What it was like Growing Up in 1960’s and 1970’s America

Here, I would like to relate a little about what it was like growing up as a boy in Pennsylvania. For, I am a native born American who lived through the 1960’s and through the 1970’s. I am pretty typical for my generation. The 1970’s was the decade of Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford. It ended on a whimper with Jimmy Carter at the helm. Here we talk about the 1960’s and 1970’s and what it was like growing up at that time.

School

I attended elementary school. First I attended a private Catholic school in Connecticut, and then when my father was promoted we moved and I attended a public school in Western Pennsylvania.

Allowance

Before I started work, I was permitted an allowance. My sisters both received an allowance with no strings attached. Mine was contingent upon my successful completion of my chores, and usually meant that I would get “paid” after I mowed the grass on Saturday (shoveled the drive in the Winter).

As a kid, my allowance of $1.00 per week was given to me every Saturday afternoon after the grass was successfully mowed. The hardest part was deciding how to spend it and get the very most out of every penny. Of course, a trip to the corner store for candy always figured into the picture!

One of my favorite treats was Dubble Bubble – a hard piece of pink bubble gum that included a tiny printed comic tucked between the gum and the outer wrapper, all for just a penny. I remember my first experience with inflation – the day when the cost of a piece of my beloved gum increased to 2¢.

Oh, the tragedy!

Another treat was Dixie Cups. These were little plastic containers of vanilla ice cream accompanied by a small, flat, wooden spoon. They had a flat circular cardboard lid that I would pull off and lick the inside top off. They were available at the local candy store (an old soda fountain that was re-purposed as a kind of local Quickie-mart) called Swede’s.  They were tiny – not more than a few bites, really – but we loved them.

The store was small. It had two counters. One, the main counter was were the 1950’s soda fountain was. It was all covered in canvas and unused. At least for maybe ten years. There was an old manual cash register there, and he sold cigarettes, and sundries there at the glass-topped counter.

On the other side was a long counter that resembled the kind of glass counters that you see today at butcher shops. There were shelves and shelves of candy there. We would go and point out this candy, and that candy. He would dutifully get then item, and put it in a small brown paper bag. Then he would carry it to the other counter and ring it up for us.

I will admit that the first thing that we did when we walked out the door was open up that little bag and start eating the candy inside. Heck, by the time we managed the walk home (from the store) most of the candy would be gone. Ha!

Toys & Sports

In the summer we would play softball on the side street (the traffic was really sparse in our town), and tackle football in any one of our many back yards. Basketball was also pretty popular, though I couldn’t dribble for the life of me. Sigh! We had a few class mates that had a hoop in their driveway. We would go there and play.

When I wasn’t playing sports, or “goofing off”, I liked to play “Spaceman” or “Army” with my other friends. I had a plastic “tommygun” that I would “shoot” the other kids with. We also had numerous toys that we would play with. Does anyone remember  Spirograph, Silly Putty, Etch-A-Sketch, Doodle Art, Lite-Brite, Tinkertoys, or Magic Slate? How about Sorry!, Battleship, Clue, or Payday?

I used to play with Clackers (Klackers), but they were banned because they broke your wrist. I also used to play with Jarts, but they were banned because some kids got hurt with them. I used to play with Slinky, but they never lasted more than a few days as we would eventually twist and turn them into unusable junk.

Klackers came on the market in the late 60s and lasted into the early 70s.

They were constructed of two acrylic balls on a string with a ring or small handle in the middle.

The point was to get the two balls clicking against each other. If you got really good you could do fancy tricks with them, like build up momentum until they were hitting on the top and bottom in an arc . . . and make a hugely annoying racket.

Kids loved them and they became THE craze of the summer of 1971. But doctors and teachers weren’t so impressed after a frightening succession of serious Klacker accidents.

Unfortunately they allegedly had a nasty habit of shattering or exploding in a shrapnel-like shower and were promptly banned from every school in the western world – but kids all knew it was really a conspiracy from grown-ups because they hated the sound they made!

