All language subtitles for Days Of Rage The Rolling Stones Road To Altamont (2020)

[dramatic music]

[rock music]

[Narrator] In February 1964

The Beatles brought
optimism to America.

Only four months later The
Rolling Stones arrived.

They made themselves
an antithesis, really,

of what the Beatles
were in terms of image.

The Beatles may want
to hold your hand,

but The Stones want to
come and burn your town.

Rebellious, dangerous, druggy,

sexy, that is The Stones.

[Narrator] But as peace and
love spread from California,

The Stones tougher vision
seemed out of place.

The Stones are hardened.

They never fully bit on all
the idealism of the '60s.

"We can transform
things by smoking pot."

It was just not realistic.

In a sense, The Stones'
vision was truer.

[Narrator] And then,
within months of

The Summer of Love, the
whole world changed.

By '68 the darkness that was
associated with The Stones

definitely chimed with
what was happening

on the streets of Chicago,
and Paris, and London.

Blood was running
in the streets.

The temperatures were
rising, rising really fast.

It was as if this is their time.

[Narrator] This film traces
The Stones through this

turbulent era, all the way to
the Altamont Festival in 1969,

the concert that brought the
decade to a shocking end.

Much as there was an
element of The Stones

that loved chaos, and loved
disorder, they had no idea

what they'd gotten
into at Altamont.

This didn't turn out like that.

You'd see real ugliness,

savagery right in
front of your eyes.

The Hell's Angels were horrible.

It's like a car crash.

You can't do anything about
it, you're just in it.

Things just went
from bad to worse,

and there's no controlling it.

It was probably, one of the
worst days of my life, ever.

[dramatic music]

[Narrator] October 17, 1969.

After a prolonged break
from live performance,

The Rolling Stones touched
down in Los Angeles to begin

preparations for the biggest
concert tour of their career.

Due to play at 16 arenas
across the country,

for the booming youth
culture, The Stones' return

to the American stage
was hugely anticipated.

It was looked forward
to as a huge event,

a big event, and a
lot was expected of it.

People wanted to hear what
The Stones had to say.

The Rolling Stones hadn't played

in America for
three years or so.

Things had changed radically
in that three years.

When The Rolling Stones
before were playing,

girls would literally
wet themselves and scream

the house down, and the
show might last 20 minutes

before all 10,000
people rushed the stage.

So The Rolling Stones were
confronted with something which,

at first, completely
kind of freaked them out.

Which was audiences that sat
there and wanted to listen.

[Narrator] Announced as the
greatest rock and roll band

in the world, despite
a changed environment,

The Stones' seminal performances
became the stuff of legend.

Everybody was on fire, you'd
get the energy from a group,

and you'd get an
energy from the fans.

I'd love the fact that I
could go and watch them

every night, and it would be
a little different each time.

But it was great, the
shows were spectacular.

The boys knew how to perform.

* Everywhere I hear the sound

* of marching charging
feet, boy *

* 'Cause summer's here
and the time is right *

* For fighting in
the street, boy *

In 1969 The Stones were
incredible, they were brilliant.

I mean those shows were raucous.

The Stones were the biggest
rock and roll band on the road.

The Beatles had pulled
back, Dylan had pulled back.

But The Stones were
out there in 1969.

And coming to America
in 1969 was no joke.

The Stones were in the
thick of whatever was

racketing around in
America at that time.

America in '69 is in a
state of some turmoil.

We'd moved on from The
Summer of Love in '67.

Obviously things have
got a lot darker,

partly because of the
Vietnam War protests.

We've had the assassination
of Martin Luther King,

and Kennedy, so there's a
much darker mood abroad.

There's still that air
of hippy optimism. '69 is,

in some ways, the high
water mark of that,

rather than The
Summer of Love in '67,

because this is the
summer of Woodstock.

[Narrator] Held in August 1969,

with nearly half a
million in attendance,

the Woodstock Festival
was a momentous four day

free concert that
stood as a testament

to the growing strength
of the youth culture.

In November, late in their
tour, The Stones announced

their own free concert
on the West Coast.

Originally to be held at San
Francisco's Golden Gate Park,

this event would
eventually take place

at a remote racetrack
called Altamont.

Altamont was intended to be
an expression of optimism,

of the strengths of
the counterculture,

an event at which all the tribes
could could come together.

So, on the surface, when
it's first announced,

this is huge news and and
it's celebratory news.

The mythology of
free concerts were

at the absolute height in 1969.

The whole phrase free
concert was just redolent

with all these ethics,
and images, and ideas

that were floating around the
counterculture at the time.

It could have been
fantastic, everybody assumed

that they were looking
at a mini Woodstock

in San Francisco's
Golden Gate Park.

That's not what it
turned out to be.

[somber music]

[Narrator] The event itself
would prove disastrous,

a tipping point where
the countercultures dream

of peaceful solidarity
tragically fell apart.

And the violence and
chaos that The Stones

came face to face with
during this concert

was a far cry from the
seemingly calm America

they had first encountered
less than 10 years beforehand.

And the band's own
development across this decade

interweaved with the
changing currents

of America's youth culture
during the same period.

America, 1962, a nation
energized by a period

of political growth
of prosperity.

Consumer culture was thriving.

Advances in technology were
transforming everyday life.

And many felt that this was
the dawn of a new golden age.

The American dream alive
and kicking once more.

Yet an ever present
threat of war

cast a shadow over this
spirit of optimism.

And beneath
the confident surface,

tensions were developing.

America in the early '60s is
a strange place in many ways.

In terms of popular culture,
it's rather bland and anodyne.

At the same time,
politically you've got

Camelot and the court of JFK.

And there's a certain
optimism there that

we've broken with the
immediate post-war generation,

and this is the start
of a more youthful,

more energetic, more forward
looking political life,

soured to an extent
by the Cold War,

soured by the Bay of Pigs,
and the situation in Cuba.

