INTRO TO WOODSTOCK: THE "Woodstock Generation" In August 1969, director Michael Wadleigh led his camera crew into the unknown pastures of Max Yasgur's farmland in Bethel, N.Y., U.S., to document the Woodstock Music and Art Fair. The festival, along with Wadleigh's documentary, would grow to become much more than "Three Days of Peace and Music"; it would, in fact, come to define a generation. The film "Woodstock" (1970) was conceived during 120 hours of shooting, fertilized by a star-studded cast of musicians and some 500,000 extras, but hampered by the logistical nightmares of muddy roads, congested campsites, and electrical power surges. After a gestation period of nine months--during which the film was edited by the able Thelma Schoonmaker (and a young Martin Scorsese)--Wadleigh's baby was finally born. It was an immediate success. Woodstock was given the award for best documentary at the 1971 Academy Awards, where it was also nominated for best film editing and best sound. Its position as a movie classic was underscored in 1996 when it was nominated to the National Film Registry. Wadleigh's director's cut of Woodstock, including 40 minutes of previously unreleased footage, was completed in 1994, on the 25th anniversary of the festival. The following is excerpted from an interview with Michael Wadleigh. WOODSTOCK, THE VILLAGE In terms of Woodstock, so many people think of it as "Wow, that festival with the mud and dope," and I say, "Wait a minute. I think you're missing an enormous point," and I circle them back to Woodstock, N.Y., and what it means to be countercultural. Woodstock was a village that was famous as a radical gathering place. In the 1920s, socialists came there. In the '50s, Allen Ginsberg. In the '60s, Bob Dylan, [Joan] Baez, and everybody else. So we really had a sense that we were a continuation of the traditions of that village in making the festival. When we got that beautiful farm--Max Yasgur's pastures, lakes, and birdstands--we thought, "Well, this is a place where people are going to want to come." Sure enough, a half million people got there, and three million [more] tried to get there. For two days running, we got full-width banner headlines in The New York Times, because you couldn't escape all the people converging. You don't overlook 500,000 people. The traffic was motionless. The New York State Thruway authorities estimated from the air that three million more people were trying to get there. You see it in the shots [from the film]: the New York State Thruway was totally closed. Eight lanes of gridlock, all the way from New York City to the festival. You'd see from the helicopter's point of view: every little road leading to the festival was just totally jammed. Only motorcycles could get through. And then, as you see in the movie, once the rains came the cycles just [fell] over. So you had one choice: you walked. Or you didn't go. THE MUSIC OF THE FESTIVAL I think the point about Woodstock is that there were so many incredible performances, from vocalists to instrumentalists, from Joe Cocker, Richie Havens, Joan Baez, and Janis Joplin, whose voices--think of those voices--are so incredibly powerful and unique. And Janis Joplin singing "Work Me, Lord"--a really awesome version. And when you hear her sing in six-track surround [sound]--that incredible voice of hers--it's truly an amazing experience. To the great instrumentalists, from Alvin Lee, the fastest guitar alive, to Pete Townshend and The Who's great performance of Tommy, to the legendary Jimi Hendrix and "The Star-Spangled Banner." I can transport myself back there to see that man play as if it's like today. [Hendrix] was such an incredible musician and had such a oneness about his guitar and his body. It was virtually like he took his own guts and strung them in place of the strings, really playing his own body. I've often thought of him as an example of the kind of loss we all feel for the idealism of the '60s, which seems to have all vanished. Let's not forget what rock and roll is. Do we even know? Do we ever think what that phrase means? If you look in The Oxford English Dictionary, the definitive source for what words mean, "rock and roll" means two things. One, it means "sexual intercourse," that is, to rock and roll all night. And the second thing that it means is "revolution." It means rocking and rolling right over the white man. It started with the blacks and then it went to all kids. And it's always supposed to be sexual energy, kick-ass energy, and it's supposed to be counterculture. It's supposed to be antagonistic. It's supposed to be youthful energy. THE MEANING OF WOODSTOCK The biggest realization [about Woodstock] wasn't so much a look back as [it was] a look at a timeless situation. I really hadn't groked that. Country Joe [McDonald's] song wasn't really about the Vietnam War, it's about all wars. Joan Baez's song about Joe Hill is about all organizers. "Freedom" and "Handsome Johnny" that Richie Havens sings, [the Who's cover of] "Summertime Blues," that there "ain't no cure" for them, because your congressman won't get you a job, and on and on--they're all metaphors. They work today every bit as well as they worked yesterday. Everyone thinks of [Woodstock] as sort of the seminal event of the '60s generation. Indeed, we're called the "Woodstock Generation" after the festival. But the other interesting thing is that it's like The Canterbury Tales [by Chaucer] or The Pilgrim's Progress [by John Bunyan]. It's really a timeless idea: you see kids streaming out of cities that are so dirty and complex to come to the countryside. You know, back to the land, back to the garden, to this pristine natural setting that has lakes and trees and so on--the innocence of nature. And then you see the cathedral erected in nature; where the wooden stage goes up, where the choirs will come to sing, where the priests will give sermons, where the jugglers and the clowns will perform. Woodstock is pretty timeless. The general human condition--war, peace, the generation gap, human rights, our relationship with the Earth--can all be looked at within a kind of metaphorical construct called Woodstock. I think more and more people are describing [the film] Woodstock as an epic. You know, as the sort of left-wing version of Triumph of the Will. Because Max's farm is not the important thing. It's really a state of mind, an attitude; it's going back to the garden, wherever the garden is.THE STORY OF WOODSTOCKCourtesy of Times Herald-Record and Mr. Tiber, Woodstock Commemorative Edition The last bedraggled fan sloshed out of Max Yasgur's muddy pasture more than 25 years ago. That's when the debate began about Woodstock's historical significance. True believers still call Woodstock the capstone of an era devoted to human advancement. Cynics say it was a fitting, ridiculous end to an era of naivete. Then there are those who say it was just a hell of a party. The Woodstock Music and Art Fair in 1969 drew more than 450,000 people to a pasture in Sullivan County. For four days, the site became a countercultural mini-nation in which minds were open, drugs were all but legal and love was "free". The music began Friday afternoon at 5:07pm August 15 and continued until mid-morning Monday August 18. The festival closed the New York State Thruway and created one of the nation's worst traffic jams. It also inspired a slew of local and state laws to ensure that nothing like