November, 1969

On November 3, U.S. President Richard Nixon speaks to the nation in a televised address regarding his plan to "Vietnamize" the war. In part, Nixon says "And now I would like to address a word, if I may, to the young people of this Nation who are particularly concerned, and I understand why they are concerned, about this war. I respect your idealism. I share your concern for peace. I want peace as much as you do."

Later in the speech, known forever after as Nixon's "Silent Majority speech, he adds "And so tonight-to you, the great silent majority of my fellow Americans - I ask for your support."

More than 500,000 protesters march on Washington, DC on November 15 demanding an end to the War in Vietnam. Sadly, Nixon did not appear to want peace "that" badly.

I was now becoming somewhat radicalized, albeit in a limited fashion. After several years of fence-sitting, trying to balance the patriotism that had been instilled in me as a young boy and my natural instinct that war was a terrible and senseless thing, I now firmly believed that the War in Vietnam must be stopped by any means short of violence. Or maybe some mild violence short of killing.

College and exposure to different people and ideas was beginning to change me. It was likely that I had my first (of many!) experience with marijuana that month, offered to me by my friends across the hall in my dorm. I was hesitant, but decided to take the plunge. It took several experiences before I got even a little high. One must remember that back then, a place like northern New York was virtually the last stop on the drug express, and the quality of the pot we were able to obtain was poor at best. Down to the stems and seeds again.

SUNY Potsdam still clung to many of the old college traditions, and the worst - to us - was the unequal treatment of women. Women had strict curfews; the men did not. Visitation in the dorms was limited to specific times and places. Certainly not in a "room" and certainly not with the door closed. One night, a large group of students, enraged by college policies, the war, and just about everything else, marched down to the President's house to demand change. The Potsdam police even followed us and eventually broke the demonstration up. It was a small taste of the firestorm that erupt a few months later when the Kent State killings occurred on May 4, 1970. Then, our campus, and those across the country, became engulfed in bitter protest. Most, like Potsdam State, shut down early that May.

The Rolling Stones release their landmark album Let It Bleed on November 28.



On November 1, Elvis Presley's Suspicious Minds reaches #1 on the U.S. pop charts. It was his last number one hit prior to his death in 1977.

Sesame Street premiers on the then National Educational Network, the predecessor of PBS.

On November 19, the 3rd and 4th humans walk on the Moon - Charles Conrad and Alan Bean of Apollo 12.

The United States Senate votes down President Nixon's nomination of Clement Haynsworth of South Carolina to a seat on the Supreme Court. Unlike today's highly partisan Congressional politics, 17 Republican senators join 38 Democrats to reject the nomination.

John Lennon returns his MBE to the British Government in protest of the War in Vietnam.

Journalist Seymour Hersh breaks the story of the March, 1968 massacre of civilians near My Lai in South Vietnam.

Born on November 4, American rapper Sean "Diddy" Combs. On November 18, Kennedy family patriarch Joseph P. Kennedy dies.

Native American activists seize Alcatraz Island in San Francisco Bay with the goal of gaining deed to the island. The occupation lasts until June, 1971.

On November 30, song-duo Simon and Garfunkel present a one hour television special entitled "Songs of America" which featured anti-war and other anti-establishment themes. I remember watching it and being affected deeply. The 60s were drawing to a close.

June, 1969

Sometime that month - I graduate from Wayne Central High School. It was likely around the middle of the month. I have only the vaguest memories of the event. But we boys took pride in the sexual connotation of graduating in '69' even though such activities were limited to our erotic fantasy lives. I don't know of one friend at that time who'd actually had sex. At that time, at that place, sex remained something elusive and futuristic, much to our group disappointment. The caption on my yearbook casual photograph read: "Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil - but think about it." Some crack yearbook staff member knew me pretty well.

In my teens I became a huge fan of W.C. Fields - I thought that he was the funniest person who'd ever lived, even though he's been dead for 20 years. I collected records, posters, photos, books, stationery - anything I could get my hands on. Friends even called me W.C. I would do W.C. Fields routines I'd memorized from records at parties ("I cut a path through a wall of human flesh, dragging my canoe behind me!") . I was a nut.

The photo of me and W.C. above, taken in 1968, shows me wearing a flowered Nehru-style shirt I'd bought the year before on a visit to my sister in Washington, DC. I still have one of the original Personality Posters of Fields, now framed and loaded with numerous tack marks on all four corners, hanging on the wall to my right as I write this. Posters were big back then - there was a very cool poster/head shop in Rochester which I loved to visit I think that it was on East Avenue. My room had the Fields posters, the Richard Avedon black and white poster of The Beatles, Bob Dylan with the multi-colored electric hair, Simon and Garfunkel. Many LPs had posters inside in those days and that was an added bonus - more things to pin on the wall.

My parents would get a copy of the Sunday edition of the New York Times without fail every week - my father would pick up a copy on the way home from church. Church was mandatory in our house, the it was a time when you were still expected to dress up for church. That month or thereabouts, an advertisement in the Arts and Leisure section caught my eye:

Sounded good to me. I was 18 and free, so why the hell not? I began to formulate a plan....

