Your Draft Beer Options

Almost any bar nowadays will serve up a half dozen or so beers on tap. Not so during the Seventies, where most places had only a few brands of draft beer, almost none of them imported. Here were your typical options in the mid-Seventies:

Rheingold Extra Dry. Brewed in Bushwick, this cheap beer was advertised as having a "ten minute head." I always thought it had a funny aftertaste. It was pretty cheap.

Schaeffer. Another of the last beers to leave Brooklyn, Schaeffer was brewed on Kent Ave in Williamsburg. It had a tangy flavor, and was also cheap.

Pabst Blue Ribbon. From Milwaukee, this brew was rather sweet. I liked it when I was 15.

Miller. Another sweet beer. It was considered a step up from the above.

Bud. Believe it or not, Bud on draft was hard to find in the Seventies. It tasted like, well, Bud.

Microbrews did not come on the scene until the 80s. As for imports, they were almost always bottled.

The Comet Kohoutek

In 1973 the Comet Kohoutek was due to pass the Earth. Billed the Comet of the Century, it was going to give us a spectacular astronomical show. Some said that this celestial body had never come our way before, while others said that it had an orbit so huge that it passed by only once every 75,000 years. Regardless, hopes were high, and Kohoutek helped spark a brief interest in comets and astronomy in general. People bought telescopes and prepared for the big event.

Comets have traditionally been seen as signs of coming disaster, and this one was no different. The astrologers, who had just announced the Age of Aquarius (Harmony and understanding...) now said we were going to Hell in a bucket. Moses David (born David Berg), founder of the infamous Children of God ("Hookers for Christ") cult, said the End was near, and took off for Europe with his faithful. (The more skeptical amongst us thought it might have had to do with avoiding criminal charges). But the most far-out notion came from that Sixties icon Timothy Leary, who announced that Kohoutek was a sign that we should all begin building a starship, to be named Terra II, so that we could leave this planet. Perhaps Leary's cosmic insight was the result of an acid trip undertaken while listening to a 1970 Jefferson Starship album called "Blows Against the Empire," which had the theme of hijacking a spaceship. But I'm being too cynical, I know.

When Kohoutek finally passed the Earth it turned out to be a major disappointment. Few of us were able to see it, and one group of astronomers actually threw a "comet party" at which they deliberately served weak punch. Some folks dubbed it "Comet Watergate."

Flowers: the Cop Who Made a Difference

Cops had a hard time in the Seventies. Not only was the crime rate continuing to rise, but budget cuts were cutting back on staff and the public was losing confidence in the NYPD.

Along one stretch of Broadway on the Upper West Side, however, there was tremendous respect amongst residents and merchants for one particular officer, whom I only knew of by his surname: Flowers. "Welcome to Flowers Territory!" read a banner displayed on the street. The sign was meant to convey a message to drug dealers, hookers and assorted sleaze buckets in the area to stay away, as Flowers was doing his job quite well. Let's not forget that, at the time, the area off of Broadway was still pretty raunchy in spots.

Flowers was written about in the freebie newspapers, but never achieved fame. Never mind. He showed that one guy could still make a dent in a problem.

The First Korean Fruit Stands

The Seventies saw the advent of that great NY institution - the Korean fruit and vegetable market. At the start of the decade, fresh produce was usually found at the supermarket - where "fresh" was a relative concept! There were a few fruit stands, often operated by Italian immigrants, but their selection was typically small, and catered mostly to the ethnic group to which the owner belonged.

The Koreans revolutionized the vegetable market industry. First, they brought in really fresh produce, often arriving at the Hunts Point Terminal before dawn to get it. And they provided a variety never before seen outside of gourmet stores. True entrepreneurs, they were always looking for new products and services to offer. The first such market in my neighborhood opened in 1975 and was an immediate hit. Around holidays the checkout line frequently went out the door and around the corner.

Of course, like any new immigrant group, the Koreans faced some problems. Many were incorrectly labeled as "Moonies" - members of Sun Myung Moon's Unification Church cult. This was complete nonsense. There were also some tense confrontations between store owners and the public. Raised according to the old Confucian manner, the new business owners were not into idle conversation the way Americans were - and their English was often not that good to begin with. This sometimes led to charges that they were rude. But with time the Korean market became part of our landscape.

