Author: smart1967

Announcing the passing of a great American pastime – the touring of new model homes…

Does anyone do this anymore?

Walking through model homes was on a par with going to an amusement park or a drive to the beach. It was just something we did on the weekends as a family. It allowed us to dream. It was euphoric.

We wondered…what would it be like to live in a new home?

New homes yielded the aroma of oil-based paints along with the gassing off of plastics and new carpet. We didn’t understand then the hazards of what we were breathing in – including asbestos.

Model homes, of course, were never realistic for most of us. They had mid-century modern display furniture and were homes fitted with all of the desirable options people wanted like the best kitchen cabinets and appliances, upscale bathroom counters and ceramic tile, carpeting, high-end light fixtures, and finished basements. These were all elements dreams were made of.

Because developers didn’t want you defecating in their potties, there was plywood installed between the toilet seat and bowl to keep people honest. Developer Levitt & Sons, as one example, placed a rope across the doorways to keep people out of the bedrooms. Levitt also placed a large chunk of Plaster of Paris in the toilets to prevent people from doing the naughty in its bowls.

When I was a kid, touring model homes was the only thing my family ever did together. We never went to the beach or down to D.C. to tour the Smithsonian. We drove to Arlington to see my grandparents or “up home” to Greenwich, Virginia to see the relatives on my mother’s side. That left touring model homes as a nice place to dream and pretend with. It gave us hope.

Today, young people are so wrapped up in electronics to where virtual reality seems to be better than the reality of walking through new homes. What I loved most about new homes in the 1960s was walking through homes under construction to see how houses were constructed. It became a passion for me. I wanted to be an architect. When I discovered I was really bad at math, I had to choose another occupation entirely.

I loved the bones of a house under construction – where the plumbing and electrical went, heating and air conditioning, and guessing at where everything would ultimately go. I grew up in the Belair At Bowie, Maryland community just outside of Washington, D.C. which was Levitt’s first community outside of the Northeast. It was also Maryland’s first Levitt community. It was an amazing place to watch grow out of the rural Maryland soil. And, for nine years, Levitt & Sons built more than 9,000 homes some 26 miles outside of Washington.

When we moved to Belair from Laurel, Maryland in 1965, it was an opportunity to wander the homes under construction. Levitt continued building across the Maryland countryside until it ran out of land. For a kid like me, it was pay dirt because I wanted to know all about home and building construction. Levitt & Sons provided the education.

Aggressive housing construction continued well into the 1970s with baby boomers and Gen Xers coming of age. It was a target rich environment for developers and growing families alike. It was also very competitive. Not all developers would survive, including Levitt & Sons, which was the one to beat in the post-war years. When Bill Levitt sold out to ITT in 1967, this created a downward spiral for the Levitt name and Mr. Levitt himself. Because Levitt took the ITT deal mostly in stock options, he lost his wealth to declining ITT stock.

Levitt was never able to regain traction as a home builder. He died broke in 1994 at age 86. A good many home builders from the mid-20th century did not survive in the decades to follow. Savvy developers found the means and resources to keep going – many of which are still with us today.

I awakened this morning believing baby boomers are quite literally the last generation that has lived America’s exciting post-war car culture. Today’s car culture isn’t like ours was in the mid-20th century. We loved automobiles for their styling and power because they had a lot of both. We revved our engines and postured proudly for all our friends.

We opened hoods and compared engines. We cruised downtown streets and watched ourselves go by in store windows – which was called “profiling” for a good look at ourselves in those days. We would wrap up our profiling – pulling into local cruising spots, revving the engine and shutting it down in a blast of underburned hydrocarbons.

If you drove a “hand-me-down” clunker, you just didn’t profile. It was bad for image. You didn’t want to be seen in the worn out family sedan or station wagon your parents loaned to you to drive. For some – non car people – it didn’t matter. They drove what we called “hackers” which were old beat-up vehicles no one wanted to be seen in and we didn’t care who sat on the hood.

A buddy of mine – Jim Shanley – brought his father’s ’69 Plymouth Fury III to Hilltop Plaza where we hung out on Friday and Saturday nights to put on a show for all of us. He did donuts all over the parking lot with this huge sedan. How Shanley never struck a light pole is beyond me. And how on earth did he dodge the police?

