Leon raised his eyebrows. “All I know is he was sentenced to ten years in jail for marijuana possession.”
Pete Townshend whacked the guy in the head with his guitar. The dude fell into the camera pit, then scrambled over the wooden fence before disappearing into the crowd.
Once he was gone, Pete, also in head-to-toe white, yelled into his microphone, “The next fucking person who walks across this stage is going to get fucking killed!”
Lots of people laughed; maybe they thought he was joking. But this close, I could tell he was furious.
The Who ushered in a splendid sunrise. As the band concluded with the one song I knew, “My Generation,” Pete Townshend leaped into the air, banged his guitar multiple times on the stage floor, and then tossed it to someone in the front row.
I wished that someone could have been Leon.
After a two-hour break, Jefferson Airplane finally strolled onto the stage at 8:00 a.m. Grace Slick was another star dressed in white, the picture ofsexywith her sleeveless fringed leather vest, cut so low you could see her tan lines. “All right, friends,” she said. “You’ve seen the heavy groups. Now you will see morning maniac music. Believe me,yeah... it’s a new dawn!”
That’s the last thing I could remember before falling fast asleep.
Woodstock
Day Three
Sunday, August 17, 1969
9:40 a.m.
I awoke to Hugh Romney’s gravelly voice booming throughout the pasture. I recognized it right away, even though his voice was nearly gone.
“Good morning,” he said. “What we have in mind is breakfast in bed for four hundred thousand. Now, it’s not gonna be steak and eggs or anything, but it’s gonna be good food, and we are gonna get it to you. It’s not just the Hog Farm either. It’s the Ojai Mountain family and the Pranksters and everybody else that has volunteered and put in their time. In fact, it’s everybody. We’re all feeding each other! We must be in heaven, man! There is always a little bit of heaven in a disaster area ... Okay, here it comes, mess call.”
If a person was still asleep, an out-of-tune reveille on the bugle made sure they were wide awake. I had to cover my ears, it was so annoying.
Just as Hugh promised, an open-bed truck with garbage cans filled with granola made its way down the two-lane pathway around the circumference of the bowl. Two Hog Farmers dipped the granola into paper cups while others handed it out to the crowd. It tasted heavenly.
The music wouldn’t start again for several hours, so Leon and I headed back to the arts and crafts fair to take another look around.
Just down Groovy Way, a dude recognized me. “Hi, Suzie,” he said, without stopping. “Really enjoyed your performance yesterday.”
“Thanks,” I said, over my shoulder.
Leon wrapped his arm around my waist with a gentle squeeze. “See. You are a star.”
Once we arrived at the fair, I picked up one of the tie-dyed halter tops, admiring it all over again. I didn’t notice Leon digging inside his pocket until he handed the girl a five-dollar bill.
I tried to stop him. “You don’t have to do that.”
“You won the bet. Never stared at a single person at the lake.”
Not true. I stared at every inch of you.“But you still don’t have to do it,” I said.
“I almost bought it for you last time we were here. Just didn’t want you to think I was a weirdo.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you were a weirdo. I would have known how sweet you are a lot earlier.” I held it up to my chest, twisting my body toward him like I was a model. “What do you think?”
“I think I love it.”
“Me too.” Standing on my tiptoes, I kissed him. He clasped the back of my head, and we just stood there, five whole minutes, making out in front of the booth.
Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be going braless, much less kissing a beautiful boy in front of so many people. I chuckled to myself, imagining Gertie’s face if I showed up at Goldsmith’s wearing my new tie-dyed halter top with bell-bottom blue jeans hugging my hips, far below my belly button.
Truth is, Gertie would have loved it. Mama, on the other hand, would have been horrified.
