-TA TAT and A RING A DING DING – I was ready to be a pioneer in that New Frontier that Kennedy beckoned us to.

Copyright (©) 2016 Sally Edelstein All Rights Reserved

Who’s Committing Treason?

In November 1963 a few short days before President John Kennedy visited Dallas where he would be tragically assassinated, thousands of handbills like these were distributed by supporters of the right-wing group the John Birch Society, a conservative reactionary group who were fiercely anti communist, and were for limited government.

The flyers riddled with  total disregard for accuracy, truth, or coherence,  accuse JFK of many wrongdoings from being “lax” on Communism, telling “fantastic LIES to the American people”  to claims of his “betraying the constitution.”

In the 1960’s John Birchers, skilled at exploiting fears, and spreading misinformation under the guise of patriotism, thought the American way of life was under siege. They feared the country was turning into something foreign and frankly Un-American. Their constitutional rights they were convinced, were under siege.

Update the talking points and they sound eerily familiar today.

Dangerous Donald is at it Again

Especially in light of Dangerous Donald Trump’s latest unhinged comment.

Claiming that Hillary Clinton wants to abolish the second amendment, he suggested to a group of voters that “Second Amendment  people”  had a way to stop Hillary appointing anti gun Supreme Court judges if she became president; a not so subtle reference to gun violence.

These comments today are not from the mouths of a fringe group but from a Republican nominee for the highest office in the land. His dangerous rhetoric intended or not, is a dog whistle heard loud and clear to some of his more extreme supporters.

This only adds fuel to the already incendiary chanting  directed at Clinton to “lock her up,” “hang the bitch”and calling for her to be “tried for treason, murder and crimes against the U.S. Constitution.”

Today’s Danger

The 5,000  flyers distributed by Birchers connected to Texas-son retired Major general Edwin Walker a prominent Dallas Bircher were distributed only in Dallas which was at the time the regional capital of the far right.

The big difference between the 1960’s paranoia and today,  is we have 24/7 Fox News, the internet, and Twitter so that this kind of irresponsible talk can be magnified and instantly transmitted to be played over and over again.

And it only takes one mad man to act.

What more do we need to hear to see that Mr. Trump presents a clear and present danger to the U.S.?

At what age does a girl begin to know her looks matter? When Donald Trump equates women’s weight with our worth, what do we tell our daughters?

Some folks believe gaining weight is the worst thing a woman can do.

One of them is running for president.

Setting the gold standard for misogyny, ( “No one demeans women the way I do, believe me”) Donald Trump has been a fat shamer and critical of  any woman who falls outside his definition of “attractive”  for decades.

Now the well deserved blowback to this orange bloviator and his fat shaming remarks about former Miss Universe Alicia Machado have been justifiably hu-u-uge.

Flailing around maniacally defending his beliefs rather than evolve beyond them, Trump’s behavior is one we are all well acquainted with.

Women have been dealing with men like The Donald  all our lives.

A Weighty Subject

Vintage Diet Book

It is still difficult for most women to be body positive in a culture where sadly it seems no bodies perfect. In a culture with a disordered definition of beauty, body shaming has long infected our culture and like a true pathogen it is insidious, chameleon like, and ultimately harmful to girls and women.

And it starts at a young age.

Unless inoculated at birth, these poisonous beliefs enter our bloodstream at a tender age, fed by a life long steady drip of negativity from the media. Due to the constant infusion it is often hard to eradicate.

I know it was for me.

Go Figure Learning – Who Counts

At what age does a girl begin to know her body size matters?

To those of us who came of age in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s the fat  shaming story line being peddled by Trump as though it were gospel, hearkens back to an earlier, all too familiar time when the imperative to be thin was even more exacting.

Vintage comic Little Lotta 1968

By the late sixties, our cultures obsession with thinness  expanded to include that last remaining group- children, who were  given the same messages as adults.

Watching our own mothers join the Metrical  for lunch bunch, we girls absorbed it all, including all the pejorative humiliating qualities our culture associated with fatness. Fat was perceived as disgusting and so were those who suffered from it.

A whole generations of girls was growing up with a body standard that was impossibly thin and it was against this standard we measured ourselves. There was only one singular body ideal- thin.

The new standard that made its way into the health world, beauty world, and fashion world even infiltrated our comic books.

Nothing Comical About Fat Shaming

Vintage Comic Book Millie the Model 1969

Having cut our teeth on Barbie and her improbable anatomy, it only made sense our next stop was in the comic book world of Millie the Model, preparing us before we entered ground zero of body shaming – Glamour, Mademoiselle and Seventeen fashion magazines.

Beautiful Millie Collins,whose figure was as anatomically cartoonish as Barbies, worked as a model for the exclusive Hanover Modelling Agency.

The comic bore an uncanny resemblance to Archie and Veronica but was slightly more sophisticated only because they were all young working professional and not high school kids, though with their attitudes it was often hard to tell the difference.

Like other Marvel comic book characters with super powers, this supermodel had a power and it was her beauty which gave her powers far beyond those of mortal women. Doors opened magically, problems melted away, rules broken just because of the irresistible power of her envied gorgeousness.

Wherever Millie went  she was the center of attention.

Vintage Comic Book Millie the Model

Enter the fat friend.

Her best friend and confident naturally was a boisterous big-boned girl  named Daisy, the agency’s wardrobe assistant and later Millie’s roommate. Besides being plump, she is less than traditionally beautiful,  posing no threat to our supermodel Millie, and is the butt of endless jokes.

Donald Trump uses fat as a catch-all term that implies a whole lot of other negative undesirable qualities. Vintage Comic Book Millie the Model 1969

Jokes were constantly made at Daisy’s expense always seemingly going over her head. Portrayed as confident, we of course were in on the joke – the poor thing didn’t know how truly unattractive she was.

After Hillary Clinton pointed out that Trump has called women “pigs slobs, and dogs,” Trump once again resurrected and defended his offensive comment against Rosie O’ Donnell claiming “she deserves it and nobody feels sorry for her.” Vintage Comic Book Millie the Model 1969

Fat shaming is often overlooked. Sometimes because it is so frequent and subtle ( and not so subtle) we get used too it. Vintage Comic Book Millie the Model 1969

Fat Chance

Vintage Comic Book Millie the Model 1969

In this story line, Millie’s cousin who she has never met is visiting from Alaska and planning on becoming a supermodel in N.Y. like Millie. Family legend was that the two were identical.

Vintage Comic Book Millie the Model 1969

When it is revealed that she is a much “larger” version of Millie, though equally beautiful of face, it is a laugh riot, at the ridiculous notion that a fat girl could ever dream of modelling.

Actually become a real model? Fat chance.

Vintage Comic Book Millie the Model 1969

The lessons learned were simple.

If I wanted to grow up to be the kind of girl girl-watchers watch,  the kind that could wear an itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini, I better curb my appetite, count my calories, and drink Diet Pepsi.

Next: Be a Model Or Look Like One

By 1970 as I entered my teens the insistence of thinness escalated not unlike the Vietnam war.

It wasn’t long before I traded my comic book models to the equally unrealistic worlds of real fashion models as I primed to dive headlong into the pages of fashion magazines.

© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.