TV Evangelist and "Adulterating SOB" Garner Ted Armstrong

"Al, let's get one thing straight! I'm a no good, fornicating, adulterating son of a bitch!"

- Garner Ted Armstrong to a fellow minister.

TV evangelist Garner Ted Armstrong looked like a movie star, spoke with the authority of an Oxford professor crossed with a general and had the down-home manner of a friendly bartender. He also had the libido of a rhino in heat, while at the same time milking millions from unsuspecting viewers. In some ways he was the worst of the TV evangelists, who really started making it big in the Seventies.

GTA'’s father, Herbert W. Armstrong had been on the air for decades, and actually founded a denomination called the Radio Church of God (subsequently renamed the Worldwide Church of God). A gifted orator, Herbie brought in thousands of converts, including chess whiz Bobby Fischer, most of whom paid up to three tenths of their incomes to the church. His teachings were a mixture of old-time religion and doomsday, and he was always predicting the end of the world. During the Sixties his son Garner Ted, a Korean War vet who received a BA, MA and PhD from the church'’s unaccredited Ambassador College in California, took over the reins. His "The World Tomorrow"” show (shown locally on WOR TV and broadcast nightly on WOR radio) had a huge international following, and thousands sent for his monthly magazine, The Plain Truth, which resembled a glossy Watchtower. You could often find copies in subway stations. He also did nationwide speaking tours, which filled large arenas.

Never seen a Worldwide Church of God branch? Not surprising. They usually met in rented spaces. A friend'’s brother belonged to a chapter in New Jersey that we dubbed Temple Beth Ramada, since it met Saturdays at a Ramada Inn. The church demanded absolute loyalty and obedience from followers, while its leaders lived in luxury.

Soon after GTA took the reins he developed a reputation for adultery, especially with naive young coeds from Ambassador College. He would keep repenting of his sins, then going back to his old ways. Eventually Dad sacked his son, but brought him back in the early Seventies - probably because he brought in the bucks so well. It was in 1975 that it finally hit the fan, when Time magazine finally wrote stories about what was going on within the church. GTA was permanently removed - – and promptly founded his own church, while Herbie, then in his 80s, took over the church’s broadcast empire. The State of California put the college in receivership, and soon there were numerous reports of irregularities. Herbie was shown to be an alcoholic, and GTA'’s affairs became the stuff of legends. The church slowly began to collapse.

GTA died in Texas last year. Geraldo Rivera had run an episode on his show several years ago which reportedly showed GTA seducing a woman.

Dissenting General Newbold Says The Who Got It Wrong

Lieutenant General Greg Newbold, USMC, is one of the many retired military leaders to have come out against our administration's policies in Iraq recently. But Newbold, writing in the 4/17/06 issue of Time, was the first military officer know of to quote from Pete Townshend's prophetic anthem from the 70s: "Won't Get Fooled Again.," which I've discussed in an earlier entry. According to the General, the tune was an "anti-war song" and,

"It's 35 years later and the judgment is in: The Who had it wrong. We have been fooled again."

Well, I'll agree with Newbold that Americans have been fooled again. In fact, we as a people have been duped numerous times since that tune came out 35 years ago. It's hard to believe that the generation who sent "Who's Next" to the top of the album charts were the same folks who supported Bush and his clowns. And the English haven't done much better for themselves.

But was Pete predicting that we would not get fooled? I think the General should dig out his old copy of the album and listen more carefully. That tune clearly ends with an acknowledgement that nothing had changed. It's also interesting how he interprets it as an anti-war song. There is no mention of a a formal war, just a revolution in the streets. Still, it's good that somebody is at least quoting what I consider to be the greatest song to come out of the Seventies to show how things really haven't gotten better in many ways- they're worse.

Did Ed Koch Look Like Frank Perdue?

You decide.

