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ONE CAN NOT LIVE ON PEANUT BUTTER AND WINE ALONE: ADVENTURES AT A CANCELED ROCK FESTIVAL copyright 1996-2006 Robb Strycharz part 14 SATURDAY, JULY 11, 1970 continued As we continued up the road one car coming the other way stood out. It was not merely brimming with Freaks... it was also covered with Freaks! Some were hanging out the windows, some sat on the hood, others on the trunk. What bananas! You'd never see any of us do anything that unsafe in plain view of State cops... at least not for another year. As the car chugged down the hill, certain to be stopped at the roadblock, I flashed back to a famous Life magazine photo shot during the ill-fated Hungarian Revolt of 1956. It showed a truck driving down a war-ravaged Budapest street teeming with armed Freedom Fighters. In its own way that car seemed to us to represent the essence of the takeover of the town. Dave dubbed them the MOA, the Mountaindale Occupation Army... most of which was encamped in the valley below. We were proud to be charter members.
It was an indication of our poor physical condition that despite not yet having smoked that morning, we barely were able to hike the mile up the road. The total elevation of that hill was but a mere 300'. If we'd been thinking straight we'd've brought water. But we only planned for a little walk, not an expedition. Exhausted we arrived at the top of the hill. There was a huge complex called the New Prospect Hotel, once a famous Borscht Belt destination. At the hotel ground there were numerous buildings and sheds of all sizes scattered about old shaded groves. The place was obviously not built in our day, but probably back in the ‘40s if not before. I don’t think we even found the main hotel. The Hotel area was obviously a hotbed of considerable activity. Countless wild and bleary eyed Freaks scurried or shuffled about. Others were just sprawled out on blankets soaking in the early morning air. Elsewhere, food vendors aimlessly drove their trucks around seeking customers for OJ, milk, and presumably more. "Hey Food", shouted one potential buyer as he chased a truck down. It may have been the code word to attract the vendor's attention. Given my dehydrated state I rechecked my wallet. I could probably afford one overpriced treat... an orange juice. But, it was not to be... despite my efforts to get the attention of one of the passing trucks, no one stopped. On some level we were taken aback to discover a few thousand more Freaks in an area we thought was empty, sealed off by the State police. It's not that we minded. It meant that the MOA had invaded in far greater numbers than first thought. Discovering this lost contingent of the MOA was like an archaeologist stumbling upon one of the lost tribes of Israel and realizing they lived next door to him all along. Yet, we had to wonder, did the cops know that all these Freaks were even here? Looking back, the New Prospect probably was to be the actual site of the Fest. I don't think it even occurred to us to ask anyone for any useful information. Come to think of it, nor did we bother to get any useless rumors. LET THE PEOPLE PARTY! When Davy and I got back to the Bus about 9:00 am we learned that some Freaks had been passing out leaflets. There was to be a "People's Party" starting that afternoon in the South Fallsburg, the next town over. The Party was to be at some place called the Summit Hotel. Now I finally knew what all those bright pink pieces of paper were littering the road. Since the leaflets did not say just how to get to this Summit Hotel, the Freaks handing them out gladly provided directions. Ever the archivist I wanted a few pamphlets for posterity. I took off looking for the pamphleteers.
The promise of a People's Party was an invitation we couldn't refuse, especially since we certainly could not stay camping out on someone's front lawn. We'd go, despite reservations that references to "macrobiotic" cooking sounded cult-like and sinister. At best, it didn't sound particularly appealing and certainly couldn't be that healthy. Anyway, we hadn't come this far for naught. Even if nothing was going on at the Summit Hotel, being there with the like-minded members of the MOA was preferable to going back to Chicopee where all we had to look forward to were parental problems and certain retreat into paranoia. We soon realized that if we were going to the so-called People's Party we had to get packing. The sooner we split, the better. In doing so we'd not just beat the expected exodus, which was already beginning, but hopefully could stake out a prime location at this Summit Hotel. As we rushed to pack our collective eye fell upon the most gorgeous blond to ever grace the planet... we were entranced. She glided though the crowd wearing hip-hugging bells and a bikini top turning heads as she went. Her long, golden hair blew in the morning breeze... her supple and firm... Yikes... enough of this fantasy. She was one distraction we didn't need. Not that it mattered. Alas, it was already too late for a quick escape. There were already mass stirrings in the crowd. The MOA was an army on the move. Before we left Davy got himself a souvenir. He somehow managed to break one of the decorative pointy pieces off the steel fence we camped near. I tried as well but to no avail. But I would get one... even if it took eight years. With visions of the gorgeous blond in our minds we poured back into the Bus... which, much to our relief, started right up. If it hadn't, we'd be stuck up Sandburg Creek with no hills for a pop-the-clutch start. Worse, with the roads packed there wouldn't be any room to do so. I can just hear us asking: "Hey brother can you spare a push?" Once on the road we were losing ground. The road was already so clogged with traffic that it was impossible to even turn the Bus around and head back towards town. Yet, that was the very direction we needed to go in to get to South Fallsburg. We were, instead, forced in the direction towards the State Police roadblock. If we were lucky, we might find it possible to turn around there. From then on it would be easy, merely having to inch back through all the traffic we hoped to avoid in the first place. But, at least our sprits were buoyed. Hell, there was a new town out there to overrun and conquer. Unfortunately, with our slow progress we were running the risk of picking up the rear of the invasion force. Rather than be the tip of the spear we felt we were the tail of the dog. Out on porches and yards the locals, many seemingly poor Blacks, again watched as the Army broke camp and the mass exodus began. What did they think? Do they still talk about the invasion over dinner? Do the older folks sit their grandchildren on their knee and disguise morality plays in the veneer of town history? Soon we were back to square one, creeping past our former encampment near the bent fence and big tree. Some quarter mile later the old RR trestle abutment upon which still sat a number of Freaks. Maybe the word of the Party had not yet reached the other side of the creek. According to the pamphlet the Summit Hotel was on Lincoln Road in South Fallsburg but all the directions we got were verbal. Fortunately the we collectively remembered enough of the directions to get us there on the first try, not that it was difficult to find. Once in Mountaindale center we continued down the main street. This led though the town of Woodbridge then on to RT-42. There we were to take a left to South Fallsburg. Lincoln Road was a left off the main road just before we got into the town proper. Once we got a good look at Lincoln Road we thought twice about turning in. Lincoln Road was not just woefully narrow, but already was clogged with traffic. Anyway, it was imperative we made a stop in town. We had miscalculated and already devoured all too much of what little food we brought with us. So Greg drove past Lincoln Road and began to look for a parking place. As we walked into town we looked back as the MOA, maybe now the SFOA, poured into town. Like moths to a flame the MOA predictably had followed the rumors and vague promises of the People's Party. As for us, I suspect we all wanted to just sit back, get wasted, and be entertained. But, maybe like our entire trip to date, this People's Party might be something we'd all have to make up as we went along. Always inventing code words, South Fallsburg, soon became known as South Podink. As I was wrong in confusing Gonkers for Yonkers, we made a similar error here. Podink was supposed to be Podunk... which the dictionary defines as a small, unimportant, isolated town. Even so, as backwaters went Podink was a teeming mini-metropolis compared to the dying Mountaindale. At least here the stores weren't shut down. One of the first things that caught our collective eye was that South Fallsburg, like Chicopee, had a Rivoli Theater! Cool, but now that we knew there was more than one it raised the question what the Hell was a Rivoli anyway? An Italian Bijou?
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