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We Were What We Ate

12/7/2015

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Including the obvious, our fascination for food as we grew up was substantial. I may have touched on the subject of the various types of food and drink we preferred back in the day, but I didn’t get into it as deeply as I probably should have.  

So with this latest “didn’t make it” installment, I will correct any shortsightedness.
As recorded earlier, as an adolescent I was very fond of orange chiffon cakes, oatmeal, chocolate chip and walnut cookies, and PB and jelly, mixed together and placed on one piece of white bread, folded over, accompanied by a glass of milk. Another fave was a stacked combo of bread & butter pickles and American cheese on a regular saltine cracker—but my food focus in those earlier years was not strong. I was too involved with becoming a teenager without serious physical incident, so my burgeoning creativity with food was slow to develop.

It wasn’t until I reached double digits that my cravings took on a more prominent, and sometimes wacky turn.  And due to the phenomenon of how quickly we could get around via bicycles, as my world enlarged, so did my penchant for foods, not all of it normal.

For starters, the already iconic Coca Cola did not make my preferred list. There was just something about the taste that turned me off (a vague reference to its murky “drug” past maybe? After all, my father referred to the soft drink as “dope.”) Instead, I went for Pepsi Cola, although my preference came with sidebars.  Drinking this well-known #2 in-the-industry product came with another need: the bottle that contained the soda.  Until it was phased out in the 1980’s, Pepsi came in a distinctive 16 ounce glass bottle, which to me looked like cut glass.  And with its distinctive red, white and blue logo smiling back at me against a colorless background, it was the container that completed the picture, while satisfying completely my taste buds.  Cans and other types of bottles had begun to hit the market when I was about 12 or 13, but I refused to accept them. To me, nothing took the place of drinking straight from that gorgeous “cut glass” bottle.
 
My friend Matt shared in my love this unique bottle too.  So much so that he usually kept 10-12 empties under his bed as souvenirs—until his mom discovered them and made him return them for cash, lest they became a haven for creepy crawling critters—attracted by the half-teaspoon of the sugary substance that usually remained in each container.

Where candy bars were concerned, my favorite were the MARS twins, Almond Joy and Mounds, which we could purchase easily in our own neighborhood, at the Lee Street Store, which is still going strong.  Of the two, Mounds was my bar of choice, mainly due to being covered in dark chocolate.  Almond Joys  may have offered the nut as part of the deal, but the cover was milk chocolate.  Baby Ruth’s were okay, but kinda chewy.  Heath Bars were a treat, but their vague coffee aroma made it an every-now-and-then event.

When we attended any of the 5-6 movie theatres then available to us, sometimes the food choice was limited to one item: popcorn.  And with nothing to wash it down with but water from the fountains in the lobby, we didn’t indulge frequently.  However, in just about every venue (except the “Buggy” Boone, in which we had an unwritten agreement to avoid all foods sold in that place,) the popcorn was delicious.  But it was at the Uptown Theatre where the goodies were plentiful.  There you could buy (and take into the theatre to watch Randolph Scott do his thing) soft drinks (Coke, Pepsi, Dad’s Root Beer, 7UP, Dr. Pepper, Orange Crush, Nehi and the like), and you could also get hot dogs!  Cooked on a rotisserie fronted by a thick plastic cover (so you could actually see them being cooked), they were served in a pre-warmed bun, and were heavenly.

Being from the middle of the Midwest, most of us referred to the soft drinks we consumed as “pop,” or the more formal “soda pop”.  We rarely, if ever, said “soda,” but sometimes identified our drink of choice as either “Coke” or “Pepsi,” no matter what brand or flavor we were reaching for. 

I have no examples for fast food: there really was no such animal in those days.  In the early 1950s, Dairy Queen was the only outlet that came close to meeting that definition. But when they first showed up,  all they served was what we called “fake ice cream” (iced milk)—but ate anyway.  The closest definition to fast food then were the various hamburger joints. While on the greasy side, they served us well.  (My favorite “complete” meal when still in grade school was a hamburger on a toasted bun, with relish, mustard and catsup (hold the onions) and a chocolate malt.)

When fully fleshed out as teenagers, we pointed our Schwinn’s, Elgin’s and Roadmaster’s  toward places like Long’s BBQ at 9th and Elm, right across the street from the University’s sainted School of Journalism.  The hamburgers there, doused with a ‘special’ sauce (we were told later it contained water, catsup and caraway seeds) offered as a side for dunking fries, were out of this world.  The guy responsible for these delicacies had worked for Ernie Lewis, who owned Drake’s Drive-In out on Highway 40 and later opened Ernie’s Steak House, which is still doing business. 