it would ever happen again. Janis Joplin, Roger Daltry of 'The Who' and Jimi Hendrix Woodstock, like only a handful of historical events, has become part of the cultural lexicon. As Watergate is the codeword for a national crisis of confidence and Waterloo stands for ignominious defeat, Woodstock has become an instant adjective denoting youthful hedonism and 60's excess."What we had here was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence," said Bethel town historian Bert Feldman."Dickens said it first: 'It was the best of times. It was the worst of times'. It's an amalgam that will never be reproduced again." Gathered that weekend in 1969 were liars and lovers, prophets and profiteers. They made love, they made money and they made a little history. Arnold Skolnick, the artist who designed Woodstock's dove-and-guitar symbol, described it this way: "Something was tapped, a nerve, in this country. And everybody just came."The counterculture's biggest bash - it ultimately cost more than $2.4 million - was sponsored by four very different, and very young, men: John Roberts, Joel Rosenman, Artie Kornfeld and Michael Lang. The oldest of the four was 26. John Roberts supplied the money. He was heir to a drugstore and toothpaste manufacturing fortune. He had a multimillion-dollar trust fund, a University of Pennsylvania degree and a lieutenant's commission in the Army. He had seen exactly one rock concert, by the Beach Boys.Robert's slightly hipper friend, Joel Rosenman, the son of a prominent Long Island orthodontist, had just graduated from Yale Law School. In 1967, the mustachioed Rosenman, 24, was playing guitar for a lounge band in motels from Long Island to Las Vegas. Roberts and Rosenman met on a golf course in the fall of 1966. By winter 1967, they shared an apartment and were trying to figure out what they ought to do with the rest of their lives. They had one idea: to create a screwball situation comedy for television, kind of like a male version of "I Love Lucy". "It was an office comedy about two pals with more money than brains and a thirst for adventure." Rosenman said."Every week they would get into a different business venture in some nutty scheme. And every week they would be rescued in the nick of time from their fate. " To get plot ideas for their sitcom, Roberts and Rosenman put a classified ad in the Wall Street Journal and The New York Times in March 1968: "Young Men With Unlimited Capital looking for interesting, legitimate investment opportunities and business propositions. "They got thousands of replies, including one for biodegradable golf balls. Another seemed strange enough to work as a real business venture; Ski-bobs, bicycles on skis that were a fad in Europe. Roberts and Rosenman researched the idea before abandoning it. In the process, the two went from would-be television writers to wanna-be venture capitalists. "Somehow, we became the characters in our own show," Rosenman said.Artie Kornfield, 25, wore a suit, but the lapels were a little wide and his hair brushed the top of his ears. He was a vice president at Capitol Records. He smoked hash in the office and was the company's connection with the rockers who were starting to sell millions of The legendary Janis Joplin sang from the heart at Woodstock. A drug overdose was to take her young life not long afterrecords. Kornfeld had written maybe 30 hit singles, among them "Dead Man's Curve," recorded by Jan and Dean. He also wrote songs and produced the music for the Cowsills.Michael Lang didn't wear shoes very often. Friends described him as a cosmic pixie, with a head full of curly black hair that bounced to his shoulders. At 23, he owned what may have been the first head shop inthe state of Flordia. In 1968, Lang had produced one of the biggest rock shows ever, the two-day Miami Pop Festival, which drew 40,000 people. At 24, Lang was the manager of a rock group called Train, which he wanted to sign to a record deal. He bought his proposal to Kornfeld at Capitol Records in late December 1968. Lang knew Kornfeld had grown up in Bensonhurst, Queens, like he had. Lang got an appointment by telling the record company's receptionist that he was "from the neighborhood."The two hit it off immediately. Not long after they met, Lang moved in with Kornfeld and his wife, Linda. The three had rambling, all-night conversations, fueled by a few joints, in their New York City apartment. One of their ideas was for a cultural exposition/rock concert/extravaganza. Another was for a recording studio, to be tucked off in the woods more than 100 miles from Manhattan in a town called Woodstock. The location would reflect the back-to-the-land spirit of the counterculture.Besides, the Ulster County town had been an artists' mecca for a century. By the late 1960s, musicians like Bob Dylan, The Band, Tim Hardin, Van Morrison, Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin were moving to the area and wanted a state-of-the-art studio. Lang and Kornfeld were searching for seed money for the festival and money to build the recording studio. They never saw the "young men with unlimited capital" ad, but their lawyer recommended they talk to Roberts and Rosenman. The four met in February 1969. "We met with them in their apartment on 83rd Street in a high-rise," Lang recalls."They were kind of preppy. Today, I guess they'd be yuppies. They were wearing suits. Artie did most of the talking, because I think they seemed puzzled by me. They were curious about the counterculture, and they were somewhat interested in the project. They wanted a written proposal, which we had but we didn't bring with us. We told them that we would meet again with a budget for the festival. To this day, the founders of Woodstock disagree on who came up with the original idea for the concert. And, dulled by time, competition and countLess retelling, no one recollection is consistent.Lang and Kornfeld say Woodstock was always planned as the largest music festival ever held. At the second meeting, Lang recalls discussing a budget of $500,000 and attendance of 100,000. Lang said he had started looking at festival sites in the fall of 1968, which would have been well before he'd hooked up with Kornfeld or Roberts and Rosenman. But Rosenman and Roberts maintain that they were the driving force behind the festival. As Rosenman and Roberts recall it, Kornfeld and Lang primarily wanted a studio, hyped by a party for rock'n'roll critics and record company executives."We would have cocktails and canapes in a tent or something," Rosenman said. "We'd send limos down to New York to pick everyone up. Tim Hardin or someone could sing. Maybe, if we were lucky, Joan Baez would get up and do a couple of songs." At some point, Rosenman and Roberts focused on the party idea and decided that it really ought to be a rock concert. "We made a deal," Rosenman said. "We'd have the party, and the profits from the party would be used to pay for the recording studio. Ultimately, we had the money, so what we said went."By the end of their third meeting, the little party up in Woodstock had snowballed into a bucolic concert for 50,000 people, the world's biggest rock'n'roll show.The four partners formed a corporation in March. Each held 25 percent. The company was called 'Woodstock Ventures, Inc.', after the hip little Ulster County town where Dylan lived. The Woodstock Ventures team scurried to find a site. Real estate agents across