The similarity between this supremely popular toy and a South American hunting weapon called a bolo did not escape most teenage boys. In this capacity they proved extremely effective. After a nation outbreak of badly bruised arms and black eyes they were pretty much withdrawn from sale. – Nostalgia Central

Hair Styles

My mother sported large “bee hive” style hair, as did just about every mother. I was always trying to wear my hair long. You know, “Beatles” style. But, my father would have none of that.  As a result my middle school popularity had it’s highs and lows determined by whenever my father hauled me off to get a haircut. When my hair was long, and thus fashionable, I was popular. When my hair was short, and thus unfashionable, I was ignored.

I once mentioned this to my uncle who made fun of me and my cousins. Saying that we (snort!) would only care if the girls thought we were cute or not. Well, at our age, it really was important.

In Pittsburgh, where there was a population of negro folk, the hair was in various types of “Afros”. These tended to look like huge balls. Some were quite enormous. I always thought that it was pretty cool to have. They liked to drive these HUGE cars, Lincolns or other high-end vehicles, and would take extra care not to mess up their hair as they went inside the car. LOL.

Bottle Collecting

My favorite thing to do when I was around eight or nine would be to go “bottle collecting”. Here I would go into the local “woods” to dig for “old bottles” (in long disused trash dumps, often 100 years old) that I would then clean and collect.

We had a couple of “dumps” that we frequented. One of the best, with the most impressive bottles, was near the river next to an old railroad spur. It was the home of many a “whittle marked” bottle, old time bitters, and about a hundred thousand Lydia Pinkham bottles. (I guess that the local woman folk must have had a lot of “womanly” problems.)

Our parents let us kids go out and play.

“I used to puzzle over a particular statistic that routinely comes up in articles about time use: even though women work vastly more hours now than they did in the 1970s, mothers—and fathers—of all income levels spend much more time with their children than they used to. 

This seemed impossible to me until recently, when I began to think about my own life. 

My mother didn’t work all that much when I was younger, but she didn’t spend vast amounts of time with me, either. She didn’t arrange my playdates or drive me to swimming lessons or introduce me to cool music she liked. On weekdays after school she just expected me to show up for dinner; on weekends I barely saw her at all. 

I, on the other hand, might easily spend every waking Saturday hour with one if not all three of my children, taking one to a soccer game, the second to a theater program, the third to a friend’s house, or just hanging out with them at home. 

When my daughter was about 10, my husband suddenly realized that in her whole life, she had probably not spent more than 10 minutes unsupervised by an adult. Not 10 minutes in 10 years.”-The Overprotected Kid

As a kid, I would collect all kinds of junk. Not just bottles but all sorts of things.

Ah. My bedroom was a collection of old colorful bottles, scale models of tanks on shelves (and planes hanging from strings from the ceiling), as well as a quite a large collection of paperback books and comics. I had stacks and stacks of magazines. Magazines included “Lost Treasure magazine”, “Men’s Adventure”, “The Good Old Days”, “Mechanics Illustrated”,  “Popular Science”, “Popular Mechanics”, “Mad Magazine” and “Analog”. In fact, the upstairs bathroom had a closet, and the bottom two shelves were devoted to all sorts of magazines and comic books.

Money and Costs

Things were cheaper then.

In fact, most things could be paid for using coins.  If you ate at a restaurant, you would rarely need to use any bills.  Just a handful of coins (from a coin purse) was all you would need. Indeed, my father carried a coin purse and a money clip.  Wallets didn’t really become popular until the 1970’s. (When inflation had jacked up food prices to obscene levels.)

Clothing

I wore bell-bottom slacks and (butterfly collar) polyester shirts in very 1970’s colors. I also had a couple of striped v-neck velour shirts. Every September, at the start of the new school year, my folks would troop us kids into the car and we would get new clothes for school. My mother wanted us to have the most fashionable clothes. My father, being very conservative, wanted traditional and practical clothing.

My sister wore “Gypsy” skirts (brown cheesecloth with crocheted lace at the bottom), Maxi skirts, those jeans with two front zippers, elephant bells, and had both hats and purses made out of recycled jeans. She was a big fan of Donny Osmond as well as David Cassidy and the Partridge family.

Polyester was the material of choice and bright colors were everywhere. Everyone in my class were wearing very tight fitting pants and platform shoes. By the time my senior year in High School rolled around in 1977, I was walking around I in a pair of rock-star high-heeled (side zip-up) stage boots.

