Ride with Me in My Pink Cadillac

To be clear and to be certain, the Fifties and early Sixties were not a wonderful time. There is a reason why the Sixties happened. They were a reaction to something soul-destroying.

I think of endless suburbia, with spaghetti roads to thwart pedestrians or outside visitors, all housing and nothing resembling a community. I think of black and white TV, back when it was justly called a “vast wasteland.” I think of the constant anxiety over a possible nuclear Armageddon. I think of the struggle for civil rights.

But it all now seems so far away. Children today probably have no idea… it is like another world. As one commentator recently wrote, “Creationists believe that life on earth began 5000 years ago. Millennials seem to think it started with the Beatles. Or maybe Star Wars.”

There was a sudden rift in world consciousness right about then, and it is worth remembering what came before. We are losing our history, and when we lose our past, we lose our future.

Perhaps the time is ripe for someone to put together an open-air museum, a theme park, of life in the Fifties. We need a version of “Upper Canada Village” to show people what it was like.

And yes, it would also be of vast nostalgic value for us old museum pieces who still ourselves remember. Would that be so wrong?

It would have to avoid the really drab bits. Otherwise no one would come.

But there were fun bits too, and enough to make an amusing family outing. A lot of those fun bits are now forever gone.

Let’s call it “Pleasantville.”

Attractions might include:

Woolworth's lunch counter

A Woolworth’s, as they used to be, with a creaking wooden floor, and as much as possible with the kind of kitsch they sold. Black velvet paintings. Framed prints of children with unnaturally big eyes. Pink pearl erasers. Paint-by-number sets. Plastic pink flamingos for the lawn. The attraction could pay for itself: it is also the souvenir shop, and items could be branded with the park’s name and logo. “My grandparents visited Pleasantville, and all I got was this lousy poodle skirt.” The store ought to include a lunch counter, as they used to. But perhaps without full historical authenticity: no ban on serving blacks.

Fine art of the 1950s.

A real old diner. This is a popular thing anyway—a proven business. Retro diners are everywhere. But it would have to be included here, or something would be missing. The menu could feature the actual diner slang for the foods—“Adam and Eve on a raft,” and so forth. With explanations, needfully. I say no upmarket revisionism: a burger is a burger. Do the dishes as traditionally done, just with quality ingredients. Call it “Bernie’s Beanery” after the diner in Blondie strips (if I recall correctly). Or just call it “Dagwood’s,” or “Bumstead’s,” and feature Dagwood sandwiches. Stool and counter seating, plus booths. The booths, of course, all must have little jukeboxes.

A drive-in theatre, of course. Have it show double bills of old B-movies from the period. Nobody came for the movies, after all; we want to keep it authentic. The biggest problem is that new cars have bucket seats. And the B-movie is itself something lost. Attack of the Killer Tomatoes; Plan 9 from Outer Space; Creature from the Black Lagoon. Thanks to new technology, the sound could be far superior to what we/they had back in the old days.

To complement this, we need a regular neighbourhood theatre, with a proper marquee and a big screen. This would then feature the quality movies of the period, in a cycle: Psycho, North by Northwest, Vertigo, On the Waterfront, Rebel Without a Cause, A Streetcar Named Desire, Rear Window, High Noon, Sunset Boulevard, Singing in the Rain, The Searchers, Rashomon, 12 Angry Men, Strangers on a Train, African Queen, Roman Holiday, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Blackboard Jungle, The Wild One, Paths of Glory, Hiroshima Mon Amour, Dr. Strangelove, Lolita, West Side Story, Spartacus, 8 ½, The Birds, La Dolce Vita, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Manchurian Candidate, Breathless, Lawrence of Arabia. These are all movies worth rewatching even if the audience has already seen them; they give a great feel for the time and for what people were thinking about; and it would be a rare experience for most to actually see them as they were designed, on a big screen. It might be a revelation.