Since our parents didn’t go out to dinner that often, (not that far removed from the Depression, they were still frugal) but chose instead to invite guests and family over and do the honors themselves, our choices were limited.  Our favorite “sit down” dinners tended to be dishes specially prepared by our moms or dads that became favorites.  With me it was my dad’s BBQ ribs and the special way he prepared fish.  With mom it was a cold salad, consisting of the unlikely combo of pineapple, cheddar cheese, marshmallows, mayonnaise, coconut, and something else I can’t remember.
I didn’t like Brussels sprouts (still don’t) and am not that crazy about avocados, but knowing they’re good for me, I do eat them occasionally.

As it was with most of us, my food preferences evolved over the years, a change which began when I started my four-year run working a board job at the Delta Gamma house at Northwestern.  The head cook there was a big, loving black lady named Gussie.  She wasn’t that crazy about the girls, was tough on the delivery men, and a little short on extensive conversation, but she loved us to death—and it was reciprocated. 
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I learned a lot from her;  but that’s another story, and would be part of my sequel.


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The Fascination of 50’s Fashion

12/6/2015

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When writing Thumbs Up, ‘V’ for Victory, I Love You I touched on the clothing styles prevalent during our high school years—but didn’t go into much detail.  (An example of what I mentioned is evident in one of the book’s photos: Two girls and two boys, then seniors in high school, at a dance party.  Note the similarities of what the two sexes are wearing.

Like everything else, clothing is among the things that are in constant evolution, but the way the majority of young men and women accept what’s “in” at the moment seems to remain the same. And like I do today, I’m sure our elders in our time thought some of what we draped over our bodies to be a little strange.

For example, many of the suits, slacks and sport coats that are considered the epitome of male  fashion today to me look downright uncomfortable. It’s almost as if the male model I’m looking at on the pages of Esquire meant to buy a 42 long but instead got a 38 short!  Conversely, women’s “high fashion” duds may be a bit impractical, but I don’t see the same “discomfort” factor in their clothing. Besides—most models are just nice to look at, no matter what they’re wearing.

​Unique and practical at the same time, what our generation wore was at least comfortable—and in some cases was actually healthy for us to wear (I will explain).  Still, like those of today, most of us growing up between the end of World War II and the late 1970’s seemed to follow the crowd, as any self-respecting teen might.  And one thing both sexes went especially wild and crazy for in those days was shoes. 

At the top of most any male’s clothing list in the 1950’s was a shoe that became iconic, and is in fact, still around.  I’m speaking of the classic high top Converse All-Star basketball shoe.  If you were a male and made it through high school between the late 40’s and late 60’s without at least one pair of these babies in your possession, you were a certified dork.  Not only well made, these mostly white, (with a little red and blue here and there) shoes were excellent examples of footwear for any growing boy to lace himself in to—which we did with great frequency, both off and on the court. 

And on the dressy side for the stylish young man about town, there was another shoe—a must-have that must be recalled and discussed.

They were called Threadneedles.  Made by the International Shoe Company in St. Louis, they were designed by those in command at Boyd’s, the great men’s store at 6th and Olive in what was then Missouri’s largest city, Threadneedle Street shoes (the full product name) were in a class all their own.  These shoes, which I think weighed about 4 pounds apiece, were not only good for your feet, ankles and knees, they were downright indestructible.  Suitable attire to wear with these orange-toned kicks were dress slacks, suits or Levis.

(A fashion note:  Other shoe companies, trying to catch the wave, made products that looked somewhat like our Threadneedles, but because Boyd’s held a patent on the Real McCoy, the competition could get close, but were denied the cigar.  And the one stitching feature that set Threadneedles apart was the raised design that ran down the side of each shoe.  Stretching from wing tip on the toe to the pattern around the heel counter, this design did not curve downward as it moved toward the toe, and pick up again as it headed toward the heel.  Instead, It went straight back, from the bottom of the bal-cut front just behind the wing tip to the heel design. 

And that little feature  made all the difference. 

We were so proud of these storm-welted beauties that many of us would meet downtown on Saturday mornings and have them professionally shined by a great black guy named Leon.  A smart fellow, he was our friend—and being about 10 years older than us, considered him a mentor, as we badgered him for advice while he performed his magic on our shoes.

So popular were these Threadneedles, that later, when attending college in another state, I could spot male Missourians—strangers I didn’t know—just by the shoes they wore!

Frequently, the girls of this period wore black and white saddles, a foot-cover that had been around for almost 30 years by the time we came along.  Worn with white ‘bobby’ socks, and almost always with a skirt, saddles shared time with penny loafers (which came with a small slit in the leather upper, in which you would insert a penny, for good luck).  Loafers were also worn with bobby socks, (the source of the word ‘bobby’ was never made clear; some say it had to do with bobby pins.) 

