Every year when August rolls around, I have a little flashback to that weekend on Max Yasgur’s Farm in 1969.
I must admit, I have mixed emotions, feelings, and thoughts about the Woodstock
phenomenon, and those thoughts are what inspired me to write my book, From Woodstock To Eternity. I wanted to paint a real life history of the hippie era… its rise and fall, its ups and downs, the good, the bad and the ugly. A final scene in the Woodstock chapter captures the stardust…
He closes his eyes and lets the rhythmical power of the acid rock take him away. The images of the last three days roll through his mind like a video. The overwhelming onslaught of people from everywhere. The gathering of the tribes. The exhilarating swells of peace and brotherhood. The generosity of the hog farm, the open market of psychedelic drugs. The acid reports. The smiles on everybody’s faces, the “hello, brother,” “hello, sister,” “peace, man,” “this is far out, really far out.” Jimi says it all in his brief chatter between songs,
“You proved to the world what can happen,” he says, “A little bit of love, and understanding, and sound.”
Hendrix goes straight from “Voodoo Child” into the opening notes of “The Star Spangled Banner.” He raises his arm high in a salute to the crowd, his fingers formed into the peace sign. The adoring audience flashes the sign back in unison. The twisted, exploding version of the National Anthem paints the picture of everything the revolution stands for, and Morgan knows he is part of it. Woodstock has sealed the deal; he has sold his soul. A great swelling of emotion rises up in his heart, and he cannot contain it. He raises both hands into the air, with his fingers forming the “V,” and cries like a baby.
From Woodstock To Eternity is a story of change, of mutation and renewal. In just a few short years, Dustin Morgan and his friend Cutter lament the passing of the beautiful people…
“… We used to talk about the reasons for war, why it was wrong, what made up the human condition, what could be done to improve on that condition. All we wanted was brotherhood, and good vibes; it was enough just to groove on a good rock beat and hallucinate.”
“Yeh, I know what ya mean. Where did all those people go? A whole society has suddenly disappeared! Did they all vanish into thin air? Did someone throw some kind of cosmic switch that instantly transformed a whole generation? It’s like an alien mother ship slowly cruised around the world with a long vacuum hose dangling down to earth, sucking up the beautiful flower people, leaving behind nothing but dull-witted, lecherous, party ‘til you puke derelicts.”
Cutter goes on,
“Now, the only thing anyone talks about is, ‘Let’s get drunk, let’s get stoned, hey, look at that chick!’ Slobber, drool. Instead of ‘Why is there air?’ the deepest, most profound question anybody can come up with is, ‘Hey man, got any coke?’”
On the one hand, I wrote the story to give those of us who were there, in that time, a walk down memory lane. It blossomed in Haight Ashbury and peaked at Woodstock, but the hippie movement soon took a downward spiral into debauchery and depravity. Morgan witnessed it for himself at a rock festival in Evansville, Indiana.
The kid is a total mess. His hair is not quite shoulder length, knotted and disheveled like a bad case of bed head. His shirt is torn and unbuttoned, hanging loose. His pants are halfway down his rear, sagging over his bare feet. His shoulders are stooped and rounded in a slouch… a filthy lock of hair dangling over his face as he gazes downward. Morgan thinks to himself,
“Is this the picture of the typical hippie? Is this what the world thinks we are? No wonder they think we’re disgusting. I think it’s disgusting.”
The image of the kid playing in the sewage plagues Morgan from that time on.
“Has Woodstock Nation come to this? This isn’t stardust and golden; this is space aliens in the sewage. A wasted kid, totally stripped of all decency, full of downers, playing in the piss? This is pathetic.”
Dustin’s Dad gives him a wise analysis,
“If you’re wondering why all this is crumbling around you, it’s because you have left Jesus out of the equation. You want the results, but you don’t want to obey the Giver of the results. Therefore, the Giver withholds His hand.”
Next: The Turn to Eternity