Almost half of the population in

the United States is
under 25 years old.

And there was this
sense of an inherited

world that had a
lot of problems.

For the younger generation,
growing up with the Cold War

and the threat of
nuclear annihilation,

all the material
prosperity in the world

didn't really go
to their concerns.

Things like community, or
things like social justice,

or spirituality, none
of those things could

be addressed by a
roaring economy itself.

[Narrator] And in November 1963,

the equilibrium of the
nation was shattered.

President John F.
Kennedy, for many a symbol

of optimism and rejuvenation,
was assassinated in Dallas.

The event stunned America,

its youth in
particular traumatized

by the violence and chaos
it seemed to represent.

But early the following year,
a voice of hope emerged.

And it was emanating
from distant shores.

The Beatles arrived
within a couple of months

of Kennedy's assassination,
so they walked

into a nation that was grieving,

grieving really badly, and
was in a state of shock.

And they appeared
on that Ed Sullivan.

And immediately they put
smiles on people's faces.

It sounds glib and bland, but
that's really what they did.

It was medicine,
what the Beatles did.

You can't stress enough

just how important
their arrival was.

[Narrator] And the
sudden stateside success

of this revolutionary four piece
opened the door for dozens

of other British bands to
have a go at breaking America.

Following in the footsteps
of Liverpudlians,

Gerry and the Pacemakers, The
Searchers and Billy J Kramer,

in June 1964 a
London group arrived

with a very different
image and sound.

Unlike their fellow countrymen,

The Rolling Stones
weren't about optimism.

There wasn't a sense of "the
latest band from England."

That was the thing, it
was the British Invasion.

And every week it
was The Searchers,

and The Dave Clark Five,
and Herman's Hermits,

and all this business.

The Stones were something
totally different.

It just felt entirely different.

* Sitting in my bedroom
late last night *

* I got into bed and
turned out the light *

No one else was really
trying to do what

The Stones were doing,
they were into the blues.

They were into black music,
and they imitated it.

But they imitated it very well,

and they got something
of the essence.

They weren't just
playing on the surface.

[Narrator] But The Stones',
singer Mick Jagger,

guitarists Keith
Richards and Brian Jones,

bassist Bill Wyman, and
drummer Charlie Watts,

found that their
appeal was limited.

And their first US tour
proved a disappointment.

When The Rolling
Stones first came to

the United States in
1964, they were not

greeted with tremendous
acclaim, initially.

Their records hadn't
hit the radio yet,

and they came to Los
Angeles where they appeared

on a television show called
The Hollywood Palace.

And the host was Dean Martin
and he said, these guys

are gonna get in a hair pulling
contest with The Beatles.

They were costarring
with two elephants,

which kind of tells
you what America

thought of The
Stones to start with.

And Dean Martin, he
laid into The Stones.

Well I'm gonna let
you in on something.

You know these signing
groups today are under

the impression they have
long hair. [scoffing]

Not true at all, it's
an optical illusion.

They just have low
foreheads and high eyebrows.

[audience laughing]

They had the advanced
publicity, they had the gigs,

but America just did not see in

The Rolling Stones what
they wanted to see.

They really wanted
a second Beatles.

And that's not what they got.

[Narrator] In contrast,
their rise

to the top in the UK
had been meteoric.

Having only formed in the
summer of 1962, they quickly

made a name for themselves
in the London blues circuit,

and arrived fresh
faced in the British

charts less than a year later.

And where America was
looking for another Beatles,

The Stones earlier in their
homeland had been built upon

marketing them as the polar
opposite of the Liverpudlians.

Their manager,
Andrew Loog Oldham,

carefully crafted this image.

They wouldn't smile in photos,

they would respond
indifferently to interviews.

From the very start, The Stones
were presented as rebels.

They didn't so much have a
defiance as an insolence.

It put The Rolling Stones on
one side, with the youngsters.

And it put the establishment
on the other side.

They were really probably the
first anti-establishment band.

There was a punk attitude,
except we didn't call it

punk at the time, we just
called it loutishness,

or yobbishness, that applied
to the Beatles as well,

and John Lennon in
particular perhaps.

And whereas Brian
Epstein's instinct was then

to tone that down,
put them in suits,

and make them as respectable
as he possibly could

without completely
losing their edge,

Oldham's instinct was
the exact opposite.

He definitely had a
vision of creating a band,

a gang, that was the
opposite of the Beatles gang.

I think they understood
Andrew's vision.

And I think when Andrew said
don't smile, be a bit surly,

you don't have to be,
if Charlie doesn't

want to answer he
doesn't answer.

If he does answer, he
just says yes or no.

And he's sort of
monosyllabic and cool.

What would you say?

Not in this first relationship,

It's too late to be made better.

What came out of it was a
high degree of individuality,

coupled with the nous that
Jagger had from the very outset.

The coolness that Keith
had, and the extraordinary

charismatic Brian who was
unlike, at that moment in time,

unlike anybody I
think you'd ever seen.

[Narrator] And
The Stones'' image

perfectly complemented
their music.

After a couple of minor
singles, their 1964 hit

"Not Fade Away"
captured the band's

unique blend of blues
and rock and roll.

The sound that had made them a
sensation on the club circuit

now saw them ascend to the
top of the British charts.

The Stones really were the first

of the R and B bands to emerge.

I mean R and B originally
came out of the jazz

movement in London,
the jazz clubs.

And it was frowned upon a bit,

it was scene as a bit populist.

Whereas the Mersey Beat
bands, obviously the Beatles,

but then you had Billy J Kramer,

you had Freddie
and the Dreamers,

were very much melody driven.

But The Stones had this
dark American vibe.

They didn't look to Mersey
side, they looked across

to the States to Chicago
and the inner cities.

So, it was really a new sound,
there was nothing really

like what The Stones
were doing at all.

