No, I was not at Woodstock.
I was twelve years old in August, 1969. These wacky kids today, they have no sense of historical perspective. I think they believe that anyone over fifty with the slightest interest in amplified music must have been at Woodstock. In reality, you could find me mopping floors and emptying ashtrays at the local bowling alley. That's not to say I didn't immerse myself in the fervor of the day. I wore the uniform of the revolution: flannel shirt, jeans, combat boots, shoulder-length hair. I looked like I jumped off the cover of Neil Young's
Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere. But I was twelve, for crying out loud. Follow-up question: "Were you born at Woodstock?" Yes, I slid right out of the womb and into the mud. My parents ate the brown acid, and, well, here I am.
The bowling alley provided quite an education. Late nights one am sweeping out the bar as the good ole boys drank whiskey and rye. "Hey, hippie, you burn your draft card?" Again, my age. "Hey, long-hair, you a draft-dodger? You burn your draft card?" "No, I told him. "I am only twelve. But if I did have a draft card, I probably would burn it right here in this bar. I would find it a lamentable waste of my American Youth to die for you. You and your ugly war and your redneck friends can go screw yourself. Also, I am not old enough to vote. If I was, I wouldn't have voted for your pal Nixon. You have destroyed a once proud nation. Where is your wife? Excuse me now, but I have to go wax lanes six through twelve." OK, so older folks have a strange perspective, too. Which goes to show you:
Things were not better in the Eisenhower Era.
I'm sorry, but let's take a look at some of the artists who charted on Billboard in 1955, the year before I was born:
- Mitch Miller
- Perry Como
- Roger Williams
- Tennessee Ernie Ford
- The Four Lads
I was born just in time to stop the madness. Elvis emerged, dominating the charts. Another few years, the Beatles, a bit after that, Hendrix. My mother used to listen to talk radio on WLS-AM (the more things change...) and just kept the radio tuned to the Big 89 after it switched to Top 40. I'm not sure she really noticed. I followed the Top 40 religiously, but nothing prepared me for the sound coming out of that little box (no, kids, it was not a Philco) in June 1967. When the first few notes of Purple Haze exploded through the speaker, I asked my mother, "Can you really do that with a guitar?" "I'm not sure," my mother answered, "but it
is much jazzier than Perry Como."
June 1967 also witnessed the release of The Beatles' landmark
Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band. I did not, however, start wearing marching band uniforms.
So, yes, remember the good old days: separate drinking fountains, nuclear weapons testing, Joe McCarthy, the interstate highway system. Eisenhower warned against the coming 'Military Industrial Complex', yet he initiated what was referred to as the National System of Interstate and Defense Highways. It was designed to be a system of roadways to transport missiles, troops and military supplies in case our Cold War foes invaded. He got the idea from the Germans. So what's up with that, Ike?
Speaking of Mitch Miller, he used to have a TV show called
Sing Along With Mitch on NBC in the early sixties. He and an all-male choir would sing tunes, and the TV audience could follow the lyrics and sing along. Good times. I used to stay with my grandmother for a few weeks in the summer, and she made me sit there and - not just watch -
but sing along! I have a little scar on my soul to this day. Years later, my grandmother stopped asking me to visit because I was sporting the aforementioned revolutionary garb. "You used to be such a nice boy," she'd say. My uncle used to taunt me: "Hey, long hair and sandals! Who do you think you are, Jesus?"
No, I am Neil Young.