Meanwhile, most of the girls wore these white high cut boots and low cut (hip hugger) pants. I did absolutely love the hip hugger jeans and the tight, tight, tight fit. This was, of course before the invention (or better yet) popularity of spandex.

By the time I graduated, in 1977, most of my teachers were sporting leisure suit and track suit attire. In pale greens, oranges and yellow flavors, of course. This fashion continued while I continued attending university.

I had a professor of the course “Man and the Natural Environment” who always wore the same light lime green leisure suit, day after day. It was a great class. We discussed how man is using up all the resources this planet has, and that unless we get control of our actions, a world-wide global cooling would result. Yikes! I, for one, did not want to spend my future life in the middle 1980’s inside a giant snow-cone. Burrrrr!

While the more “fashionable” and liberal professors were sporting trendy clothes, my Engineering Professors sported more traditional attire, with wide striped ties and polyester slacks.

Sandals were starting to be popular. Though my father refused to allow us to wear them unless we wore them with socks. I was constantly belittled for this. As all of my socks were white. So at the first opportunity, I got my self a pair of “earth shoes” and didn’t look back.

A lot of men were sporting large sideburns. I tried to grow some, but it looked terrible on my 15 year old face.

Mad Magazine

Perhaps one of the most notable aspects of my childhood was the Mad Magazines that I would collect. This was a satire magazine that I would absorb. It was filled with all kinds of articles, comics and things that would interest me (as a kid in the 1970’s). It contained things such as lick and glue stickers. 

Who can forget the “Spy vs. Spy”, and the gap-toothed idiot mascot Alfred E. Neuman, who famously shrugs and asks “What—me worry?”

I was of the generation of pimply atomic-age readers, and yes they were almost all boys, as I recall, and we absolutely loved this magazine. We ate up everything this magazine put out. We lapped up the “Spicy Abridged Book Club,” with its highlighted editions of God’s Little Acre and Heidi alike.

We roared upon learning that Beetle Bailey wore his Ridgeway cap over his eyes to conceal GET OUT OF VIET NAM! scrawled on his forehead. And, being from Western Pennsylvania, we completely howled with laughter over “Some Really Dangerous Jobs for George Plimpton,” e.g., swimming Lake Erie, his body smothered not with grease but penicillin.  

Other Reads…

Depending on my age, I read voraciously. I would read everything from comic books to paperbacks, to magazines. My uncle gave me a huge stack of “Treasure Magazine” and his related collections of Argosy, True West, and Men’s Adventure.

I would sit there and read (for hours) about the discovery of buried treasures, found discoveries, and the history behind the lost treasures. Some stories concerned stagecoach robberies, other stories told about how Southern families would bury their family wealth to hide it from the Union troops during the Civil War. Yet, other stories would be concerned about how bankers would stealthfully steal gold from the locked vaults in their charge. Yet, not everything was about money.

Other stories concerned the discovery of guns and firearms found under a sagebrush, or the long discarded chest found in an attic or garage. My favorite stories were about the finds that a young kid such as myself would discover in a garage sale or antique store. This might vary from a lost ruby ring to a rare automobile worth millions.

Hiking in the Woods & Bikes

At that time in my life I spent a lot of time hiking in the woods. I would often ride my bike all over town and up and down the back roads and railroad spur lines. In the Spring the air would be fresh with the smells of lush forest canopy. In the Fall, it would be a time of warm “Indian Summers” with red and yellow leaves that would blow in the light breezes.

We rode day and night. And, no, we did not wear head-gear, arm pads, knee pads or sunscreen. We were wild and free. If there was a loose board, we would prop it it up and race on the board so that we and our bikes would fly off into the sky. If there were any parents or adults nearby they would stand there and nod approvingly.

That’s how we were. 

I rode a gold Schwinn “banana seat” bike with “high bars” and a “drag strip” (non-tread) rear tire. Every one of my friends owned a bicycle. My sister had one with a white plastic basket in the front. My bike had these long streamers of plastic that plugged into the handles. I eventually tore those things off. But I would put a card (from a deck of cards) and attach it to the bicycle with a wooden clothes pin. That way my bicycle would make some “cool” sounds when I rode fast. It had a huge red circular red reflector on the back, right under the white “banana seat”. Like the GTO I would later drive when I was in High School, the bicycle was an orange color.

