Made In The 70s

“And I must ‘fess that I helped the industry out by getting my kit off in films like Vampire Lovers (1970) and The Wicker Man (1973).”

ridster — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 18:28:00 +0000

Hammer Studios’ Scream Queen has written a groovy little retrospective column on 1970′s cinema. It doesn’t go fully in-depth into it, but it’s a nice walk down Memory Lane, nonetheless.

You can find here, on the Den Of Geek blog. Enjoy!

What Were They Thinking Tuesday: Ball Buster

ridster — Tue, 16 Dec 2008 22:32:00 +0000

Honestly, what the hell were they thinking? This could go under the Simple 70s Games tag, as it’s about as simple as it gets, you have a bunch of balls on sticks, and move them around the board and try to hit as many opponents balls as possible.

But to be serious, we can’t tag it that way. It’s a full-on question mark of a game made entirely out of what-the-effery, designed to be useless within five days of play as balls fly off the sticks and get lost in the gap in the sofa. If you enjoyed playing this as a kid, I doff my cap to you, but there was no way it could keep me entertained for more than a rainy afternoon.

You’re better off with Ker-Plunk.

Saturday Night Fever

ridster — Sat, 06 Dec 2008 18:29:00 +0000

Yes, it’s Saturday night, which means here on Made In The 70s we’re getting our disco on. Every Saturday night we’ll feature one or two forgotten dancefloor classics. This week, it’s Patrick Hernandez and Boney M.

Patrick Hernandez: Born To Be Alive

Boney M: Ma Baker

70s List Friday: Ten Songs That Should Never Have Been Released

ridster — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 04:33:00 +0000

This is by no means a list of 70s songs that suck, or even a “Worst Songs Of the 70s” list, simply a list of songs that we wish no one had released for some reason or another. Usually it’s because it has turned us against something that we would otherwise have liked, or simply scarred our childhood so much, we either remember exactly where we were when we first heard it, or we’ve erased the incident completely from our memory with nothing but scotch and drugs. So, starting at 10, here’s your Pick Of The Pops countdown…

10. Judy Collins: Send In the Clowns

That’s right, we’re going there. To be perfectly honest, this is a really great song that no one under Heaven has yet been able to do justice. Ethel Merman’s version can restart flatlined hearts, Shirley Bassey’s version can pop car tires, but Judy Collins’ version is so bland and banal that it doesn’t just encourage clowns to start interpretative dancing, it’s forcing them to do it outside of their own free will. Send In The Clowns is also probably the primary cause of coulrophobia (it’s the 21st Century! Google it!) in those of us from the age of 25-38.

What to listen to instead: Leo Sayer: The Show Must Go On

9. Jimmy Osmond: Long Haired Lover From Liverpool

I can’t say too much about this one as I had to stop it 35 seconds into the song, it really does make me think of dark winter days rolling naked down hill after hill of broken glass. Were this a real Top Ten, rather than just a list, this would probably be number 1. Press play above, force your eyes open with matchsticks, and dream of what luxurious lives are led in Guantanamo Bay.

What to listen to instead: Donny Osmond: Puppy Love

8. Michael Jackson: Ben

It’s so long ago now that it’s hard to remember that this song was actually about a boy’s love for his pet rat, Ben, for the movie of the same title. Ben is the sequel to the 1971 horror movie Willard, about a man who trains his pet rat Socrates to enact his vengeance, but the lone rat soon becomes just one of a team of other trained rats lead by the bigger and more intelligent Ben. Socrates eventually turns on his master and kills him, and all the super-intelligent rats escape. In Ben, a boy takes Ben to be his pet, and Ben’s awesome powers protect him from bullies, but eventually Ben starts to take control and the rest of the rats start killing people and the police have to come in and contain the swarm. Ben gets away, but unfortunately does not get as far as a third movie, which would have made a wicked cute rats destroy mankind to childish love songs trilogy. So, yeah. Despite being nominated for an Oscar for Best Original Song in 1972, this song bears absolutely no resemblance to the source material it’s based on.

