Tar Heel Woodstock 1970: This Date in History

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Missed this one - day late.

A Nazi and a thief. Nut didn't fall far from the tree.
 
Ken Burns on trump July 13, 2016--Far, far too few heeded him -- but it was clear to see nevertheless:


"For 216 years, our elections, though bitterly contested, have featured the philosophies and character of candidates who were clearly qualified. That is not the case this year. One is glaringly not qualified. So before you do anything with your well-earned degree, you must do everything you can to defeat the retrograde forces that have invaded our democratic process, divided our house, to fight against, no matter your political persuasion, the dictatorial tendencies of the candidate with zero experience in the much maligned but subtle art of governance; who is against lots of things, but doesn’t seem to be for anything, offering only bombastic and contradictory promises, and terrifying Orwellian statements; a person who easily lies, creating an environment where the truth doesn’t seem to matter; who has never demonstrated any interest in anyone or anything but himself and his own enrichment; who insults veterans, threatens a free press, mocks the handicapped, denigrates women, immigrants and all Muslims; a man who took more than a day to remember to disavow a supporter who advocates white supremacy and the Ku Klux Klan; an infantile, bullying man who, depending on his mood, is willing to discard old and established alliances, treaties and long-standing relationships. I feel genuine sorrow for the understandably scared and – they feel – powerless people who have flocked to his campaign in the mistaken belief that – as often happens on TV – a wand can be waved and every complicated problem can be solved with the simplest of solutions. They can’t. It is a political Ponzi scheme. And asking this man to assume the highest office in the land would be like asking a newly minted car driver to fly a 747.

As a student of history, I recognize this type. He emerges everywhere and in all eras. We see nurtured in his campaign an incipient proto-fascism, a nativist anti-immigrant Know Nothing-ism, a disrespect for the judiciary, the prospect of women losing authority over their own bodies, African Americans again asked to go to the back of the line, voter suppression gleefully promoted, jingoistic saber rattling, a total lack of historical awareness, a political paranoia that, predictably, points fingers, always making the other wrong. These are all virulent strains that have at times infected us in the past. But they now loom in front of us again – all happening at once. We know from our history books that these are the diseases of ancient and now fallen empires. The sense of commonwealth, of shared sacrifice, of trust, so much a part of American life, is eroding fast, spurred along and amplified by an amoral Internet that permits a lie to circle the globe three times before the truth can get started.

We no longer have the luxury of neutrality or “balance,” or even of bemused disdain. Many of our media institutions have largely failed to expose this charlatan, torn between a nagging responsibility to good journalism and the big ratings a media circus always delivers. In fact, they have given him the abundant airtime he so desperately craves, so much so that it has actually worn down our natural human revulsion to this kind of behavior. Hey, he’s rich; he must be doing something right. He is not. Edward R. Murrow would have exposed this naked emperor months ago. He is an insult to our history. Do not be deceived by his momentary “good behavior.” It is only a spoiled, misbehaving child hoping somehow to still have dessert.

And do not think that the tragedy in Orlando (The Pulse Nightclub Shooting) underscores his points. It does not. We must “disenthrall ourselves,” as Abraham Lincoln said, from the culture of violence and guns. And then “we shall save our country.”

This is not a liberal or conservative issue, a red state, blue state divide. This is an American issue. Many honorable people, including the last two Republican presidents, members of the party of Abraham Lincoln, have declined to support him. And I implore those “Vichy Republicans” who have endorsed him to please, please reconsider. We must remain committed to the kindness and community that are the hallmarks of civilization and reject the troubling, unfiltered Tourette’s of his tribalism."

 
Ken Burns on trump July 13, 2016--Far, far too few heeded him -- but it was clear to see nevertheless:


"For 216 years, our elections, though bitterly contested, have featured the philosophies and character of candidates who were clearly qualified. That is not the case this year. One is glaringly not qualified. So before you do anything with your well-earned degree, you must do everything you can to defeat the retrograde forces that have invaded our democratic process, divided our house, to fight against, no matter your political persuasion, the dictatorial tendencies of the candidate with zero experience in the much maligned but subtle art of governance; who is against lots of things, but doesn’t seem to be for anything, offering only bombastic and contradictory promises, and terrifying Orwellian statements; a person who easily lies, creating an environment where the truth doesn’t seem to matter; who has never demonstrated any interest in anyone or anything but himself and his own enrichment; who insults veterans, threatens a free press, mocks the handicapped, denigrates women, immigrants and all Muslims; a man who took more than a day to remember to disavow a supporter who advocates white supremacy and the Ku Klux Klan; an infantile, bullying man who, depending on his mood, is willing to discard old and established alliances, treaties and long-standing relationships. I feel genuine sorrow for the understandably scared and – they feel – powerless people who have flocked to his campaign in the mistaken belief that – as often happens on TV – a wand can be waved and every complicated problem can be solved with the simplest of solutions. They can’t. It is a political Ponzi scheme. And asking this man to assume the highest office in the land would be like asking a newly minted car driver to fly a 747.

As a student of history, I recognize this type. He emerges everywhere and in all eras. We see nurtured in his campaign an incipient proto-fascism, a nativist anti-immigrant Know Nothing-ism, a disrespect for the judiciary, the prospect of women losing authority over their own bodies, African Americans again asked to go to the back of the line, voter suppression gleefully promoted, jingoistic saber rattling, a total lack of historical awareness, a political paranoia that, predictably, points fingers, always making the other wrong. These are all virulent strains that have at times infected us in the past. But they now loom in front of us again – all happening at once. We know from our history books that these are the diseases of ancient and now fallen empires. The sense of commonwealth, of shared sacrifice, of trust, so much a part of American life, is eroding fast, spurred along and amplified by an amoral Internet that permits a lie to circle the globe three times before the truth can get started.

We no longer have the luxury of neutrality or “balance,” or even of bemused disdain. Many of our media institutions have largely failed to expose this charlatan, torn between a nagging responsibility to good journalism and the big ratings a media circus always delivers. In fact, they have given him the abundant airtime he so desperately craves, so much so that it has actually worn down our natural human revulsion to this kind of behavior. Hey, he’s rich; he must be doing something right. He is not. Edward R. Murrow would have exposed this naked emperor months ago. He is an insult to our history. Do not be deceived by his momentary “good behavior.” It is only a spoiled, misbehaving child hoping somehow to still have dessert.

And do not think that the tragedy in Orlando (The Pulse Nightclub Shooting) underscores his points. It does not. We must “disenthrall ourselves,” as Abraham Lincoln said, from the culture of violence and guns. And then “we shall save our country.”

This is not a liberal or conservative issue, a red state, blue state divide. This is an American issue. Many honorable people, including the last two Republican presidents, members of the party of Abraham Lincoln, have declined to support him. And I implore those “Vichy Republicans” who have endorsed him to please, please reconsider. We must remain committed to the kindness and community that are the hallmarks of civilization and reject the troubling, unfiltered Tourette’s of his tribalism."

Such an amazing speech. Every line has proven to be 100% accurate.
 
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Throughout high school, on the morning ride from #Bonlee to #ChathamCentral in #BearCreek I listened religiously to WQDR-FM. And every morning, just as religiously, they played an Allman Brothers Band (ABB) song along the way. The one I remember most is “Jessica” but there were others like “Melissa” and “Ramblin’ Man.” These songs were my teen-age sound track along with a lot of Stevie Wonder, Deep Purple, Bowie, CCR, The Doobie Brothers, Elton John, and Neil Young (strange mix, eh?). The Days of Album Rock.

I’ve gone back to The ABB a number of times since then—they represent narrow, shoulder-less, back roads (all there was in #DeepChatham really) and a South that was a Jimmy Carter Hopeful Place. In those times the national media let us know we were different, literature had long done so, we were barbarians from the look-in from outside and maybe we were in some sad ways. Looking out from inside it seemed that things were hardly going any worse down home than in the rest of the nation anyway.

Nixon, Vietnam, and the slow, painful, oft-resisted pace of desegregation and full civil rights for all permeated everything. During those WQDR-FM Tuner times (1972-76 were my high school years) the war basically wound down and ended, Nixon was exposed and shamed from office, and to my youthful eyes, naive to be sure, things did appear to be looking up. The Allman Brothers Band was part of that sense of things, especially when they helped bring The South positively to the public — and they coupled that with their staunch backing of the man with that toothy smile and country accent—Jimmy Carter, the “peanut farmer” from Plains, Georgia, the honest soul that promised to bring us from the darkness, corruption, and dishonesty of Nixon, Agnew, Haldeman, Ehrlichman, and Mitchell - never mind that Carter was actually a Governor and former Naval submarine officer with training in nuclear engineering. Eventually he proved that our trust in him was perhaps the truest thing that the 20th century gave to the 21st.