My bike was a personal selection. When my father took me to a store to pick it out, I chose a really simple and rugged model. There were no front or rear brakes on the handlebars. To brake, you would just use the pedals. There also weren’t any gears. There was one gear only. It came with a rear view mirror, that soon broke off, and that was about it. My friends all had more complicated bicycles, and over the years, they were perpetually repairing their bikes and trying to fix them. For me, I never had that problem.

We would ride these bikes. Ride and ride them all day. If, in the event we did not have a canteen with us, we would stop and get a drink out of a nearby well or lawn hose.

It’s true, I often drank from a lawn hose in the summer when I was thirsty. It tasted like warm plastic.

If I was off away on a farm, or near a dirt road we would stop at a well and get a drink of spring water. At sometime in the 1960s all wells in Pennsylvania had to be covered up (so that no one would fall into them). Instead the placed these large iron hand-pumps (often painted red of green) that you could pump the water up and drink. The water was free to whomever needed it. Which is so unlike today where even common tap water is bottled by Walmart for a profit.

I was typical, and not a “bad boy” at all. When my friends started to smoke cigarettes, I refused. When I started to work, and was offered beer by the older boys, I drank and soon discovered that I was a “light weight” and numerous embarrassing events ensued. My friends chewed tobacco and often had a can of “chew” in the back pocket of their jeans (often creating a round circle of wear). I didn’t do this. 

Cub Scouts

I was a cub scout up until I entered my teenage years.  Every week we would attend meetings in the homes of one of the scout mothers (called “Den Mothers”), and they would help us work on our “badges”, and get ready for the various events.  These events included picnics, hikes, plays and social get togethers. 

We would proudly wear our uniform during parades, or on holidays like the Fourth of July, Memorial Day, or Labor Day.  We would salute the flag in school and lead the Pledge of Allegiance at school in the mornings. (Big change from today, when you have multi-millionaire NFL stars refusing to stand for the US Flag. I find it completely reprehensible and disgusting. But, then I am from the “old school”.)

One of the first things that I got when I joined the Cub Scouts was a blue uniform.  I well remember my mother teaching me how to put on my yellow scarf.  In addition, I got to have my very own hand axe.  It was a Rite of Passage for me.  Here at seven years old, I could carry a hand axe.  I was taught how to use it to cut trees, and how to throw it (just in case I might come across some desperate Indians…).

While I went to elementary school in the 1960’s, it was my experiences during the 1970’s, which influenced my personality. Indeed, it is my feelings and experiences that reflect that period in time.

My Sister would Skip Rope

While I was doing all this, my sister would spend hours… and I do mean HOURS. Yes, hours, upon hours, upon HOURS were spent playing what Wikipedia calls Chinese jump rope but which my cohorts and I knew as Chinese skipping.

This was a game played mostly by girls – each of whom had their own set of elastics – though I do remember that every now and then some neighborhood boys might joining in on occasion.

Chinese skipping involved an elaborate set of routines and rules, some of which were made up as they went along (“tag, tag, no erasies!”). I could never figure out all the rules. Also, apparently the presence of “good elastics” (not too thick, not too thin, and just the right amount of tension) were highly coveted treasures.

Walking the Train Tracks

One of the big hobbies at that time was to follow the various spur-lines that snaked in and out of the hills. I grew up in the hills of Western Pennsylvania and there were rail lines all over the area to support the transport of iron, coal, and iron ore. Along each road was typically an access road.

The lines would typically follow the valleys and rivers of Western Pennsylvania. They would snake along the curves of the hills and dash in and out of tunnels that were cut in the many hillsides.

We would often place coins on the tracks and let the trains flatten them into a long oval.

Typically, we would hike with a branch that we had chopped using our trusty cub scout hatchet, or cut clean using our blue cub-scout knives. We would walk on the top of the rails and sometimes use the walking stick to support us. We’d kind of get attached to that hiking stick and bring it home with us. However, it was soon discarded and rarely used again.

