Bridging Generations through HAIR: Perspectives on History from Baby Boomers to Millennials
This essay and its accompanying stories serves as the first blog post to engage with the historical and social issues at work in the University of Pittsburgh’s Production of Gerome Ragni, James Rado, and Galt MacDermot’s HAIR. Information about the production can be found by clicking HERE
Rethinking the Millennial Point-of-View
I can remember being a teenager and discovering the music of the Beatles. With each album acquired, Help, Revolver, Sgt. Pepper’s, I felt like I was on my way to being the most sophisticated and worldliest kind of American youth. The irony, of course, is that there were millions of other adolescents in the 1990s who were probably doing the very same thing. Nevertheless, this love of the fab four stirred a desire to know more about the culture that introduced a decade of innovative music, photography, and fashion. I rummaged through my parents’ record and CD collections, rented countless movies from the era, and frequented used clothing stores in search of hippy attire. I so badly wanted to participate in a culture that privileged art and individuality, peace and rock n roll.
All of these sentiments finally culminated one evening at the dinner table, when I boldly proclaimed to my parents that if I could go back in time, I would live in the 1960s. They looked at me with sober expressions and I could tell they had grown weary of my cultural addiction. “You know, Liz,” my mother said with a kind of gentle restraint, “the 60s were not an easy time.” There were so many things that happened, which over the years, had been erased from historical memory or deliberately omitted. It was a decade so painful for many of my teachers at school, that they refused to discuss it. For these reasons, I can still vividly remember the night my mom and dad told me about the complicated politics of Vietnam, fears of nuclear war, and the eruptions of violence that endangered the lives of civil rights protesters. They recounted the great sense of sadness and uncertainty felt by the American people after the assassination of John F. Kennedy. I listened to their stories intently and with consternation. I had no idea that it was possible to feel unsafe in the United States.
I recognize that my story of suburban teenage enlightenment is not shared by all Americans that came of age during the 1990s. As writers such as Ta-Nehisi Coates have made clear, there were/are many teenagers living in this country who did not feel safe and do not trust the legal system, which alleges their protection. I offer this account from my past to suggest that it is indicative of a certain era and a certain realm of experience. As a teenager growing up in Sarasota FL, much of my understanding of the world was defined by the people in my immediate locality. Had I gone to high school now, with the ubiquity of internet access and social media, I imagine I would see things quite differently. Facebook and Twitter have, to a certain extent, made the social spheres of this country more visible and these communication tools have also revealed inequities within our government. As a result, a new kind of cultural consciousness has emerged, and with it, the revival of a very old cultural belief. When political systems appear broken or stagnant, people turn to the arts to voice their frustrations, initiate dialogues for change, and tell the stories that need to be told.
My first production, upon coming to the Theatre Arts Department at the University of Pittsburgh, is Gerome Ragni, James Rado, and Galt MacDermot’s American Tribal Love-Rock Musical, Hair. As a theater historian and dramaturg, I explore the stories that defined my parents’ worldview with another generation. And I have to say, that as I watch our students work in rehearsal, and I do mean work — as this production demands an incredible amount of energy, I see a commitment to social justice that reflects a new way of seeing the world. This realization has been coupled by an awareness that despite a wave of media stories documenting the derision of boomers for millennials, these two generations share something in common: a desire to make living in this country better.
What could I do to support the work of Pitt students as they prepared to share a story of uncertain times in the ’60s and an earnest desire for peace? And conversely, how could I help them see how the incredible efforts of another generation initiated the kinds of changes that we may now take for granted: the ability to vote in an election at the age of 18, for example, the creation of an all volunteer army, and the improvement of a political system, which recognizes (albeit imperfectly) that all Americans regardless of race, color, or creed, should have a voice in government.
I created this blog to initiate communication across generations. In addition to sharing the work of Pitt’s students, I am collecting memories from the generation that inspired the musical Hair. Several individuals have generously shared their experiences to help me get things started; but in the interest of creating a historical archive that spans geographies, race, religion, and personal experience, I’m looking for more stories. If you are reading this and can contribute another memory about coming of age in the 1960s, I encourage you to email me directly at emc139@pitt.edu or share your thoughts in the comments section. I intend to make updates to this page on an ongoing basis.
Here are a few personal stories that convey a sense of the political and cultural changes that defined a decade.
To the Cast of HAIR —
In the sixties, we classified each other as hawks or doves, either for the war or against it. My father was a WWII vet and a hawk. My mother was a nurse, and I suspect a dove, though she never contradicted my father. Most of my friends were doves. I made noises like a hawk, but my heart wasn’t in it. I became a hospital corpsman, I think, as a compromise.
