Three Days of Peace & Music 50 years Ago

by
Paul Janes-Brown
The ads started appearing in the spring. The Woodstock Music &
Art Fair, Three Days of Peace and Music for $18! The line-up was
pretty great. Friday, Aug 15, Joan Baez, Arlo Guthrie, Tim Hardin,
Richie Havens, Incredible String Band, Sweetwater, Ravi Shankar.
Saturday, Aug 15, Keef Hartley, Canned Heat, Creedence
Clearwater Revival, Janis Joplin, Jefferson Airplane, Santana.
Sunday, Aug. 17, The Band, Jeff Beck Group, BS&T, CS&N, Iron
Butterfly, The Moody Blues, The Who, Johnny Winter.
We sent in our money and were among the few who actually had
their tickets torn upon admission.

On the Wednesday before, The Who, The Airplane and B.B. King
were doing a concert at Tanglewood. We figured we would go to
Tanglewood then drive to Bethel, NY that night and get there to
set up our campsite on Thursday, the 14th before the masses
descended.

The Tanglewood show was great and we were ready to drive all
night in my 55 Ford Country Squire Woody. We, were my fellow
Peopleʻs Organization brothers. Friendly Frank, Spoolie (so named
because he had a curl in his hair that look like it had been created
by the Spoolie), Joe and me. The Peopleʻs Organization was a
communist group I was part of in my hometown of New Britain,
CT. We had a newspaper, The Power Press, ran a free breakfast
program in the most down and out junior high school and had a
food co-op and community gardens program.

After the concert, we each dropped a hit of pumpkin seed acid

and headed west. We arrived at Max Yasgurʻs farm at dawn of the
14th, the stage was still under construction and there was a lot of
activity. As we attempted to take a right into the pasture, where it
looked like a good place to camp, a hippie cop stopped us.

“You canʻt go in there,” he said. He was about our age, 20, he was
shirtless and had bell bottom jeans on. He was blond, but his hair
looked like it had never seen the contents of a shampoo bottle.

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“Why?” I asked.

“Itʻs reserved for the Hog Farm.”

This was ridiculous. First off we were at a peace, love place and
they were going to tell us what we could and couldnʻt do? I donʻt
think so.
I asked him, “How many people do you think are coming to this?”

“About 50,000.”

I then informed him, “Everybody I know and everybody they

know, and everybody they know and everybody they know and
everybody they know, and everybody they know, and everybody
they know are coming to this.”

“Iʻll tell you what,” I continued, “On Friday at 5 pm I will meet you
back here, but we will never see each other again. You wonʻt be
able to get here due to the onslaught of people.” He looked
perplexed. I rolled the window up and drove into the pasture.

The psychedelic busses of the Hog Farmers were parked in a semi

circle. We drove down the pasture past a swampy area and found
a perfect camping spot. There was no one near us and we had a
stream with running water. Here we could set up our two tents,
one for supplies and the other would be our sleeping tent.

After we got the tents set up. It was time to go into town to get
our supplies. We drove to Bethel and loaded up for the next three
days. Laden with our largesse we returned to the campsite, made
breakfast and relaxed. Smoked some pot and enjoyed the
afternoon.

Friday came and the show was scheduled to start around 5. We

decided, we wanted to get a good spot, so we moseyed over to
the natural amphitheater where the stage was set up. We
presented our tickets and went in.

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There were already several thousands of people waiting for the
start of the show. When Chip Munk announced that it was a free
concert, “We were like, really?” People had started arriving long
before us and were firmly ensconced in the field. There was
nothing they could do. So they declared the obvious to everyone.

Richie Havens was the first act and he played and played because
most of the other entertainment hadnʻt yet arrived. Then Swami
Satchidananda came out and said “My Beloved Brothers and
Sisters: I am overwhelmed with joy to see the entire youth of
America gathered here in the name of the fine art of music. In
fact, through the music, we can work wonders. Music is a celestial
sound and it is the sound that controls the whole universe, not
atomic vibrations. Sound energy, sound power, is much, much
greater than any other power in this world. And, one thing I would
very much wish you all to remember is that with sound, we can
make—and at the same time, break. Even in the war-field, to
make the tender heart an animal, sound is used. Without that war
band, that terrific sound, man will not become animal to kill his
own brethren. So, that proves that you can break with sound, and
if we care, we can make also.”.

We were not into him. His message of peace and love did not
resonate with we commie, pinko, radical revolutionaries. The first
night was all Folkies and it was fun. It started to rain when Ravi
Shankar came on and continued. Melanie, who was not on the
original bill, filled in for the Incredible String Band, they refused to
play during the rain. When Arlo Guthrie came on to tell us the NY
State Throughway was closed and how big this thing was, we all
cheered.

We were feeling our oats. We were beginning to recognize our

power and our identity. We decided to leave toward the end of
Joan Baezʻs set. It had been a long day. I remember being
serenaded by Joan Baez singing “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” and
“We Shall Overcome” when we got into our beds. It was truly
glorious. And then it really started to rain.

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On Saturday we had a hearty breakfast. The music was set to
start at noon with Quill. We wandered around and on my way to
the amphitheater a hippie, carrying a brown paper shopping bag
came up to me and said,

“You look like youʻd like to give away some LSD.”

