On the 40th Anniversary of Woodstock
Four decades ago, along with 499,999 others on a countercultural pilgrimage, I was headed for the Woodstock Festival of Music & Love. I was wearing my yellow leather fringe jacket for the first time. In one of the pockets there was a nice little stash of LSD. If you happen to be brand-name conscious, then you'll want to know that it was Owsley White Lightning.
The CIA originally envisioned using LSD as a means of control, but, without anybody's permission, millions of young people had already become explorers of their own inner space. Acid was serving as a vehicle for deprogramming themselves from a civilization of sadomasochistic priorities. A mass awakening was in process. There was an evolutionary jump in consciousness.
The underground press was flourishing, and when LSD was declared illegal on October 10, 1966, the psychedelic San Francisco Oracle became politicized while the radical Berkeley Barb began to treat the drug subculture as fellow outlaws. Acid was even influencing the stock market. Timothy Leary let me listen in on a phone call from a Wall Street broker who thanked Leary for turning him onto acid because it gave him the courage to sell short.
As I wandered around the Woodstock Festival, I was overwhelmed by the realization that this tribal event was in actuality what the Yippies had originally fantasized about for the 1968 counter-convention in Chicago. No longer did so many of these celebrants have to feel like the only Martians on their block. Now, extended families were developing into an alternative society right before our dilated pupils. I had never before felt such a powerful sense of community.
The soundtrack was live, and the Hog Farm commune provided meals, servicing the largest Bed & Breakfast place in history. Actually, they had been hired to provide security. But to Hog Farm leader Hugh Romney, security meant cream pies and seltzer bottles. He planned to wear a Smokey Bear costume to warn people about putting out fires. This was not merely a three-day outdoor concert. This was a Martian convention. Or, as Abbie Hoffman called it, Woodstock Nation.
The political contingent was encamped in a huge red-and-white-striped tent christened Movement City. In the afternoon, a mimeograph machine was churning out flyers proclaiming that the outdoor concerts should be free. At night, several festival-goers were busy unscrewing the metal-wire fencing that had been put up during the day. Yippie Roz Payne was among them. She helped take down the "No Trespassing" sign and changed it into a sign that read "Peoples Bulletin Board."
Abbie, Roz and I took a stroll down Merchants Way, which led to the stage that was still being constructed. They took down the "Merchants Way" sign and put in its place a sign that read "Ho Chi Minh Trail." Lights had not yet been strung up along the path, and as it got darker, we kept walking and stumbling until we got lost in the woods. After a couple of hours, we saw a light through the trees, realized that we were right back where we started, and we laughed ourselves silly.
Abbie would get serious later on, though, ebbed on by his sense of justice and fueled by the tab of White Lightning that we had each ingested. While The Who were performing, he went up on stage with the intention of informing the audience that John Sinclair, manager of the MC5 and leader of the White Panther Party, was serving ten years in prison for the possession of two joints; that this was really the politics behind the music.
Before Abbie could get his message across, Pete Townshend transformed his guitar into a tennis racket and smashed him on the head with a swift backhand. Townshend had assumed that Abbie was just another crazed fan. When The Who played at Fillmore East the previous week, a plainclothes cop rushed on stage and tried to grab the mike. He intended to warn the audience that there was a fire next door and the theater had to be cleared, but he was able to do so only after Townshend kneed him in the balls.
Now he shouted at Abbie, "Get the fuck off my stage!" To the audience: "The next person that walks across the stage is gonna get killed." The audience laughed. "You can laugh, but I mean it!"
I inadvertently ended up with a political mission of my own at Woodstock. For a while, I was hanging around the Press Tent, which later turned into the Hospital For Bad Trips. A reporter from the New York Daily News asked me, "How do you spell braless?" I replied, "Without a hyphen." He pointed out two men with cameras who were from the Criminal Intelligence Division of the Army.
And a freelance writer who knew someone with a source in the White House told me how the Nixon administration had assigned the Rand Corporation think tank to develop a game plan for suspending the 1972 election in case of disruption. I decided to mention this at every meeting I attended, every interview I did, every campus I spoke at and every radio show that I was a guest on.
In 1970, the story was officially denied by Attorney General John Mitchell. He warned that whoever started that rumor ought to be "punished." I wrote to him and confessed, but he never answered my letter. Actually, investigative journalist Ron Rosenbaum was able to trace the "rumor" back and discovered that I was the fifth level down from the original White House source. I believed it to be true, and even rented a tiny one-room apartment I could escape to when martial law was declared. It had a fireplace so that if the power went off I could cook brown rice.
My favorite moment at the festival was Jimi Hendrix's startling rendition of "The Star-Spangled Banner." His guitar wailing of our national anthem brought me to tears. It was a wordless version of what I interpreted to mean, "It's not that we hate America, it's that we feel the American dream has been betrayed, and we will live our alternative." My least favorite moment was when I discovered that my new yellow leather fringe jacket had been stolen from the Movement City tent.
The '60s were coming to an end, and the quality of co-option would not be strained. "Today is the first day of the rest of your life" became a slogan for the Bank of America, and also for Total breakfast cereal. Tampax advertised its tampon as "Something over 30 you can trust."
Hippies became freaks. Negroes became blacks. Girls became women. Richard Alpert became Baba Ram Dass. Hugh Romney became Wavy Gravy, and his wife became Jahanarah. Yippie organizer Keith Lampe became Ponderosa Pine, and his girlfriend became Olive Tree. My sister Marge became Thais. San Francisco Oracle editor Allen Cohen became Siddartha and moved to a commune where everybody called him Sid. They thought his name was Sid Arthur.
