It was
unbeknownst to Sam and Bella Yasgur of Maplewood NY, that their son
would grow to be a counterculture icon. His name was Max, and he
would fight
for the rights of people with whom he shared little in common,
including matters of opinion. That he would champion for the
hippies’ right to assemble, speak and
perform
on any topic important to them. Max Yasgur stepped into the history
books when he said there would be a festival on his land. It was a
landmark event, and it was called “Woodstock”.
Raised on a farm, Max attended New York
University where he studied real estate law. He returned to his
family’s farm in the 1940’s which was sold a few years later, and he
moved to Bethel looking to expand. He married Miriam “Mimi” Miller
of Monticello, they had two children, and by the late 1960’s, the
Yasgur Dairy Farm had grown to be the largest milk producer in
Sullivan County, complete with its own refrigeration complex,
pasteurization plant and delivery routes. Max Yasgur was known
across the county as being a strong-willed, hard working, man of his
word, toting a pipe and having a powerful hand-shake.
In the summer of 1969 everything would
change. Fifty miles down the road in Walkill NY, the planned
Woodstock Festival had been driven out and alternative land was
desperately being sought. A gentleman by the name of Elliot Tiber, a
good friend of Max, was the person responsible for first bringing
Max and
Woodstock Ventures together. Yasgur had a large farm and an
initial offer was made to rent his field for $50 dollars a day for a
festival that might bring in 5,000 people Yasgur was aware of what
had taken place in Walkill and felt it was a great injustice.
Interested in this proposal, but making no promises, the farmer met
the hippie in the alfalfa field - a field which Max had cleared
himself. Festival promoter Michael Lang was immediately sold on the
site shown to him by Max. Lang thought the land was perfect - a
large flat plateau for concessions, progressing towards a gently
sloping alfalfa field that created a natural bowl or amphitheater.
There was a rise at the bottom, perfect for a stage, and a lake in
the background. To Michael the land was magic and meetings were set
to further discuss the matter.
When it came to business, Max welcomed
rental fees for the event. The summer had been miserable and rainy,
and Max saw this festival as a way of supporting his wife and
children – not to mention a large farm and his workers. Max was a
businessman himself, and he grew wise to Woodstock Ventures. Within
a few days it hadbecome obvious to Yasgur that this would be more
than a small event as an estimated 40,000 were now expected.
Initially offered $50, Yasgur and Lang would again walk the land,
and with pencil and paper in hand, Max figured in everything,
including what his losses would be - the crop he would lose already
in the field plus the cost to reseed the land for the following
year. With a little persuasion from his son, the dairy farmer rented
600 acres of his farm plus surrounding parcels to the Woodstock
entrepreneurs for a total of $75,000, and the deal was sealed right
on that field.
Conservative was the appropriate look in
Bethel - short hair and covered chests. So as word of Max’s proposal
quickly traveled through town, and it brought about an outrage from
townspeople and Sullivan County elders - someone from within was
negotiating with longhairs. Personal threats were launched, and a
sign popped up reading: “ Don't Buy Yasgur's Milk. He Loves The
Hippies.” “The sign did it,” said Miriam Yasgur, “When Max saw that,
I knew darned well he was going to let them have their festival. You
didn't do that to Max.”
The use of drugs on his land bothered Max
a great deal; LSD in particular. "Any kid I can get off drugs means
more to me," he commented, "than endorsing some nutty product."
Before he died, hundreds of festival-goers wrote to say that as a
result of Woodstock and the personal ideals Max publicized later on,
they quit drugs. As Yasgur put it: "To me this means everything."
Max attended a town meeting prior to the
festival to defend himself, after hearing a number of complaints
about the upcoming concert. Yasgur asked each official
there if
there were any legal stipulations, within their respective
departments, that hadn't been met to accommodate the expected 40,000
people per day. When no reservations were raised, he addressed the
entire meeting saying: "So the only objection to having a festival
here is to keep longhairs out of town? Well, you can all go pound
salt up your ass, because come August 15, we're going to have a
festival!"
At 5:07pm EDT on August 15, 1969 the
Woodstock Music and Arts Festival began. The 40,000 expected people
had grown to half a million. The crowd was treated to some of the
top names in music of the day. They also faced torrential downpours,
mud, hunger and insufficient basic amenities such as toilets and
shelter, in what was deemed by the state governor as a disaster
area. Out of circumstance, the crowd, mainly comprised of middle
class youth, endured the conditions through the counterculture’s
practices of caring, and sharing of all available resources, with
those around them. It was a watershed event that defined a
generation, and one of the greatest events of the 20th Century.
At the end of the 3 day celebration Yasgur
took the stage and made his moving "I Am a Farmer" speech to the
thousands of spectators, becoming a highly revered figure among the
hippies. Max fought for them all, and they knew it. He became the
father image for Woodstock and its patron saint.
In the months that followed the event, Max
Yasgur’s name was dirt throughout Sullivan County, and he paid a
high price for the profit he made. In addition to facing the scorn
of neighbors, he battled first-hand the crisis created by the vast
number of concert-goers, who crowded his 600 acres. On January 7,
1970, Max was sued for $35,000 in property damages by neighboring
farmers.

Max had wanted that land to be developed
into a park area. He offered 5 acres of land overlooking the stage
area to the Town of Bethel for $1, but the community wanted nothing
to do with it and indicated that it would not be welcome. For years
following the concert, the people of Bethel opposed any publicity
connecting them with the Woodstock Music and Arts Festival in any
way and went so far as to exempt themselves from any New York tour
guides. Mrs. Yasgur admitted: "The community did not want to
encourage young people to come into the area."
| Yasgur made an appearance
onstage at the festival and uttered the words "I am a
farmer" to which he received thunderous applause. |
In 1971, looking back at all that
happened, Yasgur remarked: "The worst thing about Woodstock was that
there were just too many. I wouldn't have done it if I knew there
were going to be half a million instead of 40,000... Bethel is a
rural town and can't service a crowd that big... I had no right to
have any kind of affairthat would block vital services from reaching
my neighbors."
Max sold his business and retired to a
winter home in Marathon, Florida, where he worked as a realtor.
There were a number of offers to market his name on merchandise, but
he turned them all down, believing that it would be wrong to try to
capitalize on something that was, in his words, "an accident". The
only things that he said he disliked about Woodstock were the use of
drugs, especially LSD and the immense size of the crowd, as it was
far beyond his expectations.
Max Yasgur toured Israel about two years
after the concert and had the opportunity to meet Israel's first
prime minister, David Ben-Gurion. Ben-Gurion went down the receiving
line, speaking to each guest. Max said to Ben-Gurion, “I'm Max
Yasgur of Bethel,” and Ben-Gurion shakes his hand and says, “Oh
yeah, that's where Woodstock was, wasn't it?” said Liberty's Lou
Newman, a friend of Yasgur's.
On Feb. 9, 1973, the dairy farmer suffered
a heart attack, and was taken from us at the early age of 53. There
were many who attended his funeral, and there were those who chose
to pay their respects by visiting the site of the historical event
that he made possible. He was laid to rest at the Ahavath Israel
Cemetery, Liberty, NY., and will be forever remembered.
Max was, and still is, highly respected as
a man of his word, for his idealism and for his modesty, for his
peace and for his tolerance, and is best characterized by a comment
he once made to his wife: "When I decide that I have to drive by
someone in need of help and not stop, that's not the kind of world I
want to live in." |