While I trained at the hospital at Great Lakes, I spent time on an orthopedic ward working with recovering Marines. Most were my age or close to it and all were missing something. Some had made peace with their losses. Others, like a Grunt who had a week to go on his tour when he lost a foot to a mine, burned in silence.
I spent time on the neuropsychiatric ward as well. “You’re going to hear these guys say things you’ve thought yourself.” I was told as they locked me on the ward. “Don’t let it bother you.” The patients, I’d been told, were not Vietnam causalities, but servicemen who had developed problems during training. Perhaps. But I spent an afternoon as a chaser for a Green Beret sergeant who had gone AWOL and was arrested a year later, hairy and bearded, making belts and beadwork in Old Town, the Hippie enclave in Chicago. I sat with him as he waited for his session with a doctor. “Doc,” he said as he leaned close, “it’s not me, man, who’s crazy.” He spread his arms to indicate everyone else in sight. “It’s these guys.” I’d thought the same before and was beginning to believe it.
I was working nights on an empty ward when I read Catch-22. Laughter kept me sane; though I’m not sure the supervising nurses would agree.
Break a leg –
Phil
My father used to tell my I had too much hair for a person with a small face. He was right but I always had big hair. Then one day a hairdresser cut most of it off. I felt so naked. And so strong!
Kathy
Dear Liz,
This is the first time someone has asked me to reflect on the 60s so thank you! Let me move through some thoughts and reflections, trying to be brief.
I saw Hair seven times at the Aquarius Theater in Los Angeles when it first ran there, it so captivated me and expressed my experience that I could not stop going. Also let me put into context that I was born in 1948, so the 60s were Junior High School, High School Class of 66, and college class of 1970 so I was in my teens and early 20s and it is from that frame of mind, that I recollect the era.
Social change was on the move, not that it hasn’t always been, but during the 60s, we should start with JFK being elected president. The first Roman Catholic President (like Obama or H. Clinton no one thought a Catholic could be president, let alone an African American or a women). Like 9–11, everyone of that era remembers the day he was assassinated — it was a shocker. This is a time period coming on the heals of WWII with the Cold War. People were actually building bomb shelters in their backyards. We also had the Cuban Missile crisis during JFK’s presidency.
1964 saw the passage of the Civil Rights Act. Desegregation, was a big issue so Hair was the first play that I ever saw with black actors just being people — AMAZING REVOLUTIONARY.
Women were publicly burning their bras as they exerted a new right for themselves in all walks of life: education, professions, elected office, and working outside of the home. Birth control pills were approved by the FDA in 1960, but it took the 1965 Supreme Court case, Griswold v. Connecticut, to give married couples the right to use birth control — and still 26 states continued to deny it. The birth-control pill moved the line on the sexual revolution. In the late 60’s, us hippies expressed free love and the old rules (even though often broken) of sexual mores transformed. If you can’t do something pleasurable, then you had the problem.
On Vietnam and the draft — remember conscription was the rule of the day, not a volunteer military. One of my clearest memories was being at the Greek Theater in LA for a concert to see Janis Joplin, the Youngbloods, and Joan Baez (yes we were all stoned of course, but the memories remain clear as a bell). As Joan announced that her husband Dave Harris had been jailed for resisting the draft, I looked at my then-girlfriend Patty Angel. We both knew we had a responsibility, though I had a student deferment, to be conscious objectors to the war. I later spent a weekend at Joan Baez’s house to learn non- violent methods of civil disobedience. The dilemma in Hair, I lived.
On Protests in the streets. In 1967, I marched in San Francisco, arm in arm, with over 60,000 people. At the time, it was reported as a hundred thousand. It was the same day as protests in NYC, DC, and other cities. And so millions of people, together, protested the war in Vietnam. As we passed the police and the military we did literally put flowers on their heads and guns. (We were the flower children after all). I also led about 500 students from my college (Cal State, LA) onto interstate 10 adjacent to the college to shut down traffic in protest of the war. The cry of “Let the Sunshine In” in Hair is the culmination of all that was going on.
Caesar Chavez was organizing in Delano California, first with lettuce, later with grapes, to improve the conditions of farm workers. It was another civil justice cry of the 60’s. My fraternity brother roommate and I spent many weekends up there to help.
Sex, drugs and rock and roll — I am sure you have looked at the music of the time and its changes. I have touched on the sexual revolution, the liberation of women, the pill, emancipation, and the changing of norms. Stonewall happened a year after Hair came to Broadway, representing the gay revolution in the 60s transformation. Drugs were in wide use: marijuana, LSD, psilocybin, peyote, mushrooms. The best illustration I can use, as I don’t have statistics, is this: When I pledged my fraternity house of about 100 in the spring of 1967, two members smoked marijuana, when I graduated in the spring of 1970, only two did not. Psychedelics were equally pervasive.
