“New York State Thruway is closed, man”, Arlo Guthrie confirmed to the Woodstock Nation from the stage.

The Woodstock Festival may be known for peace love and one great music jam, but it’s also known as a world famous traffic jam. The traffic became as much a part of the festival as the music, except the traffic projected further out.

The sea of humanity from the air may have been overwhelming, however it was a different experience on the ground where the swell of vehicles, tents, and people immobilized each other for one hundred miles.  

Sullivan County, normally a rural farming community of approximately 70,000 year round inhabitants, was once a famous summertime destination for the NY metro region, one of the most densely populated areas in the country, which was only 90 miles away.

The county resorts primarily catered to the Jewish population from the NYC boroughs and surrounding areas. This part of the Catskill Mountain region was famous for its family resorts, opulent all-inclusive amenities and most importantly: unlimited kosher style meals. You could literally eat until you plotzed.

Aside from the food and fun, the entertainment was grand. Famous and rising stars of the era, names like Lenny Bruce, Rodney Dangerfield, Steve Martin, Jerry Seinfeld, Frank Sinatra, Barbra Streisand, Eddie Fisher, Debbie Reynolds, and so many more, too many to name, began their careers in the Catskills. It was a place where a busboy or a lifeguard could work their way up to the stars. 

While the adults were entertained in the main theater very often bands like The Jefferson Airplane, Mountain, or Santana might be in the teen lounge, or at a smaller nearby hotel or bungalow colony.

It’s been estimated that in the sixties Sullivan County had over 500 hotels, and countless bungalow colonies, sleep away camps and campgrounds. The glory days of the Catskills lasted from the 1930’s until its decline in the 70’s when airlines made other destinations widely available. The 60’s generation had no interest in returning to the summer playground of their parents. The youth of that generation were backpacking through Europe. The land their grandparents escaped from was now cheap, accessible, and welcoming. As The Catskills faded into a nostalgic memory there would be one last party before they said good-bye.

The demands of the seasonal population customarily stretched the local county resources to their maximum potential. Summer residents emptied store shelves and created bottlenecks of traffic on the two lane byways and back country roads every year.

Route 17 is the main artery in and out of Sullivan County. This is the road that connects the county to the NYS thruway and civilization. Route 17 was hardly driven for ten months of the year, however, during the summer months the highway was bumper to bumper traffic for ninety miles heading upstate every Friday to see the stars and back to the city every Sunday to return to work.

Bethel, a sparsely populated township in Sullivan County, of about 4,500 residents, had no idea it was about to host the largest gathering of one of the largest generations in recorded history until they woke up to it that morning.

The Woodstock organizers and promoters anticipated 40-50,000 attendees per day. At the last minute, as the crowds swelled to ten times that expectation, contracts for police and traffic control were broken.

On Sunday, August 16, 1969, when the mass exodus began in earnest, between the egress of the usual summer traffic and the additional half million from the Woodstock Festival, traffic was at a standstill in all of New York State. 

The Woodstock site is located om Hurd Road, a one lane, rural country road. one mile from Route 17B, a two lane road which was at a standstill for twelve miles until it connected to Route 17, a four lane highway which had become immobilized with tents and vehicles for forty more miles until it merged with the NYS Thruway, which was closed as a result, for another 30 mile. The traffic continued until it merged onto the George Washington Bridge, ninety miles from the originating Yasgur’s Farm, where it finally dispersed.

Nothing moved in Bethel until the traffic ninety miles away moved first. It would be two days after the event was over before that could even begin. All services to Bethel were cut off. Sanitation was impossible. Medical emergencies could not be addressed. The National Guard was called but couldn’t get there. The town was cut off from the world. Everyone had to rely on each other to survive.

The citizens of Bethel inadvertently became the first responders to the Woodstock Nation while undergoing extraordinary inconveniences and stress. Bethelites had their fields, lawns, and yards cluttered with dirty, hungry, stoned, tired, wet young strangers. The average household had a well and septic system fit to accommodate a family, not a Woodstock Festival. They were fully aware that their wells had limited capacity and might soon run dry. Yet, without hesitation, they selflessly offered water to those in need knowing the consequences to themselves.

They gave away all the food they had knowing it would be days before supplies could be brought in. I recall, as a then teenage summer resident, that at the end of the festival the store shelves and pantries of every house and bungalow were bare. My mother emptied out our refrigerator and cabinets and I brought the sandwiches we made and pitchers of water to the kids stranded on the median of Route 17. Every bit of food and drink in the county was given away. Every bit.

In spite of all the hardships one thing remained steadfast and true: during those three days and even beyond, the townspeople and summer residents of Bethel and Sullivan County committed themselves to the safety and wellbeing of their unexpected guests. If not for their selfless generosity and compassion, there might have been a much different outcome.

Peace, love and music found a home in the heart of a small town which showed the world what could be.

All because of a traffic jam.