The American Spectator

The sexual revolution turns 40 this year — we have it on no less an authority than Philip Larkin, in the opening lines of “Annus Mirabilis”:

p> em>Sexual intercourse began br> In nineteen sixty-three br> (Which was rather late for me) — br> Between the end of the /em> Chatterly em>ban br> And the Beatles’ first LP. /em> /p>

Britain actually lifted the ban on Lady Chatterly’s Lover in 1960 (a year after the United States), so Larkin is taking poetic license there. But the Beatles’ first LP was released on March 22nd, 1963.

I was born on December 16th of that year, so it’s quite possible that I was conceived on the very day that Please Please Me hit the shelves. Yet much as I would like to believe that my first sparks of life were raised to the strains of “Love Me Do,” I’m virtually certain it didn’t happen that way. The album came out on that day in Britain, but the Fab Four didn’t invade the States till almost a year later. In any case, my parents have never been rock and roll fans.

Still, the event is personally significant to me, because if Larkin is right, that makes me an exact contemporary of the sexual revolution. I am in no way representative of that revolution, but no one who’s had his eyes even occasionally open over the last four decades can have missed the astonishing changes in mores.

According to the pop-historical account of this trend, it started with the first issue of Playboy in 1953 and culminated at Woodstock in 1969. By that time, the story goes, everyone except a few Bible Belt ministers and Midwestern congressmen had surmounted their inhibitions, and even those blue-noses were probably indulging in private.