Glastonbury free festival 1978

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Formatted at 1280X 1024 res - created Feb 2002. Updated Jan 2007-new photographs.

GLASTONBURY.

1970-1978.

28th June -8th July 1978.

The venue was different from 1977, six miles up the road at the farm itself. Apparently there should not have actually been a festival at this particular site ,but the site that had been planned to use was cordoned off by the police . After a lot of persuasion , it was decided to run a mini festival. It was all very impromptu , but great fun, power for the stage was provided by an electric motor in a caravan close by. About 500 attended and it was declared to be a success, which may have prompted the revivial of the 'official ' festival which was held in 1979.

As you can see , the weather was NOT kind, but possibly a bit nicer then it had been at the Henge. All pics Roger Hutchinson © and Norman Hewston ©.

Nik Turner

The free festival at the farm in 1978 happened when a convoy had left Stonehenge after the solstice to go to another free festival we were planning. It was the early days of making the vision of festivals being a summer-long nomadic culture real. We'd identified a field at Cinnamon Lane in Glastonbury as the site there had been a small alternative culture settlement for a number of years, caravans and a tipi. I'd lived there myself. But when we turned up the farmers and police knew about it and had blocked off the access. The police radio'd around and eventually came up with the venue of Worthy Farm, so we all headed there under police direction. I remember seeing Andrew Kerr there, and him saying 'This is better than '71'.

Despite Andrew Kerrs positive opinion, our intrepid festival goer Roger Hutchinson felt rather differently about 1978.

Muck and Misery - Glastonbury 78

Michael Eavis comes to the rescue of a broken down bus Glastonbury Free Festival 1978 © Roger Hutchinson

After the sunny '77 festival on NT land at Street, wild horses couldn't have stopped me from going to the next event (I wished they had!) I hitched down to Michael Evi's farm at Pilton, uneventfully , only to be held up at the gate by some bored DS officers who just went through the motions of looking at the contents of my pack. Once inside the site, I too went through the motions to remove the cling film wrapped lump of black that was up me arse and a welcome spliff was mine.

The festival site was a minute fraction of today's massive festival sprawl, tucked up at the north end of the farm by the entrance with the green pyramid stage facing downhill towards where the silver pyramid cowshed stands today. Friends had kindly carried my tent and canopy down in their van a few days earlier so it was not long before I was established and set off for a walk about. The weather had not been kind and already, despite the low numbers of folk at the festival, the routes through the site were turning to sticky mud with a vengence. In fact, this festival seemed clinically depressed as everything seemed like too much effort to bother with given that it was unseasonably cold and wet.

Glastonbury 1978 - a sea of mud

© Roger Hutchinson

Clowns entertain the multitude

© Roger Hutchinson

Musical entertainment did happen but it did little to lift the spirits and we were just going through the free festival motions (once again!) I look at the few slides that have survived and they do not conjure up any feelings of joy or good times just the grind of survival - just people standing in mud watching vehicles being towed through it by Michael's tractor.

Shamefully all I can clearly remember of the week was the occasion when a not-so-young couple copulated fully clothed (including gloves and hats) lying in the mud in front of the stage, under a midday sky of grey clouds. They seemed orgasmically unaware of the dis-interested audience as he humped her relentlessly without pause for what seemed like hours. The general consensus was that they were both tripping, some were concerned that if they continued much longer she would disappear from view into the liquefying mud. I went off to the bogs and then for a cup of tea and when I came back they had ceased to move and the ragged crowd had wandered off.

And that's it ! Nothing else to report.
There you go - chalk and cheese or was it heaven or hell?

Spike has a very different recollection to that of Roger

Panoramic , but wet , view of the campsite Glastonbury 1978 © Roger Hutchinson

Michael Eavis saves the day © Roger Hutchinson

We do have photos of Glastonbury 78 (which was a brilliant festival and nothing like your miserable corespondant described it). It always rains at Pilton -and anybody who saw the lightning hit the pylons and dance down the cables towards the tor must have blown away by the experience.

At 78 we ran a stall called "Greasy Joes Half Foods" and we think we were the first people to start selling egg and bacon butties at festivals. Up till then it had been all vegie stuff ,dammit we even offered corn flakes for breakfast+lemon meringue pies, these were all sold to the bloody stage crew. The event finished 2 days early due to Micheal E getting hassle from the cops, so everybody who had been saving their more interesting substances had to take them all in one go (paranoia about leaving the site carrying) it turned into a mother of an interesting party highlighted by a marked lack of tobacco !

