Rick Harding proves late is better than never - Woodstock or bust

Half a century later, Lindsay resident gets to have his Woodstock experience.

Fifty years after choosing a job over attending what has been dubbed the 'concert of the century', Rick Harding and Rose Janchevsky headed to Bethel, New York to mark the 50th anniversary of Woodstock.The experience did not disappoint.  

One of the highlights of Rick Harding's 50th anniversary Woodstock experience was standing on the edge of the hill, looking down to where 500,000 people had assembled for a life-defining weekend half a century previous. 

 

Although organizers thought they would get as many as 150,000, the final numbers attending Woodstock weekend easily exceeded 500,000. The roads to the concert were jammed with traffic. People left their cars and walked for miles to get to the concert area.

The museum created to celebrate Woodstock is filled with incredible artifacts and information including posters, newspaper articles and even the original Magic Bus in all its tie-dye glory. 

I didn’t go to Woodstock in 1969.

My mother tracked me down in a hostel-commune in San Francisco on Aug. 13 at 1 a.m.; 4 a.m. Lindsay time.

I had a decision to make. Continue my life on the road and all it brought, or come home and take the job with Niagara Finance in Oshawa.

I took the job.

I intended to be back in Lindsay on the 15th, pack up my dad’s ’65 Fargo (it’s still in the yard) and journey to Woodstock. Late Friday night my mom and I were watching the news. I think Earl Cameron was the TV anchor. The weather for the next three days was going to be horrible. Torrential storms. It sounded miserable. Besides, I had been on the road a long time and my mom was lonely. My dad had died 11 months earlier. Anyway, it was just another concert.

I started my finance job on Tuesday, Aug. 19 at 9 a.m. At 9:10 a.m. I was walking down King Street in Oshawa to buy more appropriate footwear and a different tie. I guess the paisley tie I picked up in Frisco and the shoes bought at Henry Houzer’s Menswear on Kent Street didn’t cut it in the banking world.

Two weeks later as news of Woodstock filtered up to Canada I realized what an event I missed.

I promised myself that I would never allow bad weather to hinder me ever again. Family, yes, but weather, never.

As a result, I am proud to say I have experienced years of unhindered travel.

The years ticked but the memories remained. Albums and documentaries came out. There were interviews with bands and stories about the place where 500,000 just came together — no cellphones, no internet — just transistor radios, posters in record shops and word of mouth.

I didn’t plan to stay in finance forever, but here it is 50 years since last Tuesday and I am still here. I made my way up and down the corporate ladder several times, tried every aspect of the lending world, worked for American and Canadian banks and finance companies. Even tried my hand as a skip tracer.

Then, on Friday, Aug. 16, Rose and I packed our Toyota and headed down to Bethel, New York for the 50th anniversary of Woodstock. We didn’t have rooms booked. We would sleep in the car if necessary.

Bethel is a tiny hamlet on the southern edge of the Catskill Mountains. The land is beautiful. Rolling hills with deeply carved basins; some forested, some not. It was on one of these steeply sided hills that Woodstock took place.

We arrived at the site on Saturday. Cars were everywhere. Thousands of people lined the roads and filled parking lots. The grounds held about 30,000 people, all of them what you would call hippies, mostly in tie-dye. Possibly, for the first time in 50 years, I did not feel conspicuous.

Vendors sold memorabilia, reproductions, photographs and everything tie-dye.

We stood on the edge of the upper limit of the plateau where 500,000 people — 50 years to the day, to the hour — rejoiced, sang, danced and hoped and prayed for a better world; Vietnam was in full swing.

When Woodstock happened, the townsfolk for miles around came together, made sandwiches, provided vegetables, fruits and water. Bread was even dropped from helicopters. Now, 50 years later, people offered free food, free water.

Why? Because a huge number of these people are originals. They were here 50 years ago only this time, many came with their kids and their grandkids.

The museum was unbelievable; photos of the performers, original soundtracks, posters, newspaper articles, band, promoter and townspeople interviews, and the original magic bus; tie-dyed bumper to bumper.

What was the highlight?

Could it be standing on the hill looking down to where the half million assembled?

Maybe it was seeing the original Woodstock couple, Nick and Bobbi Ercoline. The photo of them hugging each other in the rain with a muddy blanket draped around them was used on the Woodstock album cover. Fifty years to the day, they were there — same blanket, same hat, still married, still happy.

Maybe it was seeing the Woodstock monument and talking to some of the guys and girls that gathered there.

Maybe it was the conversation I had with the New York City coffee shop owner and his son who were there to bury a lock of dad’s hair at the spot where he had been a Grateful Dead roadie, honouring a promise to take him back.

Maybe it was the dozens of other people of all ages from around the world erecting tiny shrines to their friends and family in the form of buttons, notes, pieces of clothing or peace signs.

Maybe it was the feeling of standing on that hallowed ground where the greats played; Janis Joplin, The Grateful Dead, Jimi Hendrix, The Who, Arlo Guthrie, Sly and the Family Stone, Joan Baez, Joe Cocker and Jefferson Airplane.

Maybe the highlight was when the rains came, almost to the minute 50 years later. We all assembled in a huge hall for an hour singing, talking and chanting "no rain" — same as they did 50 years ago. When the rain stopped, and we stepped into the sunshine, a double rainbow arced over the land. Not to be outdone, when John Fogerty started playing Bad Moon Rising, a full moon ascended over the stage.

Energy cannot be created nor destroyed. It just changes form.

The energy is still there 50 years later; at least it is to us.

Was it a hard transition going from a life on the road to banking? You bet it was. It still is.

But at the end of the day it comes down to six easy steps.

Be kind, work hard, play harder, rock on, peace out, and pay your bills.