Today’s young bucks call it “drifting…”

I call it stupid despite being a national pastime.

I imagine Jim’s father wondered why his bias-ply rear tires were always bald. Today, a set of high-end performance tires run at least $1,000-$1,500 a pair. I see this reckless nonsense and I don’t get it. We liked fast cars in our youth, but most of us understood how expensive it was to lay down rubber. The foolishness out there today gets a lot more expensive.

When I watch how young people drive today, I have to wonder – were we this bad?

Oh sure, street racing and exhibitions of speed are nothing new. We would stage street races out on Maryland’s Route 3 or Central Avenue just south of my hometown and hope we didn’t get caught. There were certainly the fatalities and seriously injured like you see across the country today.

Not everyone survived.

In those days, we had drag strips around the area before real estate became too valuable to ignore. Many of our favorite racing haunts are gone today. Enthusiasts in New Jersey grieve the loss of Englishtown and Atco – two legendary tracks that had been around for generations. Local residents complained about the noise and politicians answered the call.

Another point is the value of real estate. As a result, we have an even larger problem problem – epidemic street racing casualties – and the masses concerned about what to do about it. Atco, as well as others in the Mid-Atlantic, had been open for more than a half-century, with most opening right after World War II. These days, enthusiasts have nowhere to race.

Drag racers between Washington, D.C. and Baltimore wonder of the fate of Capitol Drag Raceway, which opened in the early 1950s when it was way out in the middle of nowhere. Today, civilization has come to Capitol and it’s only a matter of time before it will be gone. The same can be said for other extinct drag strips around Washington, Baltimore, and Annapolis.

As boomers and as car enthusiasts, we’ve enjoyed the good fortune of the post-war years, exciting and fast automobiles, and an era long to be remembered for generations to come. It leaves one wondering what the car enthusiasts following us will do when there’s nowhere to race.

Do you remember canvassing TV Guide searching for something to watch and selection was simple? You had the three television networks and their affiliates along with local Metromedia (FOX) stations and Public Broadcasting? There was also what we called “Channel U” (UHF) with a very limited number of regional stations.

I remember arriving at my permanent USAF duty station in a very rural part of Oklahoma in 1977 to discover Cable TV. We were too far away from any metropolitan area to depend on rabbit ears or a rooftop antenna. We were billed $7 every other month and thought it absurd we had to PAY for television.

We didn’t quite understand Cable TV was the wave of the future – and it would cost a whole lot more. Worse yet, the networks would take advantage of a paying captive audience and load up the programming schedule with more and more commercial airtime. There is no sense of fair play in anything anymore. Wall Street and Madison Avenue have us by the short hairs.

It is appalling just how bad it has become.

The good news is the cable networks’ attention to baby boomers and the classic sitcoms we grew up with. METV, FETV, Antenna TV, and TVLand have all stepped up with popular sitcoms – both classic and present day. Personal favorites are “Mike & Molly”, “Roseanne”, “Mad About You” and a host of others from recent times. Dusty old sitcoms from the mid-20th century are too numerous to name – “I Love Lucy”, “I Dream of Jeannie”, “My Favorite Martian”, “Dick Van Dyke”, and “Andy Griffith” to name five. I can sit there for hours watch these favorites from back-to-back.

When we were growing up, it was common to have 60-second adventising spots at the top of the hour, at the 15-minute point, and at the bottom of the hour. Today, there can be as many as 20 commercials at the 10-minute mark followed by five minutes of program time followed by another 10-20 commercials – most of them pharmaceutical in nature to convince the viewing public they have some sort of ailment they don’t have – “See your doctor…”

The news networks like MSNBC, CNN, FOX and the rest are big on stringing you along with teasers until the last 15 minutes of programming – then, one story and “after the break…” or “after a short break…” which is a bold-faced lie. Also – the ever popular…”stay with us…” and “be right back…” I wear my remote out surfing because I refuse to sit through five minutes of lifestyle drug company commercials. You know, two women playing bad mitten trying to look like they actually know how to play or some aging baby boomer fishing with the grandkids.