Hee Haw debuts that month in CBS. Hosted by Buck Owens and Roy Clark, it featured a mix of country music and corny rural comedy. It was the complete opposite of hip, but fit right in with President Nixon's "silent majority" crusade. The country was completely polarized - gone was the idealism and optimism of the Kennedy years.

In 1969, Reader's Digest sent some 18 million flag decals to its subscribers, and they quickly became a big hit. Plastered on windows and car window vents, they were popular among the pro-Nixon, pro-war crowd - The Silent Majority. The system worked quite well if you were hitchhiking, which I did often in my college years. The best rides came from vans bearing peace stickers; if you were picked up by a car with a flag decal, you could expect - at the very least - a lecture regarding your hair and attire, the war, whatever.

One June 8, after years of steady increases, President Nixon announces the first withdrawal of troops from Vietnam - 25,000 out of a force near 550,000.

The Love Theme from 'Romeo and Juliet' reaches number one on the charts. This movie absolutely knocked me out - I thought it was brilliant. Mindy and I would actually watch it at the drive-in rather than make out, though truth be told I would have loved to have had the nerve at that time to have wonderful naked sex like the two lovers in the film. I still remember the echoes of the last line of the Prince in the town courtyard - "all are punished." Powerful stuff for a young catholic boy. It would take me some more years to shed my catholic upbringing, but the walls were beginning to slowly crumble. Too slowly.

The Weathermen formed as a radical offshoot of the 1960s student activist group Students for a Democratic Society (SDS). A manifesto, which circulated around a June 1969 SDS convention, took its title from Bob Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues." "You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows," it read, and thus became known as the Weatherman statement.

On June 22, legendary singer and actress Judy Garland dies at age 48 of an overdose.

Born on June 15 - future rapper Ice Cube.

During a Bed-In for Peace on June 1 in Montreal, John Lennon, along with Yoko Ono, Tommy Smothers, Timothy Leary, and others, records Give Peace a Chance, which is released soon after as the first solo recording by one of The Beatles.

Warren Burger is sworn in as Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court, ending the activist era known as the (Earl) Warren Court.

On June 28, the Stonewall Riots in New York City mark the beginning of the gay rights movement.

In Houston, Texas, Army veteran Orville Moody wins the U.S. Open by one stroke. Moody was the last golfer to win the event by first having to qualify through local and regional events. It was his only PGA tour career victory.

There was another great local band in the area which, sadly, I don't think I ever saw perform live, but it's also quite possible that I did and simply can't remember due to the ever-increasing number of misfiring neurons in my aging brain. Wilmer Alexander and The Dukes were almost legendary in Upstate New York in the late 1960s. Originating out of Geneva, NY, the Dukes had a couple of singles which reached the charts nationally, or at least "bubbled under the hot one hundred." Those of us living in Upstate remember them fondly - they were big on the bar and college scene at the time. Legend has it that they were the inspiration for the bar band in the film Animal House. The band released their one album in 1969. The times were a changin' and the times were rocking.

March, 1969

On March 14, my 18th birthday, I have my first legal drink, bought for me by my friend Danny Moaks father, at the Ontario Bowling Alley. I went on to consume a fair amount of other libations for approximately 34 more years. I believe it was most likely a Genny Beer that night.

I had begun to drink occasionally during the Summer of Love in 1967, though as long as I can remember my parents would allow me a "sip" of beer, usually on Sundays after church. My "sips" later became furtive "gulps" when my parents weren't looking. In 1967, my older brother turned 18 and thus legal in New York, so my friends and I would get him or another older friend to procure alcohol for us. Usually, we consumed beer or malt liquor, but at some point we advanced to blackberry brandy - usually a half pint, which was just enough to get high but not wasted. One night the half pint became a pint, and this produced in me a sudden, but exhilarating state of total intoxication.

Blackberry brandy, when consumed in quantity and then vomited up, produces significant and colorful stains on one's clothing, especially when the intoxicant does not have the common sense to move one's head to the side during the act of expulsion. I arrived home the next morning thus covered and did my best, given the magnitude of my first hangover, to hide this fact from my mother, who to my ever-lasting regret - met me at the door as I was trying to escape upstairs and remove the offending clothing. She knew immediately the cause of my distress and shame, and I was left with no alternative bit to spill the truth after some few feeble attempts to lie my way out of the situation. Worse still, she got me to admit that our source for the alcohol was my brother, who she next attacked while he was sleeping.

For the remainder of that hungover day, she kept warning me of the consequences when "your father gets home." When he finally arrived home from work around 5:30 and had, ironically, fixed himself a drink and sat down in his favorite chair to read the evening paper, I was sent in by my mother to admit my guilt and await his harsh judgment. And I will never forget his words to me after I had blurted out my scandalous admission of my misdeeds -

"How do you feel now?"
"Terrible", I said. And I meant it.
"Well, let that be a lesson to you". And he went back to his paper. And that was it.

