Flags, Nudes and Curses
My oldest friend, Billie, (oldest because I’ve known her since the 6th grade, not because she’s lived significantly longer than anyone else I know) recently sent me a Youtube link to a blast from our peace-love-dove hippie past. Oh my! Ann Arbor, Michigan. The summers of the 1960s and ‘70s. Free concerts all summer. Long haired people filing into the park with blankets and frisbees. Groovin’ to the tunes of the MC5. Johnny Winter. Commander Cody. The Grateful Dead.
I watched the ancient documentary, scanning the crowds for anybody I might know. I was soon perusing the internet for more photos and news clips from the era.
I came across a blurb about the Tate Blues Band. I was definitely in attendance the time Terry Tate had a “wardrobe malfunction,” to borrow a phrase made famous by Janet Jackson’s 2004 Super Bowl performance.
It was a fine afternoon, although I remember some friction in the air. Police around the perimeter of the park, armed for battle, were making some of the concert-goers nervous. Terry Tate was dressed in an American flag outfit which, unlike today, was frowned upon by much of society. The daring of Terry Tate was not lost on his long-haired audience. The sense of friction elevated.
But the music was grand, and people were on their feet groovin’ to the tunes—until Mr. Tate’s trousers began to disintegrate at the seams. The pants split sufficiently to be hopeless, and for a very short while Terry Tate was nude, until he donned another pair of pants. The crowd cheered. The police swept in to arrest him. He was charged with indecent exposure. His long hair was shorn, and bond was set at $5000. Which, according to the Almighty Google, is akin to roughly $43,000 today.
But now wardrobe malfunctions are celebrated—earning performers a mention on the nightly news and permanent photographs with captions on the internet so anyone who missed the show can take a peek after the fact. And these days it’s okay to wear flag clothes. You can buy flag shirts. Flag pants. Flag dresses. Leggings. Purses. Shoes. Even flag underwear, which would have made conservatives foam at the mouth in 1970—how dare people desecrate the flag in such a fashion!
Back then I followed the MC5 (shortened from Motor City Five), a band popular amongst local long hairs (and in no small part to blame for my significant hearing impairment). When at last they put out an album on a commercial label, they recorded their signature song with the opening expletive intact: “Kick out the jams mother ******s,” which ultimately got them in hot water with the recording company—even though the rest of the album was essentially clean.
Now days, curse words abound in many live performances as well as recorded music. It might not be everybody’s cup of tea, but it’s out there if you want it.
Yes, I’m waxing nostalgic. But also appreciating history. Thanks to some bohemian foot soldiers, wearing the flag is now permissible and patriotic, artists can swear publicly. and wardrobe malfunctions generally don’t get performers arrested. The next time you find yourself donning a flag hat or a stars-and-stripes jacket, take a moment to thank those who did the heavy lifting.
And for the record—those battle-ready cops at Ann Arbor’s free concerts were ultimately replaced by the unarmed Psychedelic Rangers, who were responsible for directing traffic and keeping the peace. They could call the police if they needed them—but I don’t remember them ever being needed.