Until today the biggest event to occur on my birthday was in 1967 when Mickey Mantle hit his 500th home run. And in 1981 I feared the pope might die on my birthday after he was shot the day before (happily, he survived.) Then on May 14, 1998 two big pop culture events occurred: the final episode of Seinfeld and the death of Frank Sinatra.
I watched the disappointing one-hour finale (from a mostly dissatisfying last season) with my friends Matthew and Gary at Matthew's apartment on West 57th St. Although it was my birthday they were oblivious to the fact, so when our Chinese take-out arrived I felt odd saying "hey, it's my birthday, are you expecting me to contribute?", so I kept quiet. (A week earlier I figured I'd be spending this day with my boyfriend but that relationship suddenly unraveled during a rainy weekend out at Fire Island.) When I woke up the next morning is when I heard the news that Frank Sinatra had died the previous evening.
This episode of Seinfeld telecast delivered a 41.3 household rating/58 share making it the second highest rated show of the season (behind the Super Bowl). A powerhouse performance for sure, but it was 9% below the last episode of Cheers five years earlier.
Other shows that aired their final episodes on my birthday include Family Ties (1989);West Wing (2004); and Moonlighting (1990). However, only Family Ties had much of a ratings sendoff (20.8 rating/35 share).
In addition to Sinatra, some other notable deaths on May 14 were those of Billie Burke (Glinda the Good Witch from The Wizard of Oz) in 1970; Hugh Beaumont (the father in Leave it to Beaver) in 1982; and 1940's va-va-voom actress Rita Hayworth in 1987.
It was a mild but sort of hazy Tuesday afternoon. Rather than take the bus home from school (7th grade at Sto-Rox Middle School) I walked because I stopped by Frank's Barbershop for a haircut. When I got home I saw that morning's paper, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, on the hassock in the living room.
On the front page was a photo (now iconic) of an overwrought young girl kneeling over the body of a student shot dead the day before at Kent State University by the Ohio National Guard. The shootings occurred the day before during an anti-war demonstration protesting the U.S. invasion of Cambodia at the end of April. Guardsmen opened fire on students, killing four (pictured) and wounding nine. Although it was in neighboring Ohio, I had never heard of the university.
Perhaps because I was just 12 at the time (and somewhat preoccupied by the onset of puberty) I don't recall there being much talk about this incident among schoolmates or teachers, and at home we usually didn't discuss news events at the dinner table. But the constant coverage of the Vietnam War was plenty worrisome for my parents since my brother, Darrell, was nearing draft age. (A lasting memory of the war was hearing the weekly casualty report on the radio while I was getting ready for school.)
Once the protest song Ohio by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young became popular during the summer the incident had more resonance with me. The song begins with the line: "Tin soldiers and Nixon's coming, we're finally on our own. This summer I hear the drumming. Four dead in Ohio." (The CD Steal This Record provides a collection of some other notable protest songs from the 1960's). By the time I turned 18 in 1975 the U.S. was out of Vietnam (the fall of South Vietnam to the Communists occurred two weeks before my birthday) and teen boys were no longer required to register for the draft.
With our lease up for renewal at the end of May 1992, my roommate had decided to move in with his boyfriend and take a new apartment. Although I didn't want another roommate situation, I couldn't afford to keep the apartment on my own, so I decided to look for a new apartment. On April 29, a Wednesday, I left work at 4:00 to see two apartments, one a garden apartment on Christopher St., the other a small 1-bedroom in the Sheridan Square area of Greenwich Village, both a few short blocks from where I lived. Largely because of the amount of light it got (it was on the top floor), I decided to take the 2nd apartment (where I still live).
After seeing the apartments I got a haircut and then arrived home shortly before 6:00. I switched on the evening news and heard the breaking story that the LAPD officers involved in last year's Rodney King beating had been acquitted. The verdict was met with frightening fury by Los Angeles' Black community and rioting began shortly thereafter.
Later that evening a news-copter showed a truck driver being pulled from the cab of his semi at an intersection in South Central L.A. He was kicked repeatedly in the head and bashed with a cinder block. Like the beating of King, this video clip was aired endlessly. Two days later an overwrought Rodney King addressed the media and delivered one of the decade's most quotable lines, "Can't we all just get along?"
Two days later, a Friday, I signed my new lease before going to work. Then later in the day as I was walking back to work after lunch it seemed that everyone from my office (ad agency NWAyer, located at Worldwide Plaza) was walking in the opposite direction. It turned out the office (like many others) had closed early because of wild stories of looting and transit disruptions.
