WOODSTOCK REDUX

OLD HANDS RECALL ORIGINAL CONCERT. SOME SCOFF AT NEW ONE

SOURCE: BY KEVIN C. JOHNSON, Beacon Journal staff writer

Woodstock just ain't what it used to be. Just ask anyone who attended the landmark music hippie-fest 25 years ago, anyone going to the commemorative concert next weekend, or anyone who has ever heard of Woodstock.

What were three historic days of peace, music and love have, for the '90s, been transformed into three days of greed, capitalistic ideals and profit, according to some.

Next weekend marks the 25th anniversary of Woodstock -- the landmark 1969 concert that to some became the crowning countercultural event of the era. To others, it was distinguished by bad acid, bad food or no food, hippie chicks and cool dudes skinny-dipping in muddy pools of water and an unbearable mass of people. Lest we forget, though, there were those classic performances by Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Sly and the Family Stone, the Who, the Band, the Grateful Dead and many others.

To celebrate, two separate and dueling Woodstock anniversary events were planned at the same time. Bethel '94, at the original site in New York, was canceled because of poor ticket sales. That left Woodstock '94 at Saugerties, N.Y., described as being geared to the younger, alternative-metal crowd with acts such as Aerosmith, Nine Inch Nails, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Metallica and Spin Doctors, to name a few of many, as well as Woodstock veterans Crosby, Stills & Nash, Santana and Joe Cocker.

With the exception of the esteemed name, the new Woodstock seems to have little to do with the Woodstock of yesteryear. Still, all this Woodstock talk has stirred up memories from area people who were there, many of whom haven't given a passing thought to going back. But some younger area people wouldn't miss next weekend's stab at pop culture history. Here are some recollections, thoughts and predictions from some of those who've been and who are going:

When John Harrow jumped into a Volkswagen with a few friends 25 years ago and drove to Woodstock, he was expecting some sort of organized music event. What he got was sheer pandemonium.

"I was from the Midwest. I was used to some civility," says Harrow, 43, a record store manager from Akron. He was living in Warren at the time. After attending the first day of Woodstock, he concluded it wasn't for him and hitchhiked out of there.

Harrow and his friends had driven from Warren to Woodstock without making any camping provisions. "I don't know what we were thinking." He was attracted to the music but turned off by nearly everything else, including the rainy weather, stepping over people to get to the portable toilets and paying an inordinate amount of money for a stale cheese sandwich. He spent Friday night sleeping in the Volkswagen and remembers waking up in the middle of the night and hearing Joan Baez singing.

By morning he was gone, having hitchhiked to the nearest town. There he found a ride with a couple of young women from Queens, N.Y., who took him to the nearest Western Union office. He called his parents for money to fly home.

On the airplane, he admittedly wasn't the nicest-smelling person, but he did feel like he was the most special. Those around him were reading about Woodstock in the newspaper, but he'd been there. He's not sold on Woodstock '94.

"It's like the old saying, you can never go back home again. They can never equal the spontaneity or the realness of the original. "It's like the Beatles reuniting or the (Rolling) Stones touring again. It's nice, but you had to be there back then. The '60s were a special time, and there's no going back."

BETTER LATE THAN NEVER When Kelleigh Stovall of Hudson was a young girl, she wrote in a wish book she would have liked to attend Woodstock. "It seemed totally cool. I wish I could have gone to the first one," says the 17-year-old high school senior.

Friday, her wish comes true when she lands at Woodstock '94. "The whole idea of just being around a bunch of people and having a good time totally inspires me to want to be there," she says. "My parents missed it, and I was always like 'Why didn't you go?' I'm going to do it and be able to tell my kids about it." Of the original Woodstock, she says she was told the best advice was "don't take the brown acid."

She saw the 1970 documentary film Woodstock and saw "everybody was having a great time. There were no cops (actually not true) and everybody did what they wanted to do. There was no violence and a real unity of people of different cultures."

Stovall believes this year's show will draw a more diverse crowd. "I think it will stop racism a little bit because of the different groups. It will attract different types of cultures. Everybody is looking to have a good time together."

IT'S PAYBACK TIME Kathy Ohlinger of Akron plans to go back to Woodstock. "I owe a lot of payback. People helped me back then. Now I'm going to help them. The kids today are more inexperienced. I feel I owe so if I can help I will gladly give," says Ohlinger, 43, a licensed social worker. "I remember one lady, I can see her so clearly. She had fresh milk and apples. It was the best apple I ever had."

