Danny, Jimi and that “outdoor thing.”

Danny’s probably somewhere in the back of this photo, not paying attention.

Years ago I worked with an older guy named Danny who wasn’t much of a rock music fan. I know this because whenever I’d be listening to a band he’d grunt and snort and bitch about it and ask me if I had any Hank Williams. Hank Sr., that is, not Hank Jr. Let’s just say Danny was an old fashioned guy.

Anyway, one day I was playing some Hendrix and Danny wasn’t impressed. He asked who it was, I told him, and the following conversation ensued:

Danny: “Oh, yeah. I’ve seen that guy play.”

Me: “Cool. Wait . . . what? Who?”

Danny: “Hendrix. When I was in the army we were on leave and a buddy drug me to some concert where he was playing. It was that outdoor thing where it was all muddy and stuff.”

Me: “Hold on. Where was this again?”

Danny: “Hell, I don’t remember. I was stationed near New York City and I remember it was a couple hours away.”

Me: “Are you talking about WOODSTOCK?”

Danny: “Yeah, that’s it.”

Me: “Holy shit, man. Did you stay for the whole thing?”

Danny: “Nah, it was wet and muddy and I wasn’t really into it. I do remember watching this Hendrix guy for awhile though before we left.”

Me:

So, to reiterate, Danny attended the most famous rock festival in music history, looked around for a bit, and hit the road.

Good Lord.