Rainbows all over your blues

Little went as planned. Fences came down. It became a free concert. The show ran late. Food was scarce. It rained.

Lighting director Chip Monck was told by promoter Michael Lang that he had an extra job: “Michael just tapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘Oh, by the way, we’ve neglected to hire an emcee, and you’re it because you don’t have anything to do in the daytime.’”

William Tindale was among the state troopers dispatched to Bethel: “We just didn’t know

what was going to happen. We just sat in a car. It was pretty boring. But we were just concerned about them getting into a riot or something.”

Jefferson Airplane guitarist Jorma Kaukonen and the band arrived Saturday for an evening performance. They ended up playing Sunday: “We got there in the morning. We were supposed to go on at like 6 in the evening. So we had a whole day to kill. Guys had little minibikes; I like two-wheeled things with motors on them, so we got to do that, and just hanging out with our friends.” Ted Neumann, college student: “The closer you got to the stage on Sunday just meant you were almost underwater, because there were literally streams going down the hill.”

Debra Conway lived nearby and would drive in and out via back roads: “By Sunday, it was really disgustingly muddy and smelly and steamy. It was not the big glamour myth. We weren’t high, so maybe it was different for people who were.”

Ted Neumann: “The only way to communicate was to stand on line at somebody’s house and wait for use of their phone and give them a dollar. ... The field that I parked my car at, there was some farmhouse there, and there was a line of 20 or so people. And you just waited on line and used the woman’s phone. So I called my mother, told her where I was and told her I was safe.”