the mid-Hudson were scouring the countryside for land to rent for just a few months. Feelers went out in Rockland County, then in Orange. For $10,000, Woodstock Ventures had leased a tract of land in the Town of Wallkill owned by Howard Mills, Jr. "It was a Sunday in late March," Rosenman said. "We drove up to Wallkill and saw the industrial park. We talked to Howard Mills and we made a deal.""The vibes weren't right there. It was an industrial park," Roberts interjected. "I just said, 'We gotta have a site now.'" The 300-acre Mills Industrial Park offered perfect access. It was less than a mile from Route 17, which hooked into the New York State Thruway, and it was right off Route 211, a major local thoroughfare. It has the essentials, electricity and water lines. The land was zoned for industry; among the permitted uses were cultural exhibitions and concerts. The promoters approached the town planning board and were given a verbal go-ahead because of the zoning. Nonetheless, Lang was unhappy with the site. It was missing the back-to-the-land ambience Woodstock Ventures was selling."I hated Wallkill," Lang said. Ventures set to work on the Mills property, all the while searching for an alternative. Rosenman told Wallkill officials in late March or early April that the concert would feature Jazz bands and folk singers. He also said that 50,000 people would attend if they were lucky. Town Supervisor Jack Schlosser thought something was fishy. "More than anything else, I really feel they were deliberately misleading the town," Schlosser said. "The point is, they were less than truthful about the numbers. I became more and more aware, as discussions with them progressed, they did not really know what they were doing. I was in the Army when divisions were 40,000 or 50,000 men," he said. "Christ almighty, the logistics involved in moving men around... I said at one point, 'I don't care if it was a convention of 50,000 ministers," I would have felt the same way."In the cultural-political atmosphere of 1969, promoters Kornfeld and Lang knew it was important to pitch Woodstock in a way that would appeal to their peer's sense of independence. Lang wanted to call the festival an "Aquarian Exposition," capitalizing on the zodiacal reference from the musical "Hair". He had an ornate poster designed, featuring the water-bearer. By early April, the promoters were carefully cultivating the Woodstock image in the underground press, in publications like the Village Voice and Rolling Stone magazine. Ads began to run in The New York Times and The Times Herald-Record in May.For Kornfeld, Woodstock wasn't a matter of building stages, signing acts or even selling tickets. For him, the festival was always a state of mind, a happening that would exemplify the generation. The event's publicity shrewdly appropriated the counterculture's symbols and catch phrases. "The cool PR image was intentional, "he said. The group settled on the concrete slogan of "Three Days of Peace and Music" and downplayed the highly conceptual theme of Aquarius. The promoters figured "peace" would link the anti-war sentiment to the rock concert. They also wanted to avoid any violence and figured that a slogan with "peace" in it would help keep order. The Woodstock dove is really a catbird; originally, it perched on a flute.Woodstock Ventures was trying to book the biggest rock'n'roll bands in America, but the rockers were reluctant to sign with an untested outfit that might be unable to deliver. "To get the contracts, we had to have the credibility, and to get the credibility, we had to have the contracts, "Rosenman said. Ventures solved the problem by promising paychecks unheard of in 1969. The big breakthrough came with the signing of the top psychedelic band of the day, 'The Jefferson Airplane', for the incredible sum of $12,000. The Airplane usually took gigs for $5,000 to $6,000. Creedence Clearwater Revival signed for $11,500. The Who then came in for $12,500. The rest of the acts started to fall in line. In all, Ventures spent $180,000 on talent."I made a decision that we needed three major acts, and I told them I didn't care what it cost," Lang said. "If they had been asking $5,000, I'd say, 'Pay 'em $10,000.' So we paid the deposits, signed the contracts, and that was it: instant credibility." In the spring of 1969, John Sebastian's career was on hold. From 1965 to 1967, Sebastian's band, The Lovin' Spoonful, had cranked out hit after hit - "Do You Believe in Magic," "You Didn't Have To Be So Nice," "Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind," "(What a Day For a) Daydream" and "Summer In The City." But in 1967, after the Lovin' Spoonful appeared on "The Ed Sullivan Show", things began to go wrong. Two band members were busted for pot possession and left the group. Their replacements never quite fit in.In 1968, the group broke up, and Sebastian tried going solo. But his performing career wasn't taking off. So, in the spring of 1969, Sebastian headed west to do a little soul searching. He ended up at a California commune where the hippies made money by making brightly colored shirts and jackets by a process they called 'tie-dye'. The residents of Wallkill had heard of hippies, drugs and rock concerts, and after the Woodstock advertising hit The New York Times, The Times Herald-Record and the radio stations, local residents knew that a three-day rock show, maybe the biggest ever, was coming. Besides, Woodstock Venture's employees sure looked like hippies. In the minds of many people, long hair and shabby clothes were associated with left-wing politics and drug use. The new ideas about re-ordering society were threatening to many people."They wanted me to design a sound system for 50,000 or so people," said Markoff, who owned the only stereo store in Middletown, the Audio Center on North Street. "They said there could even be 100,000, might even go to 150,000." He thought Lang and Goldstein were nuts. "There had never been a concert with 50,000; that was unbelievable," Markoff said. "Now, 100,000, that was impossible. It's tantamount to doing a sound system for 30 million people today." Markoff, then 24, was the only local resident listed in the Audio Engineering Society Magazine. Lang and Goldstein had picked his name out of the magazine; suddenly, Markoff was responsible for gathering sound gear for the greatest show on earth.During the summer of Woodstock, Wadleigh, 27, was gaining a reputation as a solid cameraman and director of independent films. Two years earlier, he had dropped out of Columbia University of Physicians and Surgeons, where he was studying to be a neurologist. Since then, he'd spent his time filming on the urban streets, the main battlefield for the cultural skirmishes of the 1960s. He'd filmed Martin Luther King Jr. He'd filmed Bobby Kennedy and George McGovern talking to middle Americans on the campaign trail in '68. Wadleigh was experimenting with using rock'n'roll in his films as an adjunct to the day's social and political themes. He was also working with multiple images to make documentaries more entertaining than those featuring a bunch of talking heads.And then the Woodstock boys came to his door. Their idea was irresistable. The money was not. Wadleigh went for it anyway. Goldstein went alone to his first town board meeting in Wallkill. "This was before we knew we had problems," he said. "It was probably in June. We had a full house. No