refleXions - updated November 26, 2001

You open the time capsule and it's contents spill out in front of you. There is a manuscript, obviously typed on an old typewriter, and a scattering of black and white family photographs.

  The Early 60's - Memories in Black and White
by Sandra J. Murray
(Scroll down to bottom for snapshots and page dedication)

Think back to "The Sixties": images of neon peace signs, filthy blue jeans and huge flowers made of pink and orange tissue may run through your mind. I share those stereotyped, colorful memories, however, my earliest and fondest memories are in black and white.

That may be because, at least at the beginning of the decade, television was broadcast only in black and white. We lived in front of our television, boasting 3-channel reception if the weather was good.  If not, we had a "contraption" on top of the "TV set" to get a stronger signal. It was a box that most closely resembled a large oven timer crossed with a compass. When the dial was turned, it clicked off a few degrees at a time while the antenna rotated towards the selected direction. When the antenna was pointed in the direction of a strong broadcast signal, the picture would "come in good".  It was all very scientific.

My earliest TV memory is watching an old "Hercules" cartoon on a surprisingly small, round cornered screen housed in a large wooden console. It had doors that slid open to reveal the screen for viewing. I remember the cartoon vividly - there was a character named Pan, who was Herc's sidekick, and Loki, who was a mischievous bad guy. I even remember parts of the theme song - "Hercules, only the evil fear him . . . " - feel free to sing along if you remember it too! 

During The Sixties, children often functioned as the remote control. My father often called one of us into the living room to "change the channel, would you honey?" This was because he was comfortably installed in his favorite chair. The sports section was open on his lap, and he had placed a radio earplug firmly in his ear to listen to the Red Sox play-by-play on the radio while simultaneously watching the game on the TV.  Within reaching distance was the TV tray, which held a cold mug full of ice and Pepsi, so cold there was sweat on the outside of the mug. If you were really good, you got a sip or two of Pepsi from his mug before you went to bed. Nothing tasted better than that. Many a muggy Summer evening, I was lulled to sleep by the comforting sound of the baseball announcer wafting in from the Living Room.

TV was our drama and excitement.  One day, I came upon my mother and grandmother sitting together on the couch, crying.  A big lump of fear lurched from my stomach to my throat. There must have been a family tragedy! Dabbing at her eyes with Kleenex, my mother told me that a favorite soap opera character had just died. Grandma sniffled as well, and then stuck her tissue up her sleeve for later use. I don't remember the day JFK died (I was not yet 3) but I remember this!

Black and white TV reminds me of an Ansel Adams print.  Everything seems magical, less ordinary, in black and white. Maybe it was the contrast. Maybe we were willing to watch just about anything if the reception was good. Or maybe things in the early Sixties hadn't become complicated enough for color. Somehow, when we watched our black and white TV's, we saw the infinite shades of grey in between, and that was enough.

The Sixties in Black and White

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This page is dedicated to my dad, Norman Hiersche, who has owned more cameras than I can count.  Polaroids, 35-millimeter, Instamatics, Slide Projectors, you name it.  Dad has taken what must be hundreds of slides and has played "Director" in numerous "Super-8" versions of family events over the years -- complete with lighting bright enough for a night game at Fenway Park. Then he patiently played back the movies on his projector while taping them with a video-recorder, complete with his narration.  And even though we complain that if anyone were to watch the movies, they would come to the conclusion that all we ever did was hang Christmas stockings and eat at the dining room table, thanks, Dad.  Thanks for preserving nearly every Christmas tree on video, for capturing birthdays, dogs, vacations, and the lives of your children and grandchildren.