August 1969
Long Island, New York
Iris Shapiro remembers:
I was working in a bomb factory on Long Island. They said we were making shell casings for testing only. I don't know. There were several people from my high school there, working with me. I was living at home, going to community college, and this was my first taste of freedom.
At one of our breaks, the topic of Woodstock came up and someone said "Wow, we should go!" That started the ball rolling. Four of us ordered tickets, received them, and got into Cathy’s big-ass black Chrysler (age about 10+ years) and went.
What I remember about that is the traffic! As we approached the area (on a one-lane road) we were stopped dead. We inched forward at a snail's pace for a couple of hours. Then we started seeing people park their cars at the side of the road and start walking. We decided that if they were doing that, maybe we should, too. After a while, we did.
What to Pack for a Trip Into History
We took our "stuff" (we really hadn't thought about what to bring, just sleeping bags and a change of clothes) and started walking. The only thing I can describe it as would be a "pilgrimage to Mecca." Everyone was heading in the same direction with various items of baggage.
Soon it became clear that it was not a short distance. It was very hot. We walked on and on. After a time, we started seeing houses and the beginning of some organized locale. Some houses had swimming pools and some of the "pilgrims" stripped and availed themselves of these to cool off. The residents, having been repeatedly barraged by requests for water, started selling the stuff by the glass. (This is before water became a salable commodity by the serving.)
Finally, we approached the fence of the event itself. At the very point that we reached the fence, I witnessed the enormity of the crowd pushing forward. I saw the multitude actually trample the fence, pushing it over, and proceed through, like a stampede of cattle. Our tickets were no longer of any value. Of course, we followed.
Once we were in, nothing changed much except that now people were more stationary. The stage was a long, long way off, down a hill. All of the audience was positioning on the hill, trying to get the best view. Our group found a spot next to a group of Hare Krishnas, complete with robes and peacock feathers. This was very exotic to me, a Long Island suburbanite!
The Show Begins
As the dark settled, the show began. Now my husband will find this abominable, but I don't really remember the music! I was so involved with the enormity and diversity of the audience and the general scene that I felt like Alice in Wonderland.
I remember clearly that there were numerous announcements on the stage -- like "stay away from the pink acid, it’s a bad trip," and "Bonnie needs her medicine, so if Bob could meet her at the phones ..."
We got hungry and went to the food trailers to get something to eat, but there was nothing at all! They had not anticipated the crowd and promised that more food had been sent for and we should come back in a few hours. My stomach growled. We went back to our spot on the hill. The Hare Krishnas offered us orange segments and we accepted.
As I said, the show started, but also the rain. I was sharing a sleeping bag with Warren (I hadn't even thought enough ahead to think about where to sleep) and we began sliding down the hill along with everybody else. We were muddy and wet and Jeeps kept coming through with cameras and bright lights, making those in their paths move. We were beginning to realize that this event was special to more than those in attendance.
We also were hungry, wet, cold and tired. We decided to find a dry place to crash. Lugging our wet sleeping bags, we lumbered to the truck area. We found an open tractor trailer and climbed into the back. It was empty, dry and dark, and we were thrilled.
The show was going on outside, I heard it, but I had had it. No sooner had we drifted off when a bright light awakened us. Someone was shining a flashlight into the trailer and shouting at us to "get out!" We did, and ended up sleeping (kind of) under the truck for the remainder of the night.
The Light of Day
In the morning we were no less wet, no less hungry, and no less tired. I went down to the pay phones set up beside the stage to call home. By now we realized we were national news and I wanted to tell my family that all was well. Still wet, I got a tremendous electric shock when I picked up the receiver to the phone, but I called home. It was true, the eyes of the world were watching -- even my parents knew about Woodstock!
Cathy, the owner and driver of the car, started talking about bagging it and leaving. We didn't offer any resistance. The music was starting up, but we didn't care. We packed up our things and started the long walk back to the car. We were not alone.
After a good long walk we got into the car. Now it was sunny, the sky was clear. We turned the car around and were in a traffic jam going the other way. I felt as though we were going to miss something monumental and tried to talk Cathy into changing her mind, but she stood firm. The others, I think, were like me, wanting to stay, but not wanting to insist. So, home we went.
In the end, I am so happy to have had the short experience I did. You never know which moment of life will be defining.
Would I do it again? Absolutely. I've never done anything else that I could call "making history." The experience was so out of the norm for me that I often contemplate my normal, predictable life, and I realize each of us has the choice at any given moment to step out of the box and seize an opportunity.
Besides, I have to say that it's still a thrill to say, "Yeah, I was there. I was at Woodstock."
- by Iris Shapiro
Were you there, too? If so, and you'd like to share your story, please let us know.