“Sure,” and he proceeded to fill the pocket of my truck driver t-

shirt until I had a teat full of little green pills. I dutifully and
merrily fulfilled the hippieʻs assumption about me and began to
hand out the acid to everyone I could. In the mean time more
friends had arrived from New Britain and they joined us at our
campsite. We got to our place in the mob, we actually left some
blankets to mark our territory, which was now a pretty muddy
place and laid down some new blankets. I continued to hand out
the acid and I took seven hits myself.

Suddenly, like an angel appearing out of the blue, there was

Susan, a waitress at the restaurant where I washed dishes, Aliceʻs
Wonderful Kitchen, and with whom I lost my virginity. What a
pleasant surprise. I decided to take full advantage of this
opportunity and returned to the campsite, which was now
deserted, to continue our intimacy. We returned in about an hour
and a half or so. I am forever grateful to Susan for teaching me
how to hold back until she was ready, a skill I and many women
have benefited from. I was feeling so great.

About the time we were all getting off on the green acid, Chip
Munk comes out and makes that famous announcement. “If you
have taken the green acid. Go to the pink and white hospital
tent.” And everyone around me looks at me like I killed them
because I handed out the remainder of the acid I had been given
to the people around me.

“Donʻt look at me. I took seven hits, so if anyone is going to die

from this, itʻs gonnaʻ be me!”

In the meantime we gathered together to figure out what to do.

The pink and white hospital tent looked like it was a thousand

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miles and a million people away. One of our group, we called him
Clem, agreed to go and find out what the story was. So we
dispatched him as our emissary.

Suddenly, a kid, whom I had given a hit to gets up and announces

that he better go home. I asked, “Whereʻs home?”

“New Jersey,” he mumbled and I never saw him again. There were
very long breaks between the acts. People were sliding in the mud
and having a raucous good time.

Finally, Clem returned. Anxiously we asked him, “Clem, Clem,

whatʻs happening?”

“Well thereʻs a bunch of hippies lined up and thereʻs another

bunch of hippies sitting at a table. When you get up to them, they
ask you ʻare you having a bummer?ʻ “If you say yes, they take
you into another tent with a bunch of hippies to treat you. If you
say ʻnoʻ, they say good, have fun.”

“And thatʻs it?”

“Yup.”

“Thatʻs really fucked up. Making people all up tight for no good
reason. Man?”

Then someone said, “I bet this is an acid test. Keysey and The
Pranksters are here, what if this is an acid test?”

“Yeah, I bet that is what this is about, to see how several hundred
thousand people will react under the influence.”

I held tightly onto Susan, we lay on our backs and I astral

projected for the first time in my life to the sounds of John Fogerty
and Creedence Clearwater Revival. We went way out there and I
never heard the Grateful Dead. I only heard Chip Munk say, “And
that was the Grateful Dead.”

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We never heard a note they played. When Janis came on she said,
“We take a lot of acid in the Bay Area and sometimes itʻs good
and sometimes itʻs not, but the next day we wake up and
everything is fine.”

Her set was killer and I remember when Alvin Lee played an
incessant version of “Iʻm Going Home” all I wanted him to do was
go! Enough already I thought.

When Sly & the Family Stones came on, they looked like possums
and rats. It was a pretty crazy hallucination. They were so great.
When they did “I Want to Take You Higher,” we couldnʻt imagine
going higher than we already were, but we did.

We had no idea what time it was, but the Who came on and did
Tommy. It was the second time we would hear it in 4 days and it
was amazing. When they got into Pinball Wizard a weird thing
happened. Peter Townsend was way upstage doing his windmill
guitar riff. All of a sudden Abbie Hoffman grabs the mic and says
in that nasal tone of his, “I think this is a pile of shit, while John
Sinclair rots in prison”

Now John Sinclair was the leader of the White Panthers, the
wannabe, honky brothers of the Black Panthers and allegedly had
been framed and jailed for one joint of marijuana. Abbie thought it
would be a good idea for everyone to get up and walk to Michigan
to free him. However, Peter Townsend didnʻt see it that way. He
comes downstage in a rage and lofts Abbie Hoffman off the stage,
which was at least 14 feet off the ground and says, “I can dig it.”

They finished at just about dawn and it would be another couple

of hours before the Airplane would come on. Iʻll never forget what
Gracie said as they began the anthem Volunteers of America,
“Well, youʻve heard a little night music, now itʻs time for morning
madness music and they launched into their set, which was a
little over 90 minutes. Not long enough.

Then Hugh Romney a/k/a Wavy Gravy, getʻs up and says, “Thereʻs
always a little bit of heaven in a disaster area. What we have in

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mind is breakfast in bed for 400,000.” We looked at each other
and we all agreed, what an asshole. It was time to leave. We had
had enough of this hippie shit. We made it back to our camp, fed
ourselves, took our stuff apart, packed up and headed out.

As we were leaving there was one of the guys whom we had seen
driving around with a walkie talkie in a six wheel ATV. He was
clearly one of the organizers of the event. However, now he had
somehow gotten stuck in the wetland near our campsite and all
six wheels were spinning in the muddy water. A brown fountain
reached high into the air
cascading down and drenching him in muddy water.

We watched this for a moment. It was, to us, a metaphor for all

that had happened over this time. We headed out and surprisingly
had no trouble getting back home for work the next day.