Howie & Gary At Woodstock

By Gary Geyer

The year was 1969… Howie and I felt old
We had gone to Woodstock as adults, not hippie kids. We had planned for the concert weeks in advance; we had tickets and a place to stay. When we drove there on Friday afternoon the traffic was backed up forever. We got as close as we could to the concert area. We parked the car behind a church about two or three miles away. (In the Woodstock movie there’s a helicopter shot and I swear I can see the car.)

We joined the crowd hiking towards the concert area. We passed some kids swimming in their underwear and wondered if we could ever do such a thing right where everyone could see.

A free concert

As it turned out, we didn’t need our concert tickets at all. The gates had been torn down. I don’t think I ever saw so many people in one place in my life. I was a little disappointed that we were sitting so far from the stage. I wanted better “seats”. That first night we strained to see Melanie, Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Joan Baez. Joan said something about her pacifist husband who was in jail, and the crowd cheered.

And the rains came

We sat in the drizzle for quite some time. When the rain started coming down harder, a huge 30-ft long plastic tarp unfolded on top of our heads. Someone either planned for the rain or swiped it from somewhere. About a hundred of us sat underneath it, holding the tarp up with our hands.

A revelation

Joints started being passed around. They were coming from all directions. The combination of the rain sounds on the plastic, the humidity under it, and the smell of the grass, was something I never experienced before or since. For the first time, I felt I belonged with these people. They were a nice bunch of young people, not just hippie freaks. (Could it have been the grass?)

That night we hiked back in the rain and found our rented room. We slept nice and dry for about six hours.

So, where’s the food?

We awoke to a bright sunny day. There were thousands of kids milling around town looking for something to eat. We hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day. We joined up with this guy, Tommy, who knew the area. He told us of an orthodox Jewish summer camp that wasn’t too far. We waded into the camp around the edge of a lake. We were met suspiciously by the director of the camp. He offered to feed us a kosher meal if we would eat it outside the camp infirmary, away from the children.

Afterward, we headed back in the blazing sun, towards the concert.

The truth exposed!

It was then that we came upon it. Oh my God! In a muddy lake about a hundred young people, male and female, stood around, swam, and frolicked, naked. It may have been just good, clean, healthy fun, but to me it was incredibly sexy. You just don’t get to see that many naked people in one place that often. I had my camera and I started snapping away like crazy.

Liberation

After watching for about 10 minutes, to our surprise, we said, “Why not?” and joined them. Nobody knew us, so we took off our clothes. I took a picture of Howie naked and he took a picture of me.

I have to tell you, we got into it. I really liked these kids. There is something about public nudity that obviously brings out the best in people.

Back to the garden

We eventually continued our trek and made it to the concert again. In broad daylight, it was breathtaking. A sea of people. We estimated (wrongly) that there must have been about 3 million people there. I honestly don’t remember much about the music that day. Just being there was amazing enough. We heard reports of drug overdoses and riots but we saw none of that.

That evening we paid $15 for a pizza in town. In 1969, that was ridiculous. We were totally exhilarated but wiped. We decided to go home to New York City that night, instead of staying through the next day. By driving back early, we beat the traffic.

I got my pictures developed right away. Howie and I had a great time looking at them. We could hardly wait ’til the movie opened. We saw it together opening day.

Epilogue
Twenty years later, in 1989, I sold a picture I had taken of Howie with some of the other bathers to Life Magazine for $500. They ran it in their 20th anniversary of Woodstock issue. He got a full page and I got a photo credit. Good Morning America saw the photo and flew Howie to New York (from California) to be on the show and tell the world how it was. He became our generation’s representative. I had to brief him the night before; he admitted not remembering much. I guess that’s good.

Somebody once said if you remember the sixties, you probably weren’t there. <<