Signs along the way
We walked along the road, cars lining it on both sides, and stopped, filling both lanes, thousands of people moving along.. you could see across the valley from the high vantage point of the highway, and it was a beautiful day. We were hearing that traffic was stopped from the gates of McIver park to 82nd Street in Portland, 40 miles away, and it was easy to believe from the flowing river of people and cars. As we turned east, Mt. Hood before us, the road swept down and into the Valley to Milo McIver state park, and the number of people shot into the thousands as we wound down the hill and saw the meadow where a stage had been constructed. We didn’t know what we were going to see, there had been nothing but rumors of a free rock festival, sponsored by the governor and funded by Portland business men, who wanted to avoid problems during a convention in town..
We could see the Clackamas River to our left through the trees, running down to meet the Willamette.. Sun bright, sky blue, the greens of the trees and the yellow of the grass in the meadow with the makeshift (but substantial) stage.. an amazing kaleidoscope of colors and of course, of people.
We sat down on the edge of the access road which ran to the stage, under a tree with too many others to really be in the shade, it was August after all, and in northern Oregon, thats really summer, as good as it gets, and as hot as it gets. A few cars went by, bringing, we assumed musicians and technicians.. We had heard rumors of great bands set to play at this state sponsored event, but we didn’t care if Santana (who seemed to be everywhere at the time), the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, or the Youngbloods showed. We were there for whatever happened and were ready to ‘groove’ as the governor had said in his letter to the leaders of the “People’s Army Jamboree”, on the beauty of Oregon and rock and roll. As we watched the people walking by I felt a bit manipulated, thinking that this was a strange confluence of events…. though the details wouldn’t be known by most of us until years later.
The theme of the annual convention of the American Legion, to be held in Portland in august of 1970 was “Victory in Viet Nam”, and its keynote speaker was to be President Richard M. Nixon.
This took place against the backdrop of the massacre at Kent State, which Portland State students had protested in May by shutting down the park blocks, ending when the police riot squad swept through leaving 32 protesters and bystanders bruised, bleeding or both. Anti-war groups planned to be in Portland in August, in a little get together called the ” People’s Army Jamboree”, hoping to draw 50,000 and shut down the city as a welcoming party for RMN.. Much as had been done by a quarter of a million in shutting down Washington DC earlier in the year.
Tom McCall (sic): “Our commitment to law and order has not tempted us to infringe upon the constitutional rights of Americans to peaceful assembly, to freedom of movement, to nonviolent dissent. While we’re prepared to deal with violence, keep it clear that our first priority is to avoid violence. It is within this framework–avoiding violence–that Vortex One emerged.”
He wrote to the organizers of the “People’s Army Jamboree”: “I am flattered that so many people believe Oregon to be a beautiful state. Everyone is entitled to groove on its beauty. However, the City of Portland has limited facilities for the holding of conventions, and I am informed that these facilities cannot accommodate two major conventions being held simultaneously.”
The governor said after approving the event, “I’ve committed political suicide”.. but he was wrong and the American Legion Convention went on, the “People’s Army Jamboree” took place, but the violence predicted by the FBI didn’t take place.. Tom McCall was easily re-elected.. we had a rock festival, a legend was born. And Nixon didn’t show…
As a band started to play, we moved toward the stage area, with thousands of others.. great local bands played until late into the night… then as we set up an area to sleep amongst the trees a bus nearby fired up a generator and started playing electric guitar and bass, sounding much like a ‘Fish’ jam, which I had heard many times in the panhandle in Golden Gate Park.. I went to sleep listening and as the governor had said, grooving on the beauty..
Walking down the road to the stage the next afternoon, a yellow Cadillac with dark tinted windows pulled up next to me, the window rolled down..the smoke poured out and the driver handed me a hash pipe.. saying.. “wow man, what a scene huh?” I looked inside and seemed to recognize a couple of the passengers.. thinking to myself..” the Grateful Dead?”, but said, yeah.. a great scene..as I handed the pipe back..
I liked your story, I was also there. I was 18 going to Portland to the demonstration, which I recall is very small. And then we went out to the music. Today I was speaking to a friend about it, and decided to look up anything on the net about the party. I was surprised to find it had a name. And I’ve always thought, there is only about 30,000 people there. I’ve forgotten a lot of the things that happened, but I do remember all the cars and all of the stores being stripped of everything. And what a party!
My wife and I landed in Portland around the first of August, 1970, after taking a wrong turn on our way from Long Island to Los Angeles (where I hoped to land a job drawing ducks). There were roses everywhere. Within a few minutes of our arrival, someone told us there was an organizing meeting that afternoon for a huge anti-war demonstration. We arrived as it was getting under way. A big butch woman was screaming at a smug, blandly smiling long-haired fellow: “Women’s Liberation should have offed you a long time ago!” (I didn’t understand what her problem was until about 20 years later, when I read somewhere that Suffolk County (NY) Executive George Gaffney had served as an uncover FBI agent in Oregon in his youth, and realized why Gaffney’s face had always seemed vaguely familiar. If his assignment was to disrupt and demoralize the Movement, he was an unsung hero for the other side.) Then the organizers unveiled the logo of the Peoples Army Jamboree, which had been produced by a professional design agency. It was a silly-looking toy cannon barfing silly-looking flowers. The future of the Movement was not bright, I reckoned.