* I wanna tell you
how it's gonna be *

* You're gonna give
your love to me *

* I'm gonna love
you night and day *

* Well you know my
love will not fade away *

The Stones' music was
very much a vine.

The hooks were all about
rhythm, whereas I think

the hooks for the Beatles were
yeah yeah yeah and harmonies.

The Stones didn't
really go in for that.

"Not Fade Away" really
crystallized that.

["Not Fade Away" by
The Rolling Stones]

The Stones had that
R and B bluesy edge.

And, of course, in
Jagger they had this

charismatic frontman,
so it was earthier.

Rock and roll had sort
of eradicated it's

black origins, and
tried to make itself

as white as it could
possibly sound.

And, if you like, the
early Stones put

the black back into rock and
roll, even though they were

white, middle class,
suburban English boys.

After that you had the chain
of events that The Stones

were suddenly good copy in
the national newspapers,

this is the dark
version of the Beatles,

they don't wash, all
that kind of stuff.

"Not Fade Away" was the
song that did that.

They were taking us on
this rhythmic journey,

and no one knew where
that was gonna end.

[Narrator] In October 1964,

The Stones headed to
the US once again.

Now with hit
singles behind them,

and a growing reputation
within the youth market,

this time they
were invited on to

Ed Sullivan's television
show, which had helped launch

the Beatles nationwide
at the start of the year.

And the generational divide
that the band had opened up

in their homeland,
was immediately

replicated when they
arrived on screen.

The Stones' appearance
on Ed Sullivan,

in the newspapers everybody
was complaining about

because Mick Jagger walked
on stage in a sweat shirt.

No one did that on
The Ed Sullivan Show.

[audience screaming]

* I said the joint was rocking

* Going round and round

Jagger just walked out on that

stage like he was in a club.

The second you saw him
you knew that this was

crossing the line in
an outrageous way.

* And they never
stopped rocking *

* Till the moon went down

Jagger was singing in a kind
of black American accent.

It was very sexual.

And by that point the
Beatles had become sort of

a novelty as far as
parents were concerned.

You got patted on the head
for liking the Beatles.

You didn't get
patted on the head

for liking The Rolling Stones.

The older Americans reacted
with complete dismay,

without understanding
why, although

instinctively they
are completely correct

because the British
were here to replace

old fashioned American
show business,

and that's exactly what they
did, so long Toady Fields.

It presaged what came to be
called the generation gap,

where the American
adult population became

really threatened and
intimidated by their children.

[Narrator] And these
children were impressed

by what they saw on Ed Sullivan.

This time, with the
performance mainlining

the band directly into
homes across the country,

The Stones were
instantly elevated

to the very top of
the music world.

And as their audience grew,
so too did the unruly,

frenzied atmosphere
of their live shows.

More than any of
their contemporaries,

The Rolling Stones
inspired chaos.

There were a lot of riots,
but the riots were more-so

I think the fans trying
to get close to you.

Mick had it controlled usually,
and the minute you knew

they were coming over the
stage, we'd run back to

the dressing rooms
and lock it down.

There was not as much security
but the doors kept it clear,

no kids were pushing
through at that time.

But it was scary.

The Stones appealed
much more towards

the boys than the
Beatles had done.

The Beatles encouraged
the screamers.

The Stones invited the
boys to participate.

There was something a
bit more butch about

The Rolling Stones
than there was

about the Beatles, at that time.

Whether it was the
beat, the rebel look,

young men turned up
at Stones' concerts.

On the continent, for
example Paris and Holland,

there was serious rioting,
male, masculine, macho rioting.

It was just like
rock and roll again,

smashing up the stalls,
fighting with the police.

It wasn't just the fact that

it was the boys
looking for a punch up,

it was the media, to a
large extent, that built up

the expectations of
the gig quite often.

The security people just
didn't know what to expect.

When somebody tells you
that The Rolling Stones

are coming to town,
there's gonna be a riot.

You prepare for that
eventuality just in case.

Security and the audience
was a massive problem,

which I mean ultimately
saw it's nadir in Altamont.

[Narrator] But these
outbreaks of disorder

did not dampen the mood of
optimism back in Britain.

By late in 1964, a cultural
and artistic revolution

was underway, with a change
in political leadership

bringing a new sense of
purpose and vitality.

Youth was in the driving seat,
and the nation's capital,

London, was becoming a hotbed
of creativity and innovation.

After the Beatles, it
was all eyes on Britain,

but particularly
all eyes on London.

Suddenly, filmmakers,
the fashion world

particularly, were
gravitating to London,

and seeing London as
a city of culture.

It was very very different,
the old idea of Britain as

an old fashioned,
almost militaristic,

historical establishment
symbolized by the royal family.

We're having aristocrats now,

and they were from
the lower orders.

You had Julie Christie, Jagger,

Ringo Starr, Michael
Caine, Terence Stamp.

This was London in
1964, '65, it was the place

where everyone
wanted to gravitate.

And it was the place
that was pulsing

more than any other
city on Earth.

[Narrator] In America however,
things were very different.

Although the coming
of the British bands

had energized the
nation's youth,

and revolutionized the
entertainment industry,

the shadow of violent
conflict loomed large.

At the time of John
F. Kennedy's death

there had been a number of
military advisors in Vietnam

aiding the government in
the south of the country

against a communist
insurgency from the North.

Where Kennedy had been keen
to contain this involvement

his successor, President
Lyndon Johnson, escalated

the conflict and committed
US forces to a ground war.

By 1965 thousands of young
American men were being

called up to military
duty and sent to Vietnam.

And the president
immediately emerged as

an enemy of the
growing youth culture.

History did not favor a
single system or belief,

unless force is
used to make it so.

That's why it's been
necessary for us to defend

this basic principle of our
policy, to defend it in Berlin,

and in Korea, and in Cuba,
and tonight in Vietnam.

