In 1971, our family moved from Akron to Columbus. We left behind the world of Cleveland TV personalities, like Barnaby and Captain Penny, and moved into the orbit of Cincinnati TV shows that were carried on Columbus stations. One of the Cincinnati shows was a silly daytime variety show called The Paul Dixon Show.
Paul Dixon was an older man who appeared to wear an obvious toupee. I’m not sure whether he had any special talent, but he had been hosting his show for years and was a celebrity in the Cincinnati area. One of his trademark segments was to attach a “knee tickler” — a kind of dangling ornament — to the hems of the dresses of the housewives who made up the studio audience for his show. Campy music would play, Paul Dixon would make a few lascivious facial expressions at the camera, and then he would demurely attach the “knee tickler” to the one-piece, just above the knee mini-dress of a stocky middle-aged woman with a beehive hairdo. This routine was viewed as “naughty,” edgy, just barely acceptable stuff in the world of daytime TV in the early ’70s.
It was a more innocent time then. I thought of The Paul Dixon Show recently when I saw a grown man wearing a t-shirt that had a depiction of a hand giving the finger and used the “f”-word, spelled out in bold letters. He was at a sporting event where lots of people, including kids, were in attendance. He obviously thought it was hilarious stuff, but for me it epitomized the increasingly vulgarity and crassness of our popular culture. We’ve gone from times where putting a “knee tickler” on a woman’s dress pushed the envelope to the point where the queen mother of curses is casually displayed on clothing worn at a public event.
I don’t yearn for a return to Victorian sensibilities, but I regret the direction in which we are heading. If we’ve reached the point where obscene t-shirts are an accepted part of popular culture, what’s the next stop in our downward spiral?