No More Compliments From Those Who Were There

[Gene]

At the funeral/showing of my grandmother who passed away a couple weeks ago at 94 years of age, I started thinking about something that disturbed me a little bit.

I was wearing a dark 40's pinstripe DB suit with a fedora, which I thought my grandma would have loved. And that's exactly what everyone told me. I got a compliment from a lady who looked to be in her late 80's-90's who grabbed my arm and said "Young man, you look so good, my husband wore suits like this all the time when he was younger."

I started thinking, we are getting in a period where a lot of the Golden Era folks and those who remember it are getting very elderly and in another few years there won't be anyone around to tell us they remembered when people dressed like we do. Does it bother anyone else that one day there won't be anyone to talk to about "the old days?" I feel the same about WWII veterans, their days are numbered. It just really bothers me that soon the old lady/man won't be there to tell me how they remember it.

I guess all we can do is listen to their stories and hope to be able to tell future generations about them.

 

[Alex]

Wow that's an interesting story, sorry to hear about your grandmother. I feel like now it's our job, the members of the FL and others, to keep the past alive.

 

[Rick Blaine]

Sorry to hear of your loss.

Re: Your concerns, perhaps this will be some solace:
Bogart Is Still Biggest Hollywood Star 54 Years After Death: Rainer File
By Peter Rainer - Mar 15, 2011:

Humphrey Bogart is still on top after all these years.

The American Film Institute named him the greatest male star of all time, Warner Home Video recently released a wonderful 24-film, 12-disc boxed set called “Humphrey Bogart: The Essential Collection” and he’s the subject of a new biography, Stefan Kanfer’s “Tough Without a Gun: The Extraordinary Afterlife of Humphrey Bogart.”

Kanfer’s title comes from a letter Raymond Chandler wrote to his publisher upon hearing that Bogart had been cast as Philip Marlowe in “The Big Sleep.”

“Bogart can be tough without a gun,” Chandler wrote. “Also he has a sense of humor that contains the grating undertone of contempt. Alan Ladd is hard, bitter and occasionally charming, but he is after all a small boy’s idea of a tough guy. Bogart is the genuine article.”

Actually, Bogart came from a privileged family. His father was a Yale-educated New York physician, his mother a leading commercial illustrator. Expelled from the prestigious Phillips Academy because of disciplinary problems, he ended up on Broadway in the 1920s playing mostly preppies, including one who may have been the first to utter the immortal line, “Tennis, anyone?”

Early on he wasn’t a critics’ darling. Reviewing the 1922 play “Swiftly,” Alexander Woollcott wrote that Bogart’s acting was “what is usually and mercifully described as inadequate.”
‘Petrified Forest’

It wasn’t until he was cast as the thug Duke Mantee in “The Petrified Forest” (1936), the movie version of the Robert E. Sherwood play he starred in a year earlier on Broadway, that Bogart became Bogart.

Cynical, gruff, with a sliver of sadism in his smile, Bogart was remaking himself into what would become the classic anti-hero of 1940s movies. The character was epitomized by his roles as a Dillinger-esque gangster in “High Sierra” (1941), the private eye Sam Spade in John Huston’s “The Maltese Falcon” (1941) -- his first real A-list film at the ripe age of 41 -- and Marlowe in “The Big Sleep” (1946).

But Bogart didn’t need to be uncouth and unshaven to be an anti-hero. He could also do it in a tuxedo.

Perhaps his most iconic role is the nightclub owner Rick Blaine in “Casablanca,” where his cynicism turns out to be the thinnest of veneers for his romanticism. This mixture of scorn and chivalry accounts for much of Bogart’s lasting appeal, although thankfully he never overplayed his soft side. He could be uncompromising.
‘Maltese Falcon’

A kinder-gentler Bogart would not have thrown over Mary Astor at the end of “The Maltese Falcon.” And certainly, if Bogart was intent on preserving a sympathetic image, he wouldn’t have played the paranoid gold prospector in “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre” (1948) or the strawberry-snooping Captain Queeg in “The Caine Mutiny” (1954).

Both “The Maltese Falcon” and “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre” were directed by Bogart’s frequent collaborator John Huston, who understood perhaps better than anyone else the dark depths Bogart was capable of reaching.

Huston also recognized the comic side of Bogart in a way few others did. His grimy, cigar-chomping riverboat captain Charlie Allnut in “The African Queen” (1951) won him an Oscar. “Beat the Devil,” although its commercial failure severed the Bogart-Huston connection, is his most audaciously funny film.
Existential Hero

Bogart is an international icon. Among the intelligentsia in France he has long been the poster boy for a kind of trench- coat existentialism. One of the most memorable moments in Jean- Luc Godard’s “Breathless” (1960) comes when its footloose hoodlum, played by Jean-Paul Belmondo, looks up at a movie poster of Bogart, smooths his lips to mimic the actor’s snarl, and mutters “Bogie.”