My one friend Dino always carried a boy scout canteen. It was a circular affair. It looked like two pie tins welded shut, with a black plastic cat at the top. It was typically draped over his shoulder and hung off his back. I, on the other hand, had a surplus World War II canteen. I got it at the local Army and Navy store. It was an aluminum canteen and it did leak. But it held a lot of water, and I certainly needed it. Drinking from the acid-laden streams wasn’t really an option.

Scale Models

One of my favorite hobbies was the building of plastic models. These were often of ships, airplanes and military hardware. I made a few models of cars, but my favorites were of military tanks and figurines.

I had a desk in my bedroom. It was an old desk inherited from my father with four drawers. I used a fold-up “card table” chair to sit at it with. On it was a 1940’s style desk lamp that my parents must have pulled out of the garbage at some time. I had books on the desk, a “multiband” radio where I could listen to FM radio, and a pencil holder made out of a decorated metal coffee cup tin.

At that desk, I would assemble, build and paint my models. It was an enjoyable pursuit. The desk faced the window in the bedroom, and I would often have the windows open, but the shade drawn down about half way. The shades were in the old 1960’s style and were meant to last. They had this kind of “life preserver” style ring hanging on a string that you could pull down to raise or lower the shade.

I needed the fresh air, as the odor from the glue was toxic and would tend to get me all flustered when I used it. I remember once, that my sister was watching her television show and they were really pushing the Rigley Chewing Gum-gum-gum… Rigley chewing gum-gum-gum commercial. It must have been running every ten minutes. I was about going out of my mind with the combination of the toxic glue odor and the subliminal programming of the chewing gum. Ugh!

The airplanes I would hang from the ceiling with string. I would display my collection of tanks and military equipment on shelves alongside my collection of centuries-old bottles. (I was an avoid junk collector and was always on the lookout for discarded bottles that I would collect from ancient trash dumps in the nearby forests.)

I collected Tamiya 1/35 scale military hardware models. I had quite a collection of German vehicles and tanks. At that time, the Japanese model maker Tamiya made the best quality models. They had an innovative introduction process that added new model to the collection every few months.

Alas, when I graduated from university I discovered that my mother had thrown away all of my models. She didn’t want all the clutter in the house. I guess one person’s treasure is another person’s trash.

Slang

We used a lot of slang that has since become obsolete. The terms “groovy” was mostly used by kids only a few years older than us. As it was being phased out by the time I started to attend High School.

However, “Sock it to me”, and “You bet your sweet bippy! “, “
Verrry eenteresting… ” (both taken from the “Laugh-In” television show) and “My ding-a-ling” were all still pretty popular.

There was a tendency to say “you know” at the end of every sentence, and that just about drove my father off the wall.

Some examples are below…

• Dig it – Means you really liked it. It was super groovy.
• Groovy – Means very cool.
• Cool – Means very nice.
• Nice -Means very good.
• Good – means “meh”.
• Far Out – Means that you dig it and then some.
• Outta Sight – Means that it was so far out that you couldn’t see it any more.
• Zonked – Means that you are very tired.
• Munchies – Means that you are very hungry.
• Sock it to me! – Means give me some more.
• Catch you on the flip side. – Means I will see you when I get back.
• Bogart.‘Bogart’ meant to hold on to a joint too long without passing it– the origin comes from the actor, Humphrey Bogart, who had an iconic style of performing an entire scene with a cigarette dangling from his lower lip for an extraordinarily long time with ‘cool’ effect.

• Bummer. – Something that is pretty bad.

There are loads of coolhttp://www.inthe70s.com/generated/terms.shtml slang from the 1970’s at THIS website. If you want to check them all out, please enjoy.

Goofing Around

It was a much simpler time. We were all permitted to spend time out of the house. In fact, it was expected. It was a rare person indeed that spent a lot of time at home with their parents. They not only encouraged us to “go out”, but expected it.

So, as a result, we ran a little loose and crazy. We did things that would give parents today heart-attacks, and would probably get people arrested. Those goofs in the movie “Dazed and Confused”, breaking mail boxes, or throwing bowling balls were all part and parcel of growing up. That’s how we rolled.

