Based on the fact that my name is Sunshine Flint, you might not be surprised to learn that I am from Woodstock, New York. Yes, that Woodstock, the town that’s synonymous with the three days of peace and music that marked the zenith of the 1960s counterculture. But what many people don’t realise is that the famous concert took place in Bethel, more than 40 miles away. Woodstock isn’t all about tie-dyed T-shirts and aged hippies – well yes, OK, it sort of is – it’s also a small town with a long history in a wild country setting.
Tucked away in the Catskill Mountains, Woodstock is just two hours from New York but less expensive than the Hamptons or the Berkshires, which makes it incredibly popular for second-home owners and weekenders. In fact, it has been attracting city dwellers since the 19th century, when wealthy Manhattanites came up to escape the worst of the summer heat at grand mountaintop hotels. But it’s as an artists’ colony that Woodstock found its identity, courtesy of an Englishman.
In 1903, Ralph Whitehead, who studied with John Ruskin at Oxford, bought 1,500 mountainside acres and realised his vision of an Arts and Crafts utopia by building the Byrdcliffe Arts Colony. Like attracted like and, ever since, Woodstock has been a magnet for artists, musicians and dreamers. That bohemian spirit is what tempted many such as Bob Dylan and Van Morrison to Woodstock in the 1960s, before the festival.
There’s one main street, Tinker Street, and no traffic lights (we’re proud of that, but annoyed when someone takes too long to turn left). Proposals for chain stores are met with protests, and the town board (full disclosure: my stepfather is a town councillor) voted for a resolution to impeach George Bush and Dick Cheney in 2006. And it’s really in the wilds – we have bears.
Celebrities dip in and out – my mother had Uma Thurman in her Pilates class for a while and the Clintons came through last summer and stayed at the high-end Emerson Resort & Spa (emersonresort.com). Everyone has come up to record albums, from the Rolling Stones to Norah Jones, and many musicians make their home here. Levon Helm of The Band is a local and Kate Pierson from The B-52s opened Kate’s Lazy Meadow Motel (lazymeadow.com), a mid-century modern whimsy, a few years ago.
But there’s a raggedy edge to Woodstock (and that’s not because of the bears) that keeps it from being another jewel-box tourist trap, despite white clapboard houses and native bluestone pavements. Tourists won’t be disappointed with the high proportion of stores such as Not Fade Away, Dharmaware and Pondicherry selling tie-dye T-shirts and hemp yoga clothes – these stores are the reason it took 30 years and a trip to India to get me into a tunic top. Shabby-chic lovers will be happy in the Chez Grand’Mere French country store. Drop into the art galleries, such as Woodstock Artists Association & Museum (woodstockart.org) or the Kleinert/James Arts Center for performance art, readings and exhibits.
A car is a necessity and tourists are known by their New Jersey licence plates or their white-knuckle grips as they negotiate the winding mountain roads. Only a five-minute drive from town, the Byrdcliffe Guild allows self-guided walking tours past the artists-in-residence cabins and the iconic theatre with its dark-stained boards. One of Ralph Whitehead’s collaborators, artist Hervey White, struck out on his own and built Maverick Concert Hall (maverickconcerts.org) deep in the woods south of town. Using local pine and Arts and Crafts techniques, he created a building both utilitarian and beautiful, and a musicians’ colony was born. The Maverick Concerts have been running since 1916, the nation’s oldest summer chamber music festival, and White’s boho fundraising festivals were the spiritual forerunner of the Woodstock Festival.
