I arrived in 1951, the third son born in fairly rapid succession (my sister came along three years later).
It was an extraordinary time to begin life in America. The war was over. I mean really over. Not like the many modern-day conflicts that seemingly never end. In WWII, you could mark the end date on the calendar.
In what was in some ways a “holiday from history,” a phrase later used to describe the 90’s, the 50’s and early 60’s were defined by a remarkable optimism.
The evils of fascism had been defeated, with the notable exception of the Soviet Union of course. We now lived in a new “bipolar world.” With Europe and other regions in shambles, the period was dominated almost wholly by an American ascendancy.
Heroic and victorious, the nation moved confidently beyond the deprivations of both the Great Depression and the war, and into the unprecedented “boom years” of the 50’s and 60’s.
During the 50’s, my father was assigned to write copy for GE Theater, which ran from 1953 to 1962, with Ronald Reagan as host. During this time Dad wrote the slogan GE used for many years, Progress Is Our Most Important Product, which actually was the tagline at the end of a longer introduction at the beginning of each show.
Dad became friendly with Reagan and, when on business, would stay at his house in Pacific Palisades, a house GE had outfitted with all the latest electronic gadgets, their “all-electric home.” He complained to my father about his high electric bills. Dad also became lifelong friends with Don Herbert, aka “Mr. Wizard,” who was a regular contributor to the show.
In any event, for me, this slogan captures perfectly the headlong optimism of the age. Having defeated the powers of darkness, America saw itself on the right side of history, ready to take on all challenges. Progress seemed inevitable. Life seemed destined to get better and better.
As with many of their generation, my parents embodied this sensibility. They were ready to build for their children a much better world than the one they had known. Their idealism and moral integrity were palpable.
They believed in the system and its institutions. They were civic-minded.
Family was a big part of this. We ate dinner together without fail every night, and at noon on Sundays (with a little Bible study thrown in – much to our chagrin!).
We faithfully attended the Second Congregational Church in Greenwich (the closest denomination to my father’s). There Dad, among other things, served on the deacons and led Bible study in his later years.
My parents also were involved in local charitable organizations, besides the church. One year they headed up the United Way campaign in town. Later my father served as president of Meals-on-Wheels (together they delivered meals for years). Dad served on the board of the church’s Mead Counseling Center. Etc., etc. Volunteering was a big part of their lives.
As a family, we followed current events closely, both on TV and by reading the three New York dailies (The Sunday Times was always an eager read). My parents believed politics could help solve many of life’s problems and trusted our politicians and other community leaders, not least the church, to do their part to make life better and nobler.
I still remember the zeal my parents had for the Civil Rights Movement. This was part of their firmly-held ethical and religious commitment. My father once told me that his father was the first pastor in NYC to eliminate paid pews, so as to eliminate any possible discrimination. He also told me with some pride that there were more blacks at his father’s funeral than whites.
In a touching irony, the day my father died, in 2010, an African-American undertaker came to the house. In conversation with my mother, the man said that years earlier he had attended the same college as my father. He also told her an anonymous donor had paid for his entire four years there.
That donor was likely my father, who for years secretly (even to us) provided full-tuition and board to black students only, this in keeping with his generous heart and sense of decency, and reflecting a lifelong trait of modesty and humility.