Human Beings have always had a tough time getting along. When you examine recorded history, mankind has been battling for thousands of years over a wide variety of subjects – land, politics, religion, you name it. We are not as barbaric as we used to be – at least not in the modern “civilized” world. We’ve become more sophisticated at how we attack one another.

Beheadings are not as common these days nor is burning people at the stake. However, we are pretty good at bombing each other and typically from a safe distance with drones, cruise missiles, and high-altitude aircraft. Bombing the enemy from a safe distance means we don’t have to look at the carnage we’ve delivered to others. We’re more isolated from the enemy.

We’ve also become pretty predictable with mass shootings and using firearms instead of our minds to settle disagreements. There are the mass shooting deniers – those who write killing the innocents off as “the cost of doing business…” Collateral damage…right Washington?

We also remain a nation where politicians beyond draft age still send young people off to war.

We’re darned good at that.

What I am saying here is nothing new. This is only the latest version of what society has been doing for centuries. Seems we can justify anything because it is what we want at the time. We may later regret what we’ve done – maybe…

It is also true we have a lot to answer for today in how we treat one another both in person and in social media. Social Media has created a crop of seasoned keyboard warriors. We level one another with words – the hateful things we’d never say to a person’s face. Human beings possess a lot of courage while sitting at a PC or staring at a cell phone from a safe distance. We fall all over ourselves when the person we’ve attacked online shows up at the front door.

“Awe Phil…I was only kidding…”

Used to be we respected one another’s opinion whether we agreed or not. Politics was normally never discussed out of mutual respect and the valuing our relationships. Our friendships were more important than a difference of opinion. We agreed to disagree and it was okay. These days, it can get quite ugly where friendships that have endured for decades suddenly end in a fiery crash without any forethought to how short life really is.

Friendships end over a difference of opinion because we’re not mature enough to handle a differing point of view. “It is my way or the highway” – and so it goes. We’ve become unable to settle our differences without conflict. This is what the dumbing down of society and pitting us against one another has done to relationships. We’ve lowered the benchmark in order to feel better about ourselves.

It isn’t working. Low self-esteem inspires people to behave badly.

I am a centrist – liberal about some things and conservative about others. I believe in helping those who genuinely need help. That’s what responsible government and people with heart do. Otherwise, we should be responsible for our own lives and make our own way. We live in day and age where it is fashionable to kick someone when they are down instead of reaching out and lending a hand.

Well, what about that?

What has become of society that we’ve set the benchmark for common decency so low? We’ve become a mean-spirited society fueled by the disgusting demeanor of bad politicians and public figures with foul mouths. What does it say about us when the United States Senate is considering lowering the dress code – which has already happened in the House of Representatives?

It speaks volumes.

It says everything about what we’ve become.

This trend began more than a half century ago when people started boarding aircraft in tie-dyed tee shirts and holes in their jeans. It became fashionable to go casual – everywhere. Government offices and the private sector had formal dress codes that needed to be adhered to or you were asked to go home and change.

With all this chatter about our personal rights and space, we’ve lowered the benchmark for common decency even further. When I attend school functions at our son’s high school, I am appalled at how alarming personal appearance has become. We’ve become a nation of “dressed down” slobs. Oh sure, I sound like our parents long ago when it was “long hair has got to go!” However, let’s talk about minimums. There are no minimums because we’re still endeavoring to reach rock bottom. Like it or don’t, baby boomers started these trends, which have only become worse over time.

That, friends, is on us.

We are in need of a social overhaul – the reconstruction of how we think, appear, and treat one another. This comes from the proper breeding and rearing of our kids and grandkids. Setting the proper example for them to pass along to their offspring.

On a larger scale, government…the politicians we elect…must set a proper example in the form of leadership and common decency. The chatter I am hearing out of the House of Representatives is stunning. It radiates across the rooftops and plummets into our communities.

We have lost our way…

The best place to begin is in our own homes. What example are we setting for our kids, grandkids, and neighbors? I have to examine my own demeanor at home – my language, temper, and how I speak to my family – especially when things become frustrating.

Do I remember to count to ten?

And do I ever stop to consider how damaging words can be though they don’t spill blood? Words do more damage than physical harm ever could. This is something to remember whenever we go onto social media and have a strong opinion about an issue.

