attorney general in the Johnson Administration
(among other federal posts) to supervise security.
Now came a scramble to find a venue. The first site
the partners found was the Mills Industrial Park in
Wallkill, New York, some 40 miles from Woodstock.
The local zoning board seemed open to the idea,
and granted a permit, though Lang was distinctly
unimpressed with the setting. “My first reaction was
horror,” he wrote in his 2009 memoir, The Road to
Woodstock. “The flat, bulldozed property looked as if
it had been raped. Buzzards were flying around... I
had pictured walking into an open, pastoral scene of
beauty and calm.”
As it turned out, he needn’t have worried. Though
the promoters had already printed up posters, pub-
lic opposition grew and the permit was revoked.
But Lang & Co. found a new ally—a young interiorfound in the duo of investor John Roberts, scion
of the Py-co-pay dental and pharmaceutical com-
pany, and lawyer Joel Rosenman. (This pair had pre-
viously placed the following ad in the Wall Street
Journal: “Young men with unlimited capital look-
ing for interesting and legitimate opportunities and
business propositions.”)
The four newly minted partners formed
Woodstock Ventures, based in a psychedelically dec-
orated Manhattan office on West 57th Street. Then
they set about assembling a team: stage designer Steve
Cohen; Mel Lawrence, who would supervise con-
struction; technical director Chris Langhart; lighting
genius E.H. Beresford “Chip” Monck, who would not
only light Woodstock but serve as production super-
visor and emcee; and John Morris, to handle artist
relations. Lang hired Wes Pomeroy, a former assistant
They found their investors in a duo who had previously placed the following
ad in the Wall Street Journal: “Young men with unlimited capital looking for
interesting and legitimate opportunities and business propositions.”