Note that none of these movies post-date 1963. That, it seems to me, is the proper end point. That was when the world changed. That was when the counterculture began: in Dallas, November 22, 1963. That was the end of innocence. So no Beatles, no Vietnam, no VW microbuses.

Catholics would enjoy a recreated Catholic chapel of the time, with ad orientem setup, altar rail, and Latin Masses with bells and incense. One hopes the local diocese would cooperate. It is important to include this aspect of 50’s life, because churchgoing then was at an all-time high. It would be misleading to omit something like this. And the Vatican II changes are, as much as anything, a mark of the great rift that separates now from then.

We would want a candy shop selling common candies of the period. Some are still with us, and it might be hard to recreate others. But it would be a big attraction for indulgent grandparents to be able to but their grandkids the candies they liked as kids, and see how they react. Bubble gum cigars, Bazooka gum, Cracker Jack. Candy cigarettes. Life Savers. Pink popcorn—this may have just been a Montreal thing. Candy buttons. Cinnamon hearts. Chiclets. Jawbreakers. Bubble gum sold wrapped with baseball and hockey cards. Pez, in period dispensers. Wax lips. Candy bracelets. Red licorice. Tootsie Roll Pops. If we are in Canada, we must include Mackintosh toffee, Rolos, Smarties, cherry chocolates, and Thrills. There are sources online for many of these items—just a matter of putting them in the aisles of a bricks and mortar store again. It might be a workable business proposition to reprint some of the classic hockey or baseball cards of the period and sell them here. Add in the Pleasantville name and logo, and make them do double duty as souvenirs and advertising.

Of course, we need a soda fountain somewhere about. Taking in a theme park can be thirsty work in the summer. Featuring the now hard-to-find malts and floats. Shakes come with extra in the metal cyclinder from the machine.

Add in a vintage pinball arcade. The real old machines with the mechanical flippers. They never offered much action, but they were colorful to watch, and might inspire some pity for the poor grandparents who had to make do with them.

Other recreational opportunities might include a go-cart track. This is a good reminder of how crazy everyone was about cars in the day. We would need a bowling alley—still around, but not nearly as central to daily life any more. Offer rides through the grounds in a period red Corvette convertible. Or a pink Cadillac.

A nice sprung dance floor we can call the Sock Hop. Have live demonstrations of popular dances of the day: the cha cha, the twist, the locomotion, the mashed potato, the limbo, and so forth. Visitors would be welcome to kick off their shoes and give it a go themselves—or be coached by the pros.

Wandering the grounds, there would have to be a demonstrator who did tricks with a yoyo, the way Wham-o used to do in every neighbourhood. And a hula-hoop demonstration. Maybe also a boomerang demo. The demonstrations could probably support themselves by selling spectators yoyos, hula hoops, and boomerangs. Depending on copyright restrictions and availablity, cartoon characters distinct to the time could wander around the grounds for photo opportunities: Pogo and his friends, Li’l Abner and other Dogpatch personalities; Dick Tracy. Maybe Bullwinkle and Rocky from TV. The biggest strip at the time was actually Peanuts, I think, but it is too familiar from later periods as well. Have a cowboy in a mask—the Lone Ranger. A guy in a buckskin jacket and a coonskin cap—Davy Crockett.

In a bandshell, live retro cover groups could play the early hits of rock and roll. On another stage, reproduce the set of the $64,000 Question. Audience members could volunteer to compete.

And for contrast and respite, add in a coffee house, offering espresso, in which a guy or girl dressed suitably recites beat poetry. When he takes a break, someone with a guitar gets up and sings classic folk songs.

Recreate a bomb shelter of the day, just like the plans that were once common in Popular Science and Mechanix Illustrated.

Have a radio booth, where people can watch a real live DJ at work, in the style of the period. The feed could be broadcast to loudspeakers around the grounds. People could step into a vintage phone booth, call in, and make a dedication. The dime or quarter they put in to make the call could help support the attraction.

Did I miss anything?