Predictably, much of the debate is about money. The profit on tickets, recordings and video could be tens of millions of dollars. With the Bethel Chamber of Commerce logging 45 calls a day about the anniversary from as far away as Japan, the economically depressed hamlet is hoping for relief. The landowner has leased the land to the Multiple Sclerosis Society, whose aggressive New York chapter bead, Robert Gersch, figures a sequel could raise big money. So do corporate sponsors.
This is heresy to the many who consider Yasgur’s farm holy ground. For 24 years, the site has drawn pilgrims-22,000 on the 20th anniversary–much like Gettysburg or the beaches at Normandy, “This is a sacred site,” says Abigail Storm, a local keeper of the flame. Now, she says, “they want to put up a tollbooth.”
Woodstock got started when 4 twentysomething men invited some 60,000 peers to an open-air rock festival. But in 1969, the nation was ripped apart by the Vietnam War, hippies were feared and rock and roll wasn’t just music, it was a movement. Wary citizens bounced the planners out of several sites, including one near Woodstock, N.Y. By the time Yasgur, in the next county, came to the rescue, the name had stuck. And when the massive, peaceful gathering was over, it had become part of modern history. The original backer, John Roberts, his partners and Warner Bros., which released a movie and an album, now plan a competing event near the town of Woodstock.
The first festival was largely the result of spontaneous combustion. Not this time. Two years ago Bethel officials began looking for someone to help the town profit and survive-come 1994. After many fits and starts, including negotiations with Roberts, they linked up with the M.S. Society and Gersch. Gersch, who calls himself an “events architect,” plans to sell 40,000 tickets, starting at $150 and going up to $5,000 packages that include the limousine ride and a chance to be photographed onstage. Security will include a 10-mile perimeter to be manned in part by National Guardsmen. “I think it’s significant,” says Gersch, “that we’ve come full circle since Kent State,” where guardsmen in 1970 killed unarmed student protesters.
Those who blanch at such sentiments haven’t given up. Some have sued the town to enforce a variance against commercial activity. There are zoning laws to be altered. And even would-be allies of Gersch, such as farmers near the site, were angered by the stink and flies that accompanied the chicken manure. Graffiti at the site calls the M.S. Society MONEY SUCKERS.
Gersch’s group has another challenge: it can’t use the name Woodstock. That right is claimed by Roberts and by Time Warner, which has signed on as a partner; a top executive last week bragged about an “international event.” These promoters, too, hope to make money, but they strike a different chord: the 250,000 tickets they plan to sell will benefit children and the environment, help fund a Woodstock museum and be marketed to college kids. That’s what they like to hear at Andy’s Place, a diner near Bethel dedicated to “the Woodstock spirit.” Owner Ted Yeomans hopes Roberts will even chase Gersch away. “The fat lady hasn’t sung yet,” he says.
But this is 1993, and “new” Democrats outnumber hippies. When the lady sings, she may very well be Barbra Streisand.
