Anita Bryant V. The Village People

This has to have been the ultimate late-Seventies Culture War. Which side were you on, Brothers and Sisters?

Formed here in NYC in 1977, the Village People were a classic disco act: all show and no substance. A talented bunch of singer/dancers who portrayed a variety of macho stereotypes (cowboy, sailor, cop, etc) TVP could be seen at two levels. To some they were one more wacky vocal group, while those who considered themselves in-the-know saw the boys as the ultimate self-conscious gay parody. Regardless, their records, including "Macho Man" and "YMCA," sold by the millions.

At the same time, in perhaps a parallel universe, lived Anita Bryant, a one-time runner-up to the Miss America title who had once been a successful pop singer, although by the time our great Morality Play unfolded she was largely reduced to singing jingles for the Florida Citrus Commission. Bryant's town of Miami had recently passed a law banning discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation, and boy was she mad! A heavy-duty fundie, Bryant not only considered homosexuality evil, but accused gays of 'recruiting.' Her group, Protect America's Children, led a successful bid to overturn the Miami law, and was soon active throughout the country, making her a popular, and very controversial, figure. She personified a growing conservative movement, concentrated in the South and Midwest.

Needless to say, the OJ Lady didn't particularly approve of the Village People. In fact, she said that the band was organized as a protest against her. (Most unlikely; it was either as a goof and/or for money). But it was their bit "In the Navy" that really got her steamed. Remember it?

In the Navy you can put your mind at ease
In the Navy you can sail the seven seas...
We want you; We want you; We want you for a new recruit!

Bryant feared that the US Navy was actually going to use the tune as a recruiting song! (And this was in the days before "Don't ask; don't tell!") Finally, a top honcho in the Pentagon wrote her a letter to assure her that they wouldn't be doing such.

Things got heated for a while. Bryant was ridiculed widely in the media, and once had a pie thrown in her face while at a press conference (her husband remarked "At least it was a fruit pie.") She got the backing of some wealthy conservative businessmen, who sponsored a television show for her, and a special counseling hotline for "saving" gays. As for the Village People, by the early 80s their novelty had worn off.

For Bryant, things took a nose dive when she announced her intention to divorce husband Bob Green, claiming abuse. The "Christian" businessmen who had backed her so loyally withdrew their support, and her movement collapsed. A few years later she remarried and tried re-establishing herself as an entertainer, only to end up having to file for bankruptcy.

As for the Miami/Dade County anti-discrimination law, it was re-instated in 1998.

You TOO Can Be a Programmer!

Just sign this financial aid form here. No need to read the fine print; trust us!

During the Seventies financial aid and student loans were readily available, and many for-profit schools, like this one (now closed) on W 29 St near 8 Ave were there to teach you the skills necessary for a highly rewarding and well-paying career in the booming computer field. Of course, at that time this meant programming mainframe systems, typically in languages such as COBOL.

You could learn to be a programmer just as well (if not better) for a lot less money at a City University school. Consequently, these for-profit schools knew they had to fight hard to get students. And they did. They went after just about anyone who could qualify for any type of government assistance, regardless of their aptitude. They also advertised heavily. As a result, thousands of people signed up for student loans that they had no way to repay, and millions in tax dollars were wasted. Several law suits were filed against the trade schools.

Ricky Nelson Gets Booed; Goes Gold

Last time around I talked about those "Rock and Roll Revival" concerts. Well, one performer decided to break the unwritten rule of such nostalgia shows by performing new material, and had, well, a learning experience.

Rick (originally "Ricky") Nelson started out as an actor on the "Ozzie and Harriet" TV series, before having a string of country-influenced hits, including "Travelin' Man" and "Hello, Mary Lou." By the late Sixties, however, Nelson had grown tired of the teen idol pop scene, had moved to LA and was doing some creative stuff with leading musicians from the country-rock scene, including future members of Poco and the Eagles. In 1971 he appeared at a Rock and Roll Revival at Madison Square Garden. It was a bit like Dylan hitting the stage for the first time with an electric guitar. When Nelson came out with long hair the crowd booed him, and things only got worse when he and the band swang into the Rolling Stones' "Honky Tonk Women," hardly a 50s rockabilly tune.