Later in high school, girls took to wearing Capezio flats, which like the Converse All-Stars, are still being made.  Emerging from a European company that previously made only ballet shoes, these dainty little numbers came in a variety of colors, but always in the basic, round-toed, easy-to-wear slip-on flat.

Being the observant male as I was and still am, I noted that the more dressy “high” heels worn in those days by young ladies had more utility to them than the wildly expensive, terrible-for-your-feet towering monsters sold today.  Usually featured in two and three inch heel levels, with gently pointed toe, they were otherwise plain, except for color.  The basic “pump” (the word comes from the middle-English “pomp,” meaning to be stylish) could usually be found available in black, white, blue, gray, red, yellow or green leather—and in other colors I haven’t thought of.  And if a young woman wanted to match her shoes to the color of her dress, a ‘colorless’ pair could be literally dyed (special dye; special fabric) to match that dress exactly. 

(This feature was called by its French name, “peau de soie” (“poh-duh-swah”).  I never knew what the phrase meant back then, but knew how it was used, and what to call it.  I found out much later that it referred to the dull fabric of which the shoe was constructed—making it ideal for dyeing.) 

Since 50’s women generally weren’t encouraged to be as athletic as they are today, the “tennis” shoes they wore ran from the simple Keds-type, which offered little support, but were cute—to the stronger, actual “tennis” shoe, used mostly, as you would figure, when playing tennis.  

And the colors available?  Just one; White.

Even if we dressed alike back then, it was part of what growing up was meant to be, as it is today.  We had fun emulating each other, and loved donning our skinny rep ties and light blue Gant dress shirts and Levis (half inch cuff, with just a hint of a break) before picking up our dates.  And when she opened her front door to greet us, she might have been wearing a “Peter Pan” collar over a pink angora short-sleeve sweater with puffy sleeves, and tight, straight skirt, a couple of inches below the knee.  Together then, we’d be ready to enjoy the company of each other and our peers, our outfits capped off by what covered our feet: Our Capezio and Threadneedle Street shoes.

As I remember, we looked pretty cool.

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The Effect of Music and Radio On Our Lives

12/1/2015

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A few weeks ago KFRU Radio, which most of those born and raised in Columbia, Missouri remember lovingly, turned 90.

Born in Oklahoma in 1925, the station was purchased a year later by Stephens College and brought up to Missouri.  Except for a few lean years in the 80’s, the station has prospered.

When radio was king (even after TV arrived on the scene) we listened to KFRU often, honing our musical tastes from what was offered us by the ‘disk jockeys’ of those days that came and went.  (Remember Jock Bliss?)

But it dawned on me a few years back (and again just recently) that when we were developing teenagers, we also admired our parents’ musical preferences—though it might or might not have coincided with ours.

Still, we leaned toward our own sounds, which ran the gamut—from classical to jazz, movie musicals, rock, pop, country—just about everything from Elvis to the Beatles. Yet we still had an understanding and appreciation of the musical experience of those older.    
Today, the young people who make up the tail-end of the so-called millennial generation seem to be going a completely different direction—a result of the times and the technology—but certainly not because they are more sophisticated regarding their musical choices than we were. 

Far from it.

Because of today’s high-tech world, where information and preferences are identified and posted in nanoseconds, the lion’s share of the kind of music preferred by the majority of millennials seems to be concentrated on one range of styles (ex: today’s rock; rap) and little else (with maybe a bit of a nod to country, which bears little resemblance to the “real” country we grew up with.) 

There’s also the phenomenon of memorization.  When we were kids we did our share, memorizing lyrics of the most popular of what was available most of the time on records, radio and juke boxes.  But we were nothing like today’s kids.  If you’ve noticed, anytime there’s a live performance on a network show like TODAY, when the camera scans the audience, not one, but most everyone in attendance is mouthing the words of the performer, lips moving in unison, not missing a word!  As I remember, while we memorized our songs, our recall repertoire was nothing as vast as what we are witness to today. 

Why?  Researchers have found that many of our Millennials, devices in hand, are caught up in this kind of thing—and to make room for more time to memorize the lyrics of many of today’s “top” songs, reduce drastically the more substantive but time-consuming habit of face-to-face conversation and interaction.
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On top of that, the words to these songs are for the most part a muddled mess of meaningless, repetitive drivel.  Why can’t people write memorable lyrics like Cole Porter once did (and who, by the way, was a member of our grandparents’ generation)?
Music may hath charm to soothe a savage beast—but that was then; and this is now.

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    Author

    A native of Columbia, Missouri, home to the University of Missouri, Stephens College and Columbia College, Norm Benedict is a communications and public relations professional who comes armed with a writing talent and a prodigious memory.

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