I never made it to the Woodstock festival, billed as “Three Days of Peace and Music.”
Something I regret today.
Still in our early teens, my friends, “the Arctic boys,” were planning to attend, but decided against it when we heard that they closed the New York State Thruway due to massive traffic jams caused by people trying to get to the concert in upstate New York.
It turned out to be one of the defining points of my generation.
Our nation was going through a tumultuous time due to opposition to the Vietnam war. Protests were raging throughout college campuses.
But Michael Lang and his three partners were determined to make this concert something that the country had never seen.
The performers that they booked were an assemblage of musical groups and performers that were, if you lived in that era, breathtaking.
Now all Lang and company needed was a place to hold this “Music and Art Fair.”
They finally found it in a 600-acre farm in the small town of Bethel, New York owned by dairy farmer Max Yasgur.
When Max cut the deal with Michael Lang to lease his land for a reported $10,000, they both felt that the concert, and the dream, would certainly become a reality.
But it was not without some setbacks, and the very real possibility that the concert would not take place at all.
The townspeople, learning that the mega-concert was being planned, were understandably uneasy.
They worried about what such a mass of people would do to their small town.
They worried about what the noise and commotion would do to their livestock.
They worried about whether the roads could handle the traffic and equipment.
And they worried if the concert goers (often referred to as “anti-war hippies”) would be respectful of their small-town values.
Some were so riled up that they started a movement to have the Zoning Board forbid the concert.
A few crackpots even threatened to burn down Max’s farm. Another group took a different track. They wanted to see how much money they could make with such an influx of people.
While some residents started charging for water, Max Yasgur became an instant hero by handing out water for free and giving away all the milk he had in the barn.
When the dust settled, and the developers were certain that the concert would indeed happen, “The Woodstock Music and Art Fair” was scheduled for the weekend of Aug. 15-17, 1969.
The lineup included mega-groups Jefferson Airplane, The Grateful Dead, Blood, Sweat & Tears, The Who, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young and Jimi Hendrix. There were 32 acts in all.
In those days, with no internet or social media, word usually spread slowly across the country about a concert of significance. In this case, word spread quickly through college campuses and other music venues.
By Wednesday, Aug. 13, 60,000 people were camped out at “Woodstock.”
But the time the concert began on Aug. 15, half a million people descended upon Max Yasgur’s farm.
Most hiked miles to get there as the New York State Thruway, as mentioned, was closed.
They faced food shortages, water shortages, scarce restroom facilities, pouring rain and of course the availability of all kinds of drugs.
By the time Jimi Hendrix closed the concert on Monday, Aug. 18 at 8:30 a.m. (due to torrential rain delays), those half-million young people showed the world that they could gather in peace, love and music without major incident.
They also respected the town that hosted them, due to the overpowering nature of Max Yasgur.
When others slammed their door, Max opened his home.
When town leaders wanted to change the zoning laws to prohibit the concert, Max fought them tooth and nail.
Probably one of the most dynamic speeches in modern American history came the day the Zoning Board was to meet to discuss changing the law and killing the concert.
When it was his turn to speak, dairy farmer Max Yasgur said this:
“I hear you are considering changing the zoning law to prevent this festival. I hear you don’t like the look of these kids who are working at the site. I hear you don’t like their lifestyle. I hear you don’t like that they are against the war and they say so very loudly … I don’t particularly like the looks of some of these kids either. I don’t particularly like their lifestyle, especially the drugs and free love. And I don’t like what some of them are saying about our government.
However, I know my American history. Tens of thousands of Americans in uniform gave their lives in war after war just so these kids would have the freedom to do exactly what they are doing. That’s what this country is all about and I am not going to let you throw them out of our town just because you don’t like their dress or their hair or the way they live or what they believe. This is America and they are going to have their festival!”
Woodstock, in my humble opinion, was the moment my generation became awakened and aware. We became tuned-in to the world around us and became a generational community.
I finally made it to Woodstock during the summer of 2020.
It was during Covid when we were all looking for something to do. A pleasant three-plus-hour drive to Bethel.
I have to tell you that it was a mystical experience to walk the field that is now world-renowned.
It is preserved for all to see, and a short distance from the Yasgur homestead and barn.
They even added a modern Performing Arts Center above the famous hill. It has Woodstock memorabilia and shows a continuous loop of the concert, and hosts performances and cultural events.
Max Yasgur died of a heart attack on Feb. 9, 1973 in Marathon, Florida.
There is a generation of “kids” like me that will never forget him.
Peace, Max.
Still somewhat of a hippie, Mike Levesque, a Warwick resident and former West Warwick mayor, writes the Meeting with Mike column that appears in these pages.
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