Well, I am happy to say that Nelson had the last laugh, or should I say jeer. He wrote a tune about the experience entitled "Garden Party," which went gold in 1972. Here are the final two verses and the chorus.

I played them all the old songs. I thought that's why they came.
But no one heard the music. We didn't look the same.
I said hello to Mary Lou. She belongs to me.
But when I sang a song about a honky tonk, it was time to leave.

CHORUS:
But it's all right now. I've learned my lesson well.
You see you can't please everyone so you've got to please yourself.

Someone opened up the closet door and out stepped Johnny B. Goode.
Playin' guitar like a ringin' a bell. And lookin' like he should.
If you've gotta play at Garden Parties, I wish you a lot of luck.
But if memories were all I sang, I'd rather drive a truck.

50s Meet 70s: The Rock and Roll Revivals

"Grease," "Happy Days," "The Lords of Flatbush," Sha-Na-Na. And the Rock and Roll Revivals at Madison Square Garden. So much of 70s pop culture in our town was actually nostalgia for the 1950s - or at least the way people thought the 50s were. You know: Greasers, hot rods, James Dean, Doo-Wop.

Rock and Roll Revivals were concerts featuring acts from the 50s and early (pre-Beatles) 60s. Typically they would feature a large number of acts who would each do a handful of their hits, and often the groups would feature substitute members, as the originals either quit or died off. If you listened to WCBS FM, which at that time had an all "Oldies" format, you'd hear the ads for these events.

Besides the Revivals, the Seventies also saw a huge interest in all sorts of 50s nostalgia. We had 50s theme dances and parties. Guys dressed up like The Fonz (Henry Winkler) from "Happy Days." And "Grease" was the longest-running show on Broadway. Why? The music? Well, to some extent. But that fails to explain the whole phenomenon, in my humble opinion.

The Seventies was an era when nobody quite knew what was expected of them. The old norms were out, or so we thought, especially in regards to gender roles. Women were making headway into business, government and academia, and men were supposed to become more, well.... Actually, men didn't know what they were supposed to be. Remember, this was the Seventies. We didn't even have Robert Bly and his Mytho-Poetic movement. At the same time, traditional values had been challenged, but there were no generally-accepted alternatives. Our culture reflected these conflicts. Performers like Bowie began to fool around with gender images, and John Lennon asked us to imagine a world without all the stuff our parents thought was so important.

But, ah, the Fifties! A time when guys acted like Guys! They worked on cars, acted tough and certainly didn't wear their hair like the women! You knew what was expected of you, and, at least for some guys, it was kind of fun! Something about this seemed to appeal to a lot of folks at a deep level.

There was an ugly side to the whole nostalgia thing. People who gathered to hear the old stuff could turn nasty if presented with new material, as Ricky Nelson learned. I'll talk about that later.

The Famous "New Yorker" Poster

For copyright reasons I am not going to show a picture of Saul Steinberg's famous 1976 New Yorker magazine cover officially known as "From 9th Ave," but more commonly called "The New Yorker's View of the World." Do a web search and you'll find it.

This magazine cover became a popular poster that you could find everywhere in our area during the late Seventies. Essentially, it depicted how many New Yorkers view the rest of the world, which is to say, that they don't see it in much detail. Or, as Kid Creole and the Coconuts put it "When you leave New York you go nowhere."

Why was the poster so popular? Surely Steinberg has produced many more covers with better artwork. In my humble opinion, the reason was its appeal to our battered sense of pride. NYC was going through a fiscal crisis; crime was way up and many people continued to doubt whether we had much of a future as a town. I recall well an article in the Daily News Sunday magazine entitled "How Come They Hate Us in Omaha?" It featured a cartoon of a bunch of rednecks waving happily as a shipload of hookers, ghetto stereotypes and punk rockers and others sank. Steinberg captured what many of us really felt. And to hell with the hicks.

Feel GOOD About Yourself

Don't you just hate that phrase? During the Seventies, as social action gave way to personal growth, there was a boom in books, tapes, workshops, etc aimed at helping people "feel good about themselves." Indeed, many educators saw that as the fundamental goal of schooling. The idea, in a nutshell, was that some force outside of your control (it was never your responsibility) had damaged your self image, and that was what was causing you to screw up in Life. Maybe it was your parents, or maybe it was The System, but no matter, the damage was done.

