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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 19 SATURDAY, JULY 11, 1970 continued As for the Circus, a schism was developing. One faction, headed by Davy was not just unhappy with the whole affair but becoming openly disgusted. Others, such as Nelson and myself, could have been happier, but saw little point in just packing up and heading home. Things couldn't remain this bad forever. Who knew if the Dead weren't in the very next helicopter that might hover overhead? If nothing else some local rock groups were setting up. After some discussion a compromise was reached. First we'd get the hell out of the damn sun. In doing so we'd also get away from the MC. Then we'd talk about things. We finally gathered our things and, with arms full, headed elsewhere. In the process we discovered just why no one was at Szot Park when we went to cop. At a green canvas tent crudely painted with a large white peace sign (presumably to give the National Guard gunships a better target) we stumbled across the Park contingent. We didn't bump into Jim G., our friendly go-between from the day before, there did we? About 4 o'clock we found a shady spot in a corner of the Hotel grounds close to the pool but otherwise some distance away from the main fray. Our new home was no ditch but the best we could do in a pinch. At this point even the thought of local bands playing didn't interest us. We again began to contemplate our future. The schism reemerged. Davy still wanted to head back. "You know, if we leave now we still have time to catch the Allman Brothers." So that was it. Davy was a big Allman Brothers fan and they were playing at the Capitol Theater that night. I had to respond. "Shit man, the drive back will take maybe 5 hours. We couldn't even get to Springfield 'till maybe 9. We'd miss them anyway." Davy countered. "They'll probably play the second set anyway and won't get on 'till 10. We've got plenty of time." I favored staying, hoping for the best. But then I still preferred nothing going on in Podink to the promise of something I didn't particularly care about back home. It's not like the Allman Brothers was a group I liked such as Fat, Bold, or Savoy Brown. Then, I was not Davy. He was much more serious about his music and there certainly was none here. He better appreciated good musicianship than some of us groveling philistines. Davy was the type up for long discussions about Clapton's and Hendrix's different styles. Hell, I didn't even really get into Hendrix until that fall when Band of Gypsies came our. I was much more into music's emotional aspects, especially songs dealing with radical individuality and rebellion. The Airplane's "Volunteers" comes to mind. Greg jumped in. "I don't know 'bout you but if we left I'm hardly going to be up for a concert, not after that drive. It's only Billy and me driving, remember?" And on it went, with the proponents of staying seemingly fighting a losing battle. When the nays won Nelson and Tom borrowed Greg's keys and began their hike down to the Bus to get their gear... that is if the Bus was even still there. An old VW bus with out of state plates might be fair game for the tow trucks as the Evil Empire struck back. If we saw Nelson and Tom returning without their gear, we'd know the Bus's fate. Then what would we do? Even if it took $30-40 to bail the Bus out, I don't think we collectively had enough money... well maybe Nelson and Tom did, but they needed it for their cross-country adventure. It must have been about 5:30 when Nelson and Tom returned from town with their backpacking gear and the keys for the Bus. They arrived to find us as burnt out as when they left. Why weren't they as wasted as we? Questions such as those are for bigger brains than our own. After our stern, parental-like, admonitions for them both to be careful, don't do anything stupid, as well as our final good lucks and goodbyes, Bill, Davy, Greg and I began the pointlessly painful, trek down Lincoln Road back to the Bus. Being not just wasted, sun-baked, and starving, but probably also suffering from low blood sugar, it was a hike for which we had about as much energy as we had enthusiasm for. In retrospect why had the great debate been along such narrow lines? Why hadn't we debated the virtues of just taking a simple nap, eating a decent meal, or refraining from more sedating smoke? As for Nelson... would we ever see him again? Or would he and Tom be victims of fascist thugs, encouraged by Nixon's transparent blessing of the Wall Street hard-hat head-busting riot? As if on cue we were passed by a cruiser slowly working its way through the stream of Freaks working their own way up the still busy Lincoln Road. The cruiser was coming from, well either the Party or its neighborhood. It was the only visible sign that the cops were conducting combat operations in the vicinity of the Party. In the cruiser's back seat sat a bloody naked person. But, without the requisite clothes it was difficult to determine if he even was a Freak. Was it the guy who had spent the day romping around the Hotel grounds? And what the hell had happened to him? Had he been a victim of police brutality? Had he had an accident? Had he had a bad acid trip, genitically regressed and in his altered state became covered in blood while trying to eat baby gazelles at the local zoo? Was there even a local zoo besides the Summit Hotel? Who knew! At the bottom of the hill was what to us seemed a magic line. It was a line the cops, with the exception of that lone cruiser which already made good its escape, seemed loath to cross. As we ourselves stepped over the demarcation line and left the safety of Liberated Territory, it was as if we were entering another, certainly alien, possibly hostile, country. The police, symbolically, were the border guards. Though we entered Straight World without a search of our luggage or the need of a passport, we knew it was a land we did not control... None the less, the cops were pretty nonchalant about their numerical and strategic disadvantage. Hopefully it was because they had resigned themselves to the fact we'd take the town in a fair fight and the best they could now do was thread water and weather the storm. We'd all be gone soon anyway and they could then get back to their donut shops... speaking of which, was there one in town?
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