Eight Years Ago...

1969 Thoughts

A pair of generations ago... on July 18, 1969 Ted Kennedy left a party with a young woman, crashed his car into a river, went home with woman and car still submerged, and didn't call the cops until the next day. The woman drowned. Ted, though ill, is still a U.S. Senator and never saw the inside of a jail except on Lockup. It pays to be rich.

There was no room in yesterday's Cronkite post, but to give you some idea of Vietnam's savagery: starting at the Tet Offensive in January 1968 and continuing until October 1969, the United States lost at least 500 men killed a week. The South Vietnamese, who were often rightly disparaged as weak, corrupt and ineffective, always lost more. The North Vietnamese and Viet Cong topped even that.

Last year's moon post summoned it up well.

Cronkite, Vietnam and South Park

At the last Cable Ace award ceremony ever held, Paul Rugg and I encountered Walter Cronkite in the Men's Room. We passed within a yard of the famed newsman as he told a joke about a nun. We were on the move and missed the punch line, but, hey, that was Walter Cronkite!

In any case, Walter was really wrong about the whole Tet Offensive business.

On the Vietnamese Lunar Holiday (Tet) in January 1968 - after months of good news war stories, buffed to a mirror-like shine by the Johnson administration - the Viet Cong launched country-wide attacks throughout South Vietnam. (My cousin Danny landed in bullet-riddled Saigon the second day of the assaults. As ranking naval officer on his flight, he had to deliver orders to a headquarters across the city from the airport, negotiating his way past street fighting and wondering how the rest of his 365 days would shape up.) In any case, there was a sense by the American media that the U.S. was involved in a stalemate. After a trip to South Vietnam, Walter gave a famous speech in which he said our only way out was to negotiate.

As it turns out, the enemy was guilty of pumping sunshine up their army's ass. Viet Cong troops were told they'd be welcomed by a grateful population, the South Vietnamese army would crack like a fortune cookie, and the Americans would be chased to their big coastal bases where they'd drink beer and grumble. Instead, elite Viet Cong cadre attacked and were chewed up by U.S. firepower. The population played it cagey and the South Vietnamese army fought. The Viet Cong were demoralized and, except locally, never a nation-wide factor again. North Vietnam shouldered the brunt of the war. (After they finally won in 1975, the North Vietnamese refused to allow any Viet Cong units to march in the victory parade. A cynic might think the VC were set up to be decimated.)

In any case, Walter Cronkite got a little jumpy and traded on his good name to make policy pronouncements. Maybe he should've waited to see how the fighting shook out, instead of punching his own team in the neck during a tough go.

As to the 1997 Cable Ace awards, that night, Freakazoid lost out to some trendy, limited animation thing called South Park. Paul and I laughed. How long would that show last?

St. George HS and the Vienna Boys

I was just contacted by an old high school chum. Oakner and I attended St. George in Evanston, Illinois through our sophomore year and hadn't spoken in geological eons. Our school name was the Dragons, and while St. George teams had suffered due to declining enrollment, underage drinking was in a boom period.

Oakner and a group of us called the "Vienna Boys" (named after a Clark Street hot dog stand and not a European choir), ran around the north side of Chicago between Clark Avenue and the lake, and from Howard Street south to Devon, having interesting and informative teenage adventures. Often we'd drink beer, ride public transportation, throw up beer, get kicked off public transportation. Once on a bus during the winter, I vomited up a half-dozen tangerine slices, still intact. I just missed an old woman's foot. She gave me a disgusted look, "If y'all can't hold yore liquor, you shouldn't drink." Great advice which I eventually followed decades later.

Oakner assured me most of the old group doesn't drink very much, if at all, and they hardly ever ride public transportation. In any case, I'll be back in Chicago this February for a cousin's wedding and can't wait to see them. At the very least see Oakner, who figured largely in many youthful events, found his way over time, met a great woman, and now runs a small restaurant out in the 'burbs.

Whatever happens, no tangerines, that's for sure. They're the devil's fruit.