I remember fallout shelters too.

A poem from those days, by E.Y. Harburg:

Hammacher Schlemmer is selling a shelter
Worthy of Kubla Khan's Xanadu dome,
Plushy and swanky with posh hanky-panky that affluent yankees can really call home.

Hammacher Schlemmer is selling a shelter,
A push-button palace, fluorescent repose,
With electric devices for facing a crisis with frozen fruit-ices and cinema shows.

Hammacher Schlemmer is selling a shelter
All chromium kitchens and rubber-tile dorms,
Whose waterproof portals will echo the chortles of weatherproof mortals in hydrogen storms.

What a great come-to-glory emporium!
To provide a deluxe moratorium
From the nuclear heat, to beguile the elite
In a crème de la crème crematorium.