What to listen to instead: Paul McCartney & Wings: Live And Let Die (Nominated for Best Original Song Oscar in 1973)

7. Debby Boone: You Light Up My Life

I never saw the movie that this song comes from, but for those who did, I’m truly, deeply, sorry. I did, however, see the trailer for it when I went to see Herbie Goes To Monte Carlo for some kids birthday, which was essentially this 4 minute version from the film intercut with other scenes from the movie. Needless to say, to this day, I have yet to subject myself to it. the only thing I can be happy for, in my own selfish way, is that we in the UK got the Sex Pistols in 1977, while you poor buggers in the US had two full months of this insipid dross as number one. Actually, while you were forced to hear that everywhere, we had four number ones which could could be considered either better or worse, depending on your tastes:-

David Soul: Silver Lady – A beautiful song sung by a beautiful man
Baccara: Yes Sir, I Can Boogie – The kind of Eurodisco that turns normal people into serial killers
ABBA: The Name Of The Game – Arguably the greatest ABBA song of all time
Paul McCartney & Wings: Mull Of Kintyre – My family anthem, apparently.

Then Mull of Kintyre proceded to wreak holy vengeance upon us Brits by staying there at number 1 for 9 weeks. 9 full weeks of bagpipe solos. Thinks about it. What makes it worse is that my sister actually bought the damn thing. She’s responsible.

But anyway, yes. You Light Up My Life should never have been released.

What to listen to instead: Meco: Star Wars Theme – Cantina Band - This is what was number 1 in the US the week before Debby Boone got there…

6. Brotherhood Of Man: Save Your Kisses For Me

It’s 1976, and this is my first real Eurovision Song Contest. We in Britain realized that if we ever wanted to win, we needed a singing group that reminded everyone of ABBA, and had a catchy dance gimmick. In 76, Brotherhood of Man stuck their thumbs behind their oversized belt buckles and bounced their hips in a non-sexual circular motion (in 81, Bucks Fizz did the same thing only the two girls ripped their skirts off to reveal slightly shorter skirts). Surprisingly, it worked, and BoM won that year. Save Your Kisses For Me was also the biggest selling single in the UK that year. Outside of the Euro-sphere, however, you have probably never been subjected to this strange love song with the ‘surprise’ Jackson-Approved ending, so I’m including here just for you. Bear in mind, this was the first dance routine I ever learned, and I was trotted out to perform it just about every time it came on at weddings, parties and wakes all throughout the later 70s. Thank God, no one remembers it now.

Okay, maybe next time it’s played, you’ll get me to do it one more time, just for old time’s sake.

What to listen to instead: Brotherhood of Man: Figaro – Much more fun, and you feel less icky for enjoying it.

5. Styx: Babe

In just over 4 minutes, Styx invent the Power Ballad, and ruin pretty much any enjoyment I can get out of a regular rock album for the whole of the 80s. Every rock band has to have their version of Babe in their otherwise excellent album somewhere. I’m left crying in the closet as child, wondering what the hell I’ve spent my pocket money on. This one song is directly responsible for Bryan Adams’ career. Well, that and the Canadian Content laws that virtually guarantee anyone with a record contract airtime. Screw you, Dennis De Young. Your band sucks. Thanks for nothing!

What to listen to instead: Typically Tropical: Barbados – Because despite the knowledge that it’s sung by a white guy in an overtly racist Caribbean accent, it still totally erases my memory of that shite song above. Ah… Bliss…

4. Ray Stevens: Everything Is Beautiful

Quite simply, there’s nothing wrong with this song. But he sold it to an advertising company, who used to sell wood sealant. So, yeah, whenever I hear it now, I do hear “Everything is beautiful, in it’s own way… Ronseal keeps wood beautiful, beauty that will stay!” Nice way to remember a happy song about God and kids and stuff, right?

What to listen to instead: David Dundas: Jeans On - The proper way to sell your song out to advertisers. At least jeans are cool…

3. Maureen McGovern: Can You Read My Mind?

Ignore the weird karaoke-club video that goes with this. Astute readers will realize that this is the love theme from 1978′s Superman. It’s a lovely, almost haunting piece until OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE THEY DONE! Yep, they’ve taken that crap poem Lois Lane has going through her head as she flies with Superman, definitely the lamest part of an otherwise awesome movie, and set it to music. I don’t know what’s worse, the original scene with the poem, or the sung version with the dolphins and orcas. Either way, I need to scrub my brain with a Brillo pad. Nurse!

