I Remember JFK: A Baby Boomer's Pleasant Reminiscing Spot

It seems that every single town in the US with a population of at least, say, 2,500 had a single-screen theater located in its downtown area circa 1960.

In the Northwest Arkansas area where I make my home, that was the case with every community. Unfortunately, it is also the case that every one of them has closed.

Single-screen cinemas had their heyday during the Depression era. First of all, the price of the entertainment was frequently within the grasp of struggling households who were desperate for an escape from the day-to-day routine. Second, most of the 1920's-1930's theaters had a stage, so that vaudeville performances could be enjoyed in addition to films, frequently for the same price. And thirdly, the cinemas were pioneers in the use of the wonderful newfangled technology known as air conditioning. At presstime, the heat index is going to hit about 106 degrees today. Imagine if there was only one building in town with cool air. Wouldn't you be there?

Miami, Oklahoma was located just beyond the eastern end of Tornado Alley, as defined here. The little burgh had a history of tornado touchdowns, even though they were more rare there than any typical Kansas community.

But the possibility of a tornado destroying our house was terrifying to me. And while I miss many, many things about the 60's, one thing I don't miss is the state of tornado forecasting that we had back then.

Miami had tornado sirens that would put me into panic mode when they filled the air with their mournful wails. In the first grade, I would even get tearful during well-publicized noontime tests. And I wasn't the only kid in class to do so, either.

It wasn't until the ripe old age of 45 that I actually experienced my first tornado, an F-3 that thankfully passed just over my house, yet still causing $3,000 in damages. I'm happy to say that my irrational fear is long gone, replaced by a fascination with the phenomenon. My wife had to call me in from the front yard to get in the closet a minute or so before the funnel cloud passed over.

CRUSH! KILL! DESTROY!

With those words, The Robot on Lost In Space would begin the terrifying act of waving his (I guess The Robot was a he) arms. When those arms waved, you'd better clear the area. That meant rays were about to be shot and explosions were about to be set off as the mechanized bodyguard of the Robinsons was about to get good and mad.

We grew up with all sorts of robots gracing our black-and-white TV's. My personal favorite was the Lost in Space model (and no, his name wasn't Robby. Robby will rate his own future column). Of course, 1960's TV foxes June Lockhart and Angela Cartwright didn't exactly keep me away from the show, either.

My best buddy had a miniature LIS robot, and it was pretty cool. Additionally, on the schoolyard at recess one of our favorite pastimes was walking around in robotic fashion, waving our arms and hollering, well, you know what we were hollering. ;-)

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

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

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

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

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

I have photo albums of my early childhood that have many wonderful pictures in them, thanks to the diligent taking of snapshots by my father.

Dad was the photographer in my home. I don't recall mom ever taking a single photo, though she must have, since there are some of dad in there. That was both prophetic and ironic, prophetic in the sense that I took up an intense interest in photography in my 20's, even having my own B&W darkroom. Ironic in the sense that I don't have any time left for photography these days, but my wife has taken up the mantle as family photog and is doing wonderful keeping track of kids, friends, and, of course, our miniature schnauzers.

All of these 1960's images required a camera in the hands of the shooter. And today's column is about those very cameras, which I recall very well.

My photo albums featured numerous images that measured 5" x 3 1/2". These were all shot prior to 1967 with a Kodak Brownie Hawkeye. According to this site, the camera was manufactured between 1949 and 1961. It set my dad back $5.50 (retail). This workhorse documented the Enderland family throughout the 50's and the first half of the 60's.

Okay, friends, you asked for it, you got it.

You have to keep the customer happy, right? So, without further ado, here is I Remember JFK's article on Fizzies.

It all started sometime in the 1950's. Nobody seems to know exactly when. But the who is indisputable: the Emerson Drug Company.

Emerson had an extremely successful product on their hands: Bromo-Seltzer. It was (and still is) a wonderful antacid powder that fizzes like crazy when added to water. Bromo had been around forever, but the developers at Emerson wanted to push it to new heights by giving it fruity flavor.

The results were less than spectacular, but all that research and development didn't go to waste. Enter Fizzies.

At presstime, Michael Phelps has just picked up gold medal number eight in the 2008 Summer Olympics. This makes the nostalgic among us (like you and me, for instance) harken back to when the mark of seven was set back in 1972.

The world was a different place back then. The war in Vietnam was still going on. However, Nixon was running for re-election promising "peace with honor." Gasoline was still dirt cheap, but that was about to change. The previous Olympiad had been notable for the Black Power salute on the medals stand by Tommie Smith and John Carlos, as well as a record that was shocking in its destruction of the previous one, the long jump mark set by Bob Beamon.

What would the 1972 games hold? The event organizers were optimistic that there was less tension in the air than four years previously. The war looked to be winding down. Civil rights were at an all-time high, and getting better every day. Perhaps the 1972 Olympiad would be known as a return to the idealistic standard of sports without politics, or controversy.

Yeah, right.

It's a pleasure to offer today's I Remember JFK memory as a currently available toy, and NOT as something that disappeared while you weren't looking! Indeed, Slinky, and its manufacturer, Poof-Slinky, Inc.(a company owned by the family of Slinky's inventor) stand tall as triumphant survivors which have weathered harsh economic times, changing public tastes, and the relocation of American manufacturing jobs to third world countries.

That Slinky TV commercial was replayed thousands of times in the 60's, and the tune is instantly recognizable to anyone who was there, particularly if you happened to be a child. Our parents were used to being hounded for money to purchase Slinkys at the dime store. And many times they would give in, recognizing that the durable toy had been around since WWII was still raging, and seeing it as a good investment.

Kids grow fast, and so do their feet. That means that most of us Boomers made frequent trips to the shoe store while we were growing up.

I say MOST of us, because those of us who had an older sibling just ahead of us instead received hand-me-downs.

But that wasn't the case with me. My older brother was ten years older than me, and it might as well have been a hundred, such was the gap between six and sixteen.

Ergo, I experienced frequent trips to the shoe store on Miami, Oklahoma's Main Street.

That, of course, was where a kid could obtain P.F. Flyers. That was decidedly cool. But it was also where I would obtain dress shoes for church. Not nearly so cool.

The first thing that you noticed about the show store was the wonderful aroma. It was a heavenly nasal concoction consisting of a combination of leather, rubber, cigarette smoke, the salesman's cologne, and perhaps some fresh floor wax.

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

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

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

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

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

It was a sweet summertime tradition. Hop in the Plymouth, fall asleep in the back seat while dad did all the driving, end up in Story City, Iowa six or seven hours later.

Every summer we would make the trip up to the nation's heartland so that dad could visit his family. Brothers, sisters, mother, aunts, and a classic Garrison-Keillor-character Norwegian bachelor farmer uncle named Selmer.

What I remember best about Selmer was his passion for fishing (they gave me all his tackle when he passed, hoo-rah!) and his enjoyment of a pleasant summer evening pastime known as Jarts.

I was probably twelve, and presumed old enough by the adults that I wouldn't do anything stupid like toss the weighted darts with pretty darned sharp ends up in the air. Doing so could be fatal.

But hey, the act of stepping out into a busy street without looking could end up in a similar fashion. In the early 70's, life was still meant to be enjoyed by people smart enough to use their brains. The rest (and sadly, children who were given access to taboo things by the rest) were subject to death and dismemberment by forces not yet banned by our motherly government.