I did, at least, learn some lesson from this incident. Though I continued to drink, sometimes heavily, until my early 50s, I rarely crossed that line into extreme intoxication. I would always stop before I reached that terrible stage.

Kurt Vonnegut Jr.'s Slaughterhouse-Five Or The Children's Crusade is published. The New York Times, in a review dated March 31, says "Vonnegut Jr., an indescribable writer whose seven previous books are like nothing else on earth, was accorded the dubious pleasure of witnessing a 20th-century apocalypse. During World War II, at the age of 23, he was captured by the Germans and imprisoned beneath the city of Dresden, ''the Florence of the Elbe.'' He was there on Feb. 13, 1945, when the Allies firebombed Dresden in a massive air attack that killed 130,000 people and destroyed a landmark of no military significance. Next to being born, getting married and having children, it is probably the most important thing that ever happened to him. And, as he writes in the introduction to Slaughterhouse-Five, he's been trying to write a book about Dresden ever since. Now, at last, he's finished the ''famous Dresden book.''

I don't exactly recall when I first read Slaughterhouse-Five, perhaps the next year. But it had a profound affect on me, more so than anything I had read up to that point or seldom since. The section on which Vonnegut describes the bombing sequence moving in reverse helped shape my views of life and war and the utter insanity of how humans can behave.

Supergroup Cream release their final album, Goodbye, featuring the song Badge, co-written by Eric Clapton and George Harrison.

The previous year, I managed to get tickets to see Cream and The Vanilla Fudge perform at the old Auditorium Theater in Rochester. This was before I could drive, so I remember that my Dad drove me and a friend in to the city for the concert. We got in, but before the music started, Cream's manager came out onstage and announced that the band's instruments hadn't arrived and thus they could not perform. The audience was given the choice of seeing just the Vanilla Fudge or getting their money back. We wisely got our money back and Dad had to drive back to get us. So I almost got to see Cream live...but it was not to be and I still regret it....

Dwight D. Eisenhower, the 34th President (1953-1961) dies on March 28. "Ike" was President from the time I was about 2 til I was about 10, though I have few memories of being aware at all of that fact. I do remember his re-election campaign of 1956 only because my mother hung an Eisenhower poster in our old kitchen as a joke for my father to see - he was a hard core Democrat and ardent Stevenson supporter - but I didn't at all understand the joke, but I guess it was my first exposure to politics.

On March 12, Paul McCartney marries Linda Eastman at the Marylebone register Office in London. On the same day, George and Patti Harrison are arrested on drug possession charges.

On March 20, John Lennon marries Yoko Ono at the British Consulate in Gibraltar. From March 25 - 31, John and Yoko conduct a "Bed In" for peace at the Amsterdam Hilton, Room 902.

Doors singer Jim Morrison is charged with several felony counts of indecent exposure, public profanity, and public intoxication in Miami after a concert on March 1. He was eventually convicted on two misdemeanors the following year.

The Swedish "cult" film I am Curious (Yellow) is first released in the U.S. The controversial film was the subject of heated court battles, customs seizures, and yes - intense curiosity. I managed to see this film at some point that year, though I remember virtually nothing about it, so other than the sex scenes, I was probably bored with it.



Within a span of seven days, both Sirhan Sirhan and James Earl Ray admit to killing Robert F. Kennedy (Sirhan) and Martin Luther King (Ray) in 1968. I'm glad to note that they both continue to rot in hell, Sirhan still incarcerated, and Ray, who died in 1998, in the spiritual sense.

In South Vietnam, Lieutenant Joseph R. Kerrey, United States Naval Reserve displays tremendous courage and is later awarded the Navy Medal of Honor "for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty on 14 March 1969 while serving as a SEAL Team Leader during action against enemy aggressor (Viet Cong) forces in the Republic of Vietnam...Lieutenant Kerrey received massive injuries from a grenade which exploded at his feet and threw him backward onto the jagged rocks. Although bleeding profusely and suffering great pain, he displayed outstanding courage and presence of mind in immediately directing his element's fire into the heart of the enemy camp." This on my 18th birthday that day, while I was having my first legal beer....not very heroic I'm afraid.

Wrestling season was coming to an end. My last match, in the state sectionals, occurred around this time. I'd completely had it with the sport, and had a moment of truth in that match that I simply did not want to do this any longer. If I won the match, I'd have to go on - I was winning, but I simply let the other guy win, on points, to bring an end to it and that phase of my life. My coach was very pissed off at me for losing...my attitude was "screw it." The only wrestling I intended to do in the future was with women. I've had some success with that sport, but have also lost some close matches....

They did sometimes bring the Wayne Central cheerleaders to the matches, which was a plus. I guess the basketball team could spare them on occasion...

I must say with all honesty that I loved these girls - they were my idea of smart, sexy teenage America! And I love them still.