Nineteen seventy-four. On August 8 that year, just five days before I turned 11, President Richard Nixon resigned. It turned out that, indeed, despite his pronouncement otherwise, he was a crook.
That was not the highlight of my life in 1974. While the seeds of my journalism career were planted as I watched the Watergate drama unfold, my social consciousness and the foundations of my heart were also taking root in the music coming from the jukebox at The Golden Rule Café in Belle, Missouri. The wonderful little diner was the first meeting place for what would become Faith Baptist Church, with my dad as the founding pastor, and the church soon took up quarters, as did our family — and about a billion brown recluse spiders — in the former Dahl Hardware store across the street from Mabel and Raymond Thompson’s Cafe.
My younger buddy, Mike, was their son, and we ate our fill of cheeseburgers and fries, all while the jukebox was telling stories that echo still in my mind. I once worried that I lacked an appreciation for art and culture — which happens to be the theme of this month’s COMO Magazine and COMO Business Times — but then I consider how the tunes from my formative years still influence me. The settings and songs remain fixed in my heart: The jukebox at The Golden Rule and the soul-stirring old hymns at Faith Baptist Church. Singing “Sweet Hour of Prayer” or “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross” a cappella. Amen and amen.
Take a nostalgic trip with me back to 1974 …
Some of the all-time music legends are already legends, including one-name stars. Think Cher. Another guy, well, his last big hit from 1973 — “You Were Always on My Mind” — will continue to play on that jukebox even after his overdose death three years from now. Maybe you’ve heard of him: Elvis.
Ringo, George, Paul, and John are now making solo albums. Michael Jackson is beginning to branch out on a solo career, but The Jackson 5 is still making hits, too. And nearly all of their posters hang on my youngest sister’s wall.
It’s a time of myriad one-hit wonders: “Seasons in the Sun” (Terry Jacks, and compare the lyrics to Freddie Mercury and Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” OMG), “Billy Don’t Be a Hero” (Bo Donaldson and The Heywoods), “One Tin Soldier” (Coven, from 1971), and anthems for the ages: “Time in a Bottle” (Jim Croce), “Cat’s in the Cradle” (Harry Chapin), “When Will I Be Loved” and, in a shoutout to Seinfeld fans, “Desperado” (both by Linda Ronstadt).
Do you understand? ALL of these artists are recording in 1974: Dolly Parton, Gordon Lightfoot, Aretha Franklin, John Denver, Olivia Newton-John, Gladys Knight & the Pips, Stevie Wonder, Barry White, Anne Murry, Joni Mitchell, Eric Clapton, Chicago, Diana Ross, Marvin Gay, Neil Diamond, The Rolling Stones … and a couple of 20-something up-and-comers, Elton John (“Goodbye Yellow Brick Road,” 1973) and Billy Joel (“Piano Man,” 1973).
And still among the Top 25 on the Billboard 100 is the simple wonder “Top of the World” (The Carpenters), the song I remember most from that old jukebox.
“In the leaves on the trees, and the touch of the breeze / There’s a pleasing sense of happiness for me.”
Mike and I empty the ash trays at every table, I pop another coin into the jukebox, Karen and Richard Carpenter are harmonizing, then Mabel brings cheeseburgers and fries to our table. She’s so happy that we’re happy that she’s crying. She hugs us as if she never wants to let go.
And I know the feeling.
It’s late fall — getting dark earlier – and from our cozy spot in The Golden Rule, I spy leaves blowing along Main Street. A cold drizzle begins to fall. The streetlights begin to glow. My warm bedroom above the church is just across the street.
God, I miss 1974.