The then-18-year-old got to Woodstock after unsuccessfully begging two friends to go with her. An acquaintance from Kent State University approached her, saying he needed one more person to fill up his car. She gladly accepted, taking with her the clothes on her back, a cooler filled with whatever was in her parents' refrigerator (they were out of town on vacation) and some insulin.

After she arrived, Ohlinger, a diabetic who is partly blind, left the insulin behind in the cooler, not knowing there was no turning back once she got caught up in the crowd. "I left it in the cooler thinking I'd be able to get back. But I would have never been able to find the car." She got insulin from the medical tents on hand, then split from her group, which included a young man who had one of his legs shot off in Vietnam. "I proceeded to meet the other 499,999 people there," she says.

She enjoyed much of the music, though she said Sha Na Na was a shock. "Nobody was expecting gold lame suits and '50s-style songs at Woodstock." Ohlinger reveled in seeing so many others like herself. "When I got to the top of the hill and saw 500,000 other people, I said 'My God, there's that many of us. We must have some power.' "

After hearing about Woodstock '94, she was skeptical, but wanted to attend anyway. She ruled it out because she had no way of getting there. Then a friend, Rick Dewey, came through.

"I still have my doubts. I'm a little nervous about leaving the tent. I wonder if it's still going to be there when I get back," says Ohlinger, though she's encouraged by Woodstock '94's organization and what seems to be a more handicapped-accessible site.

She's looking forward to it, although she doesn't know most of the acts performing. "I've been told I will like the Spin Doctors."

SETTLING FOR PAY-PER-VIEW Larry Neiman of Kent had big plans for Woodstock '94. He was going to take time off work, rent a fancy camper and have an all-out blast.

"I've always had this thing about the original Woodstock," says Neiman, 37, a property manager who was in the seventh grade during the original Woodstock. "I have posters and pins, and I watched the movie several times. I was amazed by the mass of the audience, all these people together having fun." Now, the closest Neiman will get to Woodstock '94 is pay-per-view. He has decided to stay home.

"This isn't geared to what Woodstock really stood for -- togetherness. This is strictly a thing to make bucks." His biggest complaint is the regulations, things such as only being able to leave the site once during the three days, not being able to drive to the site (buses will transport people from parking lots within a 30-mile radius), being discouraged about taking your own food into the site and the markup in ticket prices.

He says the 1969 $18 three-day ticket, adjusted for inflation, should be $72 today (still, he feels the sheer volume of the bands makes it worth it). "They have a lot of nerve calling this Woodstock," says Neiman, who was considering attending Bethel '94 before it was canceled. "They can't repeat what happened."

APPREHENSIVE ABOUT TRIP Kathie Gidley of Barberton admits to being a little nervous about attending Woodstock '94. "Everyone is telling me I'm nuts, that something's going to happen, we're going to get hurt," says Gidley, a private duty nurse who is attending with her 16-year-old son, her brother and sister-in-law and 12-year-old niece. "I've heard the pros and cons. That many people scares me," says Gidley, who is equipping her family with walkie-talkies though she regrets having to leave the camcorder at home (they aren't allowed).

But she sees Woodstock '94 as a special opportunity. "I don't think they're going to do it again. This is something you don't see or do that often. My son wanted to go and I didn't want him to go by himself." She wanted to attend the original Woodstock, but her parents wouldn't let her. Today, she regularly takes her son to big concerts; they already saw Pink Floyd and the Eagles this season.

Gidley thinks Woodstock '94 will be a good learning experience for them both. "I'll get to listen to some of the (rap) music he listens to but don't approve of. He'll get a big kick out of it, and he's looking forward to meeting people. And it's something I'll remember the rest of my life."

SPIRIT OF GIVING If vendors were selling food at the original Woodstock, Susan Carter of Stow never knew it because she says she never saw it, thanks to the massive crowds.

It wasn't as if Carter, 43, didn't come prepared. She and her friend brought a cooler of food. But they'd temporarily abandoned their car and the cooler and found themselves hungry after awhile with no food in sight. No matter. The hospital risk management director says the spirit was one of giving, and she and her friend met some campers more than willing to share. "They invited us for dinner, and we palled around with them for three days. If you didn't have food, people came up to you and approached you. 'Would you like some lemonade, a sandwich?' You never had to ask for anything." It was that community spirit she remembers most.

