By the Time I got to Woodstock

I was 13 and my grandmother took me to the movie

My 13th birthday was coming up and my grandmother asked me what I would like to do for my birthday. Would I maybe like to go to the bioscoop and see a film together?

We had a look in the newspaper and there was one movie I really wanted to see, but it was around 4 hours long and would be loud and boring for her. So I said, “Yes, but it is not one you would want to see, maybe we should go out for lunch instead.”

“I like young people’s music,” she said.

“But it will be loud and long.”

She looked at the paper and said “We will go. If it makes you happy, it makes me happy.” I was sceptical, but she insisted. Omi liked to spoil me and I hoped she wouldn’t regret it. I sure didn’t.

The Royal was about a half-hour tram ride from Omi and Opa’s apartment in Amsterdam’s Achillestraat. We alit at the stop by the Dam, which was covered in hippies, wanna-be hippies, and tourists. I mean covered. You probably wouldn’t get change from a thousand. This was the height of the flower people, the drug culture and the tourists who came to take photos of them.

As we got off the tram, a long parade of maybe 100 Hare Krshyna devotees danced, played the tambourine and chanted their way past us.

I took this photo much more recently. Missing are a throng of young people with long hair with their life treasures in backpacks, sleeping bags, guitars and plumes of smoke, and loads of trash.

It was a colourful stroll along Nieuwendijk to the Royal Theatre. Entering she bought me a program. It was perhaps 40 pages with information about all of the acts, awesome colour photos and even a Jefferson Airplane to cut out and fly. I still have the program, but I did cut out the plane, permanently marring the booklet. I enjoyed re-reading it many times over the years and it is stashed with other memorabilia that I won’t sell.

The movie was amazing. As a music lover already, I was enthralled by Soul Sacrifice and to this day am a devoted Santana fan.

Carlos’ photo looks down into my music room and even my 18-month-old grandson knows who he is and points at him when he comes into my office/library/music room to play on the kettle drum and practice pad.

There was Country Joe McDonald and the Fish, with Fixing to Die Rag. He started shouting Give me an F. I looked over at my grandmother and she looked at me with a smile and asked me if I was enjoying myself. I sure was. I didn’t know anything about Viet Nam or the draft, but I was sitting there wishing I was 10 years older and sitting in that crowd. It was mind-blowing for this just-turned 13-year-old boy.

The movie wasn’t just one image. At times there were up to 5 images showing different shots of the crowd, the artists, roadies and engineers. It was a real experience, especially for that day and age when movies like Love Story, Ryan’s Daughter, and Little Big Man (R13) had classic cinematography and you stood for the national anthem before it started.

Joe Cocker enthralled me with an unforgettable version of Lennon and McCartney’s With a Little Help From my Friends.

There were way too many great acts to mention. The songs have become good friends to me over the years. I bought the video. I bought the boxed set. I bought the laser disk set. There was Jimi Hendrix playing the Star-Spangled Banner, Pete Townsend playing amazing solos. The No Rain Chant from Blind Melon. Ravi Shankar, Arlo Guthrie, Joan Baez, Canned Heat…..

I’ll finish this off with the ending, the absolute mess that was left behind for a small group of people to clean up, while Hendrix played a final goodbye at 8 AM, long after the festival was technically over and done with.

All I can say is if you haven’t watched the Woodstock movie, and you love music, I recommend watching the movie. There wasn’t a festival like it before, and I don’t think there ever will be again.

Half a million people descended on Max Yasgur's dairy farm in Bethel, New York. For a peaceful weekend of amazing music and an experience, people are still telling their grandchildren about it.

I almost felt as if I had been there with my grandmother, who said she enjoyed the experience.

As an aside, I believe the Royal Theatre in Amsterdam was the last theatre in Amsterdam that still allowed people to smoke cigarettes while watching movies. It burned down, I think in 1978. It would have been interesting to say it happened because of someone who had been smoking in the theatre, but it had actually closed and been converted into a market a couple of years prior.

I am forever grateful to my Omi, for taking me there. She was a very progressive woman who loved young people and loved me. There is a special place in my heart for her and a photo of her on my office desk.

If you enjoyed this article, please do me a favour and share it with one other person. I am not charging subscriptions for this Substack, so the only reward I get is knowing people enjoyed it enough to share and leave a comment.