more than 150 people. There were some accusations. Someone made some references to the Chicago convention. That it was young people, and this is the way the youth reacted, and that's what we could expect in our community. (Wallkill Supervisor Jack) Schlosser said that Mayor Daley knew how to handle that. Then I lost my temper. I said there was no need for the violence and that (the police) reaction caused the violence. I said that Daley ran one of the most corrupt political machines in history."P>Schlosser, who attended the Chicago convention, didn't recall such a specific exchange about Daley. He did remember the convention, however "I saw these people throw golf clubs with nails in them," he said of the Chicago protesters. "I saw them throw excretion. The police, while I was there at least, showed remarkable restraint." As the town meetings and the weeks wore on, the confrontation between Ventures and the residents of Wallkill got worse. Woodstock's landlord, Howard Mills, was getting anonymous phone calls. The police were called, but the culprits never were identified, much less caught. "They threatened to blow up his house," Goldstein said. "There were red faces and tempers flaring. People driven by fear to very strange things. They raise their voices and say stupid things they would never ordinarily say."To this day, Howard Mills will not discuss how his neighbors turned against him in 1969. "I know that it is a part of history, but I don't want to bother about it," Mills said. It would no doubt be logistically and economically impossible today to assemble the incredible amount of talent present at Woodstock. Imagine an extended concert and party with the following artists: Joan Baez, Arlo Guthrie, Tim Hardin, Incredible String Band, Ravi Shankar, Richie Havens, Sly and the Family Stone, Bert Sommer, Sweetwater Quill, Canned Heat, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Jefferson Airplane, The Who, Grateful Dead, Keef Hartley, Blood, Sweat and Tears, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, Santana, Jeff Beck Group, The Band, Ten Years After, Johnny Winter, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Joe Cocker, Mountain Melanie, Sha-Na-Na, John Sebastian, Country Joe and the Fish, and Paul Butterfield Blues Band!
In August 1969, director Michael Wadleigh led his camera crew into the unknown pastures of Max Yasgur's farmland in Bethel, N.Y., U.S., to document the Woodstock Music and Art Fair. The festival, along with Wadleigh's documentary, would grow to become much more than "Three Days of Peace and Music"; it would, in fact, come to define a generation.
The film "Woodstock" (1970) was conceived during 120 hours of shooting, fertilized by a star-studded cast of musicians and some 500,000 extras, but hampered by the logistical nightmares of muddy roads, congested campsites, and electrical power surges. After a gestation period of nine months--during which the film was edited by the able Thelma Schoonmaker (and a young Martin Scorsese)--Wadleigh's baby was finally born. It was an immediate success. Woodstock was given the award for best documentary at the 1971 Academy Awards, where it was also nominated for best film editing and best sound. Its position as a movie classic was underscored in 1996 when it was nominated to the National Film Registry. Wadleigh's director's cut of Woodstock, including 40 minutes of previously unreleased footage, was completed in 1994, on the 25th anniversary of the festival. The following is excerpted from an interview with Michael Wadleigh.
WOODSTOCK, THE VILLAGE
In terms of Woodstock, so many people think of it as "Wow, that festival with the mud and dope," and I say, "Wait a minute. I think you're missing an enormous point," and I circle them back to Woodstock, N.Y., and what it means to be countercultural.
Woodstock was a village that was famous as a radical gathering place. In the 1920s, socialists came there. In the '50s, Allen Ginsberg. In the '60s, Bob Dylan, [Joan] Baez, and everybody else. So we really had a sense that we were a continuation of the traditions of that village in making the festival. When we got that beautiful farm--Max Yasgur's pastures, lakes, and birdstands--we thought, "Well, this is a place where people are going to want to come." Sure enough, a half million people got there, and three million [more] tried to get there.
For two days running, we got full-width banner headlines in The New York Times, because you couldn't escape all the people converging. You don't overlook 500,000 people. The traffic was motionless. The New York State Thruway authorities estimated from the air that three million more people were trying to get there. You see it in the shots [from the film]: the New York State Thruway was totally closed. Eight lanes of gridlock, all the way from New York City to the festival. You'd see from the helicopter's point of view: every little road leading to the festival was just totally jammed. Only motorcycles could get through. And then, as you see in the movie, once the rains came the cycles just [fell] over. So you had one choice: you walked. Or you didn't go.
THE MUSIC OF THE FESTIVAL
I think the point about Woodstock is that there were so many incredible performances, from vocalists to instrumentalists, from Joe Cocker, Richie Havens, Joan Baez, and Janis Joplin, whose voices--think of those voices--are so incredibly powerful and unique. And Janis Joplin singing "Work Me, Lord"--a really awesome version. And when you hear her sing in six-track surround [sound]--that incredible voice of hers--it's truly an amazing experience. To the great instrumentalists, from Alvin Lee, the fastest guitar alive, to Pete Townshend and The Who's great performance of Tommy, to the legendary Jimi Hendrix and "The Star-Spangled Banner."
I can transport myself back there to see that man play as if it's like today. [Hendrix] was such an incredible musician and had such a oneness about his guitar and his body. It was virtually like he took his own guts and strung them in place of the strings, really playing his own body. I've often thought of him as an example of the kind of loss we all feel for the idealism of the '60s, which seems to have all vanished.
Let's not forget what rock and roll is. Do we even know? Do we ever think what that phrase means? If you look in The Oxford English Dictionary, the definitive source for what words mean, "rock and roll" means two things. One, it means "sexual intercourse," that is, to rock and roll all night. And the second thing that it means is "revolution." It means rocking and rolling right over the white man. It started with the blacks and then it went to all kids. And it's always supposed to be sexual energy, kick-ass energy, and it's supposed to be counterculture. It's supposed to be antagonistic. It's supposed to be youthful energy.
THE MEANING OF WOODSTOCK
The biggest realization [about Woodstock] wasn't so much a look back as [it was] a look at a timeless situation. I really hadn't groked that. Country Joe [McDonald's] song wasn't really about the Vietnam War, it's about all wars. Joan Baez's song about Joe Hill is about all organizers. "Freedom" and "Handsome Johnny" that Richie Havens sings, [the Who's cover of] "Summertime Blues," that there "ain't no cure" for them, because your congressman won't get you a job, and on and on--they're all metaphors. They work today every bit as well as they worked yesterday.