These rumors turned out to be untrue (e.g., Macy's was being looted, the Brooklyn Bridge had been blocked by rioters), but since no one knew it at the time, my commute home on the subway was made with trepidation as riders wondered what might be occurring above ground. Indeed, some of the stores in my neighborhood were closed and a few had boarded up their windows.
Later that afternoon I was curious to see if there had been any further problems in my neighborhood so I went for a run but found nothing out of the ordinary except for a larger police presence. That night President Bush addressed the nation to assess the situation and assure viewers that calm would prevail and justice served.
The inconvenience suffered by New Yorkers on that day paled by comparison to Angelenos who struggled through nearly a week of unrest. More than 50 persons were killed, thousands were injured or jailed and damage was close to $1 billion. Since the turmoil threatened to spread to affluent neighborhoods, some residents there stood on rooftops with guns. Sporting events were cancelled, freeway and air traffic was disrupted and restricted. It was the worst rioting in the U.S. since the assassination of Martin Luther King 24 years earlier.
This unrest coincided with the final episode of the Cosby Show on Thursday. NBC considered postponing the telecast until the following week, but Cosby was against the idea because he felt airing it as scheduled would maintain a semblance of normalcy. (He asked NBC if he could address viewers in L.A. to plead for calm.) The episode posted a 28 household rating/45 share (nearly double its season average), making it the 6th highest rated telecast of the 1991/92 season.
February 22, 1987 was an unusually social Sunday for me. I spent the early part of the afternoon at a brunch in the West Village at the apartment of my friend Marc, a fellow I dated briefly the previous year. (We met when he walked up behind me at Uncle Charlie's bar and snapped the back of my suspenders). After brunch a group of us went to a mid-afternoon tea dance at a club in Chelsea called Tracks. From there I taxied down to SoHo to attend a 5th anniversary celebration for GMHC (Gay Men's Health Crisis) held at the Puck Building. That was followed by dinner at Taste of Tokyo and then a brief visit to the club Palladium on 14th St.
I didn't get home until late and when I sat down to watch the 11:00 news I was shocked to learn of Andy Warhol's death. He died from complications after having simple gallbladder surgery. He was just 58. (Somewhat overlooked was the death on the same day of talk show host David Susskind.)
I felt somewhat of a connection to Warhol because, like me, he grew up in Pittsburgh and was of Slovakian parentage (my maternal grandmother was born in Slovakia). Seven years after his death, while I was in Pittsburgh to attend my father's funeral, I visited the newly opened Warhol Museum (pictured, left) with my brother, his fiance and my two young nephews. It was ironic that the museum (at the time the only one in the U.S. devoted to one artist) was here because Warhol apparently was ashamed of his Pittsburgh roots.
(Many books are available about Warhol's life and his body of work. One in particular that got a lot of press when it was published in the early '90's was The Andy Warhol Diaries.)
Anyone who had a teenage sister probably has memories similar to mine when the Beatles made their first American TV appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show, i.e. shrieking, screaming, perhaps even sobbing. I was in the first grade at the time and on that Sunday night (February 9, 1964) I was sitting in the living room behind my 13-year old sister Linda who was seated on the floor in front of the TV set. Occasionally I'd look up from my coloring book. Even if I wasn't interested how could I not look up at what was creating such a commotion?
Even before this telecast I was aware that the Beatles were a big deal. (I remember my mother returning from a shopping trip to downtown Pittsburgh and bringing back the Beatles' first LP, Meet the Beatles, for Linda.) I was just 6 years old at the time and completely unaware of any same-sex inclinations, yet I remember thinking that Paul was cute. (When I turned 13 and preparing for my Confirmation I wanted my Confirmation name to be Paul, but instead I was talked into choosing George, which had family significance.)
Of course, the telecast drew a huge audience. Today, nearly 50 years later, its 45.3 household rating still ranks as one of the 25 highest rated telecasts of all time. (Nowadays only the Super Bowl gets that kind of rating.) The following week the Beatles made a second appearance on Sullivan's show and it provided another ratings bonanza. (The complete telecasts are available on Ed Sullivan: The Beatles' Telecasts. Additionally, a documentary by Albert & David "Grey Gardens" Maysles, The Beatles 1st US Visit, is also avaialble.)
For the most part I watch the Super Bowl for its commercials and the game but I usually don't stick around for the halftime show. However, I do remember seeing a few of them, e.g. Diana Ross being lifted up by a helicopter after her performance in 1996; U2 performing in 2002 as the names of 9/11 victims were displayed on an electronic banner; Prince stoically prancing around in the rain in Super Bowl XXXI.