[audience applauding]

Vietnam certainly did
more than anything else

to politicize the
generation gap.

And the reason he escalated it
when he did was that he made

the terrible mistake of
thinking that Southeast Asia

was a replay of Europe in
1938, and we were reminded

over and over again that we
must never make the mistake

of Munich made by
Neville Chamberlain.

The two things actually had
nothing to do with each other.

But unfortunately
they became an excuse

to send 500,000 American
soldiers to Vietnam

in a completely hopeless cause.

The draft that
supported that war

was incredibly unpopular, again,

90 million Americans
under age 25,

many of them know people
that are are getting drafted,

and serving, and
dying in some cases.

So the war was
extremely controversial.

And there's also
an important point

that young people
were more alert to.

And that was that the
explanations about the war,

its origins, and its
development we're not truthful.

This is much more than
a political issue.

It's an issue of trust.

[Narrator] And as the
war quickly escalated,

protests broke out
across the nation.

Young Americans joined
with peace activists

to organize large scale
demonstrations, and marches.

While at academic
institutions, students became

a powerful voice in the
fight against the war.

With the young now actively
involved in a conflict with

an older generation
they perceived

as violent war mongers,

the music that had
reenergized their lives

became bound up
in this struggle.

As people began to
protest the war,

and civil rights protests
were taking place,

rebellion in the cultural arena
began to take on that tinge.

So, what seemed just
like The Rolling Stones

kind of surliness, suddenly
had a political element.

The generation gap, and the
don't trust anyone over 30,

and all of those kind of
ideas became politicized,

so that it wasn't just
the kind of Marlon Brando

what are you rebelling
against, what do you got?

Well, we got plenty, there's
plenty to rebel against.

[Narrator] And in
the summer of 1965,

just as President Johnson
announced he would double

the number young Americans
called up for active duty,

and as race riots
erupted in the Watts

neighborhood in Los
Angeles, The Rolling Stones

released "I Can't
Get no Satisfaction."

The song perfectly captured
the spirit of their generation.

"Satisfaction" really was the
record that they kind of,

they didn't realize
it I think, but it was

the one that they were
working up towards.

It was the one that
embodied their attitude.

It embodied the drive.

And you have to listen
to the rhythm of that.

It was like a marching, almost
a marching pounding beat.

* I can't get no satisfaction

* I can't get no satisfaction

And it was the march of youth,

the march of the
younger generation.

And then you add the lyrical
content on top of that.

I can't get no
satisfaction, The Stones,

and that record
particularly was the one

in summer of '65 that
embodied everything that

the young people were
kind of striving for.

"I Can't Get no
Satisfaction" became

a kind of generational anthem.

And it's an amazing performance,

I mean it's a
definitive guitar line.

But also Jagger's performance,

by the time he gets
to that last verse,

I'm riding around the world.

* When I'm riding
around the world *

* And I'm doing this
and I'm signing that *

* And I'm trying
to make some girl *

* Who tells me better maybe
come back maybe next week *

* Can't you see I'm
on a losing streak *

* I can't get no

Jagger is very
underrated as a singer.

But when you isolate
his vocals, and you hear

the kind of commitment that
he brings to his delivery.

There's a reason why
the second you hear

that song you never forget it.

The sense of young people
feeling that kind of

disgruntlement with mainstream
culture, that was very much

in the air right then,
and they gave it voice.

[Narrator] Over the next year,

The Stones' sound would expand.

And the singles following
"Satisfaction" took aim

at the dark underbelly
of British culture.

And at the same time in America,
a new door was beginning,

one that would have an
enormous impact on The Stones,

and all of their contemporaries.

In distant San Francisco
an artistic, spiritual,

and cultural scene had been
growing since the 1950s.

And its introduction of new
music, mind expanding drugs,

and alternative lifestyles
was about to change the world.

San Francisco has
been a home for

the tragically disaffected
since the Catholic

missionaries showed
up here in the 1700s.

Hospitable to radicals,
rebels, mavericks, it attracted

these original sort of
disaffected free thinkers

of the '50s, of
the post war era.

And it was common
knowledge to them

that their parents
didn't understand them.

And one of them was a writer
by the name of Jack Kerouac

who constructed an
epic book, "On the Road",

of two just such
characters making a journey

across the country, and their
destination is San Francisco.

On the Road settled
San Francisco as

the capital of this
kind of thinking.

The main thing that touched
off this kind of activity,

I think, is the
arrival of the beats,

the arrival of Jack
Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg.

And then in short order you've
got figures like Ken Kesey.

[Narrator] A decade younger
than the beat writers,

celebrated novelist,

Kesey introduced the
bohemian community

in San Francisco
to a new drug, LSD.

And this would play
a pivotal role in

the cultural scene
that soon developed.

Ken Kesey had made his
money as the author

of One Flew Over
the Cuckoo's Nest.

He'd been introduced
to hallucinogenic drugs

by a government backed
experimental testing program.

And then he becomes
the link really between

The Beat Generation
of Allen Ginsberg

and Lawrence Ferlinghetti,
and the emerging

hippie movement of the mid
1960s, so he's a pivotal figure.

He puts together what came
to be called the acid tests,

which were multicultural
events, experiences,

at which LSD was liberally
and freely circulated,

and at which the Grateful
Dead became the house band.

The Grateful Dead play
there, they become part of

that scene, the house band,
they weren't really concerts.

But the Grateful
Dead were there.

Sometimes they didn't even play,
they were too high to play.

And no one would came there
to listen to them anyway.

So it gave them a
fantastic opportunity

to develop their music in
the way that they saw fit.

[Narrator] In early 1966,
this musical offshoot

of the LSD parties began
gathering momentum.

Alongside The Grateful
Dead, bands such as

The Jefferson Airplane,
and Big Brother

and the Holding Company
developed on the local

club circuit, creating
psychedelic sounds

that complimented
the acid experience.