Ed Koch: Mayor of the City of New York. To some he was a hero who saved the city from oblivion and restored pride in our town. Others thought he didn't give a hoot about anyone other than the rich. Famous for saying "How'm I doin'?" and for hosting "Saturday Night Live."

Frank Perdue: Founder of the Perdue poultry empire. Slogan: "It takes a tough man to make a tender chicken." Did his own commercials in which he talked about how his birds were fed rose petals.

Leslie West Plays Staten Island Community College

We went to hear one of our favorite guitar players, and got a few lessons
about how not to put on a show.

The Performer:
Queens native Leslie West (born Leslie Weinstein) was a favorite of Seventies hard rock fans, starting with Long Island's The Vagrants, then Mountain (which he co-founded along with Bronx-born bassist Felix Pappalardi), as well as his subsequent supergroup West, Bruce and Laing. He was also a BIG guy, and when he played a Gibson Les Paul guitar it almost looked like a mandolin. In 1975 he had just released a solo album, "The Great Fatsby."

The Venue:
Sometimes dubbed "Staten Island Country Club" due to its not-terribly-rigorous academic reputation, the Community College occupied a bunch of cheaply-constructed, ugly concrete buildings along the Staten Island Expressway near Todt Hill. SICC was a popular place for small concerts and parties, due to its proximity to both Brooklyn and New Jersey.

The Show:
Our tickets read: "The Leslie West Band and The Point." It was general admission, and we found seats in the fourth row. At about 8:00PM the first opening act came on, but it was not The Point. I won't tell their name, since they seemed like a bunch of kids, but they were pretty lame. Now, opening acts at rock concerts have a tough job, especially when the bulk of the crowd consists of a bunch of rowdies in their late teens who have been drinking - a lot. In such a situation, the best thing to do is play your set and get out of there, hopefully without getting hit by a flying object. When people started booing, the vocalist made a major mistake - he told us that there were going to be THREE opening acts! Assuming an hour a set, plus setup times, that meant the big guy wouldn't be up there until after midnight. Curses flew, and from the row in front of my a guy dropped his pants and showed his behind at the would-be David Lee Roth. Cheers erupted. I almost started feeling sorry for the kid. He tried getting the audience to clap along by making pathetic pleas like "If you don't clap, that means
you don't like Leslie West." There are few things as pathetic as a failing rock singer. It's like Alfalfa singing "The Barber of Seville" in "The Little Rascals."

The second band was, in fact, The Point, a group with a local following, who were good. Best of all, they didn't act like buffoons.

Then came probably the worst band I have ever heard live: American Tears. They were actually TOO loud, even for West's equipment, to the point where everything was distorted. But the worst part of the show was the bassist, a thin guy dressed in black leather who constantly wiggled around. Rumors went through the crowd that his nickname was "Beat Me Charlie," and I can imagine why. This crowd was not the type who would turn out for the New York Dolls, needless to say, and Charlie (or whatever his name was) was heckled in unison. Whoever put together this lineup of acts did not know the audience!

West finally took the stage accompanied by a bassist and drummer, and did about an hour of mostly cover tunes, including Garland Jeffreys's "Wild in the Streets" and "House of the Rising Sun" ("The first song I ever learned on the guitar"). His playing was solid, but we had the impression that his heart just wasn't full into performing that night (perhaps he himself had sat through American Tears?)

Staten Island Community College merged the next year with Richmond College in Saint George to form the College of Staten Island. In 1993 the City University opened a new campus for the college on the site of the infamous Willowbrook State School. West has continued to perform, and is (regretfully, in my humble opinion) a frequent guest of Howard Stern.

Who Needed Starbucks? The Great Chock Full o' Nuts

Before a $4.00 cup of coffee was a status symbol there was Chock Full o' Nuts.

Chock ran a series of coffee shops throughout the city well into the 1980s. Like fast food restaurants, all had the same decor and products. You could sit at the U-shaped counter, or get your coffee to go in one of two sized containers. This wasn't the gourmet stuff that they sold in Zabar's or the Leaf and Bean, but it was damn good- definitely a step up from diner or deli Java. It also packed a pretty solid kick. The food menu was limited, but many of us recall fondly the cream cheese and nut sandwich, served on delicious dark bread. There were also those fantastic small, crusty donuts.

