The War
I have been watching Ken Burns' The War 
on PBS this past week. As a History guy, wars aren't my favorite topic (I'm more the Eyes on the Prize type). But Burns has made some monumental pieces about stuff I like – baseball, Jazz and the West. I've seen none of them.
Frankly, it's an issue of time. Watching a two-parter is easier to arrange than seven parts of two hours over a week and a half. Invariably, I miss the first, half of the third and then the entire last night, only to struggle to see the repeats on Saturday afternoons. I end up on my bicycle instead, or distracted by college football (anyone see the Cal-Oregon game? That was monumental!). Plus, after the success of The Civil War years ago, all documentaries since have been Burnsian – pans across photos, celebrities reading letters in character voice, slow fades with sad piano that jump to happy photos and barn dance music. It's a little hard to salute the guy who perfected that form when it's the only history you see – good, bad or History Channel .
My impression so far is that Burns' greatest strength is the ability to demonstrate the human experience in all his films. Burns stresses that wars may be necessary, but they're never "good." He records the events, then lets human beings and their feelings provide the last analysis: letters, a chuckle, the wry comment. It's quite effective because it's real. And no matter how zippy Americans were on the home front, or how stoic soldiers acted despite the grim purpose of their job, the reality of wholesale, anonymous death is the final message.
That's the only message, really. Courage, heartbreak, national identity and prosperity all proceed from muddy roads littered with dead bodies.
As I watch, I wonder what motivations may be at work, pro- or anti-war. I think Burns is above that, presenting watchable history that helps us decide for ourselves. But there is something at work, a generational thing that is, in my estimation, as historical as the events in The War. As Baby Boomers near retirement age, there is an appeal to reach out to their parents, the same people who experienced the Second World War firsthand.
Baby Boomers were the American dividend after the War. Thousands of GIs returned home expecting payoff for their sacrifices and got it – marriage, family, the GI Bill and a world-driving economy. For 15 years or so after the war, couples with suburban tastes churned out millions of babies who were reared on Ricky Nelson and weaned on the Beatles. They rejected their parents' world in the '60s by pretending to uncover a new consciousness, only to become conservative Republicans in the '80s with a 20-year consumerist mania that made the '50s look positively quaint. Feeling a certain guilt for unparalled social destruction for its own sake, Boomers pine to celebrate their parents' successes.
As Steven M. Levine wrote , many Boomers "have the feeling that back in the Sixties they went a bit too far. Sometimes they even put the Idea of America into question, asking not when America would live up to its ideals but whether America could live up to those ideals." Levine continues:
Dissent meant making America live up to its vision of itself, it did not mean questioning whether America could actually do it and still be another ordinary nation-state. The Sixties mostly did not ask this question either, but it was posed. In posing it, one transgressed the so-called 'rituals of consensus,' as Scavan Bercovitch calls them, which tied together the Idea or Symbol of America. Not only did Boomers transgress these rituals, but they also transgressed them while having a good time. Of course, there were many, many serious young men and women...but there were many other young men and women who mouthed the slogans.... One has the feeling that the Boomers, now looking at themselves retrospectively, don't think this really stood up compared with the trials of their parents, the so-called Greatest Generation (another Boomer obsession).
William Strauss and Neil Howe have written interesting books on this generational thesis of history (and as Boomers, have also built a thriving business around it). Their first, Generations, is very detailed, well-written, and easy to recommend. If this generational thesis is off the mark, and it's just good ideas entertained on a blog, Burns has done well enough making me think about history and about events that shape my world.
If this thesis is correct, then Burns' film continues a chronicle of Boomer apology.
In 1855, Wells Fargo opened an office in Los Angeles. As Southern California grew rapidly after 1880, 
In 1937, 