At the premier clubs
the Fillmore West,

and the Avalon Ballroom,
from these experiments

a new musical culture was
born, far from the controlling

hands of the commercial
entertainment industry.

At the Fillmore in Avalon
there were no spotlights.

There was a big light show
that covered the back wall

and the side wall, and
was not an exact science.

It covered parts of the floor
too, and people sitting on it.

It was just this huge
pulsing set of colors

coming out of light
projectors, and film loops.

And there was no spotlight,
there was no band on display,

and the stages were
very low, like 12,

18 inches off the floor,
and these crowds danced.

They danced to the
music, they didn't

sit there and watch
like a concert.

[Narrator] And the culture
that started in the clubs,

soon began to spread out
into the neighborhoods

and public spaces of the city.

With its epicenter in the
Haight Ashbury District,

free concerts were
soon organized,

with The Grateful Dead

and other bands playing
to large crowds,

both on the streets
and in local parks.

By the end of 1966, the hippy
movement was in full flight.

What's happening in San
Francisco is driven by

a very democratic impulse,
but it is not commercial.

So you have the free concerts.

I mean the drugs are
also very very important.

LSD is still legal in
in '66, don't forget.

And it is a tool of
liberation, and suddenly drugs

are not just about
getting out of your head,

they're about expanding your
head, expanding your mind.

And so that goes along I think
with the democratic impulse,

and the love, and peace, and
those sort of pseudo political

philosophical notions that
underpin the hippie movement.

[Narrator] And while the key
concepts of love and peace

were central to this new San
Francisco counterculture,

at the free concerts another
group of non conformists

were often seen rubbing
shoulders with the hippies.

The Hell's Angels, a
Californian biker club,

were similarly looking to
live by their own code.

An outlaw presence
across the state,

viewed by the authorities
as a violent criminal gang,

they had come into
contact with Ken Kesey

and the burgeoning
counterculture

at an early stage.

Kesey tamed The Hell's Angels.

He had them come over to La
Honda, filled them with LSD,

and hung out with
the pranksters.

And they were tamed by
him, they loved him,

they loved LSD, they
got that whole thing.

Pretty soon The Hell's
Angels are fixtures

at the Grateful Dead
shows, and people

start getting used
to seeing them.

And in fact they can
be quite helpful,

sometimes reconnecting lost
children with their parents.

So, it wasn't unusual to see
them at some of these events.

The counterculture and The
Hell's Angels were sort of

decent bedfellows because
sex, drugs, rock and roll.

Living the fast life, living
life on the margins of society.

There's an affiliation
between rebellion

and men on motorbikes
that goes right back

to Marlon Brando
in "The Wild One."

[engines roaring]

[dramatic music]

On their bikes they
expressed freedom,

and up and down the freeway,
this is on the road,

except they're on their
iron horses, so to speak.

But I think there must
have been a wariness,

because the angels lived
kind of a different life.

They didn't subscribe
to love and peace.

[Narrator] For more than a
year this new counterculture,

coexisting with The Angels,
had been able to grow

organically with
little media attention.

But in January 1967 a far larger
free concert was organized.

Known as the Human Be-In,
it featured speeches

from prominent figures Timothy
Leary, and Allen Ginsberg,

alongside musical
performances by

the major new
voices on the scene.

The Human Be-In
was a huge event,

because it was the
first one of its kind.

You hadn't seen this
kind of a huge crowd

of countercultural people
until the Human Be-In.

So, it's example was
extremely important.

It was made for television,
sort of as a signal

to the national media
that something interesting

is going on in San
Francisco's youth culture.

The people who are
onstage and speaking,

are also made for television.

You got Timothy Leary,
and Allen Ginsberg

in these kind of flowing robes,
Leary spreading his message

about the benefits
of psychedelics.

Six words:

Turn on,

tune in,

drop out.

[audience cheering]

I don't think word leaked out
much about what was going on

in San Francisco through
the course of 1966.

But with the Human
Be-In in January of '67,

it just exploded the
beginning of that year.

And the mythology
was instantaneous.

Harry Reasoner showed up,
the American TV journalist

and cluck, cluck, clucked
about the hippies.

They they think there's
some kind of saint.

And in doing that, it
delivered a coded message

to young people everywhere
that it wasn't as repressive,

it wasn't as gray,
that there was hope.

And that you could
go to San Francisco,

grow your hair, and
things would be different.

[Narrator] While across
America, young people flocked

to the Haight Ashbury District
in search of this Utopia.

In Britain too the influence
of San Francisco was soon felt.

Countercultural ideas and
fashions crossed the Atlantic,

while touring musicians,
including The Stones

and The Beatles were introduced

to hallucinogenics by their
American counterparts.

Talk of the new drug, LSD
in particular, led to fears

that popular culture was
getting out of control.

Where only two years beforehand,

the administration of Prime
Minister Harold Wilson

was celebrating the
Beatles and the booming

youth movement, now
a backlash began.

Where once leniency
had prevailed,

now a number of drug
busts were organized.

And in February 1967, the
police arrived in force

at the home of Rolling Stones'
guitarist, Keith Richards.

Pop stars had soft power,
they had cultural power,

and what they were saying
was increasingly disobedient.

But of course the
establishment didn't like that.

And they increasingly
took notice

of pop stars, and
what they were saying.

And The Stones really were ideal

candidates then for drug busts.

When they started
to clamp down hard,

which was February 1967,
The Stones were marked men.

The police were given a tip
off by the news of the world

that a drug party was taking
place at Keith Richards'

home in West
Wittering, in Sussex.

And they raided it on a
Sunday night in February.

This was the famous bust
where Marianne Faithfull

was dressed in
nothing but a fur rug.

All they found was some ash
from marijuana cigarettes

in an ashtray, a
few amphetamines

that were actually, I
believe a prescription.