Everyone thinks of [Woodstock] as sort of the seminal event of the '60s generation. Indeed, we're called the "Woodstock Generation" after the festival. But the other interesting thing is that it's like The Canterbury Tales [by Chaucer] or The Pilgrim's Progress [by John Bunyan]. It's really a timeless idea: you see kids streaming out of cities that are so dirty and complex to come to the countryside. You know, back to the land, back to the garden, to this pristine natural setting that has lakes and trees and so on--the innocence of nature. And then you see the cathedral erected in nature; where the wooden stage goes up, where the choirs will come to sing, where the priests will give sermons, where the jugglers and the clowns will perform.
Woodstock is pretty timeless. The general human condition--war, peace, the generation gap, human rights, our relationship with the Earth--can all be looked at within a kind of metaphorical construct called Woodstock. I think more and more people are describing [the film] Woodstock as an epic. You know, as the sort of left-wing version of Triumph of the Will. Because Max's farm is not the important thing. It's really a state of mind, an attitude; it's going back to the garden, wherever the garden is.
THE STORY OF WOODSTOCK
Courtesy of Times Herald-Record and Mr. Tiber, Woodstock Commemorative Edition
The Woodstock Music and Art Fair in 1969 drew more than 450,000 people to a pasture in Sullivan County. For four days, the site became a countercultural mini-nation in which minds were open, drugs were all but legal and love was "free". The music began Friday afternoon at 5:07pm August 15 and continued until mid-morning Monday August 18. The festival closed the New York State Thruway and created one of the nation's worst traffic jams. It also inspired a slew of local and state laws to ensure that nothing like it would ever happen again.
Janis Joplin, Roger Daltry of 'The Who' and Jimi Hendrix
Woodstock, like only a handful of historical events, has become part of the cultural lexicon. As Watergate is the codeword for a national crisis of confidence and Waterloo stands for ignominious defeat, Woodstock has become an instant adjective denoting youthful hedonism and 60's excess."What we had here was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence," said Bethel town historian Bert Feldman."Dickens said it first: 'It was the best of times. It was the worst of times'. It's an amalgam that will never be reproduced again."
Gathered that weekend in 1969 were liars and lovers, prophets and profiteers. They made love, they made money and they made a little history. Arnold Skolnick, the artist who designed Woodstock's dove-and-guitar symbol, described it this way: "Something was tapped, a nerve, in this country. And everybody just came."
The counterculture's biggest bash - it ultimately cost more than $2.4 million - was sponsored by four very different, and very young, men: John Roberts, Joel Rosenman, Artie Kornfeld and Michael Lang. The oldest of the four was 26. John Roberts supplied the money. He was heir to a drugstore and toothpaste manufacturing fortune. He had a multimillion-dollar trust fund, a University of Pennsylvania degree and a lieutenant's commission in the Army. He had seen exactly one rock concert, by the Beach Boys.
Robert's slightly hipper friend, Joel Rosenman, the son of a prominent Long Island orthodontist, had just graduated from Yale Law School. In 1967, the mustachioed Rosenman, 24, was playing guitar for a lounge band in motels from Long Island to Las Vegas. Roberts and Rosenman met on a golf course in the fall of 1966. By winter 1967, they shared an apartment and were trying to figure out what they ought to do with the rest of their lives. They had one idea: to create a screwball situation comedy for television, kind of like a male version of "I Love Lucy". "It was an office comedy about two pals with more money than brains and a thirst for adventure." Rosenman said.
"Every week they would get into a different business venture in some nutty scheme. And every week they would be rescued in the nick of time from their fate. " To get plot ideas for their sitcom, Roberts and Rosenman put a classified ad in the Wall Street Journal and The New York Times in March 1968: "Young Men With Unlimited Capital looking for interesting, legitimate investment opportunities and business propositions. "They got thousands of replies, including one for biodegradable golf balls. Another seemed strange enough to work as a real business venture; Ski-bobs, bicycles on skis that were a fad in Europe. Roberts and Rosenman researched the idea before abandoning it. In the process, the two went from would-be television writers to wanna-be venture capitalists. "Somehow, we became the characters in our own show," Rosenman said.
Artie Kornfield, 25, wore a suit, but the lapels were a little wide and his hair brushed the top of his ears. He was a vice president at Capitol Records. He smoked hash in the office and was the company's connection with the rockers who were starting to sell millions of The legendary Janis Joplin sang from the heart at Woodstock. A drug overdose was to take her young life not long afterrecords. Kornfeld had written maybe 30 hit singles, among them "Dead Man's Curve," recorded by Jan and Dean. He also wrote songs and produced the music for the Cowsills.
Michael Lang didn't wear shoes very often. Friends described him as a cosmic pixie, with a head full of curly black hair that bounced to his shoulders. At 23, he owned what may have been the first head shop inthe state of Flordia. In 1968, Lang had produced one of the biggest rock shows ever, the two-day Miami Pop Festival, which drew 40,000 people. At 24, Lang was the manager of a rock group called Train, which he wanted to sign to a record deal. He bought his proposal to Kornfeld at Capitol Records in late December 1968. Lang knew Kornfeld had grown up in Bensonhurst, Queens, like he had. Lang got an appointment by telling the record company's receptionist that he was "from the neighborhood."
The two hit it off immediately. Not long after they met, Lang moved in with Kornfeld and his wife, Linda. The three had rambling, all-night conversations, fueled by a few joints, in their New York City apartment. One of their ideas was for a cultural exposition/rock concert/extravaganza. Another was for a recording studio, to be tucked off in the woods more than 100 miles from Manhattan in a town called Woodstock. The location would reflect the back-to-the-land spirit of the counterculture.
Besides, the Ulster County town had been an artists' mecca for a century. By the late 1960s, musicians like Bob Dylan, The Band, Tim Hardin, Van Morrison, Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin were moving to the area and wanted a state-of-the-art studio. Lang and Kornfeld were searching for seed money for the festival and money to build the recording studio. They never saw the "young men with unlimited capital" ad, but their lawyer recommended they talk to Roberts and Rosenman. The four met in February 1969. "We met with them in their apartment on 83rd Street in a high-rise," Lang recalls.
