CHAPTER 5
Friday
The plan was to have folk music on Friday. That would start things off in a mellow way. Wild rock and roll would begin Saturday. At seven on Friday morning, Michael Lang realized there was no one to introduce bands and make announcements onstage. Chip Monck was in charge of stage lighting and technical design, but he also got the job master of ceremonies on the spot. He turned out to be great at it.
Around noon, the sound system was checked. Everything was working fine . . . except no bands had arrived! The producers needed to give the kids what they’d come for. Music! And fast.
Music was supposed to start at four that afternoon. The first band on the program was Sweetwater. But they were caught in traffic. Other bands were stuck at hotels seven miles away. Cars were no use. Helicopters had to be found.
The crowd was getting bored and restless. Tens of thousands of fans had already been there for days, waiting. They covered the enormous hillside, all staring at the stage. It was hot, in the nineties. As time passed, the festival staff began to panic. Recently, at smaller concerts, fights had broken out. No one wanted that to happen at Woodstock.
Richie Havens, a folk-rock singer, was flown in from one of the hotels. He was supposed to play later in the day but agreed to go on early. This was brave. No one had ever played for a crowd this big. Were people in a bad mood because of the delay? Were they in a troublemaking mood?
At five o’clock that afternoon Havens stepped onstage wearing an orange African-style shirt called a dashiki. He became famous as the first performer to play Woodstock! After four songs, he thought he was finished. But festival organizers kept sending him back for more. Eventually he ran out of songs. So he made up one based on a gospel song and called it “Freedom.” It got people clapping and started things off on the right note.
Then to fill more time, a Hindu spiritual leader from India came up onstage to bless the festival. He told fans that Woodstock would be a time of peace and love. A calming, happy vibe filled the crowd.
Singer Country Joe McDonald wasn’t supposed to play until Sunday. Festival organizers found him backstage and begged him to play right then. He said no way. He didn’t even have his guitar with him. No problem! Someone borrowed a guitar and gave him a rope for a strap so he could hang it around his neck. In minutes, he was onstage. Country Joe was known for being against the Vietnam War. He began by leading the crowd in a rousing cheer. Then he sang a bouncy antiwar song called “Fixin to Die Rag,” and fans sang along with him.
But who would come on after Country Joe? Backstage, promoters looked for a band to follow him. They found John Sebastian from the Lovin’ Spoonful. He wasn’t supposed to play at the festival at all. He’d only come to hang out with friends. Luckily, he had brought his guitar. And he’d recently written some brand-new songs. Would he play them? To help out, he did. He couldn’t remember all the words to the new songs, but the crowd didn’t mind. They were excited!
Finally, Sweetwater arrived by helicopter. The concert was back on track!
Already Woodstock was making history. That night, a festival coordinator named John Morris made an announcement. Standing onstage at the microphone, he told the kids they were the biggest crowd to ever come together. He thought it was too bad they couldn’t see each other in the dark. So he made a suggestion: “I want every one of you to light a match.” Instantly, thousands of tiny lights flickered on in the blackness all across the hillside. A sense of togetherness and wonder swept the crowd. It was a magical moment.
Two folk megastars had been saved for last. Arlo Guthrie was only eighteen but was already legendary. Joan Baez followed around 1:00 a.m. She closed with a spiritual, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” and the powerful protest song “We Shall Overcome.”
After the show ended for the night, some fans went to their tents in nearby campgrounds. Most people just stayed on the hill. They went to sleep on their jackets, on the damp ground, or by using a neighbor’s knees as pillows.
By now, almost five hundred thousand people were crowded into the concert area. If the festival had been a city, it would’ve been the third largest in New York! The audience was so big, it would later be nicknamed Woodstock Nation.
And still people kept coming. Cars were backed up almost twenty miles. An estimated two hundred fifty thousand more people tried to get to Woodstock but were turned away.
Meanwhile, Michael Wadleigh and his crew were there capturing everything on film—the crowd, the traffic, the mess, and the music!
