Talk About the Sixties


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mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 20, 2013 - 02:39pm PT
Credit: Jim Shirley
I'm goin' to Farmers' Market.

Decide where this (these peaks are) peak is.

I have no clue but possibly CO.

Discuss among yourself.

Arbiter of prize is zBrown, a man of trust and who obviously plans on being able to kick Kato's ass at rock 'n roll history in Safe at Last!, MC'd by St. Alex in heaven. Lol.

The prize is either what I come back with from the Market, or a pair of VINTAGE POSTCARDS from the Vault. TBA.

Support your local thread.
Ed Hartouni

Trad climber
Livermore, CA
Apr 20, 2013 - 10:05pm PT
1968 Miss America Protest

1969 New York City Abortion Speakout

Jim Brennan

Trad climber
Vancouver Canada
Apr 20, 2013 - 10:35pm PT
Ed Hartouni

Trad climber
Livermore, CA
Apr 21, 2013 - 12:33am PT
1961 Freedom Riders

1962 James Meredith attends the University of Mississippi

1963 Gov. George Wallace blocks integration of the University of Alabama

March on Washington DC

1964 St. Augustine movement

Civil Rights Act of 1964

Martin Luther King Jr. Nobel Peace Prize

1965 Selma to Montgomery March

Voting Rights Act of 1965

1968 Martin Luther King Jr. assassination

Jim Brennan

Trad climber
Vancouver Canada
Apr 21, 2013 - 01:08am PT


Apr 21, 2013 - 01:21am PT
In the 60's it was the summer of love.

I hitch hiked to Altmont Speedway to see the Rolling Stones and watched the Hells Angels kill.

There goes the summer of Love.

Met Jimmy Hendrix in the hallway and didn't even know who the fuk he was.

Got drafted number 44 and failed the physical.

They said you can't hear sh!t go back home.

They killed millions of people after that summer of Love.

WTF is wrong with you stupid people ......
Jim Brennan

Trad climber
Vancouver Canada
Apr 21, 2013 - 01:51am PT
The sixties didn't end until 1974 +/-.

We all have only the time we live in. Personally I started reading the newspaper at 7 yr's old (1968) and the daily dread of the world hasn't stopped in any real way.

I remember playing with Hot Wheel cars when the pervasive fear that hope was abandoned, happened when the old man came home and exclaimed that Bobby Kennedy was dead.

This violent, creative decade restored some light when Niel Armstrong quietly set foot on the Moon and said his piece between breaths.

Quickly we were ushered into a deep fear of nuclear war that affected us all every night while trying to make sense of puberty and teenaged reasoning.

Young adulthood came along and Reagan/Thatcher/Mulroney efforts to say
BOO ! and mean it, fell on ears that realized the time was right to just be part of the world. Reagan is credited with hastening the collapse of the Berlin Wall but he was ultimately at the right place at the right time.

Those who hung the HUGE protest banner to welcome James Watt to Yosemite, you have my enduring respect !

EDIT: It was all kind of a good time if you didn't look too closely until the cruel, pseudo Jesus, disco hippie posers showed up:

Just add the burgundy velour suit jacket, blue jeans and cowboy boots and you can't escape knowing what I mean...
Ed Hartouni

Trad climber
Livermore, CA
Apr 21, 2013 - 03:43am PT

1969 Santa Barbara oil spill

Cayahoga River fire
Ed Hartouni

Trad climber
Livermore, CA
Apr 21, 2013 - 03:45am PT

1966 Love Pageant Rally


Trad climber
The great state of advaita
Apr 21, 2013 - 12:11pm PT
> "Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose." - an old heartthrob

That line has been with me for years and years. Took me multiple decades to realize it has multiple meanings. Well, I'm just up to two so far.

Jim, that image above of the three women looks like it might be Joan Baez and her sisters? Something from a distant past.

I definitely don't feel like they were halcyon days. Lots of strife, change, and struggle. Confusion. In the cauldron of growth and evolution there is some, some times a lot of turmoil. But there were moments of joy and bliss as well, just like any other age.

Ed Hartouni

Trad climber
Livermore, CA
Apr 21, 2013 - 12:48pm PT
1961 Lumumba assassination

Lambrakis assassination

Evers assassination

Ngo Dihn Diem assassination

Kennedy assassination

1965 Malcom X assassination

1966 Verwoerd assassination

1967 Rockwell assassination

Martin Luther King Jr. assassination

Robert Kennedy


Trad climber
Santa Cruz/New Zealand/South Pacific
Apr 21, 2013 - 12:50pm PT
One of our most popular shirts with climbers, especially the old boys. Robinson and Donini order them by the dozen!
Credit: guido

T Hocking

Trad climber
Redding, Ca
Apr 21, 2013 - 01:30pm PT
Kent State Shootings May 1970
Neil had sumthin to say about it,

Social climber
Apr 21, 2013 - 05:58pm PT
"When you don't pay attention to history you're doomed to hear history teachers repeating it"
Hobo Dan

On that note I'm starting with the Beats--bored to tears from the post WWII fifties they were looking for a spark and maybe a fire.
Spinning off from that people began to question.

