This morning on Midmorning, Kerri Miller talks about the 40th anniversary of Woodstock. I could try to reinvent the wheel, but once again, Midmorning says it best:
40th anniversary of Woodstock
It was billed as three days of peace, love, and music, but it turned out to be much bigger than anyone expected. Forty years after the great gathering on Max Yasgur's farm, a nation reflects on the music and the meaning of Woodstock.
Kerri's guests include Richie Havens, the opening performer at the famed festival, and two authors of books about the festival, New York DJ Pete Fornatale and Professor of History at Hamilton College Maurice Isserman. Listen in to their conversation at 10 a.m. CDT, and add your comments here.
I'm too young to have partaken in the wonders of Woodstock, but the location of my college across the Hudson River from the famed location serves as a constant reminder of the music, loving, and living that so historically took place there 40 years ago. Were you there? What was it like? Regardless of whether you were or not, what did it mean? What's its legacy?
This is an open discussion, so you're welcome to link to your related Gather articles or other online resources. Your comments & articles may be quoted on http://minnesota.publicradio.org/your_voice/ or on mpr.org.
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Eliza Hartley
Digital Media Intern
Minnesota Public Radio
American Public Media




Comments: 46
"I think students are sometimes jealous...you just can't reinact it...Other festivals like Lollapalooza that have taken their own direction have done better. I brought my 14 year old son to the Woodstock museum. Everything is pristine, much cleaner...I felt like a Civil War veteran, walking around Gettysburg...trying to figure out where I was sitting." His son was very interested, he says.
I do remember vividly the opening with Richie Havens, beads of sweat gleaming in the torrid sunlight from his bare chest. We were right in the front just about 100 yards away from the stage, a waste for me. I didn't like his music, and I thought he was just as weird as everyone else.
To me, it wasn't peace, love, and music at all, but more a circus of people with whom I felt no connection, (except for those cute boys from MI who were next to us) lots of noise, and a skewed interpretation of love.
Cute boys from Michigan, eh? Oo la la.
long hair and anything goes attitude. I am so glad our kids paid attention to us, they all had jobs at the time, and they are glad now too. We have visited there and my grandson who is 21 rides his motorcycle up there now and then just to see what is going on, It is not to far from where we live. I guess it was supposed to have a theme of Peace and Love, but got out of hand when there was too much besides love going on, and I don't think a lot of Peace was up there either.
Does your son notice a lot of stuff going on up there when he rights through on his motorcycle?
I think many of us realized just how tenuous the situation was, between the rain, mud, and taxed facilities. There was a spirit of communality that carried it off.
I don't see how it could happen again in these times.
This is out of what, 400,000 people?
In 1969, I had a foot in two worlds: I was a HS English Teacher (and soccer coach) in North St. Paul by day, and after work I lived on West Bank and spent much time volunteering with the Youth Emergency Service (YES).
A former roommate from my undergraduate days and then a grad student of Ann Arbor, invited me to go with he and his circle of friends to Woodstock. We spent two days there, arriving later Friday. We set up a tent or two, and then most of us simply found a place to spread our blanket, drank some wine, smoked some dope, and enjoyed the music.
By Sunday morning, the weather had done us in. As the "responsible adult" for this mangy group, I ended up driving most of the way back to Ann Arbor, piloting a huge Chrysler wagon with seven other stoned souls in it.
The "atmosphere" at Woodstock, that allowed 400,000 people to coexist under lousy conditions, I've never seen before or since. The music was wonderful to our young ears--I missed Ritchie Havens, but caught ones I really did want to see, such as Canned Heat, and Janis Joplin--and the image of The Who running out "See Me, Feel Me" as the sun came up remains part of my life.
I returned to teaching that fall, somehow changed. Three months later, a student in my Basic Communications class stood up and shouted at me, "Well, it was your generation that screwed things up, and it's our generation that has to fix it. I was 24 years old; he was 17.
Later in August, Time published an essay speculating about the meaning of Woodstock. (It's available online now, here's the link: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,901295-1,00.html Written in the McLuhanesque language of the day, it nonetheless was prescient: It closed like this:
But the Second Comings of history carry with them no guarantees of success, and a revolution based on unreason may just as easily bring a New Barbarism rather than the New Jerusalem. As Yeats so pointedly asked:
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?
The film rights that were worth millions when "Woodstock" came out. Ouch.
It was a once in a lifetime event, and I am sorry that I missed it. it was about the MUSIC. I think of today's music groups, and I don't think they possess the freshness that was exhibited by so many of the performers at woodstock. Okay, I am a 53 year old has been talking about how it was back in the day. But my 22 year old daughter agrees with me, that the late sixties was a high point of popular music.
Anyone else? What are your memories of or thoughts on the Garden? If not that, what are your thoughts on the new movie that is coming out in commemoration?