"They were kind of preppy. Today, I guess they'd be yuppies. They were wearing suits. Artie did most of the talking, because I think they seemed puzzled by me. They were curious about the counterculture, and they were somewhat interested in the project. They wanted a written proposal, which we had but we didn't bring with us. We told them that we would meet again with a budget for the festival. To this day, the founders of Woodstock disagree on who came up with the original idea for the concert. And, dulled by time, competition and countLess retelling, no one recollection is consistent.
Lang and Kornfeld say Woodstock was always planned as the largest music festival ever held. At the second meeting, Lang recalls discussing a budget of $500,000 and attendance of 100,000. Lang said he had started looking at festival sites in the fall of 1968, which would have been well before he'd hooked up with Kornfeld or Roberts and Rosenman. But Rosenman and Roberts maintain that they were the driving force behind the festival. As Rosenman and Roberts recall it, Kornfeld and Lang primarily wanted a studio, hyped by a party for rock'n'roll critics and record company executives."We would have cocktails and canapes in a tent or something," Rosenman said. "We'd send limos down to New York to pick everyone up. Tim Hardin or someone could sing. Maybe, if we were lucky, Joan Baez would get up and do a couple of songs." At some point, Rosenman and Roberts focused on the party idea and decided that it really ought to be a rock concert. "We made a deal," Rosenman said. "We'd have the party, and the profits from the party would be used to pay for the recording studio. Ultimately, we had the money, so what we said went."By the end of their third meeting, the little party up in Woodstock had snowballed into a bucolic concert for 50,000 people, the world's biggest rock'n'roll show.The four partners formed a corporation in March. Each held 25 percent. The company was called 'Woodstock Ventures, Inc.', after the hip little Ulster County town where Dylan lived. The Woodstock Ventures team scurried to find a site. Real estate agents across the mid-Hudson were scouring the countryside for land to rent for just a few months. Feelers went out in Rockland County, then in Orange. For $10,000, Woodstock Ventures had leased a tract of land in the Town of Wallkill owned by Howard Mills, Jr. "It was a Sunday in late March," Rosenman said. "We drove up to Wallkill and saw the industrial park. We talked to Howard Mills and we made a deal.""The vibes weren't right there. It was an industrial park," Roberts interjected. "I just said, 'We gotta have a site now.'" The 300-acre Mills Industrial Park offered perfect access. It was less than a mile from Route 17, which hooked into the New York State Thruway, and it was right off Route 211, a major local thoroughfare. It has the essentials, electricity and water lines. The land was zoned for industry; among the permitted uses were cultural exhibitions and concerts. The promoters approached the town planning board and were given a verbal go-ahead because of the zoning. Nonetheless, Lang was unhappy with the site. It was missing the back-to-the-land ambience Woodstock Ventures was selling."I hated Wallkill," Lang said. Ventures set to work on the Mills property, all the while searching for an alternative. Rosenman told Wallkill officials in late March or early April that the concert would feature Jazz bands and folk singers. He also said that 50,000 people would attend if they were lucky. Town Supervisor Jack Schlosser thought something was fishy. "More than anything else, I really feel they were deliberately misleading the town," Schlosser said. "The point is, they were less than truthful about the numbers. I became more and more aware, as discussions with them progressed, they did not really know what they were doing. I was in the Army when divisions were 40,000 or 50,000 men," he said. "Christ almighty, the logistics involved in moving men around... I said at one point, 'I don't care if it was a convention of 50,000 ministers," I would have felt the same way."In the cultural-political atmosphere of 1969, promoters Kornfeld and Lang knew it was important to pitch Woodstock in a way that would appeal to their peer's sense of independence. Lang wanted to call the festival an "Aquarian Exposition," capitalizing on the zodiacal reference from the musical "Hair". He had an ornate poster designed, featuring the water-bearer. By early April, the promoters were carefully cultivating the Woodstock image in the underground press, in publications like the Village Voice and Rolling Stone magazine. Ads began to run in The New York Times and The Times Herald-Record in May.For Kornfeld, Woodstock wasn't a matter of building stages, signing acts or even selling tickets. For him, the festival was always a state of mind, a happening that would exemplify the generation. The event's publicity shrewdly appropriated the counterculture's symbols and catch phrases. "The cool PR image was intentional, "he said. The group settled on the concrete slogan of "Three Days of Peace and Music" and downplayed the highly conceptual theme of Aquarius. The promoters figured "peace" would link the anti-war sentiment to the rock concert. They also wanted to avoid any violence and figured that a slogan with "peace" in it would help keep order. The Woodstock dove is really a catbird; originally, it perched on a flute.Woodstock Ventures was trying to book the biggest rock'n'roll bands in America, but the rockers were reluctant to sign with an untested outfit that might be unable to deliver. "To get the contracts, we had to have the credibility, and to get the credibility, we had to have the contracts, "Rosenman said. Ventures solved the problem by promising paychecks unheard of in 1969. The big breakthrough came with the signing of the top psychedelic band of the day, 'The Jefferson Airplane', for the incredible sum of $12,000. The Airplane usually took gigs for $5,000 to $6,000. Creedence Clearwater Revival signed for $11,500. The Who then came in for $12,500. The rest of the acts started to fall in line. In all, Ventures spent $180,000 on talent."I made a decision that we needed three major acts, and I told them I didn't care what it cost," Lang said. "If they had been asking $5,000, I'd say, 'Pay 'em $10,000.' So we paid the deposits, signed the contracts, and that was it: instant credibility." In the spring of 1969, John Sebastian's career was on hold. From 1965 to 1967, Sebastian's band, The Lovin' Spoonful, had cranked out hit after hit - "Do You Believe in Magic," "You Didn't Have To Be So Nice," "Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind," "(What a Day For a) Daydream" and "Summer In The City." But in 1967, after the Lovin' Spoonful appeared on "The Ed Sullivan Show", things began to go wrong. Two band members were busted for pot possession and left the group. Their replacements never quite fit in.In 1968, the group broke up, and Sebastian tried going solo. But his performing career wasn't taking off. So, in the spring of 1969, Sebastian headed west to do a little soul searching. He ended up at a California commune where the hippies made money by making brightly colored shirts and jackets by a process they called 'tie-dye'. The residents of Wallkill had heard of hippies, drugs and rock concerts, and after the Woodstock advertising hit The New York Times, The Times Herald-Record and the radio stations, local residents knew that a three-day rock show, maybe the biggest ever, was coming. Besides, Woodstock Venture's employees sure looked like hippies. In the minds of many people, long hair and shabby clothes were