Signs lead the way at the Woodstock Music Festival. (Photos by Bill Eppridge.)
In honor of the 40th anniversary of Woodstock this weekend, I’ll be posting photos from my archive in the coming days.
I hope you enjoy them. It was one of the grooviest assignments I’ve ever had.
Cheerz,
Bill
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It was brutally hot during Woodstock ‘69 (as swampy hot as it is right now) – which is why the festival’s revelers were all jumping into the waterfall that led to the farm pond to cool off. (© Bill Eppridge.)
In anticipation of the 40th anniversary of Woodstock (yep, it’s been that long), the folks over at the New York Times Lens blog have done an excellent audio slideshow of my photos from the hallowed music festival. Please check ‘em out.
In addition, Monroe Gallery has put up a nice online photo essay of pictures from throughout 1969 – including some of my own (like this one).
Check back here in the coming days. I’ll be putting some of my other Woodstock shots online.
Cheerz – and thanks for reading,
Bill
I was sad to hear about the young body surfer who was killed in Newport Beach, Calif. recently by a 20-foot wave. I took some pictures of this same spot, a famous area known as “The Wedge,” back in 1971 – when the surf was a ‘normal’ 12 feet.
I visited one of my favorite local farmers yesterday and found out what happens when a hail storm hits a peach orchard. (Not pretty.) Starberry Farms in Washington, Conn., got hit hard, but the peaches with the holes are still edible, and they have more highly delicious (and undamaged) fruit every day. Their stuff is so good, they even got a mention in a recent New York Times article. If you’re in the area, check them out.
Cheerz,
Bill.
(© Bill Eppridge)
With the release this month of a new book that implies that Bobby Kennedy and Jackie Kennedy had an affair, I’ve been asked a lot recently if I ever saw the two of them together during my time covering Bobby’s 1968 campaign for Life magazine. I did see her once during that time: at LaGuardia Airport when the Air Force 707 carrying RFK’s body arrived. The cargo door opened, and there she was, right behind the casket. The look on her face haunts me still.
You can find an extensive selection of my photos from that era in A Time It Was.
The Roll Out: I took this shot of Apollo 11 on the launch pad exactly two months before the launch. The moon, above the tower, is in the same exact crescent that it was in when the rocket actually launched in July. (Another version of this shot is currently on exhibit at the Monroe Gallery in Santa Fe.)
A man’s feet in a car during launch. I was on the beach for lift-off and photographed a lot of spectators. It was a a leisurely photo position.
Log on to wechoosethemoon.org (produced by the Kennedy Presidential Library) to listen to audio from the mission.
(Photos © Bill Eppridge.)
Seen at a stop light in Connecticut. (© Bill Eppridge)
The sad news of David Carradine’s departure left me thinking about my days in Southern California — Laurel Canyon to be more precise. I moved there in the late ’60s to be in the West; I wanted to shoot outdoors stories after the terrible incidents of 1968, and the assassination of Senator Robert F. Kennedy.
My house in Laurel Canyon was just below Carradine’s — at least a 100 steps separated us. Often there would be parties at his place, complete with gunshots, smashing glass and really loud music. On weekends we never had to light our pool at night. The LAPD did it for us, with helicopter spotlights. I saw him occasionally in passing.
One day, I was assigned to photograph Carradine at his house. (It’s been a long time and so I really can’t remember what publication it was for.) As per prior arrangement, early the next morning, I carried about sixty pounds of gear up the steep steps to his front porch, and knocked on the door. No answer, so I banged harder. I heard some grumbling noises coming from somewhere below. Then, heard someone speaking in the manner of being rudely awakened, also from below. The gruff voice said, “Awww shit, just wait a fuggin’ minute.”
I looked down and from way back underneath the porch, came crawling, covered with dirt, David Carradine. Followed by an equally begrimed but beautiful young lady — actress Barbara Hershey (at that time she was going by the name, “Seagull.”)
David squinted up at me and said “Oh … hi Eppridge. Weather was so nice we decided to camp out last night. I’ve got coffee on down here. You want some?”
I politely declined — I couldn’t be sure it was only coffee. And so the shoot started. It was the early ’70s after all, and this was not really an unusual thing to be doing in Laurel Canyon.
(© Bill Eppridge)
Santana takes the stage at the Woodstock Music Festival.
(© Bill Eppridge)
A flute player and drummer in the woods at the Woodstock Music Festival in 1969.