Rick Harding proves late is better than neverHalf a century later, Lindsay resident gets to have his Woodstock experience.as seen in Kawartha Lakes This Week
Fifty years after choosing a job over attending what has been dubbed the 'concert of the century', Rick Harding and Rose Janchevsky headed to Bethel, New York to mark the 50th anniversary of Woodstock.The experience did not disappoint.  One of the highlights of Rick Harding's 50th anniversary Woodstock experience was standing on the edge of the hill, looking down to where 500,000 people had assembled for a life-defining weekend half a century previous.  Although organizers thought they would get as many as 150,000, the final numbers attending Woodstock weekend easily exceeded 500,000. The roads to the concert were jammed with traffic. People left their cars and walked for miles to get to the concert area.
The museum created to celebrate Woodstock is filled with incredible artifacts and information including posters, newspaper articles and even the original Magic Bus in all its tie-dye glory. 
I didn’t go to Woodstock in 1969.My mother tracked me down in a hostel-commune in San Francisco on Aug. 13 at 1 a.m.; 4 a.m. Lindsay time.I had a decision to make. Continue my life on the road and all it brought, or come home and take the job with Niagara Finance in Oshawa.
I took the job.I intended to be back in Lindsay on the 15th, pack up my dad’s ’65 Fargo (it’s still in the yard) and journey to Woodstock. Late Friday night my mom and I were watching the news. I think Earl Cameron was the TV anchor. The weather for the next three days was going to be horrible. Torrential storms. It sounded miserable. Besides, I had been on the road a long time and my mom was lonely. My dad had died 11 months earlier. Anyway, it was just another concert.
I started my finance job on Tuesday, Aug. 19 at 9 a.m. At 9:10 a.m. I was walking down King Street in Oshawa to buy more appropriate footwear and a different tie. I guess the paisley tie I picked up in Frisco and the shoes bought at Henry Houzer’s Menswear on Kent Street didn’t cut it in the banking world.Two weeks later as news of Woodstock filtered up to Canada I realized what an event I missed.I promised myself that I would never allow bad weather to hinder me ever again. Family, yes, but weather, never.As a result, I am proud to say I have experienced years of unhindered travel.
The years ticked but the memories remained. Albums and documentaries came out. There were interviews with bands and stories about the place where 500,000 just came together — no cellphones, no internet — just transistor radios, posters in record shops and word of mouth.I didn’t plan to stay in finance forever, but here it is 50 years since last Tuesday and I am still here. I made my way up and down the corporate ladder several times, tried every aspect of the lending world, worked for American and Canadian banks and finance companies. Even tried my hand as a skip tracer.
Then, on Friday, Aug. 16, Rose and I packed our Toyota and headed down to Bethel, New York for the 50th anniversary of Woodstock. We didn’t have rooms booked. We would sleep in the car if necessary.Bethel is a tiny hamlet on the southern edge of the Catskill Mountains. The land is beautiful. Rolling hills with deeply carved basins; some forested, some not. It was on one of these steeply sided hills that Woodstock took place.We arrived at the site on Saturday. Cars were everywhere. Thousands of people lined the roads and filled parking lots. The grounds held about 30,000 people, all of them what you would call hippies, mostly in tie-dye. Possibly, for the first time in 50 years, I did not feel conspicuous.Vendors sold memorabilia, reproductions, photographs and everything tie-dye.We stood on the edge of the upper limit of the plateau where 500,000 people — 50 years to the day, to the hour — rejoiced, sang, danced and hoped and prayed for a better world; Vietnam was in full swing.When Woodstock happened, the townsfolk for miles around came together, made sandwiches, provided vegetables, fruits and water. Bread was even dropped from helicopters. Now, 50 years later, people offered free food, free water.Why? Because a huge number of these people are originals. They were here 50 years ago only this time, many came with their kids and their grandkids.
The museum was unbelievable; photos of the performers, original soundtracks, posters, newspaper articles, band, promoter and townspeople interviews, and the original magic bus; tie-dyed bumper to bumper.What was the highlight?Could it be standing on the hill looking down to where the half million assembled?Maybe it was seeing the original Woodstock couple, Nick and Bobbi Ercoline. The photo of them hugging each other in the rain with a muddy blanket draped around them was used on the Woodstock album cover. Fifty years to the day, they were there — same blanket, same hat, still married, still happy.Maybe it was seeing the Woodstock monument and talking to some of the guys and girls that gathered there.Maybe it was the conversation I had with the New York City coffee shop owner and his son who were there to bury a lock of dad’s hair at the spot where he had been a Grateful Dead roadie, honouring a promise to take him back.Maybe it was the dozens of other people of all ages from around the world erecting tiny shrines to their friends and family in the form of buttons, notes, pieces of clothing or peace signs.Maybe it was the feeling of standing on that hallowed ground where the greats played; Janis Joplin, The Grateful Dead, Jimi Hendrix, The Who, Arlo Guthrie, Sly and the Family Stone, Joan Baez, Joe Cocker and Jefferson Airplane.Maybe the highlight was when the rains came, almost to the minute 50 years later. We all assembled in a huge hall for an hour singing, talking and chanting "no rain" — same as they did 50 years ago. When the rain stopped, and we stepped into the sunshine, a double rainbow arced over the land. Not to be outdone, when John Fogerty started playing Bad Moon Rising, a full moon ascended over the stage.Energy cannot be created nor destroyed. It just changes form.The energy is still there 50 years later; at least it is to us.Was it a hard transition going from a life on the road to banking? You bet it was. It still is.But at the end of the day it comes down to six easy steps.Be kind, work hard, play harder, rock on, peace out, and pay your bills.

as seen in Kawartha Lakes This Week