What to listen to instead: John Williams: Cavatina – Harrowing movie, beautiful piece of music, no stupid lyrics.

2. The Bellamy Brothers: If I Said You Had A Beautiful Body Would You Hold It Against Me?

This song has, as it’s title, such a ridiculous pick-up line, that I can’t even use it in an ironic fashion. Plus, it’s terrible, weak, and features far too much pedal-steel slide guitar. The word here, though really is weak. They spend the whole time asking if they can say this or call her that. It’s the most passive-aggressive love song ever written. You can tell they’re from Florida. These two guys really need to grow a pair… each this time.

Oh, the only song worse in this category of stupid trick titles is Dr. Hook’s When You’re In Love With A Beautiful Woman. Seriously, guys, just stop.

What to listen to instead: The Bellamy Brothers: Let Your Love Flow - It’s like a completely separate group, intelligent, poppy, and doesn’t sound like something Sondra Locke would sing in one of those Any Which Way But Loose movies…

1. Manhattan Transfer: Chanson D’Amour

Ah the good old days of Gay Paris, sipping champagne in the cafe, Piaf reverberating from the 78rpm wind-up record player, Francois capitulating to the Nazis, zut alors! Les temps c’est fantastique! Oui, c’est vrai. Fantastique, indeed.

Someone out there was desperately trying to forget that it was 1977 and that punk was around the corner. Leo Sayer’s When I Need You was number the week before, ABBA’s Knowing Me Knowing You came after, but for three weeks the UK gave itself over to America’s jazz quartet Manhattan Transfer, who wanted to sing us in Franglais a love song about how they think of love songs every time they see you, or every time they hear a Thompson Submachinegun go ‘rat-tat-tat-tat-ta!” or something like that. So, yeah, it’s either a slow plodding paean to a 1930s love affair, or it’s an overlong cpdewrod for a French resistance operation. Take your pick…

What to listen to instead: Blondie: Denis – A much finer example of a song with a bit of French in it. And a video much more pleasant to the eye, too.

Scary 70s Thursday: Men in Giant Psychedelic Animal Suits

ridster — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 21:57:00 +0000

You’re being chased through the woods by a man-sized fuzzy blue lion, who sings psychedelic Beatles songs at you while you run. An orange monkey, a tiger with an eyepatch, and a green dog wearing a big brown hat capture you in a massive net, then implore the lion, whose name is Rory, to read aloud a story to you. If you’ve never woken up from either this particular nightmare in a pool of sweat, or anything like it, you probably didn’t grow up in the late 60s to early 70s, and completely missed out on the weekly (sometimes even daily) man-sized furry freakshows that were a mainstay of children’s television. You think you had it hard with the Teletubbies, and thought that baby in the sun thing was trippy… You haven’t seen what happens when the Teletubbies and the Wiggles get together and get laid while on horse tranquilizers…

Animal Kwackers sing Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds

It’s a pretty simple rendition, actually, also found on their Animal Kwackers LP which I had as a child. Bongo, Rory, Twang and Boots play a happy melody written by the greatest rock and roll band ever in the world, and it just happens to be about being on LSD. I utterly loved this when I was a kid, and no amount of Just Say No campaigns later on as a teenager could remove the glory that was Animal Kwackers telling me to drop acid. None. So the good news is that when I finally do, I may actually be able to understand:

H. R. Pufnstuf

Technically this, and the following group of six-foot, two-legged monsters, were really made in the 60s, but their shows ran into the 70s and were on continual rerun throughout my decade. I never got to see the series of H. R. Pufnstuf, but did see the movie, and boy, between this, Hanna Barbera’s version of Alice In Wonderland (or What’s A Nice Kid Like You Doing In A Place Like This?), and The Phantom Tollbooth, you never actually have to say no to drugs. It’s all right there, on the screen, man!

Anyhoo. Pufnstuf’s name’s a complete give away. He lives on Living Island, where, you know, wow, everything’s alive, man, he calls everyone dude, dude. His friend Jimmy, the only true human on the show, is transported there by a magical talking flute. Not, you know, James Galway‘s magical golden flute, but one that talks, man. It’s all, you know, wow, man… etc.

