I'm not quite sure what you mean by 'the doo-wop generation' exactly, but I'm choosing to interpret it as meaning the generation who were teenagers in the mid-to-late 1950s and who might prefer The Drifters to Led Zeppelin. Perhaps the most interesting document of how the doo-wop generation might have felt about late 1960s/early 1970s music is Nik Cohn's 1969 influential book of music criticism Awopbopaloobop Alopbamboom, perhaps the first book of rock music criticism ever published. The book takes its title from Little Richard's scat singing at the start of 'Tutti Frutti', and surveys pop music from Bill Haley to late 1960s psychedelic rock.

In general, Awopbopaloobop Alopbamboom seems to see pre-psychedelic rock'n'roll as the epitome what pop music should sound like; Cohn says of Elvis Presley that:

Elvis is where pop begins and ends. He's the great original and, even now, he's the image that makes all others seem shoddy, the boss. For once, the fan club spiel is justified: Elvis is King.

His big contribution was that he brought it home just how economically powerful teenagers could be. Before Elvis, rock had been a vague gesture of rebellion. Once he'd happened, it immediately became solid, self-contained, and then it spawned its own style in clothes and language and sex, a total independence in almost everything.

In contrast, Cohn is dubious about much of the music of the late 1960s that is now venerated by baby boomers; for Cohn, a lot of it makes the fatal mistake of sacrificing the energy and rebelliousness of Elvis for what Cohn describes as pretentious capital-A 'Art'.

Thus he said of The Beatles' Sergeant Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band of 1967 - often seen by baby boomers as the greatest album ever - that the album was:

Limp and self-obssessed. It was Art. Not art; Art. What had happened? In general, it was probably the inevitable effect of having so much guff written about them - they got told they were geniuses so often, they finally believed it and began to act as such."

Elsewhere Cohn is dismissive of a variety of acts from the late 1960s that are now talked about in rapturous tones.

The Doors:

[Jim Morrison] was no great singer and the Doors were no great group - they made a couple of strong hardrock singles, they used some potent riffs, they were strictly competent but, when you got inside their album, their range was minimal and some of Morrison's more poetical songs were dire. Really, they were another case of a solid rock band, sexy but unclever, being ruined by their own compulsion to get into Art.

Pink Floyd:

By far the most earnest attempt at local psychedelphia [in England] were the Pink Floyd. Mostly, they played instrumentals, twenty five minute scream-ups, formless and tuneless and colourless but always incredibly loud. And they were into electronics, free form and all sorts: very solemn, they were, most artistic and, for me, boring almost beyond belief.

Eric Clapton:

Clapton seemed modest and intelligent, even a bit diffident, and it was hardly his fault that he was so over-rated. He was merely suffering from the same problem that was destroying most of the other rock stars of his generation...he was being smothered in so much hyperbole by his fans and by his critics that it was almost impossible for him to work out his real talents in sanity.

And in a 1972 afterword to a new edition of the book (the one I have a copy of), Cohn says of Led Zeppelin that there was:

...a fad for 'heavy' groups (i.e., groups who played incessant twelve bar blues, as loudly and crudely as possible). At its worst, this had led to awful excesses. In particular, heavy bands like Led Zeppelin and Ten Years After have reduced blues-playing to its lowest, most ham-fisted level ever.