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WOODSTOCK MUSIC FESTIVAL  August 1969      In the summer of 1969 I was working construction in between high school and college. $4.45 an hour as a common laborer was darn good money when minimum wage was about $1.65. My uncle was a union stewart on the construction on one of the dormitory tower at the State University of New York (S.U.N.Y.) at Albany and myself and one of the managers kids scabbed for the summer before college. (Couldn't afford to work it permanent because of the Viet Nam draft situation). One Friday afternoon, when I arrived home at my parents house, a good friend John Bonnano and his frat brother Willsey from Clarkson College of Technology were sitting in the driveway in a VW bug. I was told grab a sleeping bag we're going to a concert. That was the first I had heard of Woodstock.       The Woodstock festival wasn't actually at Woodstock it was at White Lake/Bethel on old Max Yasgar's farm. We drove down the N.Y.S. Thruway to the Middleton/Monticello exit and headed west on 17. Traffic seemed fine until we got on the smaller road 17B out of Monticello to go the last six or so miles to the festival area. People we out on the streets waving at the cars streaming into the area. and there was pretty much a festive mood. We parked a mile or less from the event and visited a local market for the essentials such as beer. Turned out the father of another one of John's frat brothers Cal worked in or owned the place. He wasn't to happy with the large influx of young people and could have done without the extra business ( must of just worked there?). It was still daylight as we made our way up the road towards the festival. Along the way people had run garden hoses from their house to the street and were selling glasses of water for a quarter. I remember thinking who would pay money for water, if I had only known what a multi billion dollar industry would eventually evolve selling water. The bag of ice and beer in my small pack was leaking and ice water was dripping down the crack of my ass. Not the most enjoyable feeling I've ever had. At one point we reached a chain ling fence separating the road from the festival field and decided it was as good a place as any to gain free access. I ripped my shirt and cut my stomach going over the top but we were inside without getting caught.      Not long after getting inside we heard the announcement over the PA system that the festival was free, Oh well. We found a place to sit on the hillside of the natural amphitheater not far from the left center of the stage and settled in to listen to the music. I remember some of the people we heard Friday night but after 34 years not their exact order of appearance. I remember Arlo Juthrie, Ravi Shankar and Joan Biaz. I also remember it started to rain. John the gentleman that he was offered to cover the heads of us and the girls we were talking to with a sleeping bag to help keep us dry. That was gallant of him until I realized it was my sleeping bag. Oh well nothing stayed dry that weekend. Sometime late that night the music stopped and we went to sleep.      The next morning we decided to move around and reconnoiter the area. As the day moved on we moved up the hillside to the top of the amphitheater. The flat area at the top of the hill was where the concession stands were and the heavy traffic had left the ground deep in mud. I remember getting stuck deep in the mud and people having to pull me out. I came out without my sandals and spent the rest of the time worrying about possible broken glass hidden it the muddy field. The weather would vary between hot and steamy and rain which at times would halt the concert for onstage electrical fears. As Saturday progressed more and more people arrived and by afternoon we had no chance to get back as close to the stage as we had been Friday night. I remember seeing Santana because I had never heard of them at the time and thought they had been announced as Montana. Canned Heat and Country Joe McDonald also stick in my mind for Saturday. Country Joe went on without the Fish but still did a version of the fish cheer. At his concerts he used to do Give Me and "F", Give me an "I". Give me a "S", Give me a "H".....what's that spell...At Woodstock he had 300,000 people yelling fuck instead of fish at the top of their lungs.      I remember someone sitting in front of us with newspaper and a pound of grass on their lap, rolling joints. There was this naked guy with long red hair and a newspaper sack full of joints. He would wander among the people throwing out handfuls of joints. You could always tell where he was because hundreds of people would be standing in the area.. At night the lights from the bottom of the helicopters couldn't reach the ground through the dense cloud of smoke that hung over the festival, but we were straight at Woodstock (except maybe a second hand contact high).      Even though we were three times as far from the stage as we had been the night before ,by Saturday night we couldn't even lay back we had to sit up the place was so crowded. We decided that we had had enough of the bad weather and crowded conditions and decide to head for home. I had to work Monday and we had no idea how long it would take to get out of the disaster area. Woodstock had been declared a disaster area and at one time the NYS Thruway 50 miles away had been closed. We had parked relatively close to the fields compared to the people who had come in latter and many of the exiting exodus bummed rides on our hood or running boards. It didn't matter we weren't going anywhere very fast with the throngs blocking the road. Thirty miles from the festival there we still cars parked in the median of 17 with people partying.      I missed not being able to stay and see some of the acts Saturday night and after, such as Jimmy Hendrix and the Jefferson Airplane. I never did get a chance to see Hendrix before he died but I did see the Airplane at S.U.N.Y. Albany with Grace Slick extremely pregnant with China Kanter. What I remember most about Woodstock was the bad weather and the good music. (Written Dec 2003)
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