associated with left-wing politics and drug use. The new ideas about re-ordering society were threatening to many people."They wanted me to design a sound system for 50,000 or so people," said Markoff, who owned the only stereo store in Middletown, the Audio Center on North Street. "They said there could even be 100,000, might even go to 150,000." He thought Lang and Goldstein were nuts. "There had never been a concert with 50,000; that was unbelievable," Markoff said. "Now, 100,000, that was impossible. It's tantamount to doing a sound system for 30 million people today." Markoff, then 24, was the only local resident listed in the Audio Engineering Society Magazine. Lang and Goldstein had picked his name out of the magazine; suddenly, Markoff was responsible for gathering sound gear for the greatest show on earth.During the summer of Woodstock, Wadleigh, 27, was gaining a reputation as a solid cameraman and director of independent films. Two years earlier, he had dropped out of Columbia University of Physicians and Surgeons, where he was studying to be a neurologist. Since then, he'd spent his time filming on the urban streets, the main battlefield for the cultural skirmishes of the 1960s. He'd filmed Martin Luther King Jr. He'd filmed Bobby Kennedy and George McGovern talking to middle Americans on the campaign trail in '68. Wadleigh was experimenting with using rock'n'roll in his films as an adjunct to the day's social and political themes. He was also working with multiple images to make documentaries more entertaining than those featuring a bunch of talking heads.And then the Woodstock boys came to his door. Their idea was irresistable. The money was not. Wadleigh went for it anyway. Goldstein went alone to his first town board meeting in Wallkill. "This was before we knew we had problems," he said. "It was probably in June. We had a full house. No more than 150 people. There were some accusations. Someone made some references to the Chicago convention. That it was young people, and this is the way the youth reacted, and that's what we could expect in our community. (Wallkill Supervisor Jack) Schlosser said that Mayor Daley knew how to handle that. Then I lost my temper. I said there was no need for the violence and that (the police) reaction caused the violence. I said that Daley ran one of the most corrupt political machines in history."P>Schlosser, who attended the Chicago convention, didn't recall such a specific exchange about Daley. He did remember the convention, however "I saw these people throw golf clubs with nails in them," he said of the Chicago protesters. "I saw them throw excretion. The police, while I was there at least, showed remarkable restraint." As the town meetings and the weeks wore on, the confrontation between Ventures and the residents of Wallkill got worse. Woodstock's landlord, Howard Mills, was getting anonymous phone calls. The police were called, but the culprits never were identified, much less caught. "They threatened to blow up his house," Goldstein said. "There were red faces and tempers flaring. People driven by fear to very strange things. They raise their voices and say stupid things they would never ordinarily say."To this day, Howard Mills will not discuss how his neighbors turned against him in 1969. "I know that it is a part of history, but I don't want to bother about it," Mills said. It would no doubt be logistically and economically impossible today to assemble the incredible amount of talent present at Woodstock. Imagine an extended concert and party with the following artists: Joan Baez, Arlo Guthrie, Tim Hardin, Incredible String Band, Ravi Shankar, Richie Havens, Sly and the Family Stone, Bert Sommer, Sweetwater Quill, Canned Heat, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Jefferson Airplane, The Who, Grateful Dead, Keef Hartley, Blood, Sweat and Tears, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, Santana, Jeff Beck Group, The Band, Ten Years After, Johnny Winter, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Joe Cocker, Mountain Melanie, Sha-Na-Na, John Sebastian, Country Joe and the Fish, and Paul Butterfield Blues Band!
"We would have cocktails and canapes in a tent or something," Rosenman said. "We'd send limos down to New York to pick everyone up. Tim Hardin or someone could sing. Maybe, if we were lucky, Joan Baez would get up and do a couple of songs." At some point, Rosenman and Roberts focused on the party idea and decided that it really ought to be a rock concert. "We made a deal," Rosenman said. "We'd have the party, and the profits from the party would be used to pay for the recording studio. Ultimately, we had the money, so what we said went."By the end of their third meeting, the little party up in Woodstock had snowballed into a bucolic concert for 50,000 people, the world's biggest rock'n'roll show.
The four partners formed a corporation in March. Each held 25 percent. The company was called 'Woodstock Ventures, Inc.', after the hip little Ulster County town where Dylan lived. The Woodstock Ventures team scurried to find a site. Real estate agents across the mid-Hudson were scouring the countryside for land to rent for just a few months. Feelers went out in Rockland County, then in Orange. For $10,000, Woodstock Ventures had leased a tract of land in the Town of Wallkill owned by Howard Mills, Jr. "It was a Sunday in late March," Rosenman said. "We drove up to Wallkill and saw the industrial park. We talked to Howard Mills and we made a deal."
"The vibes weren't right there. It was an industrial park," Roberts interjected. "I just said, 'We gotta have a site now.'" The 300-acre Mills Industrial Park offered perfect access. It was less than a mile from Route 17, which hooked into the New York State Thruway, and it was right off Route 211, a major local thoroughfare. It has the essentials, electricity and water lines. The land was zoned for industry; among the permitted uses were cultural exhibitions and concerts. The promoters approached the town planning board and were given a verbal go-ahead because of the zoning. Nonetheless, Lang was unhappy with the site. It was missing the back-to-the-land ambience Woodstock Ventures was selling.
"I hated Wallkill," Lang said. Ventures set to work on the Mills property, all the while searching for an alternative. Rosenman told Wallkill officials in late March or early April that the concert would feature Jazz bands and folk singers. He also said that 50,000 people would attend if they were lucky. Town Supervisor Jack Schlosser thought something was fishy. "More than anything else, I really feel they were deliberately misleading the town," Schlosser said. "The point is, they were less than truthful about the numbers. I became more and more aware, as discussions with them progressed, they did not really know what they were doing. I was in the Army when divisions were 40,000 or 50,000 men," he said. "Christ almighty, the logistics involved in moving men around... I said at one point, 'I don't care if it was a convention of 50,000 ministers," I would have felt the same way."
In the cultural-political atmosphere of 1969, promoters Kornfeld and Lang knew it was important to pitch Woodstock in a way that would appeal to their peer's sense of independence. Lang wanted to call the festival an "Aquarian Exposition," capitalizing on the zodiacal reference from the musical "Hair". He had an ornate poster designed, featuring the water-bearer. By early April, the promoters were carefully cultivating the Woodstock image in the underground press, in publications like the Village Voice and Rolling Stone magazine. Ads began to run in The New York Times and The Times Herald-Record in May.