And the outcome
was that Jagger was

sentenced to three months
in prison for the pills.

And the Keith Richards
got 12 months for allowing

his home to be used for
this nefarious drug taking.

Personally I was upset for
them, and very shocked.

We were all
instructed to be very

very low key, not to
talk to any media.

There was a sort of
blanket instruction

from The Stones' office, to
not do anything to exacerbate,

that this was a
serious situation.

And so we were all, I
mean definitely, upset,

and distressed, and worried,
and worried for them.

[Narrator] While these
arrests further enhanced

The Stones' rebellious
reputation, they also sidelined

the band for much of the
counterculture's watershed year.

While awaiting trial, they
performed a European tour,

their last series of shows
for more than two years.

And in May, Brian Jones was
also the target of a police

raid and he too would stand
trial for drug possession.

On America's West
Coast, however,

the counterculture's influence
spread unobstructed.

And in June 1967, the first
major pop festival took place in

Monterey, a coastal city 100
miles south of San Francisco.

It would prove a
vital showcase for

the bands of the Haight Ashbury.

The San Francisco scene
was very excited by this.

We could feel this
was the next wave.

And so we wanted for them,
if you hadn't heard of them,

now's your chance to
see them, now go down

and spend three days
and see them all.

Monterey, incredible
important transition,

catalyst for huge change, and
people came in that weekend

on the top, Mamas and Papas
runs six straight top 10 hits,

The Association,
Simon and Garfunkel.

By the end of the
weekend everybody was

talking about Jimi Hendrix,
Jefferson Airplane,

Otis Redding, Big Brother
and The Holding Company.

And the whole world had
revolved in three days.

Monterey was the first of
the pop music festivals.

And it had a great
feeling around it.

There was a lot of
optimism in the air,

along with the
smell of marijuana.

And for me, watching
that festival,

the highlight was Janis Joplin.

Because I'd scene Hendrix,
and I'd seen The Who.

I knew how good they were,
I'd flown out with Hendrix.

But when Janis Joplin
came up on stage

and opened her mouth, I
just took two steps back.

I just had never heard a woman
sing like that in my life.

* Oh whoa whoa tell my why

* Does everything go so wrong *

* I see people honey
all go wrong yeah *

Everyone was there, Derek
Taylor, the Beatles

publicist put this
whole thing together.

And a lot of people were there.

So a lot of people
saw her kill it.

I mean she was great that night.

Rather than being in
a relatively small,

semi-provincial American
city, all of a sudden

San Francisco was
challenging LA.

LA was the West Coast
center of popular music

with the movies, and
all that was all LA.

And San Francisco had
very little part in that.

But now, The Grateful
Dead was San Francisco,

Janis Joplin was San Francisco.

San Francisco, that
summer, became a pop music

capital where it
had not been before.

[Narrator] And in
attendance of this

historic festival
was a Rolling Stone.

Brian Jones, still
awaiting sentencing,

had traveled to the
event, keen to witness

firsthand the fruits of
this new counterculture.

Brian Jones appearing
in the audience at

Monterey Pop, hanging
out with Nico was

important to the scene,
they recognized that as

British rock royalty
anointing the festival.

So The Stones were
represented there.

It would be the underpinnings of

what would lead them
into Altamont because

they felt somewhat separate
from this hip underground

movement and they really
wanted to be part of it.

Jagger especially wanted
that for his band.

[Narrator] But it was
neither The Stones,

nor the West Coast acts that
would provide the definitive

musical statement of this new
countercultural mindset.

In a remarkable creative
surge, with the LP

Sergeant Pepper's
Lonely Hearts Club Band,

and the single All You Need
is Love, it was the Beatles

that captured the spirit
of the summer of love.

1967 really was
owned by the Beatles.

There was all
this thing happening

over on the West Coast.

But "All You Need is Love", it
was so right for its time.

A summer of love that was,
like all the best flowers,

they just die off after
a couple of months.

But "All You Need is
Love" was the song,

the single song that
symbolized that.

They also had Sergeant Pepper
on the album market which,

even reviewers in the Times
saying this is genuine art.

This isn't pop
music, this is art.

In my whole career
of following music,

and now it's 50, 60 years,
there was nothing ever

and hasn't been since
something like Sergeant Pepper.

This was big, Sergeant
Pepper blew everybody's mind.

Everybody found
something to like.

It was just powerful,
powerful music.

[Narrator] In late July,
Jagger and Richards

successfully appealed
against their convictions.

And the pair were
free men once again.

Determined to keep
up with the Beatles,

The Stones quickly
reassembled and issued

their own contributions
to the summer of love.

But the single We Love You,
and the album that followed,

the much maligned Satanic
Majesties Request,

offered a less celebratory
vision of the times,

and failed to chime with
the utopian mood of the era.

The Rolling Stones,
and peace and love

might seem unlikely bedfellows.

But Jagger and
Richards were there

at the recording of
All You Need is Love.

And in fact their single
which follows that,

"We Love You", I think
is a masterpiece.

The Rolling Stones are,
and Jagger and Richards

in particular are, right in
the firing line at this point.

So, peace and love
with with an edge,

because they are being
targeted and victimized.

* We love you

* We love you

* And we hold

It wasn't anything like
"All You Need is Love".

It was sardonic.

It was ironic, almost,
the way they sang that

It wasn't inclusive, and upbeat,

and playful, and fun,
and international.

So The Stones weren't
really playing ball.

The Stones are hardened.

They never fully bit on all
the idealism of the '60s.

They were tougher, it was
like a London thing in part.

They were city kids.

So all of this get
back to the land,

and wear flowers in your
hair, and all that business,

that didn't really
work for them so well.

They didn't think because
you went to the park

with your friends and
waved a flag around

that anybody was gonna
give up anything important.

They totally understood that
that was never going to happen.

[Narrator] And The
Stones reluctance

to join in with the
prevailing optimism,

was borne out by the
more disturbing events

that occurred during
the summer of love.