"Bowing to public opinion is like being trampled to death by geese"

I'd like to think that, that question is still being asked.

Why? Why do we put up with the BS of our societal norms, rules and pressures? Why?

So much is out there and it seems that we scrabble for the crumbs.

I always thought the effort of the sixties was a challenge to the masses to be more, to suck the marrow from life, to do.
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 21, 2013 - 07:17pm PT
Fleetus-- that's right, those are boss Baez chicks, dude! Let's see yer draft card go up in FLAMES!

Everybody loves Hippie Chicks!
Credit: Audrey
Foxy ladies!
Credit: GI
Motorcycle mamas!
Credit: GI
California girls!
Credit: GI
Twentieth Century foxes!
Credit: mouse from merced

Yes, Chellies are extra-groovy............

Ricky D

Trad climber
Sierra Westside
Apr 21, 2013 - 07:51pm PT
Since I was only born in 58 most of the sixties was a blur of being a kid.

I do remember being able to pick up some 50000 watt radio station out of Chicago on the "skip" that played some of the most amazing music I had ever heard. Considering this was in South Carolina where gospel, farm reports, country and western was the playlist of regular life.

Thru the ether - we heard the Dave Clark Five, The Beatles in heavy rotation, some Janis and a lot of Motown.

The first rock concert I ever went to was The Monkees where the opening act was some crazed Afro'd black guy wearing paisley shirts and satin pants who literally destroyed his guitar on stage. I think I was about 9 or 10 when this happened and it wasn't until my 20's when research at a radio station I worked at disclosed that this crazy darkie was none other than Jimi Hendrix playing his first American tour as the opening act!

What I can say about the 60's was the nightly news besides teaching us Lord of The Flies Southern kids how to build rocket launchers and prescription bottle grenades, also taught us about protests. I had a front row seat for Forced Busing and still remember to this day the look of primal fear in the faces of the first bus of 6 year old Black kids that came to "our" school!

About 1968, a "hippie store" opened down the street from Bob Jones University that sold black light posters, radical records, incense and tie-dye shirts. What they also sold were books - a few I remember reading were Reville for Radicals by Jerry Rubin, Steal This Book by Abbie Hoffman and The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe. Between these and more, I gained the courage to defy local popular opinion about Vietnam, learned to challenge Authority by simply asking for explanations and a desire to met Ken Kesey - which I eventually did BTW.

Otherwise, most of my formative teen years were in the Dazed and Confused Era we call the 70's by which time I had landed in California in the middle of Dogtown Days!

mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 21, 2013 - 09:17pm PT


We built this city.

Tom Donahue was the construction foreman.

These boys were stannin' aroun' a-leanin' on they shovels.

lars johansen

Trad climber
San Francisco, CA
Apr 21, 2013 - 11:06pm PT
I took the acid test, administered by Ken Kesey, at Longshoreman's Hall. I can't remember if I passed or not.


Apr 22, 2013 - 12:36am PT
I was in my late 20s and 30s during the decade, and from 1962 through 1967 lived in a small town in a western Kentucky rural area where people only got excited about the local high school (and Murray State) basketball teams. My take on the time was a bit different from those of you who were younger and living in more cosmopolitan environments. I had finished my stint as an AF officer, facilitating round-the-clock missions of B-52s loaded with nuclear weapons, flying out over the north Atlantic and back, ready to attack at a moment's notice. I felt very little apprehension about the two superpowers going at it. I wasn't particularly interested in the music of the era, and I was nowhere near any mass demonstrations. I was in a nearby building at the U of Alabama when Wallace stood in the doorway, barring entrance by a black student(see photo previously), and was disgusted by the overweaning twirp but didn't run around shouting at him. Maybe I should have. And although I had admired LBJ I gave up on him when he extended the war. I visited communes and ate with a generous and warm group of students at the U of Colorado who had formed one as an alternative to fraternities and sororities. I bouldered on weekends at Dixon Springs and other spots in S. Illinois with my wife and small child and a couple of fellow faculty members and students who became interested in the sport.

Big Wall climber
Seattle, WA
Apr 22, 2013 - 12:56am PT
Nice little slice of a personal history, Mr. Gill. Thanks.

That last U-tube bit is a gem, Mouse.

The woman that introduced me to my wife in Santa Cruz years back at one time lived across the street from Jerry Garcia somewhere in San Fransisco. She talked about this huge walk-in closet that she had in her house and Jerry would come over and hide in there when things got too wild at his place.

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