Not this flute, the one that TALKS!

Also notice that the title sequence is one minute forty-nine seconds. That’s just for you guys at the back who zoned out halfway through the last show and couldn’t remember what the hell it was about, or had some fight about ‘bogarting’ or somesuch.

The Banana Splits

There ain’t much that can be said about this wacky foursome that hasn’t been said before. Fleegle, Bingo, Drooper and Snorky are the godfathers of six-foot psychedelic critterdom. (Fun Banana Splits fact: All the outside scenes in series one were filmed at Six Flags Over Texas theme park, by future director of Superman, Richard Donner.) Essentially The Banana Splits, a combine of the talents from Hanna Barbera and Sid & Marty Krofft who also created Pufnstuf, was a live-action cartoon. It used all the well-known Hanna Barbera sound effects and sight gags, and what’s best is that there’s absolutely no attempt to make the character’s mouths move. So there’s a lot of talking by creatures who grin like stoners or run around with their tongues sticking out like wasted junkies. So, sit back and enjoy The Banana Splits in all their wonderfully wacky-backy glory.

Now, thanks to the internet, these guys would be considered the godfathers of furrydom and I’m surprised there isn’t some ultra-not-actually-sexy slash-fic written about them by basement bound 37 year-olds.

You know… Thinking about it… That doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all… Time to start flexing those slash-fingers!

Just as Strange in the 70s – Doomsday Cults

ridster — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 19:07:00 +0000

For those who are starting already to stockpile their canned foods and water bottles, duct tape, white paint and Armalites for the Rapture/2012/Big Terror Attack, you are not alone. Nor have you ever been. There are records in history of a Millennium cult that thought Jesus was going to save us in 1000AD, and ever since then (and, I’m sure before even that) people have truly believed that for some reason The End Of The World Is Nigh.

30 years ago, in 1978, things were no different. Along with the Jonestown Mass Suicides of Guyana in November, there was another group a little closer to home (well, at least closer to where I live now, anyway) who, in December of 1978, were also preparing themselves for the end of the world – in 1984.

This little look back at December 1978 from the Vineland Times Journal of south New Jersey found, amongst other odd stories of the day:

… members of a religious sect were picketing in support of their leader, who was being sought by the FBI on charges of federal income tax invasion.

According to the story, which ran as a two-part front-page series, the man claimed to be the prophet Jeremiah reincarnated and had publicly admitted that he hadn’t paid his income taxes since 1948.

Many of his followers, numbering 150 to 200 in South Jersey, also refused to pay federal taxes because they wanted “no part of a system bent on destruction of the human race.”

Even as their leader hid from the feds, they met on Tuesday nights in McKee City, studying the Bible and preparing to follow him into the mountains to wait out the effects of a nuclear war that was going to destroy two-thirds of the world’s population in 1984.

If there’s a lesson to learned from late 1978 for all you conspiracy theorists, cultists and dominionists out there… It’s that you may possibly be right, but more likely than not, you are very, very wrong.

If you are living in 1978, here’s a handy 3-step guide on how to spot a cultist, versus your typical stuck in 1972 hippy.

If your brother lives in a commune – he’s a hippy. If he lives on a compound – he’s a cultist.
If your sister smokes a ton of weed then passes out on your couch – she’s a hippy. If she drinks Kool-Aid, writes a cryptic pseudo-socialistic suicide note on the back of matchbook, then keels over dead – cultist.
If your best friend joins a new group of yogic flyers held by a guru in Mike’s house every Tuesday night – hippy. If your best friend joins a new group by taking a psych test after being lured into a shop window on Charing Cross Road – scary, scary, scary cultist. Rescue your friend immediately, lest he end up as Tom Cruise’s 40 year old manservant.

So, before the aliens ask you to take them to your leader and all you can point to is a large man called Bubba, probably a good idea to keep paying your taxes, and try not to poison all your followers in a Revolutionary Suicide pact. Not too much to ask, is it?

Creepy Happy 70s – Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep

ridster — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 17:54:00 +0000

Simple 70s Games #1 – Rebound

ridster — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 19:20:00 +0000

Eight ball bearings with a plastic cover on it, two players and a bit of wood. The object of the game is to get as far down the other side of the board as you can without going over the edge for points. Player with most points wins. Take that, Grand Theft Auto!