The solution? Well, that depended upon whom you asked. For shrinks, it meant therapy, and the 70s saw a boom in everything from orthodox psychiatry to loonie cults and treatments, such as EST and "re-birthing" (being born, the ultimate trauma!) In education, it often took the form of dumbing things down to the point where no kid could possibly flunk, and thereby suffer another horrible injury to his/her self-esteem. Or it could consist of the teacher giving out awards for just about everything, including "being yourself." (Thanks, Mrs. Jones! You certainly made Johnny proud.) There was also a push to get rid of anything that implied ranking of kids, or competition. Of course, most children saw through this fiasco, but it certainly made some educational theorists wealthy.

In 1979 I worked for a while tutoring kids in a reading clinic that used this model. We had a good budget, a pleasant room, dedicated teachers and the latest materials. Still, few of the kids ever improved in terms of their reading skills. No matter, the director advised me; they were there to learn to... You guessed it. The odd thing was, most of the kids had damn good self images! They were, for the most part, self-confident, relaxed and eager. True, their schools were like scenes from "Blackboard Jungle" and their family lives often a mess, but they didn't need awards for being themselves.

The Blues Brothers' 1979 Prediction

Who can forget the words of Dan Aykroyd as he introduced the Blues Brothers on their 1979 live album "Briefcase Full of Blues?" Tom Scott and the rest of the top notch horn section had just played, and while Steve Jordan (drums) and Duck Dunn (bass) kept the beat going on "I Can't Cut You Loose" he told us

Well, here it is the late 1970s, going on 1985.
You know, so much of the music you hear today is preprogrammed electronic disco, you never get a chance to hear master bluesmen practicing their craft anymore.
By the year 2006, the music known today as The Blues will exist only in the classical records department of your public library...

Fortunately, that did not come to be. The Blues is alive and well, and preprogrammed electronic disco, while it may not be dead, is certainly not the only thing you can hear nowadays. Perhaps Aykroyd and his partner John Belushi deserve a bit of the credit for this. The Blues Brothers, first on "Saturday Night Live," then on record, then in their films, introduced a generation of us to real Blues and R and B. Some will no doubt denounce them as commercial or a couple of white guys ripping off the old bluesmen who never got the credit they deserved. Well, I'll agree about the lack of credit. But I'll also concur with no less a blues genius as Steve Cropper, who remarked that Belushi was one damn good performer. He also showed a lot of kids that soul music could mean more than Barry White, and Blues tunes were not only done by Hot Tuna.

Another Musical Horror: "I am Woman"

Check out that haircut!

During the 70s Helen Reddy had a string of hits. She was one of those middle-of-the-road, middle-American pop singers who offended nobody. But that didn't mean she didn't have a Cause. In 1973 she released "I am Woman," what she no doubt thought would become an anthem for those of the female persuasion. Pure schlock, it was the 70s' answer to the protest song. Get reddy, folks...

I am woman, hear me roar
In numbers too big to ignore
And I know too much to go back an' pretend
'cause I've heard it all before
And I've been down there on the floor
No one's ever gonna keep me down again

CHORUS
Oh yes I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to, I can do anything
I am strong (strong)
I am invincible (invincible)
I am woman

You can bend but never break me
'cause it only serves to make me
More determined to achieve my final goal
And I come back even stronger
Not a novice any longer
'cause you've deepened the conviction in my soul

CHORUS

I am woman watch me grow
See me standing toe to toe
As I spread my lovin' arms across the land
But I'm still an embryo
With a long long way to go
Until I make my brother understand

Oh yes I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to I can face anything
I am strong (strong)
I am invincible (invincible)
I am woman

Union Square in its Funky Days

Remember Union Square before the brew pubs, the Green Market, the NY Film Academy? During the 70s the area was a place you tended to avoid. The park itself was loaded with drug dealers and addicts, especially at night, and the pushers did a good business on nights when there were concerns at the nearby Academy of Music on 14th Street.

The whole US area was also a hotbed of radicalism, with Marxist bookstores and similar institutions. Many people think that the very name "Union Square" came from the fact that there were so many labor unions headquartered in the area. But the real origin for the name was the fact that the square represented the "union" of two major thoroughfares: Broadway and 4th (Park) Avenue.