Everyody ate at the Chock. There were no coffee shops at the time catering to yuppies, or kids, or the self-employed needing access to Wi-Fi, so we all had our caffeine together.

Before "Lite FM" There Was "Easy Listening"

This was the stuff you heard in doctors' offices, and which many of our parents often had on the radio. "Easy Listening" radio was big in the Sixties and early Seventies, and at the time there were actually four stations in our town that played it: WPAT AM, WPAT FM, WRFM and WTFM. The music was so schmaltzy and corny that no self-respecting teen would be caught dead listening to such stuff.

What exactly composed "Easy Listening?" There seemed to be two kinds of music, with most stations playing a mix of both. The first was simply very mellow material by performers like The Carpenters or the Ray Conniff Singers. (BTW: remember in 1972 when one of Conniff's singers, while doing a gig at the White House, told Nixon what to do with his war?). Then there was the real schlock: covers of the aforementioned material by anonymous orchestras and singers - heavy on the "dee-dee-dees" and "la-la-las." Stations played songs in blocks lasting about 20 minutes, and announcers showed no personality.

With changing tastes and demographics, the Easy Listening market dried up. WPAT AM, WRFM and WTFM all changed both call letters and formats. I believe one of the two FM stations is the present "Lite FM." WPAT FM, as most of us know, continues to play somewhat mellow music - in Spanish.

Brooklyn Boy Fights Cold War on Chess Board!

During the Summer of 1972 it seemed like every New Yorker was caught up in
the fervor surrounding local boy Bobby Fischer's battle to win the world
chess championship from the Russians, who had held it since World War
II. The best-of-24-games match, which was held in Iceland, was not only a
metaphor for the Cold War, but also resulted in a huge interest in in chess
amongst the public. It was like a Subway Series, the Olympics and the
Ali/Frazier fight, all rolled into one.

Chicago native Bobby Fischer became a chess prodigy after moving to NYC,
where he attended the prestigious Erasmus Hall High School in Flatbush, and
by 1972 he was ready to take on Boris Spassky, Russia's best. To understand
the competition in its context, it helps to remember that chess is not a
game in Russia; it is, as P. J. O'Rourke pointed out, a spectator sport.
And the Soviet Union's leadership made certain that only winners went on
to represent their nation on the worldwide circuit, thereby proving the
intellectual superiority of their ideology. Consequently, this was going to
be more than just a chess match.

Alas, Fischer turned out to be no nice Jewish boy from Brooklyn. At the
last minute he refused to travel to Iceland until the promoters put up
substantially more money for the tournament. Something of a recluse, he
would he heard in his hotel room rehearsing moves, yelling things like
"Pow!" when he captured a piece, and he would insist upon having the
swimming pool all to himself. But the public was willing to forgive Bobby
(at least at the time) for the sake of Old Glory. The media was caught up
in the excitement, and you could watch live coverage of the tournament on
television, including expert commentary. Since quite a few minutes could
often pass between moves, such programming was not exactly fast-paced. You
could also catch up on the day's developments on the evening news, and the
papers would list every move.

Sales of chess sets in many strange styles boomed. There was one set which
glowed under "black" light, and another in which the pieces were made from
nuts and bolts. It seemed as if everyone was playing, and you could see
games everywhere: on stoops, atop milk crates and in pizzerias. It was
really a grassroots movement.

Spassky resigned the tournament on 9/1/72, and Fischer came home an
American Hero. He wrote books on chess and remained active in the sport for
years, as did his opponent. With time, however, the Erasmus alumnus showed
himself to be even wackier than we had thought.

What Were We So Afraid Of?

Agreed. A decade obsessed with stuff like hair "fresheners" could be described as narcissistic. In 1978 social historian Christopher Lasch wrote about the self-absorption sweeping America in an acclaimed book entitled The Culture of Narcissism: American Life in an Age of Diminished Expectations. It's been reissued, and I highly recommend it.

