World War Three. It broke out somewhere around October.
It goes back to June. You decided you wanted to grow your hair. A lot of good reasons; all the cool people had long hair – you didn’t want to look like everybody else – girls liked guys with long hair.
That was all you needed.
So you stopped your twice-a-month visits to the Barber, pocketed the money your mom gave you to get your hair cut and went to Aron’s to buy records.
In no time the sides started filling out, spilling over the tops of your ears. Flips developed in the back and you could part your hair in the middle now.
You were impressed.
Your mom got suspicious.
You went to a Love-In and ran into a bunch of people who went to your school. You became family. Girls noticed you. Summer became wonderful.
When the semester started you learned how to slick back your hair and get friendly with Vitalis because one of your new family members showed you how.
Your friends said you could pass for Dexter Boynton, the mythical Biology nerd.
On weekends you’d hitch to Aron’s and get whistled at by guys in Chevy Impalas. Every so often a car would sail by and somebody in the passenger seat would yell “Hey faggot!” – you got used to it after a while – besides, you were on to bigger things and you had a girlfriend and they probably couldn’t get one if their life depended on it.
You started ducking the Boy’s vice-Principal who was looking for guys violating dress codes – hair was one of them; Instant suspension, no ifs ands or buts.
You covered the walls of your room in Family Dog posters and you burned incense.
Your parents started eyeing you like East Berlin border guards. They read the newspapers. They watched George Putnam denouncing guys with long hair as “kidiots”.
It was at the dinner table when it happened. Your dad asked the question why you were growing your hair long – you answered that everybody else was.
That didn’t work. Your Mom chimed in asking about the Two Dollars she gives you for a haircut and why is your pillow greasy?
And then it got personal.
It escalated and got louder – your parents were pulling out every strange thing you’ve done since you were born. They threatened to pull down all your posters and send you to Catholic School. You called them Nazi’s and said you were leaving. They said “fine” and your dad flung the front door open. He was serious – you weren’t.
In less than a half-hour you became the enemy.
Well . . .you had to prove a point, so you hitched to a friends house who let you stay and you both sat in his room, smoking cigarettes and listening to B. Mitchel Reed on the radio.
It got calm – it got mellow – it was the first skirmish of a war that would go on for years, or until the Draft Board.
It wasn’t easy being a freak, but it was a lot of fun.
And to set the scene – here’s 45 minutes worth of Better Music Radio from KFWB on October 3rd 1967.