Stranger in the 70s – The Popularity of Windswept Pianists

ridster — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 19:07:00 +0000

Relax and enjoy the warm tones of Richard Clayderman’s “Ballade Pour Adeline” as he floats through Paris on the back of a flatbed truck playing the piano and staring at you like a hungry dog.

Every now and then an anomaly appears in the record charts that just defies description. French pianist Richard Clayderman is one of those anomalies. His first single, proudly displayed in this post, sold 22 million copies in 38 countries in 1976. Since then he has sold upwards of 90 million records. Not bad for a former session musician.

There was an untapped market in 1976 for what I can only describe as middle class foreplay music. In terms of foreplay music, he was no Barry White. he wasn’t even Mantovani (although Mantovani’s influence on White’s string arrangements is blatant), he was a handsome, safe French guy with a soft-fingered approach to love that thirty-something women could dig, and bachelors with black leather and chromed steel tubing furniture in their pads could use to lure the demure into the mood. I mean, look at him. The guy just oozes risk-free romance.

Having said all that, he’s still enormously popular in South East Asia, so maybe I’m painting a incorrect picture, but back then, it was all Mateus red wine and whispered conversations in front of the gas fire on a cold winter night before Clayderman finally brings you to a point where you simply have to slip into something more… comfortable.

Ten Things We Miss From The 70s

ridster — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 22:01:00 +0000

10. Pan-Am and TWA

Although these two airlines did start way back in the 30s and did continue beyond the 70s into the 90s, there’s something classically 70s about Pan Am and TWA that’s hard to pin down. Maybe it’s the funky logos and typefaces they used. Pan Am had a reputation of being a pretty classy airline, which is why I’m including the magazine ad about first class down below. Notice the ridiculous amount of text you got in ads back then?

Pan Am’s other famous tagline was “If you do not master your aircraft, your aircraft becomes your master”.

Anyway, I was in a thrift store last weekend and came >< this close to purchasing an old TWA vinyl holiday bag in red and white. Although it would have made for a cool retro messenger bag, I had to remind myself that it was TWA, after all, and reminded me of Thomas Cook holiday catalogues. Brrr! Sent a chill down my back, I can tell you.

In the 70s, the term “widebody” was reserved for the aircraft, rather than passengers from Topeka.

TWA Commercial from the 70s, featuring Peter Sellers

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oLy2DkJ8xn8

Oh, hey, and this is the exact bag I found in the thrift store…

You may now realize why I didn’t want to spend $30 on it.

Related: DC-10 Crashes

“Look, ma, no engine!”

Yes, I know I shouldn’t joke about them, but it was hard not to. To start with, the cargo doors had a habit of blowing off the plane in mid-air, causing them to decompress and fall out of the sky. So they fixed the problem and went back into service, only for the engine to fall off of the DC-10 you see above at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. For a long time, as a kid, whenever we saw a plane flying over our school, we’d assume the worse and run for cover, just in case it was a DC-10. Since then, I’ve flown on a couple of DC-10′s and they’re not bad little planes. I just tend to pray more whenever I board one…

9. Leisure Suits

Luckily, I wore some weird crap when I was young, but no one bought me one of these. I was a shorts and t-shirts kinda kid, preferably tennis-related, and I could make a pair of Converse Chuck Taylors last forever. I’d have hated being stuck in any kind of suit back then, let alone one made with 100% polyester, but now… hey why not? They’re color coordinated, no need to iron, and you look like a guy who’s ready to safari. How can you beat that?

Rather typically, Adam couldn’t find a seat in the cafeteria because the German tourists had claimed them all already by 6am.

Related: Iron-On Patches

These guys made it into the 80s with the rise of the denim jacket and metal band, but they were at their best and weirdest in the 70s. Why on earth would anyone buy an article of clothing, then buy a patch which is not much more than an advert for a product, then spend the time ironing them onto said article of clothing? Because jeans are expensive and you’ve worn a hole in the knees, of course!

Having said that, not sure if my mum would have given me one of these to put on my knees. Not until I was 10, anyway.

You can never have enough Schlitz on your jeans.