Lasch went beyond simply complaining about how self-centered we Americans had become. Nor did he chalk it up to mere egotism or selfishness. To him, what was driving all of this obsession with appearances, self-help, and instant gratification was fear. But fear of what? Fear of a nuclear holocaust? We'd been living with that for decades. Fear of each other? You're getting warmer. Crime seemed to be rising despite all the strategies tried to control it; millions fled the cities and racial and class tensions ran deep, although they rarely boiled over into large-scale disturbances. The bitterness was more on an individual and small-group level.

What we feared most, Lasch believed, was not Russia, or China, or the people on the other side of the Expressway. It was a great emptiness within ourselves. And the notion that there is nothing really inside of you (however that may be defined) is so terrifying that it drives you to a preoccupation with the superficial. The old norms had disappeared, but nothing really replaced them. What was there to live or fight for? So, folks turned to what they thought they could control. You can't put an end to war or poverty; people weren't all going to live in harmony. But you could make yourself look fantastic.

A certain fatalism came with this attitude, granted. Hell, you were just "stayin' alive." But I think that some folks rather enjoyed their alienation, since it made an easy excuse not to ask many deep questions or devote themselves to anything besides themselves.

Lasch did not offer any easy answers to the problem of cultural narcissism, which is to his credit. We had enough self-appointed Experts offering quick fixes back then. What he did not seem to count on was how many Americans would seek solutions in a naive, nostalgic attempt to return to our "true" values through the Reagan Revolution.

Psssssst! Try Psssssst on Your Hair

I understand that they started making this stuff again, although I haven't seen it.

Ladies, do you remember Psssssst? It was what you could use to "freshen your hair instantly" during the Seventies. Shampoo and water? Too old fashioned - and time-consuming for the 70s woman on the run. Clairol Psssssst came in an aerosol can, and supposedly it would remove oil and dirt from hair without having to wash it. Just spray it in; brush it out.

In the Summer of 1975 I was working at a sleep-away camp where a lot of the female counselors used Psssssst. I tried the stuff a couple of times on my long, very greasy hair. Psssssst smelled a bit like talcum powder, and did indeed work. But after brushing for what seemed like forever I still couldn't get all the stuff out, and the guys were teasing me for days. They also pointed out that I smelled like a can of foot powder.

Corporate America Tries to Abandon NYC

Well, their spin people will probably try to gloss over it, but during the Seventies a lot of America's biggest corporations were starting to give up on New York and other major cities, especially in the North. The 'burbs and the New South (home of cheaper labor and "business-friendly" politicians were where the future lay for Corporate USA. (This was before "Outsourcing.")

In 1979 I took a course about the future of NYC at a major business school in town (OK, Columbia, but no, I am not an MBA). One of our assigned readings was entitled The Exodus of Corporate Headquarters from New York City, and I don't think I need to say much about the content. We all could see what was happening. Every morning while walking my dog I would see a van pick up an assortment of young executives and head towards New Jersey. Why were they leaving? The usual answers were given: crime (although how many people got mugged in the Central Business District?), high taxes, a crumbling infrastructure and a poorly-prepared workforce. But I suspect after a few big companies started leaving the cities, others just blindly followed, the way they have done with every other great corporate fad (Who remembers Management by Objectives?) One thing I did learn taking a few courses in an "Ivy League" business school was that corporate types are no more rational and objective than the rest of us. Perhaps we like to think they are, the same way we like to think that way about military leaders.

Now, did any of those multi-million dollar companies feel any responsibilities towards cities like NYC, where they got their starts, sold much of their products and conducted most of their negotiations? Not according to another book I read, The Limits of Corporate Social Responsibility. Aside from small, largely token efforts, this book held, there was little that big corporations could, or should, do for the big cities, which were destined to become crumbling slums connected by "sanitized corridors" to the suburbs. Yes, some companies did invest in our town, mostly those like Brooklyn Union Gas who were physically tied to this location by their infrastructure.

Fortunately, our professors did not think so bleakly as the text authors. They realized what individuals all over the city had known for years, that the city was on the upswing.