Altamont Concert December, 1969
Now for something completely different, I serve up some memories from my own journey that do not shed light on Mom and Dad but when you think about it, they had an an enormous influence and impact on who I was and continue to be…I would not have been the person who experienced these next posts as a young man, cut loose from parental ties and out and about in the Bay Area. I was 19 when all these next posts occurred so, here goes nothing!
Enjoy!
David, AJ, Joe (names have been changed) and I were freshmen in a small, all-male, private college in Menlo Park, Calif. AJ, Joe and myself had moved from the MidWest to California to attend this little college and David was from Arizona and Southern California. Since arriving in September of 1969, the four of us had become great friends. Back then, we would all pile into Joe’s (yellow with wide black stripes from hood to trunk)1969 Z-28 Camaro in our free time from college and motor about Northern California having great adventures, fueled by various psychedelics and other substances. We all were eighteen years old, naive and eager to explore the wonderland and wonders of the Bay Area during that tumultuous time.
The four of us had been hearing all week about the “free” concert that The Rolling Stones were going to put on somewhere in the Bay Area. The local TV stations and radio stations covered the story of this “free” concert, wall-to-wall. The site for it moved all around from Golden Gate Park, to Sears Point to finally, Altamont Racetrack. I can remember watching a black and white TV in the dorm and seeing clips from Melvin Belli’s office, explaining and defending the latest developments on where this “free” concert was to take place. Finally, it was affirmatively announced that the venue would be the Altamont Racetrack in the far East Bay Area. So that was settled.
The night before the concert date, we found ourselves at the all-night diner we frequented which was across the El Camino Real and adjacent to the college. None of us were rabid Rolling Stones fans but this concert had all the earmarks of another great adventure for us to experience. It should be noted that each one of us was lit up like a Christmas tree with various substances that we had ingested earlier that evening.
At about 2:00 AM, in the diner, we all decided that we were going to Altamont. We trooped back to the dorm, loaded up with two cases of beer, reefer and various other psychedelic items to get us through the night. We all piled into the Z-28 Camaro and headed out to Altamont using a paper, folding map.
In pitch darkness at about 4:00 AM, we parked halfway in a ditch just like all the other cars, lining both sides of the two-lane road. I grabbed the two blankets from the trunk and made a hobo bindle or Santa Claus sack, loaded the two cases of beer in it, threw it over my back and we began to walk. We just followed the parked cars. We arrived in the dark, spread our blankets, broke out the beer and waited for dawn. We could see the frenzied preparations of the crew as they worked in the early morning hours to get the stage area ready, lit up with portable lights. Our mood in the dark hours was anticipatory, excited and keyed up with the various substances we all had ingested
As dawn broke, we saw that we were relatively close to the stage. The crew and Hells Angels were figures about an inch high from our perspective. To our right, a stone’s throw away, was a yellow school bus, with its hood, pointing down the slight hill to the stage area.
All went along fine until the Jefferson Airplane’s set. From our position, we could recognize the band members and their movements easily. The sound coming from the speakers was OK. We could make out the songs and lyrics.
We watched the drama unfold onstage as Marty Balin, charged right and had some altercation onstage with some Hells Angels. The music slowly ground to a halt after he jumped into the crowd to stop some other Hell’s Angels from beating up on some concert goers. All hell broke loose next. We could not see the actual melee on the ground, stage right but we had an unobstructed view of the stage during this time. Standing up, we could see the commotion but not actually see Marty and the Angels. We heard some people talking into the PA but could not hear what was actually said.
This silence from the band and melee that ensued went on for some time. As witnesses, we were dumbfounded and speechless. We watched as each member of the band slowly retreated from the front of the stage. Soon, we could see Grace Slick approach the mike stand, stage left, on the crowded stage and began singing, a capella, this melodic phrase: “Get fucked up but don’t fuck ‘em around.” She sang this phrase over and over again while the stage slowly cleared and the band members, one by one, came back to the stage and started playing a made-up-on-the-spot, musical riff to accompany Grace’s singing and phrasing. This musical exhortation by Grace, all alone, at first, had an enormous, calming effect on us and it appeared, to us, on the crowded stage area, as well. As she repeated the now musical phrase, Marty Balin rejoined the band and the Jefferson Airplane finished their set.
Grace’s courageous a capella segment did not make it into the subsequent movie but it did make it into mine and my buddies movie that day.
Her courage and desire to stop and cool out the scene was magnificent, as was Marty’s.
We all looked at each other at the end of the Airplane’s set and without speaking, arose as one, gave our remaining beer away, gathered up our blankets and left Altamont, right then and there, never looking back. We gingerly picked our way through the crowd and hiked out through the immense crowd.
A final note, we crested a rise and came out on area with a bunch of cars parked at the end of the two lane we used to find our way to the concert. We spotted a driver in a car preparing to leave. We all ran over to him and flagged him down. We asked him for a ride back to our car, he said sure so we all piled in and we drove off. As he did so, I asked him to check his odometer so we could see how far we had hiked in that morning. He dropped us off at the Camaro and his odometer clocked in at seven miles.
To give this letter/email I sent below some context:
Saul Austerlitz wrote a book which I bought and read cover to cover about The Rolling Stones called “Just A Shot Away” and Altamont figures prominently in his book but since he was not there that day, he missed what had happened prior to the tragedy that unfolded later that night. When I got done, I figured out how to email him so I did. He wrote back that he would be interested in hearing our story of Altamont that day so I ginned up my memories and wrote him the above story. Below is my accompanying email to Saul.
Saul:
Above is my story of Altamont. For me, Gracie had done the impossible, calmed an otherwise out-of-control, chaotic situation and no one ever seems to credit her with her effective efforts to chill everybody out and I mean everybody, and finish the set.
In retrospect, in my opinion, she was magnificent that day. In some ways, again in my opinion and with hindsight, she seized the moment to re-take the crowded, chaotic stage and tell us, all of us, what was OK and what was not OK. She did it in a way that did not lead to more chaos and violence but actually cooled everyone and everything out. This is what Altamont is, for me, all about. A brief, shining moment where we, thanks to Gracie, did feel we can be together with each other, in peace and harmony.
Well, here endeth today’s lesson and thanks for the opportunity to tell you my story. There is more to my story about that day and how I have searched for third party, independent validation of what I witnessed Gracie do that day. Such as driving to Jorma Kaukonen’s Fur Peace Ranch music camp in Southern Ohio from Georgia to ask him directly about Gracie’s moment and what he told me.
And so it goes.
Again, thanking you for this opportunity to tell you my story. I hope you enjoy it, for what it is worth.
Best Regards,
Alex