America as Mayberry

I've had a little time to read lately, and in the last couple of weeks, I've been living in the 50s.

First I read Stephen King's latest, 11/22/63.  Despite the title, which refers to the date of the JFK assassination, much of the book is set in the late 1950s.

Next up was Bond; James Bond.  I've seen most of the Bond films, but I'd never actually read one of Ian Fleming's novels until this week.  Live and Let Die wasn't just set in the 1950s, it was written in the 1950s

Before I go on, let me put in a plug for Mr. King's latest tome.  11/22/63 is his finest outing in decades, and might be the best thing he's ever written.  It's a story about a mild mannered teacher infiltrating the past to stop Lee Harvey Oswald from assassinating President John F. Kennedy.  I won't spoil it for you by revealing more.  Even if you don't think you like Stephen King's books, you might just like this one.  It really is a wonderful read.

Both books reminded me how much we've changed over the course of my lifetime.  Some of those changes will make you want to live in a more trusting world where the milkman delivered to your door and you could just walk onto an airplane without being strip searched or even asked for ID.

But most of what I read makes me glad I'm living in the here and now.

In both books everyone smokes everywhere and all the time.  In Live and Let Die, James Bond mentions having a three pack a day habit.  Today, even smokers would find that excessive and a little gross.

There's a lot of drinking and driving in both books.  In King's book, there are consequences--someone dies.  Not surprising since Stephen King almost died after being struck by a distracted driver.  In Fleming's book, Bond and his compatriots rarely get behind the wheel before they've had at least a couple of stiff drinks and then nothing bad happens.

The changing role of women from then to now is glaring.  The two main female characters in 11/22/63 are both victims of spousal abuse, while the only important female character in Live and Let Die is nothing more than a rich gangster's plaything (and later James Bond's plaything).

But for me, the biggest revelation was how casually racist the 1950s really were.  We've all seen pictures of my city of Birmingham, Alabama back when it was called "Bombingham," and King refers to how separate and unequal that time was.  But Live and Let Die really drives the point home in its depictions of African-American people.  For someone living on this side of the millenial line, it's shocking.

Here's a description of one woman in a Harlem nightclub in a chapter he entitled "N-word Heaven".  Only Fleming used the actual N-word--the euphemism didn't exist back then.

Opposite him, leaning forward with concern on her pretty face, was a sexy little negress with a touch of white blood in her.

An eye-opener, isn't it?

And here's a sample of dialogue between that woman and her boyfriend that Bond overhears.  This is how every black person in the book talks with one exception.  This is exactly what Fleming wrote, although I eliminated a few letters of the last word in the quote.

"Aw, honey," pleaded the girl. "Don' ack mad at me, honey. Ah was fixin' tuh treat yuh tonight.  Take yuh to Smalls Par'dise, mebbe.  See dem high-yallers shakin' 'n truckin'. Dat Birdie Johnson, da maitre d', he permis me a ringside whenebber ah com nex'."

The man's voice suddenly sharpened. "Wha' dat Birdie he mean tuh yuh, hey?  he asked suspiciously.  "Perzackly'," he paused to let the big word sink in, "perzackly wha' goes 'tween yuh 'n dat lowdown ornery wuthless n-----uh?"  

This conversation continues for several pages, and its only point is to provide "color" and atmosphere.  These two characters don't do anything else other than have this one conversation.

Live and Let Die was published in 1954 to critical acclaim.  The British papers were enthralled by Fleming's exciting depiction of exotic Harlem.  Imagine how an author would be received if he published those words today, less than 60 years later.

Yes, times have changed over the course of my lifetime, and mostly for the better.  I'm nostalgic for that innocent age of America as Mayberry, but it's a nostalgia for an America that never was.  I'll live here and now, thank you.