Think about it…

Our sense of smell is the greatest memory trigger we have by design. When I was a child growing up in Maryland, that first hint of the holiday season lay in the sweet, wonderful aroma of woodsmoke in the air along with those first chilly evenings in autumn.

Seems the smell of woodsmoke from burning fireplaces and autumn leaves always occurred around Halloween. We would be walking suburban Washington streets with our trick or treat bags and the aroma of woodsmoke would tickle the olfactory nerves – which set a succession of reactions in my brain signaling the approach of the holidays. Granted, the holidays were a couple of months away, but the SEARS Wish Book always managed to show up in October.

Memory really is the darnedest thing. In my late sixties, woodsmoke still triggers a euphoria unmatched. Where I live in California is no match for Maryland autumn woodsmoke. I suppose they grow different trees in Maryland than they do in California. It just isn’t the same for this East Coast born and bred soul lost in a place called Los Angeles. It just isn’t the same.

When I was in Maryland earlier this year when it was still cold, woodsmoke was thick in the air and it was better than any form of alcohol or recreational weed could offer. I took on huge lungfuls of oxygen and other gasses and held them in my lungs. It was incredible. I longed for my Maryland roots and the sweet smell of autumn.

There’s a reason why we romanticize our childhoods and have a strong yearning for the past. We love “The Waltons,” “Leave It To Beaver,” and “The Andy Griffith Show” for the feel-good messages they share and the lessons they still teach today. Baby Boomers have found over a lifetime there are no free lunches. Our actions yield both benefits and consequences.

If you were raised in a household with responsible parents and grandparents who mentored and taught you the right values, you have a clear understanding of right and wrong. We have “The Greatest Generation” to thank for what they’ve taught us and left to us. They understood commitment and duty. They learned early on to step up, stand strong, and keep liberty shining.

That’s what they did.

We can say they never complained and, when called to duty, signed up and served. The biggest misconception is that they never complained. Oh sure, they complained – a lot. There were the duty dodgers – those who sat in the sidelines and watched the action while others did the work. That has always been true and continues to be so. Had it not been for those who stepped up, we would not be a free society today. There were those who stepped up and did what they had to – often at the expense of their own lives.

To those I say – grateful for your service to humanity and country.

Not all of us had great childhoods and mentors. Some of us come from broken homes and chaotic childhoods. There are those of you who were bullied at school and at home – victims of circumstances beyond your control. Alcoholic parents. Turbulent marriages. Abusive relatives. There are as many situations as there are people.

The list goes on and we all have our stories.

What matters is where we are today and hopefully what we will be tomorrow. And always remember – where there is breath, there is hope.

They’ve been gone a long time now – destroyed by terrorists in the tragic events of September 11, 2001. We really haven’t been the same as a nation since – shaken to our core by such a terrible tragedy. We’ve become more divided, which is exactly what our attackers wanted.

Well, what about that – and what are we doing to unify?

But first, some history. I remember the Twin Towers of New York’s World Trade Center quite well. My passion for the towers came of seeing the Irwin Allen disaster movie “Towering Inferno” in 1975. I was so taken with the enormity of The Glass Tower, a fictitious San Francisco skyscraper that caught fire due to wiring issues in the building and the failure of its “many modern safety systems” to quote the late William Holden (Developer Jim Duncan). It was then I decided to trek to New York in an old Mustang to see skyscrapers in person.

As headed up the New Jersey Turnpike into Newark, I could see them dominating the lower Manhattan skyline. It was a hazy summer day and they were barely visible. Thunderstorms in the area made it challenging to see them. I crossed the George Washington Bridge and headed down Manhattan’s West Side, which is quite a drive by anyone’s standards – roughly ten miles along the Hudson River.

Although the World Trade Center officially opened April 4, 1973 with a ribbon cutting ceremony, the towers were not generally accessible to the public until 1975-76. Tower Two (South Tower) got the observation deck in December of 1975 known as “Top Of The World” where you experienced a speedy elevator that made your ears pop to the 107th floor for a bird’s eye view of lower Manhattan, then, a long escalator to the rooftop. Port Authority literature at the time promoted the observation deck as “It’s Hard To Be Down When You’re Up…The Observation Deck at the World Trade Center.” It was worth every penny to take that express elevator to the top.