Letting your hair grow, and “dropping out” was a sign of protest to the establishment. Being called a freak (hair being your freak flag) was a compliment, especially if it came from an establishment person who called you a freak
The third or fourth time I saw Hair, I took a coworker to see it with me. She was about 10 years older than me, but we had developed a strong intellectual relationship. The day after the performance, she gave me a book called the Phenomenon of Man by Teilhard de Chardin, a French Jesuit priest. The book was considered heresy by the church so it was not published until after his death in 1955. The essence of his message was that Christ’s second coming was not him coming down to earth on a cloud, but rather Mankind raising it’s consciousness to Christ’s level. If the actors can feel what an expression of change-of-consciousness this work represented — it was not just a story to us. Chardin’s book is one the three books that most influenced my life.
The fifth time I saw Hair there was an “older couple” (must have been in their 40s) behind me. At the close of the first act, the actors were all nude on stage and swinging on swings over the audience. The wife of this older couple walked out, and her husband said to her, “You do not understand what they are saying.” She said the nudity disgusted her, and asked “Are you coming?” He said “Go, you are missing the message, I am staying.”
Well, I have gone on too much, but it was very therapeutic for me. Thanks, let me know if there are any thoughts or themes I can help with.
PEACE
Art
To the Cast of HAIR —
What comes to mind is mini skirts and pantyhose. I was a junior in high school in 1968 when Hair came out on Broadway. Females were not allowed to wear pants to school. I lived in a very liberal town in NJ which was a bedroom community of NYC — dresses and skirts became very short and pantyhose were a necessity (No more garter belts and stockings). Long straight hair was a must if you wanted to fit in and be “cool.”
Secondly, I remember the anger young people had about the war in Vietnam and that anger was displaced against those people in the armed forces. One thing we have learned from that time is not to take our anger out on military persons, but to direct it toward politicians and policymakers.
Susan
Hi Liz:
The idea of trying to remember the 60’s is daunting. There were so many events that made it what it was. Personally, seeing people slaughtered each day on the evening news is a strong memory. There were also some wondrous moments walking with a dear friend in Golden Gate Park discussing world views.
The infiltration of rebellion and the possibility that it could be a genuine force for positive change, fueled by the benefits of LSD as a visionary source, helped to create an idea of what a meaningful future might look like. All of this coming, historically, from the stifling status quo of the late 50’s that extended into the 60's.
The repressive Eisenhower-polite Pilgrim ethic that valued hyperactivity, the American dream of achievement, and the industrial automation of post-Ford workplace orientation, became hollow and frayed as those coming of age explored the nature of reality. From this exploration came the re-evaluation of the works of nature itself and a back-to-the-land movement that sprouted the organic farming boom.
The unrest in the inner cities became volatile as soldiers were recruited from their homes. It was nearly the only viable means of making a living.
The toll of war: the horrors of napalm and agent orange were spewed upon an injured populace, a mutant spawn that has crippled and burdened families for generations afterward. This deeply-genetic deformation is with us today, under-recognized, and un-helped, as it continues to inflict ongoing pain and harm.
The 60’s brought great awareness. It was a time when the ultimate philosophical questions were asked in a personal way, such that they effected important daily choices. And during this time people chose different values from what they were being presented.
I never saw Hair. What I did hear of it, I recognized as a fantasy. The songs were unappealing. They seemed to be an irrelevant afterthought in most ways. I would be open to listening to the music again. But I say that only so I don’t seem shut down about it. It would not be my first choice of music to listen to.
Best wishes.
Andy
A Note From Jean —
So this is my story. It’s 1967 in Charlotte, NC, where I grew up. The whole counter culture’s a little slow to get burning in the south. It’s summer and I’m between junior and senior years of high school. Me and the other drama kids from high schools in the Charlotte Mecklenburg school district audition for a summer theatre project put together by several high school drama teachers. There will be three plays one after the other through the summer of 1967. I am cast in a production of Sabrina Fair, the play by Samuel A. Taylor that the movie Sabrina was based on. The director is Horace Caple, the drama teacher from West Charlotte High School — the black high school. Charlotte’s schools are not integrated — that won’t come until after I’ve graduated. There are several of us from East Mecklenburg High School cast in the show. When we arrive at the first company meeting we find out that Mr. Caple has put together a racially mixed/colorblind cast from his students from East. The families are all mixed, black father; white mother; black brother and white brother. I’m certain it was the first of its kind in the city and the state.
