OK, 1988 was a pretty dull and inconsequential year, save for that thrilling presidential contest between Colonel Flagg and General Anesthetic, and the inspired leadership of Chicago’s new mayor, Bossed.
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What with JFK’s assassination of 25 years ago, and King’s and RFK’s of 20 years ago, and Mayor Washington’s death of one year ago, you could almost count on seeing a hearse every time you flicked on your TV. Or you might see rioting cops and students, followed by a multitude of graying former hippies being interviewed in their corporate offices for a where-are-they-now? and what-have-we-learned? story.
This perhaps is not so much infatuation with the past as disenchantment with the present. Face it, the staid 80s pale next to the rip-roaring 60s, and even next to the self-indulgent 70s. The Me Decade was succeeded by the Zzzz Decade. The 80s are a time when all hell stays put. As for heroes, our only larger-than-life figures are the dead people we’ve remembered so fondly and endlessly this year. The present characters know they don’t measure up; so Dan Quayle tries to be Jack Kennedy, Reverend Jackson tries to be Reverend King, and Tim Evans tries to be Harold Washington.
