I went into Woodstock this evening to see this movie.
It was made by David McDonald. I really liked it as it gave a good view into the history and character (and characters!) of this delightful town.
I went partly because I was hoping to find out about some concerts I used to go to back in the late '60's. Perhaps it was these concerts but I am still not sure. I don't remember any buildings...I asked David McDonald and he suggested I might have been to the "sound outs"(.sound outs" of the mid-1960s, a series of deliberately low-key concerts by Woodstock rockers-in-residence like Jimi Hendrix and the Band on a farm along Glasco Turnpike that, McDonald believes, served as the inspiration for the 1969 festival.)...hmm..
I grew up in Peekskill, and as a teenager, used to go with older friends up to Woodstock to hang out and go hiking.
I remember going down into one gorge where there were waterfalls. One time this girl named Margo took off her clothes and some guy remarked how Margo liked to parade her funky body around. I thought he was rude and that Margo was lovely.
There was a great second hand store on Tinker Street and a restaurant called the Elephant, (that had super hamburgers on sesame seed buns) up the other way near where the Colony Cafe is.
Woodstock was and is basically a small town in the mountains. So, in 1969,when they were advertising the "Woodstock Music and Art Fair"my expectations were much more intimate and esoteric than what actually happened.
My parents said I could use the VW bus if I took my kid sisters with me, which was fine. My friend Geraldine came too. The parents packed the car full of food, blankets, first-aid supplies, etc.
We headed out, over the Bear Mountain extension, over the bridge etc.
As we headed up the Quickway I began to realize things were unusual. The traffic became extraordinarily thick for that part of the world.
By the time we got on the road to White Lake , which was hilly and winding, it was pretty well a traffic jam. Bad for the VW clutch.
When we got into the town it became clear that parking would be a major issue. Lo, off to the left was a lovely churchyard shaded with spruce trees (?) and no one was parked there. So I pulled in, the doors opened and my little sisters lit outa there so fast...!
Yeesh. Being the oldest, the responsible one, and the one with the keys to the VW I figured I 'd better stick around in case one of them came back or something.
So I never did see the music, but I had a great time anyway. Each morning I made a pot of coffee and brought a cup to the policeman directing traffic on the street. I walked around, talked to people, did a lot of mescaline, hooked up with a nice guy from Connecticut, swam in a nearby pond, invited people into "my" churchyard ( it never did fill up..wonder why?) for meals.
So that's my Woodstock story. Boring I guess, but I enjoyed it.
On the way back, Geraldine drove. I was laying on the floor in back. We were headed down the Quickway when suddenly I heard strange noise. I told Gerry to slow down- good thing she did. The entire wheel on the drivers side fell off and we skidded to a stop on the brake cylinder. Ruined it. We came to a stop beside a very steep drop-off. Waited until a policeman called a tow-truck for us.
We had to spend three days in the junkyard near the garage waiting for the spare cylinder to arrive. That was fun. We each had our own Nash Rambler with reclining seats to sleep in, if I recall correctly. ( I probably don't.) ( Oh well. I guess I will get other versions of this in the comments ,which is fine.)