But halftime is usually when I'm in the kitchen preparing dinner or washing pots and pans. And that's where l was when halftime festivities of Super Bowl XXXVIII began (Feb. 1, 2004). Although I could hear Justin Timberlake singing his hit song Rock Your Body, I missed "the incident" when he aggressively exposed Janet Jackson's right breast to the night air - and to 90 million viewers nationwide. In fact, I wasn't even aware of it happening until the next day when I went into the office and overheard the water cooler chatter.
Although Janet Jackson's career went into somewhat of tailspin after her "wardrobe malfunction" Timberlake's wasn't hurt one bit. By the way, there was a football game played that evening as well, one with a thrilling ending. After the Carolina Panthers tied the game with one minute left to play the New England Patriots won the game on a field goal with four seconds remaining.
If you were a kid in the 60's historical events of that decade may not be easily remembered - but what Santa placed under the tree Christmas morning is probably still etched in your mind. Here are some of the presents I remember most fondly.
Deluxe Playmobile (1962). This ranks as my all-time favorite present. It was a full dashboard of a car with working windshield wipers, turn signal indicator and ignition which made a purring motor sound when the ignition was turned on. Little did I know back then as a 5-year-old that this would be the closest I'd come to owning a car (I've lived in Manhattan for my entire adult life and haven't needed one).
Linus the Lionhearted Lion stuffed animal (1963). "Krispy Kritters" was a new breakfast cereal with the maniacally sung tagline of "The one and only cereal that comes in the shape of animals!" as an array of animated creatures from the savannahs of Africa scooted across the TV screen in a stampede. Linus was the spokesanimal and his stuffed likeness was a premium with box tops.
Kenner's Give-a-Show Projector (1964). The projector showed slides of various Hanna Barbera cartoon characters. I got a kick out of projecting the images on the ceiling of my darkened bedroom or on my pillowcase and playing around with the focus band to show the images as huge or tiny.
Hands Down (1964). This was a game that required hand-slapping action onto one of four plastic hands (called the "Slam-o-Matic"). Suspense was created when a player picked a card from the deck and the other players wondered if he/she had two-of-a-kind, which would instigate slapping down of his/her assigned hand. The last person who slapped was penalized. Fun came when someone faked and got others to foolishly slap their hands. Because of the vigorous slapping action I worried about the plastic hands breaking off.
King of the Hill (1965). Using marbles as playing pieces, the route to the top of the hill included detours/holes that could lead your marble to reappear far away. If your marble made it to the top a crown would pop up. This game brings back a nasty memory. On Christmas night we drove my grandmother home and upon arriving at her house I got out of the car to let her out and stepped in a large puddle of dog excrement. On the drive home we kept the car windows rolled down and I hung my shoe out the window. It was one of those "we'll laugh about this later" moments.
"Lost in Space" pullover (1965). This long-sleeved pullover jersey was in the style of the outfits worn by the male characters of the new CBS show Lost in Space. I think it was the first time I was excited to get clothes for Christmas and I couldn't wait to wear it to school. My brother also got one; his was blue, mine black.
Battery powered TWA airplane (1968). It made separate sounds for taxiing and for flying and had flashing red lights. It was about 12 inches in length and made out of metal. I'd walk from room to room imagining routes the plane was travelling to all over the world. That Christmas was made memorable by the Hong Kong Flu which was raging throughout the country. Because everyone in my family had a touch of the flu we didn't go to Christmas Mass. Also, the first space mission to orbit the Moon, Apollo 8, took place during the holiday.
Spirograph (1968). This arts/crafts kit enabled aspiring juvenile artists to make beautiful, somewhat psychedelic images through a selection of colored pens, pins and design templates. It was a safe way for a child coming of age in the "Age of Aquarius" to experience mind expansion without using pot or LSD.
Skittle Bowl (1970). I spent many a weekend in the winter of 70/71 in heated competition with my parents and older brother playing this variation of bowling. We'd place the board on the kitchen table and each of us took a turn pushing out the billiard-sized wooden ball (attached to a post by a chain) in an arc. The ball would strike miniature bowling pins. Me and my mother were rather mellow players but my dad and brother were hyper-competitive which sometimes led to tension that occasionally lasted beyond the match.
My gushing over these cherished toys is not meant to slight the myriad other wonderful gifts I've received over the years, such as Lincoln Logs, Matchbox cars, the games Operation!, Yahtze and Mousetrap, a miniature Lionel train set and many more. To immerse yourself in even more toys you may want to consider the DVD Classic Toy Commercials of the 60's or the book Classic Toys of the National Toy Hall of Fame.