Bogart may have epitomized the romantic loner but the romance always took precedence over the loneliness. His pairings with Ingrid Bergman (“Casablanca”) and Katharine Hepburn (“The African Queen”) are highpoints in movie romance.

And “To Have and Have Not” (1944), where he met his future wife Lauren Bacall, is maybe the sexiest onscreen wooing in Hollywood history. By the time they made “The Big Sleep” two years later, they were twin luminaries.

Bogart died at 57 in 1957. It was a relatively short career, but none burned brighter. Here’s looking at you, kid.

 

[Swing Motorman]

My condolences on your grandmother's passing, Gene. And the point you raise is a good one.

The more I think about it, the more I am optimistic, though. Thinking of the days when I wear suits and fedoras around college, I get compliments from pretty much a representative sample of the age groups I interact with. Professors may have worn the same styles, or remember a parent wearing them. And my fellow students appreciate a sharper, more vintage look also. Not all of them, of course, and of course they did not live through the "golden era." But I don't think that direct connection will die out completely as my grandparents' generation leaves us. People will remember their parents in vintage styles for another many years, and beyond that, the timelessness of our tastes will continue to impress.

You're right, it will be very sad to lose the generation that lived through the good old days. But I think the key work there is "good"... too good to ever really go out of style.

 

[RBH]

....... I got a compliment from a lady who looked to be in her late 80's-90's who grabbed my arm and said "Young man, you look so good, my husband wore suits like this all the time when he was younger."
.........

30 or 40 years from now.... we will be the ''husband'' that dear lady is speaking about. Only we wore the suits and hats all the time.

 

[4spurs]

30 or 40 years from now.... we will be the ''husband'' that dear lady is speaking about. Only we wore the suits and hats all the time.

Hey, some of us may be that husband next year.

Sorry about your loss Gene; but if it's any consolation I am sure your grandmother appreciated your interest in the times that she grew up and lived in.

One of the things that happens as you get older is that there's a lot that you have that you can share with people, but, you don't always feel that they are interested in your reminisces; some are, and some aren't. I'm a firm believer in informal oral history for the simple reason that I know that not every thing is written down; so I always make it a habit to talk to people and listen; and strangers will tell you the most interesting things if you're open to speaking with them.

 

[Hemingway Jones]

Moved this to the OB where I thought it would be better served. Carry on!

 

[AtomicEraTom]

So sorry about your loss.

I was thinking about this today, actually. Different subject though, I was thinking about how the 'oldies' stations keep updating all the time, pretty soon there will be nothing I like left on the radio because all who liked the music I like when it was new are on the way out.

 

[Tiller]

With the last WW1 veteran in the states dying a few weeks ago, I think it's safe to say that we will have at least one WW2 vet around for sometime after most of us think.

With that said though it is indeed a sad time for many of us. My Grandmother recently passed away in February, she was 89 and my last personal connection to the golden age. It's sad that I can no longer here the stories of her going all the way from New York to Seattle to see he brother well he was based out west, despite the protest of her Mother and Father. I also won't hear about how she learned to drive at the age of thirteen over her mother's protest (it isn't proper for a lady to be driving!), nor the fact the she chose to get married in a pantsuit instead of a white wedding dress (what the big deal about a big want to be Victorian dress? ). I won't here all those great stories again, or about the sadness she felt when her beloved brother never came home from the war, to her would always simply be 'the war:".

With her gone I've also lost the connection to my Grandfather's stories as well, the woman who stood by him their entire life together. In many ways my love for them spawned my interest in the golden age.

With her gone my last true connection to that age is also gone. So I know how you are feeling very well, and you have my condolences.

 

[Zombie_61]

First, let me express my sincere sympathy for your loss. I hope you have fond memories of your grandmother; if you do, share them often.

My personal connection to The Golden Age was primarily my relatives--specifically my mother and father, and two aunts and three uncles with whom I spent a great deal of time during my "formative years". My father and mother were born in 1913 and 1915, and the aunts and uncles were in the same age group, so they were contemporaries to your grandmother. I didn't hear many stories about "the old days" growing up, but the ones I heard interested me, and there were the family photos from those times.

Fast forward to 1979; I meet the woman who would eventually become my wife. Her parents were of the same generation as mine, her father born the same year as mine. They had each immigrated to this country from Italy in their teen years, and met when their families had settled in the Chicago area. Unlike my relatives, her relatives spoke of "the old days" frequently, sharing humorous stories about various family members and such. But their stories differed from my parents' stories in two significant ways. First, they were immigrants; my parents were both born in the U.S.. Second, living in Chicago was somewhat different from living in Los Angeles (where I grew up), so their stories were both culturally and regionally (for lack of a better term) different.

Not only did I love and respect all of these people in my life, but I liked them as well. I enjoyed spending time with them, whether we were sharing stories or simply a cup of coffee. As happens in the cycle of life, they each went home (passed away, for anyone unfamiliar with the phrase) when their time had come. When my mother went home in 2004, I realized she had been the last of these people in my life; no more shared time, no more stories. But I am grateful and thankful for the time I did spend with each of them, and I know their influence is responsible for my interest in a time that existed before I was born.

