Teddy’s problem was political and Boomers no longer cared about the follies of past generations. They traveled to Chicago in 1968 and defeated the Johnson/Humphrey war machine, only to wind up with Nixon. The counterculture refused to be burned again. They left the existing political system to the fools who ran it, and went in search of a new world. They headed to Woodstock in 1969, and for three days 450,000 Boomers (and millions more who joined them in spirit) created their own nation… indivisible, with liberty, justice, drugs and Rock & Roll for all. Boomers needed to prove something to the world, and somehow it all worked out, despite the rain, mud, paralyzed roads, bad acid, inadequate medical aid, toilets and food supplies. The organizers expected only 75,000 kids, instead of nearly half a million stoners and freaks, running wild at a 72-hour party. Older America expected the worst, but only two deaths occurred at the scene… one drug overdose and one kid accidentally run over by a tractor. Several births more than offset the fatalities. Woodstock achieved the best violent crime record of any American city its size during any three-day period in the Sixties. The peaceful coexistence of nearly half a million stoned-out, sex-crazed longhairs amazed the world. The White House heard a thunderous echo as the huge crowd joined in as Country Joe McDonald prompted, “Give me an F… Give me a U… Give me a C… Give me a K… WHAT’S THAT SPELL?” Hundreds of thousands of refugees from Teen Utopia in Suburbia, shouting in unison the dreaded “F” word, immediately followed by “And, it’s one, two, three, what are we fighting for? Don’t ask me, I don’t give a damn/ Next stop is Vietnam…” Dickie, were you listening?
Woodstock served as a summary and a climax of an era. If you are one of the 18 Baby Boomers who didn’t attend, and/or haven’t yet seen the movie, and/or haven’t heard the album… do so immediately. The rest of us will wait… Good. Now, that we’ve eliminated the dead weight from our group, let’s skip ahead to the final act of this miraculous celebration. Fate chose Jimi Hendrix to deliver the key sermon on the final night of the holy ceremony, but the show lagged far behind schedule, and dawn loomed on the horizon as he appeared. Sleepy heads and exhausted bodies snapped to attention as they listened to a familiar tune. The crowd heard menacing choppers circling overhead and semi-automatic and machine gun fire on the ground… bodies ripped apart from the blasts and women and children screamed in horror. The bombs burst in air among other violent explosions in Hendrix’s new interpretation of the Star Spangled Banner. No Rocker ever made a guitar speak the way that Jimi did in the dawn’s early light at Woodstock. Teens heard a perfect reflection of how they felt at the time: they loved America, but to call it the “land of the free” was just a lie as long as we remained in Vietnam. The Woodstock Nation already boasted an official flag, and now Jimi offered an updated, more realistic Anthem.
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All of America rooted for underdogs and miracles in 1969. Joe Namath boldly predicted that his upstart Jets from the fledgling AFL league would clobber the mighty Colts from the traditional NFL league. Broadway Joe arrogantly claimed that Old Man Unitus would be lucky to make it as third-string quarterback on his team. The experts laughed at Namath’s bravado and picked the Colts as 18-point favorites before opening kickoff. Unfortunately for football fundamentalists, Joe made good on his boasts, and experts reluctantly granted the AFL league equal billing. Soon after, the tribes of David (the AFL) and Goliath (NFL) merged.
Another New York City team in baseball performed an even more amazing feat. The lowly Mets, in their first year of existence (1962) broke the all-time record for futility with 120 losses in a single season. For the next five years they remained in the cellar, and in 1968 New Yorkers rejoiced to see their other team (the Yanks always won) climb to ninth… one game above last place. Even the most devout fan didn’t expect much at the start of the 1969 season, but the Amazin’ Mets went on to defy 100-to-1 odds and won it all. Suddenly, the Bronx Bombers became New York’s other team. Mickey Mantle, the last and greatest symbol of a crumbling dynasty, finally called it quits in 1969, and America’s first corporate team floundered. Remember that old adage from the Fifties: “As go the Yankees, so goes America”?
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Miracles even popped up in the vast television wasteland. “Sesame Street” debuted on NET in November, providing kids with the first real educational programming in history. Of course, the youngest Boomer had already turned five-years-old at the time, so a great majority of our generation never received help from Big Bird. Teens considered the on-air wedding of Tiny Tim to Miss Vickie on the Johnny Carson Show as the real tube highlight of 1969. The highest-rated episode in the show’s history confirmed our belief in miracles; if a freak like Tiny Tim could find a mate, then anything could happen.