Welcome to the 1970s, a strange mélange of grimy New York City streets, the hardscrabble blue-collar strength of union families in declining steel towns, and a counterculture scene of bold music, loud color and eclectic style.

This discordant ethos was spawned amid a seemingly interminable war in Vietnam, economic malaise, rising crime and a spate of serial killings that intensified many citizens’ sense of vulnerability and social disarray.

Political tensions of the previous decade persisted. In early 1970, headlines announced that FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover accused the Black Panthers of attacks against police officers and criticized members of the Students for a Democratic Society for inciting campus violence.

Protests against the war continued. Four Kent State University students were killed by National Guard members on May 4, 1970, prompting balladeers Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young to commemorate the event with the single “Ohio,” released just one month later, but it would be another three years until the last U.S. troops were withdrawn from Vietnam.

As Americans found themselves rejecting structure and tradition, they also searched for new forms of self-expression.

Looking for a self-reflective and possibly cynical laugh, the 1970s brought the debut of “All in the Family” (1971-1979), M*A*S*H (1972-1983) and “Saturday Night Live” (1975-present). Movies like “Grease” (1978) and television shows like“Happy Days” (1974-1984) and “Little House on the Prairie” (1974-1983) reflected a nostalgia for “simpler” days of the past.

The sense of lurking danger reverberated through Hollywood blockbusters like “Jaws” (1975) and “Star Wars” (1977), while the groundbreaking miniseries “Roots” (1977) re-awakened Americans to a horrifying history of slavery.

Meanwhile, children enjoyed a new era of educational television, including “Electric Company” (1972-1977), the original “Zoom” television show (1972-1978) and “Schoolhouse Rock” (1973-85).

The decade would bring landmark sports moments. Among them:

To many Pennsylvanians, meanwhile, the greatest sports story may have been the rise of a “steel curtain” just as the steel industry was taking its last breaths. The “Pittsburgh Steelers Polka” would compete with Sister Sledge’s “We are Family” as the anthem of sports domination, while the Terrible Towel was surely its flag.

Those closing steel mills and mile-long lines for gasoline are two 1970s memories that many wanted to forget.

But not everyone minded the pale-yellow sweater worn by President Jimmy Carter in a Feb. 2, 1977, “fireside chat” from the White House. Carter delivered an energy-saving, turn-down-your-thermostat pep talk to cash-strapped Americans.

A combination of factors had led to a persistent economic crisis: substantial federal expenditures on the Vietnam War, totaling $111 billion from 1970 to 1975, according to inflation-adjusted data from Statista; changes in American manufacturing due to increasing foreign competition; and an oil embargo imposed in 1973 by nations of the Middle East.

Like toilet paper during the COVID pandemic, supplies of gasoline were quickly depleted.

To manage the limited supply and reduce panic buying, the Nixon administration and many states imposed “odd-even gas rationing,” which permitted drivers to purchase gasoline on days determined by the final number on their license plates. Cars with odd terminal numbers could be fueled only on odd-numbered days, and vice versa.

But if your day came and your local gas station was flying a red flag, you were out of luck. A green flag, on the other hand, indicated gas was available. Even so, consumers might be limited to 10 gallons at a time. Or, they might be waiting in lines as incomprehensibly long as five miles, according to Smithsonian Magazine.

The oil crisis prompted rising unemployment particularly in manufacturing and heavy industry, inflation as high as 13.3% (1979) and stagnant economic growth. The overall U.S. unemployment rate reached a high of 9% in May 1975, but the rate was worse for Black workers. They were unemployed at a rate of 15.4% in December 1975, according to the U.S. Department of Labor, reflecting the disparate impact of the bleak economy.

In response, the U.S. Department of Energy was created in 1977 under President Carter to promote energy conservation, develop alternative energy sources and reduce dependence on foreign oil. But sweaters might still be a good idea.

As concerns about pollution and environmental degradation were on the rise, 20 million Americans — or 10% of the U.S. population at the time, according to EarthDay.org — participated in the first Earth Day, on April 22, 1970, at thousands of school, community and outdoor sites across the nation.

Modeled on the protest movements of the 1960s, Earth Day drew participants to demonstrations, teach-ins and other events in cities like Los Angeles, New York, Denver and Washington D.C., as well as in small towns and national parks.

Joining everyday citizens were celebrities such as actor Jane Fonda, who headlined a rally on the National Mall in Washington, D.C., and actors Paul Newman and Ali MacGraw, who stepped out in New York City’s Union Square. Sharp-witted environmental activist and Western Pennsylvania native Edward Abbey, author of “Desert Solitaire” (1968) and “The Monkey Wrench Gang” (1975), gave the keynote address at the Earth Day event in Logan, Utah.

Gaining momentum as well as visibility, the environmental movement prompted meaningful institutional changes: both the Environmental Protection Agency and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration were formed in 1970.

In 1973, President Richard Nixon signed the Endangered Species Act, the “crown jewel” of the environmental movement, according to the Endangered Species Coalition. The act is credited with protecting species as diverse as the grizzly bear, the peregrine falcon, the humpback whale and, of course, the American bald eagle.

Astronauts Fred Haise, Jim Lovell and Jack Swigert expected to be the third NASA crew to land on the moon when they blasted off on the Apollo 13 mission, launched April 11, 1970, from Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, Fla.

But an oxygen tank explosion two days into the mission damaged the spacecraft’s life-support systems, forcing the crew to abort the lunar landing.