"The atmosphere was one of idealism. It made you think 'Gee, adulthood isn't so bad because this really is fun.' It was about meeting new people and being on your own."

Carter also remembers lines for the toilets. "They were unbelievable. I decided not to go to the bathroom the rest of the time. That's when my bladder problems started," she joked.

She, too, won't be going back; the only act she would be interested in seeing is Crosby, Stills & Nash. "The atmosphere is different now. I don't consider the period a safe one. In 1969, you could hitchhike."

REVOLUTION COMES TO MIND Kevin Lamb, a 21-year-old education student at Kent State University who will attend Woodstock '94, says he thinks of revolution when he thinks of Woodstock.

"It was people waking up trying to set themselves free of their ideas. It represented a whole generation of what was going on in the '60s," says Lamb, who was set on going to the new concert the minute he heard about it. He sees it as the event of a lifetime.

"Mostly it's a cultural experience. Saugerties is having a party, and everybody from around the U.S. is invited. We're going to have a good time and share stuff with other people and see other people. That's what's so great," says Lamb.

Lamb hopes to travel in a long caravan of Ohio residents, including Dan Crookston, Chad Hupp, Krissy Crookston, Chad Epling and Dennis Blacklock. "A lot of people will be there representing their state, and I'd like to go with people I know and represent our area."

HAD PLANNED ON BETHEL Doug McQuire of Wooster thought it would be nice to go back to Woodstock. He envisioned going to the now-canceled Bethel show, sitting on the farm as he did 25 years ago and reminiscing a bit.

"I have no desire to go to the other one being hyped. Most of the bands there don't have the spirit. The bands are performing to make a buck. I got the impression at the first one the bands didn't care. They knew they were on the cutting edge of a whole new way of thinking and if they didn't get paid, well, hey. They knew they were going down in history."

McQuire, 42, a clothing store manager, was living in Rochester, N.Y., at the time, a 17-year-old hippie. He and a friend rode 10-speed bikes 50 miles from Rochester to Corning, N.Y., then hitchhiked to the site. "It sounded like something neat to do, and we had nothing else to do."

He describes Woodstock as a gathering of people who had a lot in common. "There was a real spirit of brotherhood, with the whole anti-establishment thing against the war and everybody getting stoned, which I guess was a common bond back then."

Using tickets he'd found on the ground, McQuire partied those three days, setting up camp in a tent on a hill overlooking the stage. It was here he found solitude among hundreds of thousands of people.

He didn't sleep much and remembers being awaken by the Sly and the Family Stone performance in the middle of the night. "That kind of p----- me off. I ran out of the tent trying to get everyone to shut up. But there were half a million people there. They weren't going to listen to me."

WET AND WILD MEMORIES Robert Halle's Woodstock memories are mostly wet and wild. The Bath Township man says he had a great time, but then again, as he kept repeating, "I was 19."

"Ask me if I'm going again and I'd say no. I'm not 19 anymore. What thrills you at 19 doesn't do a whole lot for you at 44," says Halle, now a vice president at Gojo Industries Inc.

Like most Woodstock veterans, he's skeptical of Woodstock '94. "I don't think they can recapture it. I paid $6.50 for a ticket that's $135 now. And I don't think it's the same world as it was 25 years ago. I don't think it's a mistake that they're doing it, but it won't be the same." He was living on Long Island at the time and went with a small group to Woodstock. "The list of bands was tremendous, and it sounded like a nice place to go away with friends."

Their car got them as close as a few hundred yards away from the main entrance; traffic forced them to stop in the middle of the street, where they parked and pitched a tent nearby, overstuffing it by twice its capacity.

Saturday morning they got up and headed over to the concert. "The whole atmosphere was more outrageous than the concert itself. I couldn't believe the number of people. The National Guard was flying helicopters in with food and aid. It was different, but I had lots of fun. I still have my original tickets. They're uncut because by the time I got there they weren't collecting tickets any longer." They found a spot on a hillside and never left. "We took down some blankets and stayed there on the same spot on that hill from Saturday morning to Sunday night."

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