We first went on a day-trip to bombastic, sincere and generous Coney Island in the 1960s, a place where the straight-talking working class lapped up the fun in an America founded on security and purpose. This was confident, snooty-free America, the antithesis of knowing, sneery European high-brow culture and the affected, needy good taste that thrills only to exclude. Boy, was it fabulous. Now we go back further to see Coney Island on a summer’s day in 1948.
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