No U Turn. Michael Taylor

that and we drove back via the Garden State Freeway—”

      ≈ I thought it was a Parkway ≈

      “—you and I, back to the mountains and Woodstock and back to the bungalow that we had in White Lake, where we had friends sleeping on dinettes and floors and every which way—”

      ≈ You and I? It was only you. Who had a place together? And what’s with all the ‘WEs’? ≈

      “—where Kenneth Cagle and myself worked the mountains that year, and we had the bungalow in White Lake and, little beknownst to us—at the beginning of the season, which is Memorial Day—that this huge event was going to take place.

      “We knew there was a concert. We had tickets to the concert. And we knew there’d be a lot of people there: twenty—, or 30,000 people. And then the morning of Woodstock—the first day—we got there about eight-thirty in the morning. We took farm back roads to get there. We knew how to get around. We were, quote, locals—so to speak. And when we got there, there were 200,000 people already there! And they were still poundin’ and makin’ the stage, and we were bumpin’ into people that we hadn’t seen in years, from our high school days in Miami. And, obviously, we were very ill-prepared for the experience, because, you know, we had money in our pockets and figured you could buy whatever, a hot dog or this or that, but in the meantime, it didn’t work that way.

      “You had to wait in these huge lines! And buy tickets! And … Anyway, Woodstock was where I trained myself not to take a shit for at least three days,” guffawed Boogie “—‘cause you had to wait in line to go to these horrible port-a-lets. And I just refused! So, that’s how I can go three—, or 4 days without having to evacuate, sorta speak.

      “But you know, we had a great time and then we had some terrible times. During the rain, in the mud, it was crazy and terrible, and uncomfortable. But everybody was tuned into the same kind of wavelengths, and people were helping their neighbors and we had a couple that invited us into their tent and shared their wine, and their pot with us and these kinds of things. And this happened many, many times throughout the three days. So, you know, from Philadelphia to Woodstock. There you go!”

      ≈ What did you learn from that experience? ≈

      

      “ … It was just a feeling of togetherness, I’ve never experienced since. And I had never experienced before. People just felt like we could change the world. You know, here we were twenty—, 21 years old. I was turning twenty-one that month, and we were, I guess, young and naïve and just thought, ‘Here we were four—, 500,000 strong, and if we could get together and pull something like this off, imagine what we could do politically’ and that type of thing. So that’s what we learned! But I also learned never to go to that type of concert again! ‘Cause again, you know, we look back and idolize it and idealize it as being so romantic and great. And it was! But it also was uncomfortable, and a tough experience for a few days as well.”

      ≈ Describe yourself physically and psychologically at that time ≈

      

      “Well, here I was young. I was not really a hippie. But I was in the phase of becoming a hippie, I guess, and not quite as romantic, with that flower-child type of feeling as, I guess, a lot of my peers were. But, also, I was not as heavily into dope as most of them were. I didn’t trip at Woodstock. I, you know, wasn’t into acid. Subsequent to Woodstock, I did try acid a few times and, believe me, that was enough! But, smoking pot and hashish that was … that was good to go! You know, that was … that was basically what we did, and wine and obviously we, uh, we were always … I was always tall and thin and relatively good lookin’ and young and always on the make!” said Boogie with a snort.

      “And those were the years, I guess, a couple—one—, or 2 years before the downer on Quaaludes scene came to be. So people were still, you know, coherent, and thoughtful, and you could carry on conversations with people, rather than a few years later, when people were just totally out of it! So, I guess I would describe myself as young, naïve and on the make,” he chortled with conviction.

      ≈ What were you drinking at that time? ≈

      “My beverage of choice at that time was wine! You know … red wine. We hadn’t really gotten into a lot of alcohol. So, we found that in drinking wine with some of the good hashish at the time, it really kinda powered it out. And you know, you really … really got a buzz!”

      ≈ Earlier, you spoke about Kenneth Cagle . Who was that? ≈

      

      “Well, Kenneth is my best and oldest friend. And we know each other since the seventh grade in junior high school, since we were 13 years old. And we went through the junior high school days, and we were part of a click, which all the junior- and senior- and high- schoolers were at the time … There were obviously always clicks. And Kenneth was always a good practical joker. He loved to pull jokes on people. And loved to goof on people, so to speak. But a heart of gold, and, you know, a better friend, you couldn’t ask for. And to this day, we’re still very good friends.”

      ≈ Who was Harriet Weitzman? ≈

      

      “Harriet Weitzman. That was the next door … the 16-year-old next-door neighbor of my Cousin Mike. And during that summer, Harriet and I would sit out on her front porch and the front lawn—You know, for some reason I picture this big front lawn. Now I go back, and it’s like a postage stamp—We would sit out by the curb and talk about this and that, and here I was—this, you know, worldly 20-year-old, talking to this newbie 16-year-old and she was kind of hanging on every word, and I kinda wooed her over, and took her to some movies, and this and that, and we started to make out, and I’ll never forget the classic line, her mother calling out—with the two of us having been out there for five—, 6 hours—it’s two clock in the morning and Mrs. Weitzman—a holocaust survivor—calling out in her German-American accent, ‘Harriet! Harriet Veitzman. It’s two o’clock in the morning! You’ve got to come in!’ This was actually the night that Neil Armstrong landed on the moon, July of two thousand and … No … July of 1969.”

      ≈ Why did you leave Philly? ≈

      

      “Well, our summer vacation was over. I was going to school on a student …” explained Boogie, then forgetting where he was going with that thought. “ … So, I went back to Miami to continue my studies and then really got more and more into smokin’ dope and less and less into studying.”

      ≈ Maybe that’s why he forgot the last word ≈

      “And just did a lot of partyin’, and uh, not …not a lot of studying, so—but I do remember writing many letters to Harriet, where I plagiarized lines from different songs and poems, and she must’ve thought I was just the most romantic guy in the world!”

      ≈ Yes, I’m sure you were ≈

      “But I did learn the importance of family. I was always close with my Cousin Mike, and my Aunt Edith and Uncle Carl. And, you know, always a port in the storm!”

      ≈ That’s being close? ≈

      “I could always go there and have a roof over my head and three squares a day, as we did that summer of ’69; where, basically, I was a bum with no money!” Boogie noted self-deprecatingly, while emitting one of his signature chuckles.

      “But, if I had