The most important thing to me was that The Allman Brothers thought he was great. That he was a devout Southern Baptist was a huge plus with my parents and many in their generation across the region too. We all now know that racist demagoguery subsequently turned The South back away from the positive path that I, and many others, wished upon it and returned it once again into a disappointing land of good-hearted people led maddeningly astray — the struggle carries on and had so many truly loving, thoughtful people not kept fighting that good fight we’d be far worse off than we are.

I try to remind my students that sometimes what at first looks like failure just might be, beneath it all, a monumental effort made to keep things from complete devastation and hopeless regression. Sometimes - most times even - at first glance, holding back evil can look like nothing happened — — until you look beneath the surface, see the scars, and gather the stories. And realize that a Great Holding Action has transpired.

I suspect that some of the folks at Love Valley in Iredell County on this day (July 17) in 1970 who got their first earful of The ABB, themselves ended up in a dialectical standoff, hypothesis versus antithesis, producing multiple personal and heartfelt syntheses — turtles all the way down if you will. The polarization in which we find ourselves today with a back-and-forth over the Right For All Citizens To Vote, over an honest recognition of our Past, and whether some are ‘More American’ than others has intensified and a lot of the Promise that I thought that I saw in my post-Nixon world has nigh evaporated.

No doubt the scales have been lifted. But had no one risen up, worked to check the throwback, regressive impulses, and earned myriad wounds in the process, there’d be nothing but darkness. Many good seeds have been sown. Without that work — All - everything - would today be rotten. “Even so. every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit. — Therefore by their fruits you will know them.” (Matthew 7:17 & 20)

That smiling, Baptist, nuclear engineer did his part and a whole lot more to make things better everywhere. The intense enmity he draws is a measure of the inspiration he has spread. You watch who is hateful toward him. Take note. If that ‘Man from Plains’ can fight for close to a century the rest of us should do no less. Here’s the On This Day.

#OTD (July 17) in 1970 in Love Valley, Iredell County, North Carolina, the ‘South’s Woodstock’ kicked off. Set in a mock Old West Theme park, The Allman Brothers Band from Georgia headlined and local bands joined. The weekend passed peacefully w/no major incident. Some estimates put the crowd at 200,000. Film at the link. Festival Rocked Iredell County Community, 1970
 
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Recollection of a friend:


Love Valley

I was involved in “the Music” at one time when I signed on to work with a light show. A buddy had pieced together the projectors and gear to run a show in a short-lived nightclub in Carrboro but it had closed and somehow I ended up with the stuff. The Caolina Union had purchased a “rear-projection” screen to allow us to do our stuff behind the bands. We had 16-mm projectors, overhead projectors, and various items like “watch glasses” to energize concerts: big and small. Our first big date was Jubilee on the UNC campus in Chapel Hill. The back projection worked pretty well with the “floating blobs” and film clips and pulsing lights behind the Joe Cocker band. They almost wrecked our equipment during the set-up, playing around and bumping into us as we set up, but things went OK. When BB King was setting up for his set we asked him what kind of images he’d like to see behind him during the show. He was gentlemanly in his reply: “You all know what is best.” We cut the Vietnam War clips and went with shifting and blending colors.

Word came to us that there was a gig out in western NC that could use a light show and lighting in general. I convinced the Carolina Union to “lend” me the back screen for the show and somehow I got into the position where I would sub-contract the stage lighting. The Union got me in touch with a company that rented spotlights and I acted as the middle-man for what was called the “Love Valley Rock Festival” to rent gear to light the stage and do a light show. “It’s gonna be big” said the guy managing the set-up. The pay was “expenses”—and I learned the hard way that meant “nothing.”

The stage lighting was to be two “Super-Trouper” arc lights on scaffolding, maybe 25 feet higher than the stage so they could angle their beams down onto the musicians. The whole thing was kind of jury-rigged, but the scaffolding guys knew what they were doing and the lights were hauled up and attached firmly to the floors of the towers. All I had to do was recruit someone to run the lights while I handled the back-lit light show. Two un-stoned locals were willing to help and I trained them up on how to “fire-up” and more importantly, shut off the lights. The carbon rods were new, so no need to get into the details of “fire-and-re-light.”