But the seeds that were planted then continue to blossom now. And the spirit of Woodstock continues to be celebrated at such events as the Rainbow Gathering, Burning Man, Earthdance, the Oregon County Fair, the Starwood Neo-Pagan Festival, Pete Seeger's Clearwater Festival, the Coachella Valley Music & Arts Festival, and yes, the electronic magic montage of musicians and singers around the globe performing "Stand By Me" on YouTube.
Paul Krassner publishes the Disneyland Memorial Orgy poster at paulkrassner.com and he's beginning a column at sf.carnalnation.com on the 3rd Wednesday of each month.
Follow Paul Krassner on Twitter: www.twitter.com/ZenBastard
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It has always been interesting to me to hear about Woodstock. At the time I was with the Ninth Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta in Vietnam. At that time time I was thinking about things that were really very important to me. I wonder, now what our fine young soldiers and Marines are thinking about in Iraq and Affganistan. I'll bet it isn't Woodstock. I truly wish them well and hope for their safe return.
In spite of all the cynics, the Woodstock spirit is still alive...at least for some of us.
"And we got to get ourselves back to the garden"!
Part II:
But it wasn't the Asians' fault or the new law that killed a lot of raves, it was the disconnected feeling everyone had. People became segregated by race, drugs, party crews, etc. While I appreciate your voicing your support of the "new blood" of outdoor music events like Coachella, Burning Man, etc. I think perhaps their time is up too. Maybe I've finally gotten too old but who wants to go were the vibe is a jillion dollars to get in, "every man for his own porta potty" and $7 for water? Remember Woodstock '99? I pray that the next dance isn't a dance as much as it's a march all the way to the White House/Congress and it will be about all of us, at last. We can all dance in the park afterwards.... for free.
P.S. I'd love to hear more about your experiences with Abbie Hoffman, or the MC5 (if you have some) Thanks again, man.
Loved the article, Paul. I went to raves in the early 90's days and felt a sort of kinship to the Woodstock thing. I remember a cute punker girl asked me back then, "What should I wear?", like she was expecting a uniform or something and I said, "What you have on". It was a free zone and always mixed: all races, rich and poor. No judging allowed. Misfits welcome.That's what it was about. We had "Rave in the Park": The music was brought by the local club djs, the weed, everything was free and to be shared. We felt we were on the verge of something new, maybe a new music (?) and we didn't care about the non-believers, at least not in the immediate. And when a certain DJ played, we all just got up and danced automatically like we were given some subconscious command. In the beginning, I honestly believe that the people dancing to the music was first, the drugs were second. The free parties were the best. It took a few years but I saw the wave break in 98' at a party in Pomona were it seemed exclusively Asians on lots of ecstacy had come and they were listening disinterestedly to a "techno" version of Lenon's "Imagine". I turned to my friend and said, "this thing is done".
End of Part I
Acid flashback...We are what we think, what we think we become - Buddha.
Forty years ago, I knew everything, now I know nothing. The American dream? - let's keep dreaming.
I am glad Generation X is finally taking over. As soon as we do, there will be no more wobbling on reform, like the Clinton's and people of their generation.
I would have loved to attend Woodstock just for the bragging rights but I was 5 years away from being born. :-D
Those kids in 1969 were a lot younger in spirit than we were in 1989. We would have been the biggest beer drinking squares if we had attended Woodstock. The 1994 Woodstock was a corporate MTV fest. I was 21 then. I couldn't be bothered to go. There was no message, just people throwing mud at Green Day. GenX was angry, fed up and confused and much of it had to do with the Boomers and the way they shoved the 60s down our throats and never tried to understand who WE were.
Still, I love the young spirit of that generation. They were a lot freer that we were and less afraid. They indirectly taught us it was okay to not like the establishment, hence the angst of GenX.
The Woodstock generation saved the least, sacrificed the least and took the most of all generations. Now the baby bulge is going to bankruput the country with demands on social security. The romance was only imagined.
Bingo...
Krassner wrote...
"It's not that we hate America, it's that we feel the American dream has been betrayed, and we will live our alternative."
...and we will take it out on every generation after us until we're all dead...
The sooner the better.
The veterans sacrificed greatly and were dismissed. The Woodstock types indulged their egos, and are still romanticized. Justice will have to wait.
Three days of drugs, mud and music.
Good things happened and continute to happen as a result of this positive music mentality. Remember that Nixon and Agnew were in office. John Mitchell was attorney general. He brayed loudly that the ugly tactics of police were illustrious examples of how to deal with those wretched lawbreaking student demonstrators. Later he was revealed as quite a big lawbreaker, not to mention subverter of jusice. Agnew also went about promoting himself and his boss as LAW AND ORDER REPUBLICANS. Later he was revealed to be a felonious hypocrite and given only a slap on the wrist. God bless the protest movement, which kept right on gonig like an energizer bunny and helped to expose W. and Dickie, the Nixon and Agnew of our time. Jane Fonda now has a foundation (check out her website) and continues to do great things.
Paul Krassner is a national treasure and always worth listening to.
God bless Albert Hofmann and Owsley Stanley.
YOU FORGOT HEMPFEST, DUDE!
Nice piece. Needs a little fact checking.
I was at Woodstock and the Fillmore fire. The fire did NOT occur a week before Woodstock. It was on May 16, 1969.
http://www.forgotten-ny.com/SLICES/2nd&6th/fillmore.html
It was an interesting experience being with so many other people at the same time and feeling perfectly safe. I just went to blow a bunch of weed and get laid a lot. I didn't have loftier motives in those days, but I did have a helluva lot of fun.
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