Woodstock.html
Woodstock
by Anthony D’Andrea
In August of 1969, I was one of those fortunate enough to make it to the original Woodstock music festival.
There was a magic about that moment. Over half a million young people came, most without the tickets that were never collected, sharing a dream of an alternative culture that would stand on its own with strength, cohesiveness and pride as an alternative to the straight-laced culture that gave it birth.
Upon arrival, it was quickly found that the place was, in mundane terms, a disaster area. The logistics would have been hard pressed to support a tenth of the number of people that showed. Still, the people who showed up were a combination of several types. There were the cultural and political revolutionaries, those who saw a realistic alternative to the paradigm under which most of the rest of the country was living and had the presence of mind to make it a reality, even for the brief time of the festival. There were the young, the innocent, the naive, who had no idea how significant a cultural warp they were passing thru. Some of those were forever converted; others never did succeed in opening their eyes. And finally, there were the straights. Everyone from middle-class yuppies with money and a camping trailer to students with a credit card and no backpacks, to the police that actually came to serve and were sometimes converted while on duty. I warmly remember the photo of an officer offering a light to a kid with a joint.
The people there shared a number of things that made the event historic.
For one, they knew it was a pivotal point in the movement towards an alternative culture. They knew if it didn’t happen there and then, it might never have another chance. Historically, when an alternative gained success in any aspect of life, it was quickly bought out, reconverted into a more manageable form, killed by bad press or just plain squashed. Take for example the later festival at Powder Ridge, Connecticut. They lost power, lights, sanitary facilities, everything necessary for life support, even the music itself, due to the “Establishment’s” fears that they would have another successful “Woodstock” before the means could be found to co-opt it and turn it into just another commercial fundraiser.
So those at Woodstock made it happen. They cooperated with each other, with the festival coordinators (well, after the fences were pulled down…), even with the police, to maintain safety while indulging in their own cultural alternatives. Also, contrary to press releases, several hundred people at the original Woodstock stayed there for several days to help with the cleanup.
Another thing was the fact that they knew the nature of the new reality that was first manifested there on a grand scale only dreamed about in song and poetry until then. Everyone knew the rules. No one had to be indoctrinated, because the rules of the game were there in people’s hearts since birth. They only had to temporarily unlearn society’s inbred fears and mistrusts long enough to allow what was natural for humanity to manifest naturally.
There was a real world there. There were three births…John Denver commented on the first of them, “That’s gonna be one helluva kid!”. And there was one death, a guy who had went to sleep under a tractor, and the tractor moved out unawares.
People recognised the collective need of the group…they provided each other with free food, clothing, shelter, transportation, anything else that could be shared. There was one hamburger stand that tried to sell their wares at hyper-inflated prices–the guy was run off the site. The Hog Farm collective made history when they announced “What we have in mind is (free) breakfast in bed for a hundred thousand…” And they recognised what freedom meant taken to its extreme limits within what would be safe and practical. There was nudity, a certain amount of semi-discrete, semi-public sex, even some open sales of drugs. While I remain anti-drug today, I still have a warm feeling in my heart for one guy who walked around the woods with a sandwich sign calling out and advertising “Acid! Pot! Mescaline! Hash!…” I would try to talk such people into dropping their drug use today…but I must admire the exercise of that kind of freedom–it paves the way for us all.
It was not a perfect society. People had to be constantly reminded that the speaker towers had a limited weight capacity, and many people risked climbing to get better seats. No casualties there. And there was the one guy selling the bad brown acid. After several announcements warning people about him, he quickly dropped out of sight. But there were practically no cops on the site. And there were no riots.
The feeling there was a glorious example of what the alternative could look like if people all allow their higher natures to rule. I don’t think I saw one fight.
When Woodstock II was first announced, I grew excited just thinking about the possibilities. Then, between the commercialization and the list of bands that was slated to be in attendance, I knew where it was heading. Woodstock was “Three days of Peace and Music”. One does not have that kind of atmosphere with a “Mosh Pit”.
I watched a great deal of the footage from Woodstock II on TV. College kids in numbered aluminum folding chairs, the occasional joint, bottle, pipe and bare-breasted female dancing on someone’s shoulders. And fights. Sorry Metallica, but you can’t reconcile death, doom and destruction with three days of peace and music. The only band there that even came close to the original attitudes was Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. Theirs was the second-worst performance in festival history (the worst being that of my favorite band, the Jefferson Airplane, at the original, 12 hours late and in the rain), but it brought tears to my eyes, because they remembered what it was all about.
What do you get when you try to merge current attitudes of death and violence with a festival? You get Woodstock 99. Three days of drunken riots, the kind of thing that the ruling powers like to use to curtail such events in the future, as well as to re-write the history of the past when they can get away with it. They not only had no idea of what the original Woodstock was about, but they didn’t even know that they didn’t know.
There was a genuine repeat of the original Woodstock, produced (as I have been informed) by the original producers at the original site. I imagine it was much more a success, since there has been a near-total blackout of news and reviews on it.
Woodstock Nation lives. It just doesn’t go to festivals anymore. It lives within the hearts of anyone who treasures freedom, blazes trails for new seekers, and does so with responsibility and awareness. It is no more for sale than love, although a prostitute may try to convince you otherwise. And those types certainly do exist in the music business.
Humankind is entering a climactic point in its history. Many people will not survive the changes that are coming. But deep in our hearts, we know where the solutions are. We have seen them in practice for three days in Bethel, New York, as exemplified by well over half a million people who put fear in the hearts of those who fear change. Woodstock Nation made it work.
Now, it is up to us to teach the lessons we learned at the real Woodstock, to set examples, to demonstrate those ideas, to bring them home, plant them in the hearts and minds of our friends and neighbors and watch them grow and bear fruit.
The words of Joni Mitchell said it best…
Woodstock
I met a child of God one day
He was walking along the road
I asked him “Where are you going”
And this he told me
“I’m going on down to Yasgur’s farm
Gonna join in a rock and roll band
Gonna live out on the land
Gonna try and set my soul free”
(Chorus)
We are stardust
We are golden
And we’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden
Well can I walk beside you
I have come here to lose the smog
And I feel to be a cog
In something turning
Well maybe its the time of year
Or maybe its the time of man
I don’t know who I am
But life is for learning
(Chorus)
We are stardust
We are golden
And we’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden
By the time we got to Woodstock
We were half a million strong
And everywhere there was song
And celebration
And I dreamt I saw the bomber jet planes
Riding shotgun in the skies
Turning into butterflies
Above our nation
(Chorus)
We are stardust…billion year old carbon
We are golden…part of the devil’s bargain
And we’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden
“Woodstock” — written by Joni Mitchell
Recorded by both her and by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young
Copyright © 1999
Anthony D’Andrea
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