Americans held their breath as the astronauts turned to the lunar module as a “lifeboat,” according to NASA. The astronauts circled the moon, using its gravity as a slingshot to return to Earth. They splashed down near the island of Samoa in the South Pacific.

In the early morning hours of June 17, 1972, someone was snooping around at the Democratic National Committee headquarters in the Watergate hotel in Washington, D.C.

Those “someones” were connected to President Richard Nixon’s reelection campaign, the subsequent investigation determined, and the Nixon administration had attempted to cover it up.

The president denied the charges, announcing “I am not a crook” during a televised news conference from Walt Disney World in Orlando, Fla., on Nov. 17, 1973. But under mounting political and legal pressure, Nixon resigned Aug. 9, 1974, the only U.S. president to do so.

The Watergate scandal had a profound impact on American politics, leading to increased skepticism about government and greater oversight of political activities.

And for more than 50 years, the event has been commemorated in political lingo, bequeathing its suffix, “-gate,” to subsequent scandals.

While confidence in the government sagged, journalism schools were bursting at the seams.

Watergate inspired a whole generation of college students, who wanted to be the next Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, the Washington Post journalists who “brought down the presidency.” Their investigative techniques were highlighted in “All the President’s Men,” a 1976 movie featuring Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman, and the 1974 book of the same name.

As the decade saw a renewed interest in journalism and its capacity to change society, Americans couldn’t get enough, in fact or fiction.

Popular prime-time sitcoms featured hat-tossing TV producer Mary Richards on “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” (1970-1977) and the wacky crew of radio station “WKRP in Cincinnati” (1978-1982).

On the radio, ABC newsman Paul Harvey delivered “The Rest of the Story” (1976-2009) on more than 1,600 commercial and 400 Armed Forces Radio stations, with a weekly reach of 24 million people around the world at the peak of his career, according to the Chicago Tribune.

Meanwhile, as many Americans can attest, iconic evening news anchors shaped public perception and promoted trust in television journalism.

Walter Cronkite, known to many as the “most trusted man in America,” anchored the CBS Evening News from 1962-1981. Cronkite delivered many of the decade’s most important stories, like the Vietnam War, the Apollo 13 mission and rescue, Watergate and the fall of Saigon in 1975.

Over at NBC, David Brinkley was the anchor of NBC Nightly News (1970-1971 and 1976-1979). At ABC, Harry Reasoner co-anchored ABC Evening News (1970-1978). He was joined in 1976 by Barbara Walters, who made history as the first female co-anchor of a network evening news program.

During the 1960s and early 1970s, the women’s rights movement and increasing public awareness of reproductive rights laid the groundwork for challenging existing birth control and abortion laws.

In a landmark 1972 decision, the Supreme Court ruled in Eisenstadt v. Baird that the birth control pill would be available to all women — not just married women.

In 1973, the court decided Roe v. Wade. “Roe,” short for “Jane Roe,” was a pseudonym for Norma McCorvey, who sought to terminate an unwanted pregnancy in Texas, where abortion was illegal except to save a woman’s life.

The U.S. Supreme Court’s decision on Jan. 22, 1973, legalized abortion nationwide by ruling that a woman’s right to choose an abortion was protected by the right to privacy under the 14th Amendment. The ruling galvanized both abortion rights and anti-abortion movements, with significant consequences for U.S. politics and society.

The battle of the sexes was played out in legal but also on tennis courts.

Also drawing on the Equal Protection Clause of the 14th Amendment, Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972 prohibited discrimination based on sex in educational programs or activities that receive federal financial assistance. The amendment was signed into law by President Nixon on June 23, 1972, and refined in cases from district courts through the U.S. Supreme Court.

But one of the earliest battles took place on AstroTurf.

The “Battle of the Sexes” tennis match wasn’t a battle over Title IX, per se, but it did draw a new level of media attention to women’s sports.

Wimbledon veterans Billie Jean King, 29, and her challenger — and self-described chauvinist — Bobby Riggs, 55, faced off on Sept. 20, 1973, at the Houston Astrodome.

King told CNN that she took the match to protect the self-esteem of all women after Riggs had defeated another pro player, Margaret Court. King told CNN the event was not about tennis but about “social change.”

King defeated Riggs in straight sets, 6-4, 6-3, 6-3, winning the $100,000 prize in a match that was watched by an estimated 90 million people worldwide.

Tragically, the drug-related deaths of several high-profile individuals seem to reflect the discontent that Americans felt in the 1970s.

American rock guitarist, singer and composer Jimi Hendrix died in London on Sept. 18, 1970, at the age of 27 from a drug overdose.

Known for “Piece of My Heart” and “Me and Bobby McGee,” iconic rock singer Janis Joplin died at the Landmark Motor Hotel in Hollywood on Oct. 4, 1970, also at the age of 27, from a heroin overdose.

The following year, the charismatic lead singer of The Doors, Jim Morrison, died of heart failure on July 3, 1971, in Paris. His death was also likely brought on by alcoholism and drug abuse. Morrison was also just 27.

The King of Rock ’n’ roll, Elvis Presley, died at the age of 42 at his home in Memphis, Tenn., of a heart attack on Aug. 16, 1977. Though the official cause of death was heart failure, Presley’s addiction to prescription medications and other health issues were likely contributors.

Katrina Jesick Quinn is a contributing writer for the Butler Eagle and a professor at Slippery Rock University. She is an editor of “From the Arctic to the Orient: Adventure Journalism in the Gilded Age” (McFarland) and “The Civil War Soldier and the Press” (Routledge).