Phishers of men

Sat, 21 Aug 1999 16:00:00 +0000

The setting sun is casting an orange glow on the Oswego County Airport as the Phishheads arrive. Intermixed with the traditional Volkswagen Westphalia campers are SUVs, late-model sedans, RVs and tie-died school buses, all driving in through the front gates, some having waited in line for six hours. Tents sprout like mushrooms, forming a city resembling a Kosovar refugee camp; you can walk for an hour in any direction and not reach its edge. Kids in their early teens slowly maneuver along the crowded runways on skateboards, yelling out the names of the dozen drugs they have for sale.

Thirty years after Woodstock and four years after the demise of the Grateful Dead, a generation of neo-hippies has turned to Phish to keep the torch of peace and love aflame. Here in upstate New York, 70,000 are expected for three days of concerts and camping.

Amid the growing swell of dreadlocks and Birkenstocks, a small group faces east toward Jerusalem, bows forward in prayer and commences Friday night Sabbath services. Wearing a long, black satin jacket that looks like a robe and a large black hat, Rabbi Shmuel Skaist leads the prayers. Tall, lanky and stoic, he doesn't use a prayer book. The rest of his group, who number six and call themselves Gefiltefish, help me and a few stragglers by pointing to English translations of the Hebrew prayers everyone else is singing.

Salon.com > Felix Vikhman

Phishers of men