For Kornfeld, Woodstock wasn't a matter of building stages, signing acts or even selling tickets. For him, the festival was always a state of mind, a happening that would exemplify the generation. The event's publicity shrewdly appropriated the counterculture's symbols and catch phrases. "The cool PR image was intentional, "he said. The group settled on the concrete slogan of "Three Days of Peace and Music" and downplayed the highly conceptual theme of Aquarius. The promoters figured "peace" would link the anti-war sentiment to the rock concert. They also wanted to avoid any violence and figured that a slogan with "peace" in it would help keep order. The Woodstock dove is really a catbird; originally, it perched on a flute.
Woodstock Ventures was trying to book the biggest rock'n'roll bands in America, but the rockers were reluctant to sign with an untested outfit that might be unable to deliver. "To get the contracts, we had to have the credibility, and to get the credibility, we had to have the contracts, "Rosenman said. Ventures solved the problem by promising paychecks unheard of in 1969. The big breakthrough came with the signing of the top psychedelic band of the day, 'The Jefferson Airplane', for the incredible sum of $12,000. The Airplane usually took gigs for $5,000 to $6,000. Creedence Clearwater Revival signed for $11,500. The Who then came in for $12,500. The rest of the acts started to fall in line. In all, Ventures spent $180,000 on talent.
"I made a decision that we needed three major acts, and I told them I didn't care what it cost," Lang said. "If they had been asking $5,000, I'd say, 'Pay 'em $10,000.' So we paid the deposits, signed the contracts, and that was it: instant credibility." In the spring of 1969, John Sebastian's career was on hold. From 1965 to 1967, Sebastian's band, The Lovin' Spoonful, had cranked out hit after hit - "Do You Believe in Magic," "You Didn't Have To Be So Nice," "Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind," "(What a Day For a) Daydream" and "Summer In The City." But in 1967, after the Lovin' Spoonful appeared on "The Ed Sullivan Show", things began to go wrong. Two band members were busted for pot possession and left the group. Their replacements never quite fit in.
In 1968, the group broke up, and Sebastian tried going solo. But his performing career wasn't taking off. So, in the spring of 1969, Sebastian headed west to do a little soul searching. He ended up at a California commune where the hippies made money by making brightly colored shirts and jackets by a process they called 'tie-dye'. The residents of Wallkill had heard of hippies, drugs and rock concerts, and after the Woodstock advertising hit The New York Times, The Times Herald-Record and the radio stations, local residents knew that a three-day rock show, maybe the biggest ever, was coming. Besides, Woodstock Venture's employees sure looked like hippies. In the minds of many people, long hair and shabby clothes were associated with left-wing politics and drug use. The new ideas about re-ordering society were threatening to many people.
"They wanted me to design a sound system for 50,000 or so people," said Markoff, who owned the only stereo store in Middletown, the Audio Center on North Street. "They said there could even be 100,000, might even go to 150,000." He thought Lang and Goldstein were nuts. "There had never been a concert with 50,000; that was unbelievable," Markoff said. "Now, 100,000, that was impossible. It's tantamount to doing a sound system for 30 million people today." Markoff, then 24, was the only local resident listed in the Audio Engineering Society Magazine. Lang and Goldstein had picked his name out of the magazine; suddenly, Markoff was responsible for gathering sound gear for the greatest show on earth.
During the summer of Woodstock, Wadleigh, 27, was gaining a reputation as a solid cameraman and director of independent films. Two years earlier, he had dropped out of Columbia University of Physicians and Surgeons, where he was studying to be a neurologist. Since then, he'd spent his time filming on the urban streets, the main battlefield for the cultural skirmishes of the 1960s. He'd filmed Martin Luther King Jr. He'd filmed Bobby Kennedy and George McGovern talking to middle Americans on the campaign trail in '68. Wadleigh was experimenting with using rock'n'roll in his films as an adjunct to the day's social and political themes. He was also working with multiple images to make documentaries more entertaining than those featuring a bunch of talking heads.
And then the Woodstock boys came to his door. Their idea was irresistable. The money was not. Wadleigh went for it anyway. Goldstein went alone to his first town board meeting in Wallkill. "This was before we knew we had problems," he said. "It was probably in June. We had a full house. No more than 150 people. There were some accusations. Someone made some references to the Chicago convention. That it was young people, and this is the way the youth reacted, and that's what we could expect in our community. (Wallkill Supervisor Jack) Schlosser said that Mayor Daley knew how to handle that. Then I lost my temper. I said there was no need for the violence and that (the police) reaction caused the violence. I said that Daley ran one of the most corrupt political machines in history."P>
Schlosser, who attended the Chicago convention, didn't recall such a specific exchange about Daley. He did remember the convention, however "I saw these people throw golf clubs with nails in them," he said of the Chicago protesters. "I saw them throw excretion. The police, while I was there at least, showed remarkable restraint." As the town meetings and the weeks wore on, the confrontation between Ventures and the residents of Wallkill got worse. Woodstock's landlord, Howard Mills, was getting anonymous phone calls. The police were called, but the culprits never were identified, much less caught. "They threatened to blow up his house," Goldstein said. "There were red faces and tempers flaring. People driven by fear to very strange things. They raise their voices and say stupid things they would never ordinarily say.
"To this day, Howard Mills will not discuss how his neighbors turned against him in 1969. "I know that it is a part of history, but I don't want to bother about it," Mills said.
It would no doubt be logistically and economically impossible today to assemble the incredible amount of talent present at Woodstock. Imagine an extended concert and party with the following artists: Joan Baez, Arlo Guthrie, Tim Hardin, Incredible String Band, Ravi Shankar, Richie Havens, Sly and the Family Stone, Bert Sommer, Sweetwater Quill, Canned Heat, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Jefferson Airplane, The Who, Grateful Dead, Keef Hartley, Blood, Sweat and Tears, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, Santana, Jeff Beck Group, The Band, Ten Years After, Johnny Winter, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Joe Cocker, Mountain Melanie, Sha-Na-Na, John Sebastian, Country Joe and the Fish, and Paul Butterfield Blues Band!