On a Sunday evening in early December 1971 I was watching a long forgotten Christmas special. But what I remember was a commercial for Coca Cola in which a group of young people of various ethnic backgrounds was gathered on a hill singing a song called I'd Like to Buy the World a Coke. It was also released as a single which became a top-10 hit for the New Seekers. However, because of radio overplay I came to despise this treacly song (akin to Disney's It's a Small World). Still, whenever I hear it I associate it with the holiday season.
Some holiday commercials can be very cloying, especially the plethora of those for cars with big red bows on top (how many people really give cars as gifts?) However, I don't want the theme of this post to take on a negative tone since there is a bounty of wonderful Christmas ads to celebrate. For instance, some of those by the GAP are delightful. I dare you not to smile or have the desire to do some toe tapping ...
Target ran a beautiful dreamlike series of ads during the 2006 Christmas season that combined ethereal white and blue hues with soft techno music by British duo Goldfrapp.
In 1999 Amazon ran wonderfully kitschy ads that were take offs of the Sing Along with Mitch TV show from the early 60's. But despite the acclaim this campaign received Amazon put its account up for review the following year and the ad agency that created these ads, FCB San Francisco, resigned the account.
Magazines also have their share of stylish holiday-oriented ads. Here are three from Smirnoff, Tiffany & Co. and Absolut:
This ad for Smirnoff is from the early 1990's. It was before the flavored vodka craze hit so if you wanted a taste of peppermint back then you'd need to dip a candy cane into your drink. Perhaps the candy cane in this ad was a subtle way of enticing kids (or kids that read The New Yorker)?
Befitting its image, Tiffany's holiday ads are classy and stylish - and, of course, they always display the famous Tiffany box.
Absolut's venerated all-print campaign has been running since 1980 and was chosen by Ad Age as one of the 10 best campaigns of the 20th century. Close to 2,000 ads have been created using clever wordplay, names of cities and designers, holidays and creative depictions of the iconic Absolut bottle. This lovely holiday ad is from the early days of the campaign. (If you like ads you may enjoy a coffee table book titled Absolut Book which includes 500 of the ads.)
I was away on business in Los Angeles visiting my company's office there for the first time (ad agency NWAyer). That evening, a Thursday, I was in my hotel room (the newly renovated Biltmore) getting ready to drive into West Hollywood for a bite to eat when I heard a breaking story on the evening news about Grammy-winning vocal duo Milli Vanilli (Best New Artist of 1990). It was revealed that they hadn't done their own singing when recording or performing!
Despite this deception I couldn't understand why a class-action lawsuit was filed to obtain refunds for those who purchased MV's CD/record Girl You Know It's True (which sold nearly 10 million units and produced five top-5 singles). After all, the wildly popular songs were unchanged, with the same great hooks and beats, so if fans previously liked hits such as Girl I'm Gonna Miss You why would they no longer enjoy them now? Of course, MV had to give back their Grammy. And unlike Vanessa Williams, whose career took off after a scandal (nude photos) forced her to step down as Miss America in 1984, the fledgling careers of Rob and Fab were largely over (and, sadly, Rob committed suicide in 1998).
The fascinating clip below shows them accepting their People's Choice, American Music and Grammy Awards.
Charles Schulz's comic strip Peanuts surged in popularity in the mid-1960's. It was the subject of a Time Magazine cover story in April 1965; the first animated Peanuts TV special, A Charlie Brown Christmas, aired in December 1965; and the following year a Christmas-themed novelty tune Snoopy vs. the Red Baron went to #2 on the Billboard Hot 100 for four weeks. And this Thursday evening on CBS the special It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! aired for the first time.
I was 9 years old at the time and in the 4th Grade. I watched the 30-minute telecast over at the house of my friend Mary Kay Opalanko, who lived across the alley from us (she was a year older than me). We watched Linus and Charlie Brown's little sister Sally sitting in the pumpkin patch while we set up Mary Kay's new road-race set in her living room. My older brother Darrell joined us because of the lure of the racing set (which he also helped assemble). An added attraction was the Opalanko's new color TV. (Mary Kay's family was also the first in the neighborhood to get a big, above-ground swimming pool.)
"The Great Pumpkin" delivered a 31.6 Nielsen household rating, making it the 30th highest-rated telecast of 1966 (episodes of Bonanza dominated the top-30 that year). And although new Charlie Brown specials would proliferate through the years none would achieve the same beloved stature as this one or "A Charlie Brown Christmas". (To purchase either on DVD doubleclick "Great Pumpkin" or "Charlie Brown Christmas".)