The Vortex scheme was brilliant, strategically. Not for the last time, the radicals had been out-thought, outmanuevered, and out-organized by the Republicans. On the big day, my wife and I seemed to be about the only rank-and-file peaceniks left in the city. Sure enough, all the hippie wimps had fallen for the Governor’s peace-and-love-and-dope nonsense, which was perhaps understandable in the context of Kent State students shot by the Ohio National Guard, and 35 Black Panthers gunned down by police and FBI, not to mention the self-inflicted casualties in the Weatherman townhouse explosion. But meanwhile, about a million Vietnamese were getting slaughtered by our government. You might think this would put our own worries into perspective, but that wasn’t the case. (It never is, of course.)
The protest was a solemn, desultory affair, passively going where ordered by the police. I saw a couple of very mild-mannered confrontations with visiting American Legionnaires as we ambled along near their convention site. There were about 1,000 of us, if that — exactly 2% of the Jamboree’s reported expectations.
If it wasn’t a total washout, it was because of two contingents. A brigade of Vietnam veterans, including several in wheelchairs, led the march. Needless to say, they contributed some serious gravitas. Any audacity and energy, though, emanated from the Gay Liberation Front, of all people, who gyrated and sang out with gusto, to the tune of Jaunty Alouetta, “Revolution, revolution, the game we love to play!”
1969 had been a rough year — the Manson gang and the Altamont concert murder made a mockery of everything we stood for. 1970 was far worse. For me, the turning point was the Vortex, proving beyond any doubt that hippies as a race were self-indulgent spoiled brats whose commitment to peace, and occasional talk of revolution, couldn’t be trusted. I suppose it was especially painful because it meant I wasn’t sure I could trust myself, either.
You’ve probably heard of that “Shadow” thing Jung wrote about. It’s the tendency to despise in others whatever traits we can’t acknowledge in ourselves. That probably explains why even now, whenever I get to know people who had anything to do the Vortex, I go ballistic and terminate any friendship that had been beginning to develop before the truth slipped out. I suppose I still like to project the image of a fiercely proud, judgmental, die-hard militant once in a while, rather than confront my inner spoiled brat. At least I’m spared the self-loathing that must haunt you all who’ve eventually figured out that your Vortex trip waved a white flag to the imperialist war-mongers. You know that your retreat from the barricades is what cleared the path Bush’s army took into Baghdad. And those of us who fought on didn’t accomplish anything much either. All stereotypes have a grain of truth; the stereotype of Sixties people, particularly of us Baby Boomers (we didn’t even make the music that lives on — that came from slightly older folks), I fear may be nothing but the truth. The Vortex revealed the shameful truth of who we were, and who we still are, as a generation.
outstanding, as a boomer lightweight (of amazingly unweighted proportion) myself, I have to plead guilty to it all..
My direct experience with Vortex is completely retrospective, as I was not there. Don’t like crowds & traffic, never have. And I like crowds who try to kill each other even less, so I have to agree with Matt Love who says somewhere in his book that Vortex was an experiment in which government and the people came together with a solution to a problem, and it worked.
I only wish there was music being created out there now that would be worthy of other such events (politics excluded).
I was there and have just learned that the event had a name. I was in the army stationed at Madigan General Hospital in Tacoma, Washington when I heard about the festival. I had a four day weekend scheduled already, so I went by myself to McIver Park. The event was wonderful, but it was weird too. As I said, I was by myself. There were all these people grooving with each other and because of the structure of the society, I felt right at home. I was alone, but I had a lot of people around me who were very nice. The other weird thing was that I was clean shaven and had short hair owing to the fact that I was in the army. After boogying next to this guy for a while and getting high with him, he said “Well I guess you’re going to let your hair grow and grow a beard now.” I said that I would but I was in the army, so I couldn’t. He was stunned. But as I said, the event was wonderful.
As a Vortex 1 attendee, my memory was awakened by reading this, & other articles about the concert. We (3 friends, my dog & I) drove from Applegate, California, in my Chevy van. I do remember the ride into the park as being very beautiful, the traffic slow, & CSY blasting on the 8-track. We had a great camping area & met lots of wonderful people over those few days. We were not on the bill, but made our own music at, & around the park. It was known to me at that time that it was put on as a diversionary tactic by the government, and however unsettling that was, we were there for the positive aspects rendered, & to be a part of it. I’m so glad it is part of my life story!
Hey we are trying to do Vortex 2 June 19-26 2010. Please let us know if you are interested in making this happen. The event will hopefully be used to gather support for the Oregon Cannabis Tax Act, registering voters and gathering signatures.
We are in the early planning stages and realize it will be a monumental effort to get it done, but we are working with NORML and several other organizations. Please let us know if you are interested in helping out in anyway, we will surely need it. Appreciate the support.
Matt
Just read about the Vortex 2 and would have liked to been there, I was at the first one in 1970 living in SE Portland.
Keep me posted I have moved back to Portland from California two years ago.