The screen had been set up by the roustabouts who were hanging out everywhere. There was seemingly no one in charge and random people were handling expensive equipment. But hey, it’s 1970 and it’s ROCK AND ROLL. Our lighting gear had been put in a cabin not too far from the stage the night before but there was no way to lock it away and I spent most of my time checking back to see if it was safe. Luckily, the only thing stolen was a violin and its case. I’d fancied I’d learn to fiddle and a friend had gifted me a violin thinking she’d get paid back with music.

(The scaffolding is shown in shot by Ed Buzzell, a UPI stringer who took a huge number of pics of the festival. His web site has disappeared but selected shots are still viewable.

The back-screen had been installed and it looked small because of the size of the stage and the venue. The Allman Brothers required a huge amount of stage space to handle their two-drum-set and the multiple other hangers-on-stage. They were, in general, tolerant of the people trying to rig up the screen and didn’t say anything about the lighting, they just assumed it would go well.

Late afternoon saw roadies setting up drum kits and guitar stands and eventually, at 6-ish and still plenty of daylight, musicians more-or-less wandered out and picked up guitars and started tuning and playing. One of the drummers sat at his kit and soon enough was tapping out rhythms for the guitarists. That’s how the show started, little by little. I have no recollection of the names of the tunes, they just came out and just played, mostly a riff on Mountain Jam. Their official set-list was only 8 songs but they extended and merged them over and over again for four hours.

As the sun started to set I was prepping the guys who would run the big lights. The “Super Troupers” were carbon arc lights and were really big, they weighed over 200 pounds and stood six feet tall and were, essentially a controlled, very focused fire.

As the music as getting more attention and the daylight was fading, we sent up the volunteer “roadies” to ignite the spotlights. The Allman Brothers, or part of the band, were in a bit of a lull and as the lighting guys worked their way up the ladders in the scaffolding, some bright-light on the stage decided he would help thwart some sabotage. “Hey, don’t go up there man!” he shouted over the PA system to my guys. “Hey, stop them, man!” He then set about instigating the audience to curtail this trespass by telling them to chant: “GET DOWN-GET-DOWN”. The crowd half-heartedly took up the chant.

This encouragement was captured by some of the still upright-though-stoned semi-macho guys who then tried to mount the scaffolding and shake the metal frame and, in general, risk the lives or limbs of the now-frightened guys up at the top of the platforms, vaguely aware of what a falling spotlight might do to a random numbskull unlucky enough to be under one.

I scrambled up one of the towers and got to the top and was greeted by some jeering from the crowd and this emcee-of-sorts shouting at me: “Hey man, get down. What are you doin’ with those lights?” He then re-appealed to the crowd to follow him in a chant:

“Get Down! Get Down!”

“Hey, who are you?” he shouted at me using the mike.

“I own them!” was my shouted response when the weak chanting died away in a few moments, a reply that put the guy on stage into a sort of confused-while-stoned mind set. “Hey” he turned to someone on the stage who seemed to care about the success of the concert, “does he?”

A brief confab ensued and it was determined that I, indeed did control the lights.

By then a few slumping and sloping guys from the audience were either trying to follow me up the tower or were stationing themselves as guardians of the fortresses-of-light. The situation was getting out of hand and it was pretty clear we couldn’t run the lights with the threat of tower invasion looming.

So I doused the light on the tower I was on and told the guy on the other tower—via our walkie-talkies—to cut his. The concert was to proceed with only the “house lights”, some small, household-size spotlights that illuminated the stage for the benefit of the band.

We spent the night on the towers to keep people from climbing them and we were helped by a few guys from the concert management (an oxymoron if not outright untruth) to make sure the towers weren’t toppled or mounted by would be Stoned-Metal-Alpinists.

The back screen was never illuminated for the show, we were basically in protection mode but the ABB played on and the show was counted a success in that no one died, the crowd never lost its self-control, and the band got back to their motel and trailers in good order in the wee hours. I meanwhile was faced with getting the spotlights taken away—and the helpful theatrical supply guys did all that. The light show only lost one projector and the back screen made it back to Chapel Hill two weeks later via a Trailways bus.”
 
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