Recently I pulled a book off the shelf that I gave to my father in 1957. A parking stub for Valley Forge from the same year fell out. I attended the National Boy Scout Jamboree there, and my parents visited. At thirteen, the weeklong camp was a big deal. Our encampment would have made George Washington envious. His legacy, the United States Army, organized over 40,000 scouts and 100,000+ visitors in typical military fashion. In one day a small city rose out of the rolling hills of eastern Pennsylvania complete with blocks of tented condos, public baths, mess halls, medical facilities and entertainment venues. There were waterworks and trash collection and food distribution systems.
It was as a Phoenix rising from the ashes of campfires. Earlier we attended camps to learn how to manage our responsibilities and our environment. Prepared for a great time my troop was but a cog in a giant military machine. There were few glitches, and except for the effects of thousands of grass trampling feet Valley Forge looked as good afterward as before.
Reflecting on the experience, I wondered what if just a dozen years later Michael Lang had hired the army to organize the Woodstock Festival. How different the Woodstock experience might have been.
After many delays, on August 15, 1969, not wanting to start a campaign at dusk, the army waited to the next morning. Following a 5:00am stirring rendition of Revile by the Army Drum and Bugle Corps we heard, “Good morning ladies and gentlemen, the festival will officially open at 6:00am with the West Point Cadet Glee Club singing our national anthem. The Pledge of Allegiance will follow led by General William Westmoreland fresh off his successful engagement at the Tet offensive in Viet Nam.” The crowd went mild.
The army's presence insured the festival was manageable. Only the 50,000 expected attendees were there not the 500,000 who might have gone. Nearly 100,000 ticket holding Viet Nam era draft reluctant boys and their girlfriends skipped the festival or drove on to Canada. Another 50,000 hippies went home after running out of flowers to put in the gun barrels of the army.
Because of the efficiency of the Army Corps of Engineers there were no traffic jams. The 100,000 or so who talked about going when they heard the radio announcements stayed home to get high and ask, “Hey man, what’s happening?” Government contracted scalpers bought up 100,000 of the pre-sale tickets and priced them too high for starving students to afford. The ATF and army “carded” or drafted another 30,000. That was just the deterrent to getting there. Can you imagine what else might have changed?
“A change in the program: The flyover by ‘Jefferson Airplane’ has been replaced by Ms. Enola Gay backed up by the newly discovered and immensely popular ‘Agent Orange.’ Those of you in the shower line can get your bath while you wait.”
“Our opening act is the U.S. Army Band playing a medley of John Phillips Sousa marches. Feel free to clap in rhythm or march in place.” The ‘Concertina Wire Quartet’ will set up between the stage and Filippini Pond immediately afterward.”
Billy Graham replaced levitating Swami Satchidananda for the invocation. Without authentication of surnames Melanie, Sweetwater, and Mountain could not enter the festival. The Army adopted “Blood, Sweat and Tears” and arrested the Kozmic Blues Band and Janis Joplin as suspected Russian agents.
Helicopters blaring Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries, originally contracted to shuttle performers, instead insured the “safety” of the crowd. Filippini Pond remained pristine in absence of a horde of skinny dippers. Grid lines designating rows for seating created a sense of camaraderie in the rank and file cadres of listeners. Most of them were Second Luey enlistees, recent graduates from college ROTC programs. Powell Crosley, U.S. Steel, Henry J. Kaiser and R.E. Olds brought down the house.
Army Intelligence profiled and arrested Ravi Shankar, deported Santana and Joan Baez for not having green cards, and the suspicious names of “The Who” and “The Band” prevented their performances. The army thought “Canned Heat” was a weapon, the “Grateful Dead” had already left and “Creedence Clearwater Revival” an interference of church and state; and omitted all from the program. The army banned “Country Joe and the Fish” for their suspected Communist leanings. At least it figured out their name. It banned “Sha-Na-Na” and “Ten Years After” because it couldn’t understand their names, deciding both must be illiterate.
The peaceful crowd rocked to sounds of Guy Lombardo, “The Glen Miller Orchestra” and Lawrence Welk. In deference to his father Woody, the army permitted Arlo Guthrie to sing. Bert Sommer, Tim Hardin, and John and Edgar Winter performed since they had “American” names. “Sly and the Family Stone” were uninvited, but “The Incredible String Orchestra” and “Quill” performed. The army thought it would be good to have another orchestra and thought images of “Quill” harkened back to our colonial heritage.
On leaving Max Yasgur’s dairy farm without having played a lick Jimi Hendrix was heard to say, “Well, I stood up next to a mountain, and they chopped me down from the edge of my band. With that, as Jimi rode out of sight, on Sunday the Woodstock Music and Art Fair came to a peaceful close with Kate Smith singing God Bless America. The Selective assigned numbers to the two children born during the weekend, and there were no deaths but for the "Dead." The MondayTimes ran a brief summary on page eight of its entertainment section. “Rolling Stone” considered it too insignificant to cover.
Oh what might have been!
Peace, man.
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