I’d guess that it was pretty non-politically correct. However, we were just kids. We got into all sorts of trouble. Yet, it was just harmless fun. Today, things have ratcheted up to such a level that just being a white male can get you thrown in jail. Legions of BLM and SJW’s patrol the social media, and people are afraid to be themselves. I guess that is a progressive “paradise” for you.

Me, however, I just want to be left alone with my family. I want my cat on my lap and my dog by my side. I just want to eat my burger and drink my beer in peace.

Anyways… I am the direct result of my childhood. If you don’t like it, you can write a protest blog entry and post it up on Facebook so you and your metro-sexual friends can commiserate together.

Our Idols

When I was younger, I followed the adventures of Man from Uncle, and watched Gilligan’s Island. As I got older, I started to find new interests in such role models as John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson. (Arnold Schwarzenegger did not become a movie personality until the 1980’s.)

Eventually, I started to get really interested in girls.

My bedroom was decorated as any boy of my my age would have. It was festooned with models and collections of brick-a-bract and posters on the wall.

I had a poster of Farah Faucett on my wall. She was smiling with this amazing smile, and her huge hair. We all had a crush on her. That as well as Loni Anderson and Rachael Welch . Look at her!

How can you not smile?

I had numerous posters on my wall. One was the mandatory “black light” poster on velvet. (It glowed under UV light.)

One was a picture of Richie Blackmore (Deep Purple) performing a guitar solo. (I had super imposed a F-14 on it for combined imagery. After all, space and high-performance aircraft and rock n’ roll was my dream.) I, at that time, was a big Robin Trower fan. I liked Traffic, Uriah Heep (come on! Someone must remember them) and Three-dog Night. Of course, Alice Cooper was the top star of my generation. The songs “18” and “School’s Out” ring a bell?

One was a Roger Dean poster (anyone remember the group “Yes”?).

Let’s not forget other television personalities. I had a real liking for Loni Anderson. She was the blonde haired secretary at the radio station WKRP in Cincinnati.

I became a fan of Loni Anderson in her role in the television sitcom “WKRP in Cincinnati”. I think many of my friends did as well. We loved her and watching her on the show was always a highlight. That and the clueless manager who ran the office.

The Cars

Eventually, I was able to drive. Oh baby, that was a turning point in my life, I’ll tell you what.

This was at the age of 16. As such, I like many of my friends, would get a job. With a job came responsibilities and privileges. For instance, while the law said that I was too young to drink, my parents permitted me to do so. Because, once I obtained a job, I was a man.

Along with that benefit, I now obtained a paycheck. For me, along with many of my friends, took the paycheck and spent it on our car(s). (As well as a portion towards college, beer, and social-herbs…heh heh.) Ah, not to forget the gasoline for the car.

Gasoline prices were raising. It was so frustrating. While we were used to 25 cents for a gallon of gas, it soon climbed up to 30 cents, and then keep on raising. We were very upset about that. I well remember my father writing a letter to our Congressman to “do something” about it. (As if it would have made a difference.)

Conclusion

This was just some stories about my life growing up. Unfortunately there are very few related stories on the internet. In contrast we can find all sorts of stories about the “hardships” of growing up in the 1960’s. We can read about the injustices against minorities, and about how the nation was broken and needed to move “left” to straighten it out.

It’s a comfortable narrative for the uneducated. However, it isn’t even remotely true. The true realty is something completely different. This is my story. Like it, or hate it. This is the way it was.

No, we didn’t wear helmets, and arm pads when we rode our bikes. yes, there were bruises and an occasional broken arm. Yes smoking was against the law if you were under 14 years old, but we did it anyways. We didn’t die from it, though many had to either quit or seek medical attention. It was our choice. We defined our life.

We defined our life. We did so on our terms. It was our bodies and our lives. We did not need someone to tell us how to behave or act. Though there were hawk nosed busybodies that tried. We made the decisions on our own lives. Not some elected overseer who told us what we could or could not do. And that, boys and girls , is the true lesson of this narrative.

Americans used to be free. It is in our nature. We deserve liberty and freedom. We are the generation that knows what freedom meant. Maybe, judging from the current state of affairs, the LAST generation that experienced it. And, this was our story.

Thank you.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

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