I would visit the Trade Center a few more times until I entered the Air Force in 1977 and never took that ride to the top again. I would visit New York again on business, but never had the time to visit the towers. It was an opportunity I would regret missing the morning of September 11th.

It is true New Yorkers hated the twin towers and for decades. It seems they just weren’t as iconic as the grand old man in a three-piece suit – the Empire State Building, which opened in 1931 in awe-inspiring Art Deco style. We’ve never fallen out of love with it. The Empire State remains a world iconic so loved by millions and a place people want to visit to this day. To enter its lobby and behold the artistic beauty and high ceilings along with so many creative nuances is a strong indication of what we used to be as a nation. The Empire State Building was erected in 14 months. Never tell me it cannot be done when America proved to the world on many occasions that it could be done.

It wasn’t until the 1993 bombing of the World Trade Center that New Yorkers began to embrace the twin towers and marvel in their simplistic majesty. New Yorkers realized how close the towers came to falling that cold snowy winter day. It was by luck or chance they didn’t – mostly due to the location of the bomb truck than anything else. The bomber was clearly not a structural engineer. The two big guys survived. As fate would have it, they wouldn’t eight years later. Their days were numbered.

The tragic events of September 11, 2001 will never leave me. I still cry. I still grieve for the dead both in New York and in my hometown of Washington, D.C. Our innocence received a wake-up call that day – an innocence forever lost. It has always been my hope we would become stronger as a society for what happened that day. Instead, we’ve chosen another path and have lost our way. Your guess is as good as mine on what will happen next.

If you’ve watched every single episode of “I Love Lucy” – as I am sure most of you have – you fondly remember this guy. Radio and television personality Frank Nelson. “EEEYesssssss!!!” He spent most of his 75 years making people laugh with his cutting sarcasm and a voice you could never miss – not even in a crowd.

He always knew how to startle some poor soul in a department store and get them falling all over themselves. Nelson was also a terrific voice artist who did cartoon voiceovers. In “The Flintstones,” he played himself among Hanna-Barbera characters.

We remember Nelson most as “Freddie Filmore” – a fictious game show host who managed to beat Lucy at her own game. Who could forget “Females Are Fabulous” and the crazy antics of Nelson and the poor slobs who wound up on his show, Lucy among them, who wound up drowned with a seltzer bottle while Ricky stood there in a raincoat and sang. In one episode, Nelson was a police sergeant on the desk with Lucy and Ethyl under arrest as Pick Pocket Pearl and Sticky Fingers Sal. It was a hysterical scene with the two ladies struggling to prove their identities. In the end, Lucy got the best of him – a rare moment in Frank Nelson television.

Nelson got his start in radio in the 1920s and, later on, moved into television and movies. In 1929, Nelson found his way to Hollywood and worked in local radio broadcasts where his distinctive trademark voice hammered the airwaves. His first big break was a sitcom that aired in 1932-33 starring Groucho and Chico Marx.

His career spiraled from there.

Nelson hooked up with Jack Benny during the 1940s and 1950s where he polished his craft. He would do various roles typically as an antagonistic character in a service capacity and greet Benny with his trademark “EEEYeeeeeeeeesssss?!” Audiences fell apart. These two guys would get into it, with Nelson doing what he did best with insulting one-liners. He drove Benny crazy who would respond with, “Now cut that out!!!”

Nelson continued to be a mainstay on television and movie screens for decades before he began to fade away in the 1970s. Impossible to believe Nelson could ever fade away. He would surface in sitcoms and even commercials including McDonald’s. In due course, Nelson’s health began to deteriorate into the 1980s. He lost his battle with cancer and passed in 1986.

Nelson continues to appear posthumously on television screens around the world, reminding us of his comic genius and ability to befuddle people decades later.

Actor and Comedian Allan Melvin was everyone’s neighbor and best friend. To this day, the man waltzes across our television screens in a wide variety of sitcoms dating back to the 1950s. He always knew how to make us laugh as a comedian or make us quake in our shoes as a threatening street wise bully. He was Archie Bunker’s best friend and Barney Fife’s worst enemy. He was Alice’s long-time boyfriend in The Brady Bunch as Sam the butcher.

Everyone knew his name.