Related: Crimplene

I really shouldn’t have to say too much about this stuff. Yet another non-iron man-made polyester blend that neither breathed nor fitted properly. The dress below is 100% crimplene, and makes even a headless mannequin look like a sweaty Stay-Pressed Cruella DeVille. However, because of its memory plastic nature, you could roll it up, throw it in a TWA Vacation Getaway bag, fly to DC, take it out and throw it on and still look great in time for the Ambassador’s Party. Just stay away from naked flames, or hairy waiters serving Ferrero Roche.

Everybody run, Joan Crawford’s ghost is coming for you…

8. Datsuns

I honestly miss Datsuns. There was something of the Ford Capri to them. Long noses and lean muscular racing lines, and cool, cool colors. When Nissan killed the brand in the 80s I was so disappointed. Don’t forget, I had a couple of Datsuns in my Matchbox Super 75 collection, but I never had any Nissans, no sirree. So, yeah, bring back the Datsun.

Believe it or not, the 610 really was the most luxurious Datsun.

Plus, they had a logo that looks just like a London Underground station.

7. LED Digital Watches

LED watches came out just before the more comonly known LCD watches which is what we would conceive of as a digital watch today. But LED watches were way cooler. For a start, they required more power than an LCD watch, which meant that, in order to find out what time it was, not only did you have to look at your watch, you had to find a big silver button on the side and press that in until you had a dent in your finger to make the LEDs light up. Some of them had a calendar, too, but by then, your finger’s got a hole in it, and you’re using an ice lolly stick to bridge the gap and hey, it’s not worth the trouble, man.

Despite that, all you could think about was that you had a watch that looked like it belonged on an astronaut, and who wouldn’t want that?

Someone actually thought it would be a good advertisement to show this watch not telling the time.

6. People On The Moon

Speaking of astronauts, remember when they didn’t just go up in space, float about a bit then come back down again? That’s right, we actually sent them places. What’s crazier is that we sent them to the moon using computers that have been eclipsed in power and memory by my old Motorola Razr. That’s some pretty heavy stuff right there, dude.

Apollo 17 Astronaut re-enacts scenes from “Dude, Where’s My Car?”

Related: SkyLab

This thing was about the size of a Lower East Side studio apartment, yet three people at a time lived and worked in it 24 hours a day 7 days a week for months. Sure the Soyuz cosmonauts had it bad, but think about the smell. It’s not like you can just open a window or anything. International Space Station? Luxury! On the plus side, you were closer to home than the crazy guys on the moon. Bad side? When everyone left it, they just waited for it to fall out of the sky. If that was its main purpose in life, you might as well saved all those tax-payer dollars and thrown a DC-10 up there instead.

Ceci n’est pas une pipe.

5. Jimmy Hoffa

Okay, I don’t miss him. But he is missing. Still. Rumor has it that I ride over him on the train every morning on the way to work.

Giants Stadium Stairwell Foundation, East Rutherford, NJ: Self-portrait.

Related: Lord Lucan

This guy, however, I do miss, because I grew up on the stories of his disappearance and there were constant sightings of him appearing in the papers all through the 70s and early 80s. Lord Lucan killed his children’s nanny with the lead pipe in the basement, and tried to kill his wife, too, before she escaped and called for help. When the police searhed the house he was not there, and has never been found since. Rumor has it that he fled to Rhodesia and changed his name to Ian Smith.

“Oui, oui, je suis une porn star.”

4. A world without home computers

I know, I know. Without this thing I wouldn’t be able to write this, you wouldn’t be able to read it, and Google Analytics wouldn’t keep making me cry by telling me I have no hits. No matter, I’m not sorry. I really would prefer a world without email, Blackberrys, internet porn, first person shooters and worst of all, national databases. So, that begs the question… What did we do without home computers?

Instead of Word Processors we had Typing Pools

The device below is called a typewriter. A police officer in 2008 found one of these in a carrying case at the bottom of a set of stairs and called in the bomb squad to blow it up, because he’d never seen one before. Then again, this was in Florida, so no big surprise there.

