Reflection at the dawn of modern America

"This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius
Age of Aquarius
Aquarius
Aquarius"
     James Rado and Gerome Ragni for the 1967 musical "Hair"

A great cultural change took place beginning in about 1964. Before that was the "pre" era, before so many things that define our current law and culture. Catalysts of change included the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the birth control pill, the Vietnam War, Martin Luther King, Jr., and that huge generation of post-war babies who came of age beginning in 1964. Time magazine called us "Youth," and it called us a game-changer just by being alive in such a mass.

My age cohort, people in the front end of the Baby Boom generation, were leaving high school just as the cultural ground was changing under our feet. 

Jack Mullen

Jack Mullen graduated from Medford High School in 1965; he started college life in the pre-modern area. He had settled into college life before the changes began so he experienced before-and-after. 

My age cohort has entered a time of life where we are doing more reflecting. Or maybe the reflecting comes from the events of this moment. The political strife and division seem so familiar. We had been in a cultural revolution. Forces of resistance grew in the interceding decdades. We are in a cultural counter-revolution against changes put in motion 60 years ago. 

A reflection by Jack Mullen

Student protest then and now

By accident of birth, in 1947, I became an original member of the early class of Baby Boomers. We Boomers, who graduated from high school in 1965, had no idea we’d become a touchstone for a changing post-war America.

The University of Oregon that I entered in the fall of 1965 was similar to the University of Oregon that my older brother entered in 1957. The differences were few: His freshman class liked Elvis; we preferred the Beatles. Holden Caulfield of the "Catcher in the Rye" was their anti-hero. Ours, a little later, was Ben Braddock of "The Graduate."

Soon, ever so slowly, echoes from afar slowly swept into the lives of my freshman class. Down the road in Berkeley, the Free Speech movement galvanized the University of California campus. My freshman English Comp class studied and wrote about it.

At the same time, high school friends from Medford, those who did not possess a college deferment, were drafted and sent to Vietnam. I lived a cushy life in Eugene while they were sent away to parts unknown to them. Five members of my Medford High Class of ’65 never came home. Of those who did come home, some confided in me. I am not a gifted enough writer to relate what they experienced. I’ll leave it at that.

I enjoyed the good life in college. Oregon provided a wealth of opportunities to study in whatever field one desired. Starting winter term in 1968, I chose far east history as my major, with a minor in Political Science. Curiosity about what drew our nation to Vietnam consumed me.

The year 1968, as for many Americans, disturbed me, and the nation as a whole felt a general uneasiness. I’m sure many of our ancestors back in 1860 similarly felt ill at ease witnessing our nation drift apart. The year 2024 may soon rank up there with 1860 and 1968 as a time when levelheaded discussions about our country and the world are hard to come by.

Back in ’68, the Vietnam War tore families apart; assassins took the lives of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bobby Kennedy; race riots broke out across the country. Protesters' heads were clobbered outside the halls of the Chicago Democratic Convention. I was moved to join anti-war protests.

The kid who entered college in the fall of ’65 took a big leap to join in campus protests. I suppose I felt a little isolated from some friends, but I needed to put myself out there for what I was becoming to believe was a senseless war. All our protests at the time were orderly and peaceful; maybe a few hecklers questioned our patriotism, but little more than that.

As graduation day in June, 1969 approached, my roommate and I filled out applications to join the Peace Corps.

As we, class of ’69 U of O graduates, sat in seats designated in Autzen Stadium for our graduation ceremony, University President Charles E. Johnson started his speech with a Dickens quote from "Tale of Two Cities": “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”. Suddenly, a young graduate from the Black Student Union walked across the stage and politely asked interim President Johnson if he could say a few words. President Johnson backed up and allowed the young man to talk for five minutes. I can’t remember what he said, but it was not fiery. The young man left the stage, and President Johnson resumed his speech. At the end, the Class of ’69 did not toss their hats into the air. It was not the type of year for such frivolity.

The following Monday, President Charles E. Johnson died of an apparent suicide.

If there is one parallel today to 1969, it’s that Joe Biden, like Charles Johnson, finds himself pilloried from all sides. President Johnson got it from students, faculty, alumni, state legislators, and all the state’s leading newspapers. The only difference is that the shots that Joe Biden takes are on a larger stage.

Domestically, normal allies who would be siding up with Biden in an election year are upset and are abandoning him. Most don’t realize the long-term effect their abandonment might have.

Internationally, no Anwar Sadat or Menachem Begin type seems willing to employ the art of compromise to finish what the trio of Sadat, Begin and Jimmy Carter started at Camp David.

Through all this morass, is there is someone on this planet better qualified to tackle the challenges we face? If so, I’d like to know who that person is.

 

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