Not a goof. Right there alongside that image from Generations are scenes from other imaginary stories, showing Bruce Wayne Jr. and Superman-Red and Superman-Blue, along with such glitches in continuity as the 60's era "Plaz," his pal, Gordy Trueblood, and the Wonder Family. The point of Hypertime was that every story happened, imaginary or not, somewhere at some time, and could be accessed through this new phenomenon. 

It was hoped that we could thereafter stop arguing about what "really" happened and what didn't; what counted and what did not. Hypertime said, "Everything counts. You can get to the 'reality' of any story we've ever printed and it will be just as valid as any other."

Including Generations in that construct was a means of saying to current readers that these rules applied to the new stuff as well. Even if a story disassociated itself from current canon by means of the imaginary story tag, it still counted and could be involved in future stories through the medium of Hypertime. Nothing was left out.

Immediately prior to the Death of Phoenix storyline, DC did two big stories featuring the murders of Mister Terrific, a hero first seen in 1942, and Iris West Allen, who was introduced alongside Barry Allen in the first Silver Age Flash story in 1956.

Phoenix helped grease the skids and encouraged many to abandon stewardship of their characters, but death in fiction never goes out of fashion.

As poorly written as I find that introduction to the concept, it nevertheless sufficiently differentiates the idea from standard parallel worlds and "what if" divergent timelines, making it clear that the stories presented under the Elseworlds banner are imaginative exercises and not newly established worlds existing alongside the regular titles. 

Nevertheless, a whole bunch of those Elseworlds were established as parallel Earths of the Multiverse when DC finally brought it back.

Considering how much better some of those Elseworlds books were than the regular fare, I'm still glad they made the attempt to thread that needle.

That being said - none of them were very significant, with the possible exception of the Green Goblin and Sharon Carter. Phoenix was - at the moment of her destruction - a main character in a hot selling book. Again, no disrespect to your list, but I don't think the death of Triplicate Girl or Junior Juniper sent quite such a shock through the readership.

ITEM: The Crisis created too many opportunities for "Hey, this character is called 'Kara' or 'Hawkman', wink wink nudge nudge!" Too many non-references that were very obviously writers satisfying themselves... and that should be done in the privacy of one's home. With the curtains drawn.

ITEM: Hypertime was a device to take advantage of "Kingdom Come" and its ratings, if you will. It should have been mentioned, described simply ("every story happened somewhere!") and then let alone.

ITEM: DC's numbering the alternate universes is the height of idiocy. This means that A) the multiverse confusion gets smashed right back in readers' faces, B) there is a limit to the multiple Earths, and C) seemingly contrarily, DC has to POPULATE each of those Earths. And such creation DEMANDS that at some point, those universes have to cross over... so f*ck the Crisis.

ITEM: I infer that two series started the "death and the Real Worlds are okay and easy in comics" - and with all due respect to Mr. Byrne, the Phoenix Saga wasn't it. That story was carefully planned and plotted, leading up to an incredible climax; not arbitrary, not simple, and not incidental. I see "The Dark Knight Returns" and "Watchmen" as the series that infected comics with the attitude that what they'd never shown was now okay, and just a throw-away. Catwoman was a whore? No problem! The Joker raped Jason Todd before blowing him up (a discarded element)? Sure! Kill every citizen of Coast city? Let's do it!

I (and others) have referred to this as the Glum and Gritty era of comics, and it was, I think, the point at which comic stories started getting into too much "real world." Yeah, Kandor was stolen - and every single citizen survived. Metropolis was also shrunk and captured - and every single citizen survived. The Legion was captured and held prisoner - and all lived. Killing any of these didn't seem acceptable, and that's part of why Superboy worked, even without a threat of death. Yeah, you knew that Superboy would save Lana and Pete - but meanwhile, you also knew that Luthor would kill them, sooner or later. THAT was exciting story enough for us.

Come to think of it, it STILL reads a hell of a lot better than the current "Who can we kill this month to get some attention?" dreck.

That story that was your reaction was better than the vast majority of current plotting. 

Take for example, Fantastic Four issues #49 to #50. Larsen's logic suggests that only someone reading this in 1966 would be have a sense of 'anything can happen' or danger, while anyone reading it as a back issue already knows the FF title carried on and therefore Galactus didn't eat the earth. Which is bollocks. Whether you are reading it as a back issue or if you were reading it in 1966 straight from the newsstand, the likelihood is that if you thought for moment, you'd likely guess that the FF will win, but you're even more likely to be too engrossed in the story to do so.

And really the enjoyment of the story doesn't hinge on the uncertainty of the outcome. It hinges on things like spectacle, invention, grandeur, pathos, characterisation; the actual building blocks of storytelling, of which the final resolution is but a part.