My rebellious spirit awakened. The next day in homeroom, I stood up and announced I would not be in school April 22. To my surprise several of my classmates stood up and proclaimed the same.
That evening I told my tale at the dinner table expecting parental pride at my principled defiance...not quite. Dad resignedly shook his head with the "what is wrong with this kid; thank God he's not the only child" look. Mom's concern centered on a suspension on my permanent record. Later anger replaced concern as the mother's grapevine indicted me as ringleader. Wednesday, we took the train to Philly and began the five mile walk to the Belmont Plateau. I wasn't sure of the best route, but it soon became apparent. We joined the growing throng marching to Fairmount Park. The picture above shows the crowd which closed West River Drive.
Never had I experienced such a mass of humanity, a migration of Biblical proportion. Once there, I wandered around the sea of people feeling part of a true synergy. We had thought of neither food nor drink. The April sun and long walk left me parched and sunburned. No vendors existed as corporate merchandising mania had not yet manifested itself at such events. The Fellowship House and Philadelphia Ethical Society had set up an area with hoses supplying fresh water.
After a long line, I reached the hose, drank thirstily, and wished I had something to hold water. A hippie girl in a peasant blouse and cut-offs noticed me and offered her last sip of wine. I drank and handed it back to her. As if reading my mind, she shook her head, giving me the jug. I thanked her. She smiled, touched her lips with two fingers, put her fingers to my lips and twirled away. She never uttered a word. I remember thinking, why can't more people be like this.
My original thought was to carry water for personal use. That girl triggered an epiphany. I spent most of that Elysian afternoon taking water to thirsty people in the crowd. A teenaged Gunga Din, I would refill the jug and return to the multitude. Thankful wayfarers proffered food, wine and other sundry items, my first karmic experience.
The speakers included Sen. Ed Muskie, poet Allan Ginsberg and Ira Einhorn, aka The Unicorn. That's him flashing the peace sign to the crowd in the picture to the left.The Unicorn, Philly's own hippie, presented a composed, tranquil aura. Eight years later, he'd become famous for killing his girlfriend, absconding to Europe and remaining on the run for over 20 years. Tis another tale.
Performing in Fairmount Park that day were several local bands and national acts. To be honest, my impetus for going was the music. In 1970, rock and roll held more sway on this fifteen-year-old Sophomore than the ecological welfare of our planet.
The wise fool learned a lesson that April day. I left Belmont Plateau with an idyllic empathy for this big, blue marble and my fellow passengers. The 43 years since have eroded much of that feeling. However, when I remember the touch of that hippie girl's fingers on my lips, my mind's eye sees her silently dancing away, that empathy returns. Res Ipsa Loquitor as ever - BB
"Come on people now/Smile on your brother /Everybody get together /Try and love one another right now" Get Together - Chet Powers
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