In June 1967, 10,000 peace
marchers were violently attacked

by police during a
demonstration in Los Angeles.

While the following month,
race riots erupted in Detroit

leaving dozens killed
and hundreds injured.

Even as the summer of
love was proffering this

kind of vision of a a new world,

there were plenty of problems.

Everything didn't disappear
because you took a pill one day.

"We can transform
things by smoking pot."

It was just not realistic.

And soon everyone learned
how unrealistic it was.

The growth of the
counterculture occurs at exactly

the same time as the black
ghetto is rising up in force,

in Detroit, and in
many other places.

So, you have these
two simultaneous,

not exactly related
movements, but both of them

give you a feeling that
everything is changing.

And a lot of things
are under siege

in a way they never were before.

But certainly the riots
in the black ghettos are

the most destabilizing
force in the country,

and the one that terrifies
white people the most,

even more than long haired
rock and rollers, clearly.

[Narrator] The stage was set
for harder times to follow.

And at the very start of
1968 the counterculture's

faith in the authorities
crumbled even further.

Victory in Vietnam was always
presented as a certainty,

the inevitable end
to a just crusade.

But the news reports

that broadcast during
the Tet Offensive

offered all of America a very
different vision of the war.

William Westmoreland, who's
the Commanding Army General

for the United States in
Vietnam has come home to America

in the fall of 1967 and said
that the war is being won,

and that we have
nothing to worry about,

and that we're about to turn
the corner, and of course,

famously there is light
at the end of the tunnel.

And then at the end of
January of 1968 you have

every major city in
South Vietnam,

and every major military outpost

attacked simultaneously
in honor of the Tet Holiday.

And you have Vietnamese,
including some who

had worked before
the American Embassy,

inside the American
Embassy attacking it.

And those images of people
inside the Embassy Compound,

as well as the general
mayhem around the country,

have a very dramatic
and immediate effect.

It was very clear that the
light at the end of the tunnel

just really didn't
exist, that was a fantasy

that was being sold
to the American people

to justify their sons going
over to fight this war.

Once that became part of
people's awareness of what

was going on in Vietnam,
yeah, the tide began to turn.

But yeah there was
resistance to that.

My country, right or wrong.

That was something you heard
all the time back then.

Even if Vietnam was not
justifiable you had to

get behind it, and young
people who were kind of

expected to go fight
that war we're thinking,

well I don't think so,
I don't see it that way.

The battle was on.

[Narrator] And
this battle was not

restricted to
America's home turf.

The youth and peace movements
were active internationally.

And in Europe large
demonstrations were

organized to oppose
the Vietnam War.

And although Britain had
seen peaceful marches

for nuclear disarmament since
the start of the decade,

in March 1968 outside
the US Embassy in London,

the protests descended
into violence.

After the flowers had wilted
there was a reality check.

And the reality check,
Vietnam was becoming an issue

that spread amongst young
people right around the world.

It was the Cold War really
getting out of control, Vietnam.

Young lives are being lost and
people are asking questions

as to why Britain wasn't
sending the forces over,

but there was some tacit
support of the USA.

[Narrator] And amongst
the protesters,

observing as the police and
the demonstrators clashed,

was Mick Jagger himself.

Since his trial
the frontman's role

in the counterculture
had been transformed,

and he now positioned
himself on the front lines.

Jagger's very interesting
in terms of his role

in the counterculture because
there is this instinctive

desire just to be yobbish
and put your two fingers up.

But he's also got
this LSE education.

He is attracted by some
of the intellectual ideas

that are underpinning
these notions

of different ways of
organizing society.

And he starts
appearing on British TV

debating with Malcolm
Muggeridge, and Mary Whitehouse,

and these figures
who represented

a really reactionary
attitude at the time.

The opportunity to go on
TV and debate why he felt

society was being organized
on the wrong lines

was very attractive to
him, and then it becomes

part of his songwriting as well.

[upbeat music]

[Narrator] And this would
come at a perfect time.

The confrontational mood in
Europe was further escalated

in May when student
riots erupted in Paris.

The resistance soon spread to
the French workers themselves.

And the streets
became a battleground,

with protesters calling
for a revolution.

Into this turbulence
came The Rolling Stones

new single,
"Jumping Jack Flash".

You had Grosvenor
Square, but you also

had activism in
Berlin, in Paris.

And youth was becoming
an international force,

in a way like that, and
The Stones, when they

got there kinda mojo back,
back to the tough R and B,

They were a great
symbol for that.

So when you had
the Beatles in '67,

embodying everything
that was happening then,

The Stones were poised,
really, to embody the

darker energies that were
kind of unfolding during '68.

* I was born in a
cross fire hurricane *

* And I howled at the
morning driving rain *

* But it's all --

I remember the first time
I heard Jumping Jack Flash.

I was thinking like wow,
The Stones are back.

* But it's all right

Driven by a riff, and driven by

a kind of rebellious
message, it was exactly

what that moment
seemed to call for.

That started them off and kicked

everything off with
the "Jumping Jack Flash".

I mean, born in a
cross fire hurricane,

and all of the language
that was in that thing,

it was like identifying
for all those people

felt like life was crazy,
you had all the Vietnam,

all these other things
going on so yes,

born in a crossfire re-kicked
everything, it rekindled it.

[somber music]

[Narrator] But where
The Stones were being

revitalized, the American
political landscape

was reeling from
further tragedies.

In April, civil rights
leader Martin Luther King

had been assassinated
sparking off riots

in more than 110 cities, the
greatest wave of social unrest

the country had experienced
since the Civil War.

Despite the turbulence,
there was one

political figure
who offered hope.

Robert Kennedy, the
younger brother of slain

president John, was a
leading candidate for

the Democratic Party to
succeed Lyndon Johnson.

