The “Angel of Woodstock” was a conservative Republican farmer with
a bad heart—but a big one. Born in New York City to Russian Jewish
immigrants, Max Yasgur was raised on his parents’ upstate New York
dairy farm, went back to the city to study real estate law, then returned
and built the family business into the largest milk producer in Sullivan
County. After agreeing to lease his land for what he thought would be
a modest-size concert, Yasgur began to have some misgivings as the
anticipated crowd numbers grew. But opposition from some locals, who
threatened to boycott his milk and even burn him out unless the concert
was stopped, only steeled his resolve. When the zoning board met to
consider Woodstock Ventures’ application, Yasgur had given a simple,
eloquent plea on their behalf. “All they are asking for is fair play,” he said.
“Once we have formed a barrier against those who want to grow their hair
long, we can just as well form a similar barrier against those who wear long
coats or go to a different church.” After Woodstock, Yasgur was shunned
in some local quarters, and though he declined to host a 1970 festival
revival—and received a $50,000 settlement for property damage—he
never regretted leasing his land to Lang & Co. Yasgur sold his farm in 1971,
moved to Florida and died of a heart attack two years later at 53, but lives
on as an unlikely counterculture hero. “He had no comprehension, at the
time this thing started, about their culture, certainly not about their music,
but those things didn’t make any difference to him,” recalled his son, Sam,
an assistant district attorney in New York City at the time of Woodstock.
(Sam died at 74 in 2016.) “He genuinely believed that people had a right to
express themselves. He believed people had a right to be left in peace.”Max Yasgur, R.I.P.What did he know about the young fans of rock
music? Only that they had a right to enjoy it.THE CHOSEN SITE (LANG
would call it “the field of my
dreams”) was near the hamlet
of White Lake, New York, which
is why that name appeared
on some of the promotional
posters. The stage, despite an
army of construction workers,
was still not entirely finished
when the festival opened, nor
were all the fences and gates.
It wouldn’t matter.
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