Probably the most famous institution in the US area during the 70s was at the Northeast corner, right across from where the NY Film Academy is located. This non-descript building housed Max's Kansas City, the ultimate hype club, where Andy Warhol and his "superstars" held court. Max's was the ultimate proof that people will spend lots of money on bad food in a dumpy environment if they think it's a hip joint that's selective in terms of whom it admits. As an illustration of what a crock the whole place was, consider the fact that there was nobody named Max, and the place had nothing to do whatsoever with Kansas City.

Upstairs from the bar/restaurant was a small rock club where many famous acts performed. The whole place was essentially illegal, in that it lacked the necessary permits, but that didn't stop Mayor Lindsay from going there.

Folkies

You could tell a lot about a person by the music that they listened to. At the risk of stereotyping a little bit, and in the spirit of good fun, I’m going to take a look at some of the major types of music fans you could find during the Seventies.

Folk music broadened considerably during the Seventies to include singer/songwriter material by performers such as James Taylor (whom half the girls in my area had crushes on). It wasn’t enough to play 3 chords, sing slightly off-key and sound self-righteous. At times it was tough to define just who was a “folk,” “folk rock” or even a “soft rock” musician.

So, what were “Folkies” like?

Female Folkies. These tended to outnumber the men. FFs often fit the “Earth Mother” hippie stereotype: long hair, loose, casual clothes (no synthetics, please) and maybe some real tie-dye (not the phosphorescent stuff they sold on 8th Street in the Village). They were typically into sprouts, tree-hugging and reusable hemp shopping bags. Most were “good girls,” the type that Mom hoped you’d bring home (but whom you rarely did).

Male Folkies. Think of the guys you see on home improvement shows, but more casual. MFs often had bushy beards and long hair, which came down to the shoulders on their flannel shirts. They were “involved fathers” who drove VW busses, did woodworking and organized recycling drives. You might even find them at a NOW meeting.

Favorite Folkie Acts: Carly Simon, James Taylor, Joni Mitchell, Judy Collins.

Folkie Subgroups: Political Folkies who followed Pete Seager around, and Religious Folkies, who did Folk Masses and bought records by bands with names like Second Chapter of Acts.

Good Things About Folkies: Made good neighbors (rarely blasted stereos). Baked good bread. Could help you fix your car.

Not so Good Things About Folkies: Tried getting you to eat tofu. Made you feel guilty about using anything disposable. Sang along with Carly Simon records.

Needle Park: The Wild, Wild West Side

It's hard to believe that the space at 72 St and Broadway which now contains the beautiful new IRT subway kiosk was known during the 70s as "Needle Park," due to the presence of so many junkies and drug dealers. But the area which we know call the Upper West Side (or Yuppie West Side) was not a bastion of gourmet markets, boutiques and sushi bars during that era.

A quick tour of the Upper West Side will reveal a lot of impressive architecture. Obviously, these buildings were constructed for folks with money, but a closer look will also reveal plenty of simple tenement buildings, especially on the side streets. There were also numerous hotels along Broadway, as far up as the Columbia University area. During the hard times which hit our town in past decades, there was a significant exodus of upper and middle class people from the area, although many did remain. Let's not forget that during the 60s and early 70s there was a prevailing sentiment that our town was going to hell in a bucket, and many people
decided to leave before we turned into another Detroit. The vacant space was rapidly occupied by poorer persons, as well as a large collection of drug addicts and other pillars of the community. Huge apartments were carved up into smaller units or single rooms. The hotels, which at one time served as clean, basic housing for single working people, soon became full of undesirables, as well as many former mental patients, and a few old folks who could not afford to leave. The mental patients were frequently there as part of the State's misguided plan to "de-institutionalize" patients from psychiatric hospitals by placing them in the community with "support services." Of course, many of the ex-patients could not handle life on the outside, and the "services" they were given were rarely adequate. As a result, there were many disturbed people hanging around the area. There were so many needy people in the area that the stretch of Amsterdam Avenue above 96th Street became known as a veritable social service shopping mall.

