The Men of 48

My father was a depression man

And went through World War Two

When I was young he told me. "Son,

I'm doing this for you.

Work my ass off at the store.

They also serve who stand and wait

It won't be like it was before

You're a man of 48!

He looked at me. What did he see?

A skinny, homely kid

Dressed like Hopalong Cassidy!

He should have had no hope. He did.

America was on the rise!

He could afford a Buick Six

And looked out with a wild surmise

Ignoring asterisks

America! The factories! The sales were on at Sears

Good times for everyone -- even for the queers

Like my dear Old Uncle Joe living in Long Beach

Driving a fine Jaguar with his friend the "Georgia Peach"

They didn't need no credit cards.

Paid with hard earned cash

Drank martinis at zinc bars

And watched the young boys flash,

Chatted about Fabian

The went home and watched TV

And once even my Uncle Joe

Turned and said to me.

"You we're born under a good sign, son

Not like your Mom and Dad.

Those were Hard Times, son

Miserable and Bad...."

Then he looked away. Remembering...who knows?

But watch the wheel of fortune

Turning as it goes.

Down the years. A trail of tears.

Ah, what a horrible fate.

Theres no applause! And no cheers

For the men of '48.

And now I'm old and out in the cold

But I can see me yet

A little big eared fellow

Reading "Tom Corbett, Space Cadet."

And going to the movies

Watching "The Man with the Atomic Brain"

And slowly, slowly catching on

"We are all insane."

My father running from hard times

Working every day

Listening to the midnight chimes

"For you, they're far away, son.

For you they're far away!"

But it didn't seem that way to me

Riding on my bike

Past the steel mill houses

Where the signs said "I like Ike."

Or that time we took a Boy Scout trip

To the missile site

Lived in Doctor Strangelove times

"We are going down, we're going down

Going down to night."

We made it out of high school

Back in 66.

Some went away to college

Some went to old Fort Dix

I went away to college

Got a letter "What's going on?

I wish I was in that college

But now I'm at Khe Sanh.

Hey, I heard that Johnny

Got killed over here

I'm leaving in a couple days

Been here a whole damn year

Sorry about not writing

Something's wrong with me…"

Then I got another letter

"Absolutely, Sweet Marie"

Was playing on the stereo

As I began to read

"I just quit and I'm on the run!

I just left Walter Reed."

Bill was a man of 48

"Sometimes it gets so hard, you see."

But he had jumped the railroad gate.

Had some other place to be.

Absolutely, Sweet Marie.

He was a man of '48.

He served -- but did not stand and wait.

I never heard from him again.

But I always will remember when

We stayed out late on Halloween

And he told me he had seen

A sign outside the Bongo Club

That home of black Beelzebub.

"Tonight only! Howling Wolf!"

And he told me Jimmy Valentine

Said he could get us some fine wine.

And said that he would meet us there

Right in back beneath the stair

But I was too damn scared to go.

Jimmy was a poor Negro.

And I went home. And so did Bill.

Past the groaning old steel mill.

If I'd gone I would have become insane

Smokestack Lightning in my brain.

And one friend said "By this you see

You are just a bourgeoisie!"

My friend who loved the Grateful Dead

And put a bullet through his head.

Why? It was damn hard to tell.

I guess I didn't know him well.

My father had a candy store.

But it was more than that.

And you could go to "Tucks" next door

If you wanted to buy a hat

And up the street is Sun Ray Drugs

Woolworths and Newberry's

And then the old Coatesville Hotel

Where the hunchbacked bellboy tarried

And then there is John's Barbershop

Across from the railway stations

And a temple dark near Central Park:

The "Fraternal Order of the Masons"

And a lumber yard and coalyard too

And a house where Donna Forte wiggles

To 45s on Summer Nights

Across from the Fraternal Order of the Eagles,

Dances on her row house porch

Until her father comes back home

And yells at her to get inside

She shocked the Church of Rome!

