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G-L-O-R-I-A. . .Gloria!
by Charlie Finch
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In 1972, when I was 19, I was the New York State Student Coordinator, for the general election, for George McGovern for President (against Nixon). It was a cool job, because I got to organize speaking tours by Daniel Ellsberg and Daniel Berrigan, who were still technically "underground," as well as being the co-organizer of McGovern’s final election rally at Trump Village in Brighton Beach (that would be Fred Trump, liberal father of Donald), while maintaining a full class schedule at Yale.

Best of all, I organized a parade from Columbia University to Central Park in honor of Senator McGovern, with Gloria Steinem and independent journalist Geraldo Rivera as informal grand marshals of the parade. After the festivities, I ended up, alone, for an hour, at Gloria Steinem’s East 73rd Street walkup apartment, with Gloria. I was 19, she was 37. As I pointed out to her at that moment, she had been on the cover of Newsweek in the summer of 1971, when I had run the Committee to Unsell the Vietnam War with the late Ira Nerken. We shared a gin and tonic.

I thought about that afternoon, when nothing happened between us, while I watched Gloria, now age 77, on "Charlie Rose" a few nights ago, comparing the strands of her blonde hair with my own and counting our mutual liver spots on the backs of our hands, and, I reflected, "Baby Boomers, what a fuckin’ racket!"

How convenient that the economy should "crash" just in time for Boomers not to retire, to hog the media (which Boomers created in the first place), as they continue to "work" and pay narcissistic attention to themselves and their reified Boomer Enabler, Gen-Ex Emperor Barack Obama, now 50. You don’t think that President Obama is a Boomer Plot? Just kill me, baby and boomer icon Gloria (just kidding, I think). . . .

CHARLIE FINCH is co-author of Most Art Sucks: Five Years of Coagula (Smart Art Press).