All in the Family, a sit-com from the seventies: Racist Archie Bunker and his cloying, supplicant wife Edith faced off weekly against their head-strong daughter and her liberal, snowflake husband. At the start of every show, Archie and Edith (Carroll O’Connor and Jean Stapleton) sat at a piano and sang Those Were the Days, the show’s theme song.
Boy, the way Glenn Miller played
songs that made the hit parade
Guys like me we had it made
Those were the days
Didn’t need no welfare state
ev’rybody pulled his weight
Gee our old LaSalle ran great
Those were the days
And you knew who you were then
girls were girls and men were men
Mister we could use a man like Herbert Hoover again
People seemed to be content
fifty dollars paid the rent
freaks were in a circus tent
Those were the days
Take a little Sunday spin
Go to watch the Dodgers win
Have yourself a dandy day
that cost you under a fin
Hair was short and skirts were long
Kate Smith really sold a song
I don’t know just what went wrong
Those were the days
If you’re like me, you skipped over reading the lyrics and jumped down to this sentence. No, go back and read the lyrics. They say a lot about what’s happening in the world right now.
Often, I’d start an essay like this with a warning. Caution: Old dude writing. No one under forty knows about All in the Family. And they probably haven’t heard the song either. The lyrics paint a Norman Rockwell picture. American life in the late forties, early fifties. Christ, we’re talking seventy years ago. Who even cares? Who pines for that life any more? If you asked me five years ago, I’d say All in the Family is no longer relevant.
Friday night TV (I think). My parents were out, my brothers and I sprawled on the family room floor and watched a two-hour line-up of shows. Would my kids watch All in the Family? I doubt it. Four adults talking. That’s all it was. Archie railing against Blacks, Jews, Puerto Ricans and anyone else who doesn’t match his Euro/American ideal. Michael, his son in law, educated and unemployed, living (freeloading) in Archie’s house. Michael was ‘woke.’ The polar opposite of Archie. He called out Archie’s racist comments, arguments and hilarity ensued.
Archie was an angry man. His white, male birthright seemingly slipping away. He was pissed about it. He came of age in the forties, he fought World War Two. After that, life was supposed to be gravy. A steady job, a comfortable house, a loving wife and daughter. He says this right in the middle of the song:
Guys like me, we had it made. Those were the days.
But civil rights happened. Long haired hippies protested the government. Women wore pants. Archie’s guaranteed world began to fall apart. He became an inappropriate has-been. Like I said, he was pissed.
That show premiered in 1971. It’s been fifty years. Can you believe people are still pissed about this? A few years ago, I read in an article that Donald Trump insists the women in his administration wear a skirt or a dress. He “wants women to look like women.” Like Archie, he hates everyone of the wrong race or religion. Here’s the scary part. People agree with him.
In my last job, I was the finance director for the local YWCA. Everyone calls it the “Y” even though that’s branding for the YMCA. It’s practically identical to a Y–swimming pool, fitness center, child care. But the big difference is the organization’s mission. Eliminating Racism, Empowering Women. Archie Bunker would respond to that news with his trademark “Aww, Jeez!” And then he’d blow a raspberry through his lips. In my conservative town, top-heavy with retirees, we heard a lot of this. For at least eight years, a battle has raged over whether or not to air Fox News on the fitness center TVs.*
One morning as the facility opened up, the Aquatics department was setting up for a swim meet. A table stood by the entrance with a big sign that read “Race Info.” A woman stormed over to the reception desk screaming about the Y’s mission. “Four cops got shot last night in Texas! Don’t talk to me about race.”
Once, working a fundraising table, a guy came up to me, a young guy, maybe thirty-five, and told me it was time to stop advocating for minorities. “White people are the minority now,” he said. “We need to start working for our own rights.”
Every day, Trump pokes a needle into this vein. Law and Order. Immigration bans. Heritage. Liberty and Rights. And every day, I’m shocked at how this message still plays. Granted, based on recent polls it seems to be losing steam, but still, something like forty percent of the country has Archie’s theme song playing through their heads.
They’re desperately grabbing at a past that should no longer exist. A past of oppression. Oppression of anyone who isn’t white and Christian and straight. Closing in on the end of a bike ride around the Gettysburg Battlefield this evening, I heard Susan mutter “Oh, brother.” Coming at us was a pickup truck flying a Confederate flag. As they approached, Susan shook her head, and I gave the driver a long thumbs down. Just behind the truck was a Black man riding his bike towards us. He gave us a nod.
The world is changing, Donald. It has already changed, and it’s changing even more. Archie Bunker saw this a half century ago. Wake up and move on. You’re not wanted here anymore.
*In management meetings we debated this issue constantly. My vote: Get rid of the TVs all together. People are here to work out. They can watch TV at home.
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Previously Published on jeffcann.com