And we even had an old town clock

I thought I could hear it tick and tock..

The steel mill closed. The clock ticked on.

The radio chattered of Saigon.

We were the men of '48

And now barely can recall that date.

The date they said that Saigon fell

We were moving on and said "Oh, well."

There's a panic there in Needle Park.

We're going down. It's getting dark.

We're going down. It's getting dark.

My friend Tommy was a fag

And once on an amphetamine jag

Drove his Datsun through the rain

The Eight Track only played "Love Train."

Drove from Philly to L.A.

Got there but he couldn't stay.

Drove back to Philly that same day.

"Those good times will not come again.

Driving, driving through the rain.

But, man, I hate that song "Love Train."

Died of Aids in 82.

What else is a poor boy supposed to do?

Mary said "I have a plan.

I'm reading Teilhard De Chardin."

I can't remember what she said

When I suggested Alfred North Whitehead.

We were high on LSD

And I was happy that she spoke to me.

Jimi Hendrix was on the wall

And she seemed so frail and small

And trembled. Outside it snowed.

And she said she hated "On the Road"

Went out in the snow with her boyfriend, Jack.

Always remember "Don't look back."

Next year I heard that she was dead.

In a car accident they said.

But, for what it's worth she's ever here

In the trembling noösphere.

The fog conspires. The taxi honks.

Fort Apache. The Bronx.

On my way to see my friend, Kevin

Starving artist. Son of heaven.

Looking for his tenement.

Holding the postcard he sent.

Please come up and see me, Joe

I'm in trouble. I don't know…"

No more words. Here's the address.

Who the hell is that I guess

Just some drunk collapsed on the steps.

Yeah, of course, it's goddamn Kevin

Starving artist. Son of Heaven.

Shake him. He wakes up. Say's "Joe

You're just in time. C'mon let's go."

Gets up once and falls back down.

Get's up again and looks around.

Then up the stairs and we go in.

Kevin shooting heroin.

"What are you doing?" is what I said.

You keep this up and you'll be dead."

Takes the needle out, says "Oh,

Holy Christ we got to go."

New Year's eve! And what rough beast?

Jimi Hendrix at the Filmore East!

Two tickets Kevin had somehow

A taxi! And we get it now…

Kevin nodding. And through the night

Speeding through the strange, sad light

Of New York, 1968.

Kevin mumbles "Well, be late."

We're there and suddenly he's awake

Cuts into the long long line

Has his ticket. I have mine.

Bill Graham says "With no more adieu

Here he is!" …What could I do?

Told Kevin "Keep up that shit and you'll be dead."

"Shut up. Get serious." is what he said.

The fog conspires. The taxi honks.

Fort Apache. The Bronx.

On my way to see my friend, Kevin

Starving artist. Son of heaven.

One year later. I was right.

And so we all go down to night.

It could not have turned out better.

"You can go to the movies in groups of six."

The old sergeant says. I am at Fort Dix

Just after basic. A General Alarm:

Fort Dix is overrun by guys back from Vietnam.

"What crap," I thought. And walked on down the hill.

The army says "Don't do this." I say "I will."

Go with one other. Some guy named Sam.

Who tells me he can't wait to go to Vietnam.

From some town in Ohio. Maybe Martins Ferry.

At least I hope. Man I am very

Interested to see what I can see. Strange days.

I would see what I could see anyways!

I don't know what the hell I mean by this

Something about Fate. Whatever this THIS is.

New to me and caught up... and here am I.

From Here to Eternity crossed with Catcher in the Rye

Unreal just then so I go… why ever tarry?

Go with a nitwit from Ohio to see "Dirty Harry."

And slump up from my seat in my most insouciant manner

To stand ironically for the Star Spangled Banner.

The audience --Jesus Christ-- all stoned or drunk

They cheer and cheer. "Do you feel lucky, punk?"

I don't. Leave. Go back and lie in my bunk.

Asking myself all night: "Do you feel lucky, do you feel lucky

...Punk?"