Woodstock, Tuesday Through Saturday: How We Really Lived It
Tuesday, August 12, 1969 — Getting There Early
On Tuesday morning I picked up Debbie, then her two friends, and we headed north. Route 17 was clear, almost easy. We thought, “Okay, this trip’s going to be a breeze.”
We exited for Bethel… and everything stopped. Total standstill. We could see an endless line of cars inching up a hill ahead of us. It took eight hours to go about a mile.
At the top of that hill we needed to turn left — and right there my ’64 dark blue Pontiac Bonneville overheated. Dead. Steam. We figured we’d be stuck for hours waiting for it to cool.
That’s when a troop of Boy Scouts came marching by, carrying one of those giant water vessels on a pole between two of them. I asked if we could use some to top off the radiator. They were thrilled to lighten the load and happily helped. We poured, the car cooled, and it started immediately. We made the turn and, naturally, the parking field was one block away.
We parked in a medium-sized field, grabbed our sleeping bags, and walked down to see where the music would be. You came over the rise and there it was: the stage, crews everywhere, and this big bowl sloping down toward it. Up at the top of the fairgrounds there were food stands and medical/rest tents — which turned out to be important.
We staked out a spot. Talked to people. Took it all in. It felt surreal, like walking onto the set before the movie starts.
Wednesday & Thursday — The Rain That Wouldn’t Stop
At some point Tuesday night the rain started — and then it never let up. Heavy, soaking rain. Wednesday, all day. Thursday, late. It destroyed my sleeping bag and even ruined my moccasins; I was basically barefoot. At least one night (maybe two), Debbie and I went back to the car to sleep just to get out of the downpour.
Those medical/rest tents at the top — we used them to get warm, dry off a little, and regroup. Despite all of it, people were in good spirits. It’s hard to explain, but the mud and the rain kind of blended into the experience. You’d trudge up for food, trudge back down for music prep, and swap stories with strangers like you’d known them forever.
Friday — Opening Night, Highlights, and That Feeling
Friday night the whole thing felt like it finally switched on. The crowd was enormous, but it wasn’t tense — people were peaceful and happy, and you could move around surprisingly easily.
Richie Havens — Opening the Festival
Below is a quick mini carousel of Richie Havens images from that opening set. You can swipe/scroll on mobile or click/drag on desktop.
Santana – Soul Sacrifice (Saturday Afternoon)
By Saturday afternoon, the relentless rain had turned the festival grounds into a sea of mud. We were already thinking about heading out, but before we left, Santana took the stage. Their performance of Soul Sacrifice was electrifying — the rhythms, the guitar work, and Michael Shrieve’s legendary drum solo seemed to rise above the mud, exhaustion, and chaos. It was the perfect send-off before our long trip home.
Santana performing “Soul Sacrifice” on Saturday afternoon at Woodstock 1969 — a final highlight before our departure.
-We could still get back up to the tents for supplies, even late. The crowd was massive, but it worked. People were helping each other, sharing food, making space.
Saturday — So Much Music, So Much Mud… and Time to Go
By Saturday Afternoon, the rain had soaked everything for days. We were tired, wet, and honestly had heard a lot of music already. Sometime that afternoon we decided to head out. We weren’t alone — many people were leaving Saturday.
We made our way back up to the car (just me and Debbie — we never did reconnect with her two friends after that first day), and then came the exit.
The Most Packed Bonneville in History
Inside the car: four across the front seat (I was driving), five in the back.
Outside the car: a few on the hood (legs over the front bumper), and three on the trunk (legs hanging down over the back bumper).
As we rolled toward Route 17, the folks on the hood and trunk hopped off. We kept the passengers inside and dropped people wherever they needed — some in Manhattan, some in Queens. I had a great conversation with a guy in the front seat who said he fed the car thieves (his job!). He explained how he fell into it and what that life was like. He got out in Manhattan. Debbie got home in Queens. And I drove back to Douglaston.
Notes, Memories, Rain (again)
- We arrived Tuesday (Aug 12). The music started Friday (Aug 15).
- Relentless rain Tuesday night through Thursday night wrecked my sleeping bag and moccasins.
- Those tents up top weren’t just for food — they were medical and rest areas too, and they helped.
- Friday night felt like liftoff: Richie Havens, Country Joe, and the crowd as one voice.
- Saturday afternoon we headed out, and the Bonneville became a shuttle bus.