During rehearsals things are pretty cool, everyone gets along, though we are divided. Then we find out that Beverly, the girl playing Sabrina, who is black, is having a hard time with transportation. The black kids had to come from their neighborhood into the wealthiest section of Charlotte — Myers Park — to rehearse at Queens College, which is, of course, whiter than white. My friend Steve saw her walking on the street in Myers Park trying to get back home because she didn’t have a ride — an unseen thing in this neighborhood — a young black girl walking along a road in Myers Park. He stopped and asked her if she wanted a ride and she got into the car. From then, he sort of became her transportation. One day they were accosted at an intersection by some white guys who called them names and shook the car. Another one of my friends, also named Beverly, took Beverly to her house to make a phone call home for someone to come get her. We actually started calling them White Beverly and Black Beverly. When Black Beverly left White Beverly’s house White Bev’s father yelled at her to never to bring Black Beverly there again. Good old 1967. And he was a prominent physician in the community.
I’ve written a play about the experience. It’s real interesting and is starting readings, etc. and it’s called Casting the Beverlys. Little did I know when I wrote it, that Charlotte would explode with the police shooting a black man, riots, curfews to control the riots……….. The racial tension has always been there and white Charlotte thought it was all just dandy. No, it was always there, simmering to a boiling point.
I think we are being catapulted back before the energy of Hair was let loose. I think so many of the people like me, who came along at that time, turned into fogeys, went conservative and now have as little tolerance as their parents did. They forgot everything. It all must be about peace and love.
To the Cast of HAIR —
I came of age in the 1960s. I was about 15 when John Kennedy ran for president and he was my first love — I was overwhelmed with the desire to be of service. He was assassinated when I was a sophomore in college. During my college years, I sought out ways to do good, participating in the Civil Rights movement and raising money and goods for striking coal miners in Kentucky. Emotionally I was very up and down.
I took my junior year in France and came home to find the anti-war movement in full swing. I was even a little peeved that some of the activists I knew from before had left civil rights to focus on the war. For me, the major concern from the war was the need to keep my brother out. My fear for him was overwhelming and did not go away until he had a high lottery number and no longer needed to face the draft.
This was the pre-Women’s Movement period. I had no real plans for the future but assumed it would work itself out, that I would get a good job and lead an interesting life. My first job out of college was with the War on Poverty in Trenton, NJ. I was being an activist but the milieu was lonely for me and I left to live in NYC with a college friend and her cousin and got a conventional job as a production editor. I did not find a paying job that satisfied my social concerns.
There were no drugs in college or at least I was not aware of them. Now it was 1967 and the hippy movement was all around us. I found it incredibly appealing. My roommate’s cousin would do LSD in our apartment with friends of hers from college — they visited from time to time. They never offered any to me and I did not ask. Although I loved the hippie movement I was conventional and they must have sensed it — something always kept me grounded, even when I met my husband and moved to the East Village, to the heart of the movement. We would pass the Fillmore East on the way home but never went in, despite the lights, the music, and the smell of pot.
The late 1960s saw the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, one after the other. About that time I got education credits and took a job as a teacher in Central Harlem, thinking that I could have a positive impact on individual African American children, but that proved to be very, very difficult — union teachers were on strike and I was a scab. I could not control my classes and there were no supplies or support for teachers. I left the school system about that time but I was newly married and happy, although later I would realize that my husband was not stable and was not good husband material.
As I thought about it later I realized that the upside down nature of the times must have affected me greatly. There seemed to be no right and wrong — no safety. I struggled to find my way and although being unconventional and free was my goal, I took actions that brought me in the opposite direction.
What an interesting time to come of age.
Break a leg –
Leslie
To the Cast of HAIR — Have fun with this production!
I turned 6 years old in 1960. I lived my childhood and early teenage years in the 60’s. Vietnam was a huge concern because of the mandatory drafting of young men (women were not in the military yet). The newspapers would publish casualties everyday and there was so much turmoil about the war. Protesting the war in Vietnam was the norm.
The 60’s were a vibrant, violent, creative and exciting time to live. Everything was being questioned in society. There was a phrase often parroted about — “the anti-establishment.” Acting out against society was blatant and ranged from men having long hair, to women going bra-less — dresses were also very short. There was also an insurgence of drug experimentation, much to the detriment of many young individuals.
Break a leg –
Linda
I remember the ’60s being a time of rebellion against the establishment. There were many anti-war demonstrations and I wore a black armband in protest. If I had been a guy, I would probably have had to go to ‘Nam.
My favorite music is from the 60s: Bob Dylan, Beatles, Rolling Stones, Van Morrison, Doors, and Grateful Dead
The assassinations of Kennedy and MLK were heart wrenching and disturbing.
Joyce