Spike

I went to the festival in 1978. I can't remember much about it except I was 20 and intoxicated by the whole alternative society/culture or at least the idea of it. I drove down from Wales with my mate Dave, I'd seen the Glastonbury Fayre movie the year before for the first time so being on the same terrain was very exciting indeed. I can remember going down to the site of the pyramid stage and feeling like we were walking on sacred ground. The "festival" was very small and occupied a portion of the top of the main"arena" field. In subsequent years this was initially the site of the markets before it got so huge that they moved it down to the flatter ground and last year the cashpoints were sited on it.

I remember very little of any performers on the solitary stage but I'm sure we watched Nik Turner's Sphynx and one of the "mummies" passed a clay pipe to us for a toke. This prompted me to later get up on stage, grab the mic and start pouring out a stream of cosmic verbal bullshit much to the amusement of the audience. That same evening Dave got chatting to a band and ended up jamming with them until the early hours. I just wish I'd taken a camera. The weather was crap but it was a blast!

Martin Ashford

I am overjoyed to find this site, as reading the memoirs really does bring it all back. These days, from one year to the next I never see anyone who was part of the scene back then and so my memories are mostly kept to myself. I was at Glastonbury in 1978 from 30th June-2ndJuly.At the time I was 24 and living in Moseley village(Birmingham), so-called commune of Birmingham and went down to Glastonbury that weekend with my girlfriend, my kid brother and a mate in his firms car. I don't remember the exact location but as we got there, we were surprised to see all the coppers and DS at the entrance. As we neared, I shoved the dope supply into a couple of cream buns and wrapped them back up in clingfilm. We got through allright and pitched our tent; this was a homemade job that my girlfriend Vee had designed and constructed from sheet plastic and lined with brightly colured silk scarves. I heard that it was dubbed the "Turkish screwing tent"!

Anyway, the first night we were there we scored some acid and sat huddled together in the tent, as it was cold and damp outside. We turned up the gas bottle heater full blast and this really brought the trip on. In the distance we could hear the distant beginings of Jimi Hendrix's "1983 A Merman Should I Turn To Be", so we left the tent in search of its source, all clad in thick grey blankets and the mist that had enveloped the site. I turned around to my mate who was really spaced out and he mumbled "I'm searching for my soul..." as he stumbled along following us. Eventually we came to a sound system run from a generator in a caravan and took our places right next to the amps and got lost in the sounds.Nearby was a large campfire, around which were sat a large group of people.

Every now and again someone would throw a load of wood on to keep the fire burning well and there were lots of different circles and scenes going on about. There was obviously some very bad acid or "Poor Cwality Psychedelics" as we used to call such, as we saw some terrible states about the site over the next couple of days. I particularly remember this night, a guy with a mass of shaggy hair, all matted and forkd out, sitting stark naked beside the fire. He bore all the characteristics of a dead stick insect. His gaze was blank and unblinkered as he halfheartedly masturbated as though totally unaware of his surroundings. I can only say that this guy was not on this planet and niether was anyone else but he was out there on his own on the back end of beyond. Someone walked up with a huge piece of log, dumped it on the fire and immediately a shower of burning embers rained down upon him. Like an old Indian Fakir, he didn't flinch or bat an eyelid, "Ooops, sorry mate!" said the culprit and strolled away.

The bands played on a very makeshift stage and the system was powered from the generator previously mentioned. We all huddled around this during the day to listen. Again, I remember a couple of freaks who were making quite a nuisance of themselves, gambolling through the crowds and screaming "Glastonbury Fayre!!" The farmer was up on stage with a band called Pedro, and he was doing a few "Hendrix""stage antics with an unplugged guitar, which one of these stoned-out freaks objected to and mounted the stage to try and drag the farmer off and generally make a scene up there on stage. (right) More photos from this sequence can be viewed here

The following day I ran into Phil an old mate of mine, who had just just come from Stonehenge and a Legalize Cannabis Rally. We decided to go into a nearby field to get some firewood for his bonfire, overjoyed at our meeting and as we entered this otherwise empty field the grass and trees errupted in brightly coloured butterflies, fluttering like psychedelic snowflakes all around us. It was one of those magic moments that only memory can capture and preserve as it has done most cherishingly to this very day. I know that when we were packing up to go quite a few others were too and the whole thing seemd to be winding down, tents and tepees were being dismantled. I remember not wanting to leave but accepting that we had to hit the road back to Brum and whatever lay before. I dont know how others look back and remember Glastonbury Festival 1978, there were only about 500 of us I believe, but rain, mud, sunshine, mist, fog, cold or whatever, it was free and there was no charge for it.

Put it down to experience; such was the way we spent our youth. All these are the things that made those times special, magical even. I dont think kids have this nowadays, I mean, we went to these venues with next to nothing to get back to mother nature. It's a bit hard to do that packing a laptop, mobile phones, credit cards and cashpoints!! Well, for what they are worth, these are my recollections. I hope someone enjoys sharing them

Norman Hewston