Published in the January 20 – February 2, 2016 issue of Morgan Hill Life
By Mark Fenichel
Mark Fenichel
As I continue the story of my adventures at The Woodstock Music and Art Fair (Volume 3, Issue 12) I left off as we made our way through the crashed down gate following the long line of people walking in with or without tickets. My buddy and I headed for the giant bowl where the stage was located. We didn’t even try to get near the front as it was overwhelming. I have never seen so many people in one place at one time. We walked passed row upon row of vendors on the perimeter selling clothing, hats, jewelery, pins, buttons and handmade artwork.
We were pleased to find a spot to sit on the grassy area where we could listen to the music even though we were too far away to really see the acts. I honestly do not remember many of the bands as there were so many distractions. I do remember hearing Richie Havens singing his song “Freedom” as we walked up on that first day. Everyone was in tune with Country Joe and the Fish chanting their now famous defiant fish cheer “give me an F, give me a U, give me a C”… and so on which became a very controversial moment in time. I knew every song John Sebastian sang that day. I do remember the sky was clear and the temperature was hot and humid. It was typical upstate New York mid-summer weather.
The smell of marijuana was overly present, interrupting the clear country air. Pipes and joints were being passed everywhere and illicit vendors were openly pedaling their wares.
Numerous announcements were easily audible over the sound system. “Do not take the brown acid. Do not drink the Kool-Aid. Jenny, your sister is at the medical tent, please go there immediately! Please stay off the stage scaffolding. Do not climb on the light towers. Stay away from the purple acid, it will make you sick.” Helicopters constantly flew over the crowd, inducing a very real paranoia among the throng. Rumors going around had narcs (government narcotics agents) in those helicopters surveying the audience, looking to bust people for illegal drugs. It seemed so real and I do remember a certain paranoia. In reality, the helicopters were simply transporting the musicians in and out of the festival staging area.
We were quite a distance from the stage and at times, depending upon the direction of the breeze, the music sounded like it was coming out of a portable transistor radio. I distinctly remember everyone around us being so mellow and friendly sharing food, drinks and anything else that can be shared.
We befriended a small group next to us and met these two girls, locals from the area. The sky was darkening and the entire mood of the event seemed to shift. When the rain started, they told us they had a car nearby and they were actually staying in a motel in the town of Monticello about 10 miles from the festival. I recall thinking they were just kidding us, but after walking a not too far distance from the area, we came to their car. They really knew their way around and easily drove the backroads out of the area. By then it was pouring and I had no idea where we were going, but it was like a miracle and we ended up in the parking lot of a two-story motel, now completely dry.
In the room there were no fewer than 10 of their friends laughing, partying and continually putting quarters into a vibrating bed to keep it going. The bed vibrated all night long. I don’t know if any of us even slept that night but we had fun and we were dry. The next morning we got back in the car and they drove back to the festival site. They knew where to go, avoiding all traffic and congestion.
The place looked like the aftermath of a war zone. Mud covered blankets, ice chests, sleeping bags, clothing, empty food containers, beer bottles, cans and filthy stuff everywhere. It was smelly and disgusting. People were muddy and dirty, many without shoes, just covered head to toe with mud and dirt. We were able to walk right up to the stage just in time to see Jimi Hendrix as he began playing the “Star Spangled Banner.” It was not a dream, in fact it was the most surreal moment of my nearly 17 years of life and I will always cherish every moment (that I can still remember).
• • •
On another note:
You are invited to my first Morgan Hill performance of the year at 88 Keys Cafe from 6:30 to 9:30 p.m. Saturday Jan. 23. I will be performing many original songs on harmonica and guitar along with some of my local musical friends sitting in. Owner Mark Gaetano and his amazing piano playing will also be on hand to jump in.
Got a music tip? Email Mark “Fenny” Fenichel @[email protected]
