How I Saved Woodstock

How I Saved Woodstock

In 1962, after leaving the Navy, I found myself immersed in the vibrant Folk Scene in Toronto. It was a time of creativity, camaraderie, and music. I became friends with Ken Danby, who owned the New Gate of Cleve coffee house, a hub for artists and musicians.

Because of my connection to Ken I met  the organizers of the Festival , I ended up in charge of the Food Concessions at the second Mariposa Folk Festival in Orillia. During the week leading up to the festival, I stayed at a motel while we set up. In the room next to mine was the coolest guy I had ever met.

His name was Chip Monck, and he was from New York. Chip was in charge of the lighting for the festival. He wore little round blue sunglasses and had a young hippie wife with a baby. He knew everybody, exuded confidence, and was just effortlessly cool. Every day, we’d share a few beers and chat about life, music, and the festival.

The day before the show, I noticed Chip looking unusually sad. When I asked him what was wrong, he explained that he had broken his most important light. It cost $150.00 to replace, and he didn’t have enough money to cover it. He was devastated because without it, his work would be compromised, and his reputation could take a hit.

I asked if he could get the replacement in Orillia, and he said yes. Without hesitation, I offered to help. We went into town, bought the light, and I charged it to the Festival. Chip was beyond grateful, and the show went on without a hitch.

Little did I know at the time, Chip Monck would go on to become one of the principal forces of the Woodstock Festival. That small act of kindness not only saved his business that day but also played a tiny part in the history of one of the most iconic music festivals of all time.

So, in a way, I like to joke that I saved Woodstock—one lightbulb at a time.