Atlanta Constitution July 7, 1969 pg. 35

They Dug IT

Pop Group Came

To Find a Groove

By ALBERT SCARDINO

 

There it was, man, pop culture in the middle of an unreal dust bowl with a wide asphalt rim, somewhere between fifty and a hundred thousand, groovin' on the Sun and the heat and the noise, a totally, physical experience-two days of the Atlanta International Pop Festival at Atlanta International Raceway.

 

Maybe you could dig it-everybody aware of bodies and sound, cats copping (borrowing) cigarets, and asking for a bite of your popsicle.

 

Hundreds of tents and thousands of cars and clay dust everywhere, with anybody who was tired crashing (sleeping) in the nearest shade.

 

(DECORATIONS

 

It was an exclusive club, those who made up the heart of the festival. In the club where all these brassiere-less girls and bell-bottomed guys in clothes you have to work to find. Dull metal rings and shiny metal buttons were the only decorations besides the bright head-bands.

 

 They weren't the ones who stood in the long lines waiting for Cokes. They had their cheap muscatel and they seldom even-rolled, even when caressed by their chicks. Only when Delaney and Bonnie or Ian and Sylvia would sway with them did they rise from their blankets.

 

The World War II victory sign that has become part of the culture's communication flashed up everywhere while the community gathered next to the fire trucks to be sprayed or sat in small groups and communed.

 

"Will John the Hash-Man meet Joe and Pete near stage left?" the announcer read. Hashish is another staple of the drug culture, a part of the bigger pop culture.

 

SLOW MOTION

 

The community was the dedicated ones who came to camp for the weekend and rap (talk) with others in the movement, It was those who wandered around the raceway's infield in slow motion who could be stirred from their blankets only by the Chicago Transit Authority in the 100-degree heat.

 

The community was the group that lined the tunnel from the track's infield to the outside, hiding from the sun, who could be stirred only by a Cadillac  limousine with a fat chauffeur who couldn't resist tapping repeatedly on his horn, even though nobody was in his way. Somebody mustered enough energy to kick the black car with his boot.

 

The community included virtually no Negroes. The community excluded the fraternity boys and sorority girls. Those in button-downed collar shirts and pale blue or white jeans. You had to have more than dirty clothes. You had to have the look of leather vests and bell-bottomed blue jeans with a worn, wide belt. The chicks were better dressed than the tall, slender rugged looking guys.

 

BUMPER STICKER

 

In the parking lot Illinois, the Land of Lincoln, had rolled in next to Alabama, the Heart of Dixie. Cobb County sat next to California. "What if they gave a war and nobody came?' asked a bumper sticker from Florida.

 

Maybe some year it will comeback, and the community will come again from all over the country to the little town with the big race track south of Atlanta and. the liquor stores will run out of wine end the infield will be filled with cans.

 

The hangers- will be there, too, but they won't grip (under-stand) it, they won't dig it, because this is not. their, convention.

 

And maybe again the biggest gas of them all will sink from the sky about 8 o'clock, but nobody will notice because the Spirit, flailing its strings on' the bandstand, will have the ears and eyes of the community all to itself.