Typists in the 70s were trained in school, and probably wouldn’t be able to get a job unless they touch-typed at an average of 70-plus words per minute. 90 WPM was more common. Sometimes a typist would have to take a dictation, either live, or from a cassette, and would use either a weird squiggly language called ‘short-hand’ or type as fast as the person was speaking. In teh 70s, if you were a short-hand or audio typist, with a 90WPM speed, you’d get pretty far in your typing pool.

Mildred always lost the Friday afternoon ‘staring slightly to the right’ competitions.

Ever wonder what the CC stands for in an email? It means Carbon Copy. That was a sheet of carbon paper that went between sheets of regular paper that would print on the second sheet as you typed. You could make about 4 copies of anything at any one time using that stuff. After that, the hammers of the typewriter wouldn’t be strong enough to go through all that paper. Carbon paper was a great time-saver, but you never really wanted to touch it, as it would invariably go all over your hand, and then everyone would know who strangled their boss last Friday.

Telex

Your average business card in 2008 contains your phone number and your email address. In the 70s it would be your phone number and your Telex number. Fax machines existed, but they were extremely poor quality. Much better to type out your message or letter again and then send it via telex. Or, even better, by mail. If the postmen weren’t on strike, that is.

Sure, for 1978 this was a pretty cool laptop, but it was a bugger trying to fit into my messenger bag.

TeleType Machines

If you listen to radio news, you’ll hear one of these clacking away in the background. Well, at least a looped audio file of one, anyway. My main memory of these is the British TV Sports show, Grandstand. After 4.30pm every Saturday, the football results would start coming in, and rather than just telling us what they were, they’d actually cut to the teletype machine as it was receiving them and a man with the most BBC English voice you’ev ever heard would read them out. We all waited with baited breath for the Scottish results to come in, though, as we all longed for him to announce “Forfar 5, East Fife 4″, but I don’t think it ever happened.

The new Terminator could take any shape or form, once it had touched it.

Related: A world where political scandals ended in something other than ‘-gate’.

3. Smitty

The “Smitty Did It” ad campaign was huge back in the mid-70s. Somehow, just the knowledge that you were wearing it was enough to reverse gravity. I mostly miss this, though for one reason, as no one I knew actually wore the stuff (they all used Charlie)… My sister used to pick me and swing me around while I sang the jingle.

Weird memories tend to land on my head like that.

Smitty: Anti-gravity juice for ladies.

Here’s a link to the commercial. Hopefully it works as I can’t test it here.

http://www.tvparty.com/tv4/smitty-77-hi.ram

Related: Harmony Hairspray

Is she or isn’t she, the commercial used to ask us. And of course, she was, but only until the invention of mousse.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_ZiUGgsePo

2. Beverage Pull Tabs

For years we were given cans that had pull tabs that came completely off, rather than the ones we have today that scrunch metal into your drink before you get a chance to drink it. Pull tabs were great when they worked, but they had two problems. Firstly, sometimes the ring section would break off, leaving the can completely unopenable, except with a stick.

Each can came embossed with two easily ignorable sentences.

Secondly, the streets were littered with these things:

Mostly, they were squashed by cars or bikes. There are some sections of road in London still where you can see them, flattened and embedded into the asphalt as though they were part of the mixture. Archaeologists in thousadns of years time will dig up those roads wondering why we placed them there, and they’ll never know. They’ll never know.

Related: Watney’s Party Seven

Because a party ain’t a party until someone brings a couple of sevens with them. This is just a seven pint can of cheap crap ale. It wasn’t a keg, because it didn’t have a tap, you just poked a hole in it and poured.

Ta-daa! Instant party!

1. Chicken In A Basket

Before my dad had his Triumph Dolomite, we had a Morris 1300. Where we lived in London, the spot behind my dad’s car was taken up by an orange Reliant Robin that was used as a Chicken-In-A-Basket delivery van. To this day, I know that CIAB was supposed to be classy, if you were working class council flat kids like me, but for the life of me I don’t know why. It’s not chicken cordon bleu, it’s not not even chicken kiev, it’s just chicken. And it’s not even on a plate.

Still felt posh, though…

It’s chicken. And it’s in a basket.

Related: Black Forest Gateau

Layers of cream, sponge, strawberries, chocolate. It fell out of favor with the introduction of the Wall’s Viennetta, but you’d still never turn down a slice of this yumness.

Om-nom-nom!