Melvin had a face everyone could remember yet no one really knew who he was. He was always “that guy…you know….that guy…”

Allan John Melvin was born in Kansas City, Missouri on February 18, 1923 and spent 84 years on this apple – passing January 17, 2008 at age 84 from cancer. He spent most of his younger years in New York and portrayed a “New York” kind of attitude in his characters long after leaving New York. Melvin married Amalia Faustina Sestero in New York in 1944 toward the end of World War II.

Melvin never once had a starring role, yet he appeared in hundreds of television roles too numerous to name. Melvin was endearing to us all as Sam the Butcher – one of his most memorable characters. Seems he always gave Alice the best deals on meat. Who could ever forget him as Sergeant Hacker in Gomer Pyle USMC in the 1960s and Corporal Henshaw in The Phil Silvers Show early on in the 1950s. He had a natural bend for military characters.

If you spent time in front of the TV as a kid in the 1960s, you knew Melvin by his Hanna-Barbera voiceovers such as Magilla Gorilla as one example of his great professionalism. He could articulate his voice to any character.

Melvin attended Columbia University and got his start in the entertainment business by making nightclub appearances. His first big break was as Corporal Steve Henshaw in the Phil Silvers Show in the 1950s. The Silvers Show was not only a terrific acting opportunity, but a chance to work with great talent and mold his craft.

He grew to be a character we loved.

Melvin’s career took off when he made the acquaintance of Sheldon Leonard and Desilu – which led to opportunities in Andy Griffith, Dick Van Dyke, Gomer Pyle and others. He also appeared in Perry Mason and Lost In Space. You will also remember Allan Melvin for his television commercials – such as Al the Plumber for Liquid Plumer, Kelloggs cereals, and a host of others.

Melvin became a regular on “All In The Family” and “Archie Bunker’s Place” as best friend Barney Hefner whose dog always left Bunker a “pyramid” on his doorstep or played practical jokes on Bunker via Pinky Peterson (actor Eugene Roche).

Barney Hefner can be considered Melvin’s final bow before his health deteriorated and he retire from acting.

Despite the age posted on our driver’s licenses, thank goodness for the era in which we grew up. I am talking about the sweet simple memories from our youth and the humble vinyl record.

For some reason unclear to me, there was a warm and cozy feeling that went with a lighted dial, the smell of vacuum tubes, and the glow of a pilot light at floor level when we were listening to music.

It was a reassuring experience I cannot explain.

We’d place a stack of 45s on the turntable, gently turn the reject knob, listen to them flop one at a time, wait for the crackle of a stylus on vinyl, and feel raw emotion for the music we craved.

It was such a rush of euphoria.

Seems 33 1/3rd LPs sounded better than the 45s. It was like they recorded a different version of the song on 45s than we heard on the LPs. It is challenging to define what was different. All I know is they just sounded different.

There’s a certain comfort in playing records than there is in CDs or MP3. Something so familiar and comforting. Perhaps it’s a reminder of our youthful innocence – what we didn’t know about the world around us then.

Playing records was our “social media” in the middle of the 20th century. We gathered as friends and listened to our favorite music. My sisters were big “Monkees” fans thanks to the great success of their spoof rock group TV show and those very first music videos. Seems like The Monkees invented the music video did they not?

My younger sister crushed on Davy Jones. She had Davy Jones posters all over her bedroom walls. It was a big deal when The Monkees came to Baltimore to perform in concert. My sisters went to The Monkees concert while my parents and I went to see “Grand Prix” starring James Garner.

Two different worlds.

My big sister was so taken with The Beatles in the early 1960s. I remember the Sunday night when they debuted on The Ed Sullivan Show early in 1964. I have to admit, I love early Beatles more than I do what came later when it was time to change their image. It was their harmony as a young rock group and how it made us feel when we donned the “Hard Days Night” album.

Even more remarkable is how vinyl records are affecting young people today. They think vinyl records are kind of cool and are lining up to buy them in numbers even if they don’t have a record player. They count on boomer parents and grandparents to still have at least one around. They want to play records yet know very little about how to stack and play them. If they are not careful – which they are often not – they always manage to break your classic record changer by forcing the tone arm instead of waiting for the mechanicals to set the vinyl.

Darned kids…