Adieu to the 20th Century

This is my last column of the century. I’ll be off until 2001, although a great many people would say that I’ve been off for several years now, maybe more.

How does someone sum up a century? The mere mention of the word “millennium” a year ago set off a reader reaction bordering on the spasmodic, rife with invective about a so-and-so being too ignorant to comprehend that new centuries and millenniums begin with ‘01, not ’00.

“Dear Sir,” you might expect such correspondence to commence, “I beg to differ with your assertion that 2000 is the start of the new century or millennium.”

“Dear #!*%@!,” many began instead, “you are stupid stupid stupid it’s 2001 not 2000 stupid where’d you go to school you stupid stupid.”

(A tad more restraint in 2001 would be nice.)

Oh, and then came the century’s last election. Ten kinds of letters were composed while Americans waited for a winner before winter. Their general topics were, in no particular order:

1. You media liberals.

2. What have you got against Al Gore?

3. You media liberals.

4. You obviously hate George W. Bush.

5. Why don’t you leave Bill Clinton alone?

6. You obviously voted for Bush.

7. Too bad your precious Gore lost.

8. You stupid liberals in the stupid media.

9. You stupid, stupid liberals in the stupid, stupid media.

10. Why don’t you leave Hillary alone?

Right you are, each and every one of you.

I distinctly remember explaining to one reader: “I was for Gore over Bush, but I was for McCain over Gore, and I was probably for Bradley over McCain.”

“Sure you were,” he replied.

“I was for Clinton over Bush’s dad,” I persisted, bound and determined to set this guy straight, “but I was for Bush over Dukakis, and I was for Reagan over Mondale, even though I was for Carter over Reagan.”

“Typical liberal bull,” he replied.

I wrote back once more.

“OK, have a nice day,” I said.

*

Deconstructing the 20th century is impossible. No matter which percentage of it we’ve personally survived, there’s no chance of our articulating everything that happened between 1901 and 2000 and explaining why.

Why in my own youth was “apathy” a word for the day, with an entire generation accused of being unwilling to lift a finger for its fellow man? Did anybody ever really care about nobody caring? Does anybody now?

When exactly did “pollution” become the world’s dirtiest word, with the environment a cause as serious as overpopulation or hunger? How long ago was it commonplace to see a puff of dark smoke spewing from a tailpipe, or a highway litterbug chucking empty cans and cigarette butts out of a car?

What brought “the Establishment” to a generation’s attention, and where did it go? Did anybody ever really mistrust anybody over 30?

At which point did “automation” in the workplace become a trend that saddened and frightened mankind, that we were systematically being replaced by machines?

Where did drive-in movies go? And drive-up restaurants, where you rolled down your window so a “carhop” could hook on your tray?

Whatever became of scotch and soda, liver and onions, Tab and Fresca, pheasant under glass, soft-boiled eggs, frog’s legs, Salisbury steak, sardines, s’mores, molasses, Metrecal, marzipan or using “saccharine?” When did we stop saying “French” before fries or “pizza” before pies?

Why did men stop wearing hats but not caps? What happened to cuff links and tie clasps? Who wears watch fobs or bow ties? Why did three-piece suits go back to two pieces? Does anybody still say “patent leather” or “iridescent?” When did a necktie become just a tie, a tuxedo a tux, a safety razor a razor?

We once drove sedans, coupes and station wagons. We had traveling salesmen and Avon ladies ringing doorbells. We had hobos and bums, racketeers and floozies, TV repairmen who came to your home.

*

It was my best century ever. I miss it already.

I miss phonograph records, home-movie projectors and whitewall tires. I miss styptic pencils, Mercurochrome and cod-liver oil. I miss four-leaf clovers, rabbit’s feet and wishbones. I miss short subjects and double features. I miss Ladies’ Day and doubleheaders. I miss can openers.

I miss the circus coming to town and seltzer bottles. I miss musicals, Westerns and referring to movies as “pictures.” I miss cardigan sweaters and velour. I miss inkwells and jars of paste. I miss the banjo.

I miss poetry that rhymes. I miss people commissioning artists to “have my portrait done.” I miss schools offering language courses in Latin.

I miss guys being “fellows.” I miss saying “gal” without offending anybody. I miss Chinese checkers and pinochle, Sunday drives, waiting for train cabooses and calling cops “the fuzz.”

My hunch is that the 21st century could be even better. But you know, maybe that’s just more of the usual liberal bull.

*

Mike Downey’s column appears Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Write to: Los Angeles Times, 202 W. 1st St., Los Angeles, CA 90012. E-mail: mike.downey@latimes.com