 

[Doctor Strange]

Gene, you have my sympathy.

I lost both my parents just in the last eight months: Mom was 86 and had been a sergeant in the Marines during WWII; Dad was 91 and was a sergeant in the Army Air Corps...

Someone here recently posted the statistic that we're losing 1,500 WWII vets a day, and that doesn't seem like an exaggeration...

 

[LizzieMaine]

Condolences from here, too -- I was very close to my grandparents, and even though it's been thirty years, I still miss them.

I also think a lot about the passing of that entire generation. When Mr. Buckles, the last American WW1 vet, died a couple weeks ago, it hit me pretty hard emotionally. I can remember when WW1 vets lived on every street, were the leaders in town, marched in the parades, and were younger then than the WW2 vets are now. And now they're all gone. And possibly within my lifetime, the WW2 generation will be gone, too. That's one of those things I don't look forward to living to see.

 

[scottyrocks]

Gene, my condolences. With every death of a loved and respected elder, so dies a part of the past they occupied, and the conduit they provided between then and now.

 

[Gene]

Gene, my condolences. With every death of a loved and respected elder, so dies a part of the past they occupied, and the conduit they provided between then and now.

Very well put! She was the last of my links to the past, but I got a good amount of time with her and listened to her stories. I wish I had more time with my grandpa or appreciated more the time I had back then.

 

[Shangas]

My condolences regarding your grandmother, Gene. I know how you must feel. My own grandmother is unlikely to see her 97th birthday (born May 7th, 1914). Her health has declined markedly in the last 12 months and our family physician is not optimistic that she'll last much longer. I remember when I was younger, she used to tell me about the World Wars and the Depression and how hard life was back then. She told me so many fascinating things. Unfortunately, she's now reached a stage where she can't even tell me the time of day. But all we can do is remember them and the stories that they tell.

 

[Edward]

My sympathies - it's not pleasant losing them. I am now down to one grandparent, I suspect for not many more years.

As to the subject matter of this thread, I have mixed feelings. I wish my other grandparents were still around, in particular I miss my paternal grandfather who died when I was five (little brother, two and a half years younger than me, can't remember him at all). He was a sharp dresser back in the thirties; I wish he'd been around long enough that I could have gotten to talk wardrobe with him. That sort of personal connection aside, I don't know that I especially mourn the passing of that generation as such. It's something that simply has to happen - that's the nature of things.... but then I don't buy into the belief that any one generation was ,in fact, the "greatest" or superior to the next. There are exceptional people in every generation, as well as some horrors, and we fetishise the past through rose-tinted spectacles at our own risk. One of the grave concerns I have, as time passes is that the reality of the horror of especially World War Two will be forgotten, and only the doctored, 'authorised' version, butchered again and popularised by Hollywood, will live on. Grave dangers in that, not only in events like the Holocaust losing that sense of reality, but also in WW2's reduction to a 'cowboys and indians' style meme.

 

[Richard Warren]

Please accept my condolences as well.

In the context of the apparent decline of the society I live in and perhaps the entire world into a stage of neo-barbarism--either pre-Enlightment or more sadly post- Enlightenment (a more apt term in my opinion than post-modernism) in outlook--the passing of a particular aesthetic standard in clothing is not so troubling as the absence of any standards other than perhaps power.

 

[Atterbury Dodd]

I know how you feel right now Gene. One of the last letters I sent my Mima was a letter describing my first 1930's suit which was a gray herringbone tweed. She replied back that after WWII all Grandpop's clothes were to small for him, so he had a gray herringbone suit made by a tailor. She said it was the best suit he ever had and the only suit made especially for him. Mima never got to see my suit, I know she loved to see me dressed up.

 

[Tomasso]

It's the cycle of life.

I lost both my parents just in the last eight months

It's very common for the surviving spouse to pass in short order of the first. My folks left within ten months of each other a couple years ago.They were 92 and 84. I firmly believe that my dad would have lived a decade longer had his younger sweetie not left him. Still, they has a nice sixty year run.

 

[Doctor Strange]

I know it's a very common syndrome, but I don't think it necessarily applies in this case.

Mom spent her last two years in a nursing home with severe dementia. Dad was living at home with a full-time caregiver, and while we brought him over to visit Mom once a week, she wasn't anything like a constant presence in his life. (And his own Alzheimer's was bad enough that he couldn't comprehend how far gone she was - always asking when she'd be well enough to come home when we visited, though she couldn't reply to our questions or even stand up. And after she died, he didn't always recall that she was gone.)

So in this instance, she was actually "gone" from his world in every sense that mattered quite a while before she actually died. It wasn't like he lost his will to live after she was gone: he had become quite childlike, and was actively enjoying being the center of attention within his ever-shrinking world...