The area parallel to Broadway during the 70s was one of incredible contrasts. You did have some beautiful buildings, as well as some upscale shops such as Zabar's (which was only about 1/4 of its current size), but turn up a side street and things could change rapidly. There were many abandoned buildings, especially East of Broadway. In 1979 I visited a friend who was renovating a brownstone on 104 St and Manhattan Ave. Manhattan Ave still has something of a mixed reputation, but back then the whole area was downright frightening at night. I recall walking down the
middle of the street, looking both ways, through blocks consisting mostly of abandoned tenements. As for my friend's home, it was part of a row of once grand brownstones that had been built for physicians at a long-gone hospital. These had gone to seed, and several of the handsome structures were vacant.

What happened? As we've discussed before, the 70s was the decade when folks started re-discovering the good side of urban life (or the down side of suburbia). Adventurous souls in search of good housing, lots of space and cheap prices started moving into areas such as the Upper West Side, SoHo, etc. At the same time, changes in the tax and housing laws made it easier for owners to convert former hotels to apartment houses - and they did. (Some experts attribute much of the City's homeless problem to these policy changes).

Bye-Bye 8-Tracks

If you frequent garage sales, you've probably encountered 8-track stereo
tapes and players. About twice the size of a cassette, the 8-track was the
most popular medium for portable music players during the first half of the
70s.

Recently I discussed the revolution brought about by the development of the
high-fidelity cassette deck. Before these came about, the 8-track was just
about the only option you had if you wanted recorded music for your car or
portable player. Essentially, the 8-track cartridge held a continuous loop
of tape that wound around a single reel. Since stereo sound required two
tracks, the cartridge was able to contain four music programs recorded
side-by-side. You would put the 8-track into the player, and at first you
would hear the material on Track 1. When the recording reached the end of
its loop (after about 15-20 minutes), a small stretch of metal tape would
signal the player to switch to Track 2. And so on. You didn't have to flip
the cartridge over, and you could change tracks at the push of a button.
There was a fast-forward feature, but no rewind.

The fact that you could just slip the cartridge into its slot and forget it
made the 8-track popular with car owners. 8-track decks were also always
front-loading, so they would fit easily into a dashboard. Many home stereo
units sold at the time featured 8-track units, although everyone know that
LP records offered better sound quality (and made it easier to listen to
particular tracks). The 8-track was also not a very popular media for
recording purposes, one reason being that the gaps would appear in the
music whenever the recorder changed tracks. They also produced a great deal
of annoying tape hiss.

As cassette technology improved, more and more car stereos became equipped
with decks which would play them. Thus, the last market for the 8-track was
drying up. You started to see the tapes and decks quite often at thrift
shops and garage sales.

Santana, Scalpers and Jail Bait at the Beacon Theater

We had wanted to see Carlos Santana in person after hearing his
ground-breaking "Abraxis" LP - a great fusion of Latin, blues and hard-core
San Francisco rock. So a bunch of us bought $8.50 tickets to hear him at
the Beacon Theatre on Broadway and 74th Street in 1976 - his "Amigos" Tour.

"Amigos" was probably Santana's weakest work. The fiery rocker had fallen
under the influence of a well-known guru, and Amigos sounded like something
that could have been put together by Los Hermanos Osmund. As one writer for
Stereo Review put it, "Gurus may be good for Santana's head, but not for
his guitar playing." Still, we were going to hear Santana!

As is almost inevitable when kids buy tickets for concerts, one of our pals
couldn't make it, and I was stuck with an extra ticket. When we arrived at
the Beacon there were plenty of people seeking seats for the sold-out show.
All of us regarded scalpers as sub-human vermin, so we agreed to sell the
ticket for exactly what we paid for it. An Asian girl of about 13 with big
eyes approached me. "Can I come to the show?" I asked her if she had $8.50,
and she replied "All I have is a buck. I was hoping you would turn me on to
it." Of course, this could mean only one of two things:

1.  She was going to turn around and re-sell the ticket for much more
money.
2.  She thought I was into pre-high school girls.

Dismissing Miss Big Eyes, we soon found a fellow who paid us the $8.50.
Alas, when we got inside the person who would have been sitting in that
seat was not the guy who bought the ticket from us.

Santana's stage was decorated with fake palm trees, and he came out wearing
a jungle helmet that made him look like a character in a cheap "Stanley and
Livingston" film. he volume was low, and his guitar playing uninspired.
Needless to say, his set consisted heavily of tunes from "Amigos," even
while the audience clamored for "Black Magic Woman" and "Soul Sacrifice."
What a letdown.