WOODSTOCK WAS A TRIP AT AGE 20
Sex, Drugs, Rock ‘n Roll? A friend’s haircut was the ticket….
One wild summer weekend in 1969 wouldn’t have happened if my friend Paul didn’t cut his long hair to borrow a car.
Paul was determined to go to this rock festival. His father, a ranking military officer, said he could borrow the car.
On one condition. He pointed at his son’s hair. “Get a haircut.”
Paul was likely the most determined person on the planet to hit Woodstock and party hearty. Short hair be damned.
When he asked us if we wanted to go, nobody hesitated. None of us owned a car. We sprang for gas.
That weekend’s history has blended fact and fiction There were no babies born there, for instance. Here is what I recall from more than a half century ago:
We bought Saturday and Sunday tickets, as we worked weekdays in a factory on a 450 degree rubber injection mold making Converse All Star sneaker soles.
But already, news reports warned that crowds from Europe and California were arriving at the concert site in rural New York. We bought Friday tickets to set up camp early and called in sick.
That’s why my Friday ticket is red and the others black. We got an early spot in the vast array of tents, hippie vans, trucks and…
