The music was memorable and initially that was the main attraction. The food, however, was barely edible and nearly nonexistent. And the bathroom facilities, byzantine at best. All the rain and mud didn’t help. But it didn’t matter.
As soon as I arrived in Bethel, after hitchhiking upstate from Manhattan, I encountered the largest collection of hippies and freaks ever assembled. The organizers expected 50,000 people and 400,000 showed up.
Youth is all about crossing boundaries. Every generation does that. Or they think they do. Long hair, anti-war demonstrations, smoking pot and music that was tied to political change, that was our gift to the world. It mystified our parents who couldn’t understand why we were so anxious to rebel against the regimented 1950s. America was top of the world culturally and economically, so why rock the boat?
When the Beatles arrived and gave us a much needed boost just after JFK was assassinated, they became something to emulate. A new musical form was emerging. And of course our parents hated it. They just didn’t get it. How could they, those survivors of the Depression, World War II and the swing era? They quickly dismissed 50s rock, with Elvis and his gymnastics. But the energy and excitement that rock embodied would only intensify. The subsequent English music invasion, tied to fashion and an appreciation of the blues, must have seemed other worldly.
People are also reading…
By the mid-60s, we were strangers in a strange land. The summer of love in ’67 cast San Francisco as our Mecca. A pilgrimage to Haight-Ashbury was mandatory.
Living in Manhattan, I knew our numbers were ascending. We’d already taken to the streets to stop the war in Vietnam and support civil rights. But 400,000 in one place, at the same time, that was mind-boggling. I realized I was part of something much bigger than I imagined. It was reassuring, an affirmation that there were millions striking a blow for individuality and change.
Yes, we wanted to change the world. And we did with the anti-war and civil rights movements, the beginning of the women’s movement and a growing sense of environmental consciousness, starting with Earth Day. Those were our contributions.
For a few short years, we were optimistic that a revolution was in the making, that our generation was going to make a difference. Sadly, it didn’t last. Most counterculture participants, the so-called Woodstock generation, were soon mired in the same consumerism as our parents. The Yippies became Yuppies and eventually, shockingly, some became Trumpsters.
But some of us never left the front lines of change. I’ve been battling racism and prejudice my entire life now. My own quest to change the world continues to this day in the social justice documentaries I produce.
I am so grateful to have been a witness and participant to such a flamboyant and groundbreaking era. Will it ever happen again? Probably not. It’s a different world now. Yet today I can shoot a film with my smartphone, post it to YouTube, and half an hour later, I have viewers all over the planet. That gives me the opportunity to reach people globally that didn’t exist during the Woodstock era.
Now it’s up to each of us, in our way, to do something loving and supportive for each other, and this planet. That has become even more of a challenge in the Trump era. And more necessary than ever.
Bret Primack is a documentary filmmaker, writer and teacher.