An advocate of human
rights, and social justice,

and an opponent of
the Vietnam War,

he suggested that
change could occur

from within the
political system.

Yet on June 5, 1968,
shortly after winning

the Californian primary,
he too was assassinated.

He did represent hope, and
even the people who hadn't

necessarily invested in it,
they knew him to be that.

And the robbery was
felt very strongly

throughout the youth culture.

Those two assassinations
did more to destroy

optimism than anything
else in my lifetime.

And of course, really, it
was three assassinations

in the minds of us who
came of age in the '60s,

because it was John Kennedy,
and then it was King,

and then it was Bobby Kennedy,
so those were the three most

horrifying events of my youth.

The main thing I think when
you think back on that period

was just how saturated with
violence the culture was.

The idea of putting any kind
of hope in any of these figures

was beginning to look
faintly ridiculous.

Because so many of
them were being killed,

violently, in front of our eyes.

[Narrator] And for the
counterculture the idea

of peace and love
lost its allure,

and revolution became
their rallying cry.

Many of those involved
in the youth movement

solely for the sex,
drugs, and rock and roll

now became politically active.

And this reached its boiling
point at a mass demonstration

at the Democratic National
Convention in August, 1968.

Well, the Democratic National
Convention in Chicago

shaped up to be a coronation
of Hubert Humphrey,

Johnson's vice president
and hand picked

successor nobody
cared one whit about.

And the sort of National
Council of unaffiliated hippies

who called themselves
the yippies,

determined to create
a diversion, a strike,

a demonstration outside the
convention headquarters.

And they called
on youth all over

the country to
descend on Chicago.

The fact is Chicago
was run by a Mayor,

tough guy named Richard Daley.

And he just didn't see
any reason these kids

should be allowed to do
anything, so it was a battle

in the streets outside
the Democratic convention.

There were thousands of
kids getting clobbered,

and tear gassed, and hauled
off to jail by the Chicago

Police who were acting, for
all intents and purposes,

like the Nazi Police
Festival in the '30s.

The police riots at the
Democratic National Convention

in Chicago in 1968 were
absolutely a dividing line.

It would totally
radicalized youth culture.

One of the chants
of the protesters at

the Chicago Convention was
the whole world is watching.

And that there was that sense
of once you've seen this

you can't look away you can't
unsee it, you can't pretend.

You had to line up on
one side or another.

[Narrator] Just as
these images of vicious

police brutality were
being broadcast worldwide,

The Rolling Stones released
the single "Street Fighting Man"

inspired by the Grosvenor
Square riots earlier that year.

Declared a subversive record,
it was instantly banned

by radio stations in
Chicago and reinforced

the group's anti
establishment credentials.

Street Fighting Man
captured the feeling

of the time both in
America and here.

But Jagger was always
good at sensing that.

And he always had that ability.

It was one of his
strengths as a song writer.

* Everywhere I hear the sound
of marching charging feet boy *

* 'Cause summer's here
and the time is right *

* For fighting in
the street boy *

Blood was running
in the streets.

The temperatures were
rising, rising really fast.

It had changed so
much in that year from

"All You Need is Love" in 1967,
"Street Fighting Man" in 1968.

Timing is everything and
to have that song come out

at that moment made them
right at the center of

the zeitgeist in a
way that they probably

hadn't been for
several years before.

And it's true that the
absolute peak of the Beatles

was with "Sergeant Pepper's"
in 1967, although we have

to remember that "Hey Jude"
was also in 1968 and Dylan's

most powerful political stuff
was, by 1968, behind him.

So yeah, I would say
that The Rolling Stones,

at that moment, were
probably the most powerful

political force in the
rock and roll scene.

[Narrator] And The Stones
resurgence was confirmed

at the close of the year with
the album "Beggars Banquet".

Promoted with a
drunken press party,

it was a time for
celebration, with not only

Jagger and Richards,
but also Brian Jones,

having narrowly avoided prison
time during a difficult year.

Yet the wider counterculture
was not feeling so celebratory,

with the presidential election
of Republican candidate

Richard Nixon in November,
pouring salt on the wounds

that had been
inflicted during 1968.

The Stones' new LP, and its
standout opening track,

"Sympathy for The Devil",
demonstrated

their continued relevance

and resistance to
the existing order.

Anyone who had doubts
about what The Stones

were up to after "Satanic
Majesties Request"

had those doubts erased
by Beggars Banquet.

If you watch the
footage of the movie

they made with Jean-Luc Godard,

they're recording
"Sympathy For the Devil".

And in the course
of making the movie,

you see Jagger having to
change the lyrics from

I shouted out who
killed Kennedy to

I shouted out who
killed the Kennedys?

* I watched with glee while
your kings and queens *

* Fought for ten decades
for the gods they made *

* I shouted out who
killed the Kennedys *

* When after all
it was you and me *

When you have to make
a revision like that,

you know that you're
operating right on

the cutting edge
of what's going on.

As the track that
announced Beggars Banquet,

it couldn't possibly have
been a stronger statement.

* Pleased to meet you *

* Hope you guessed
my name oh yeah *

Jagger married a
hedonism to

an enjoyment of that sort of
Lord of Misrule role.

That's what comes across

in songs like
"Sympathy For the Devil".

He falls in love, I think,
with this role of the Lord

of Misrule bringing chaos
and turbulence in its wake.

And it's very
attractive but equally

rather dangerous
at the same time.

[contemplative music]

[Narrator] While The Stones were
busy reestablishing themselves

in this anarchic
role, another scene

had developed in Britain
over the past two years.

Inspired by the San
Francisco psychedelic acts,

the bands of the underground
had also experimented

with light shows, and
elongated soul forms

at the circuit's main club, UFO.

In 1968 the scene's leading
lights, The Pink Floyd

headlined the first
major free concert

in London's Hyde Park, organized
by Blackhill Enterprises.

And following the success
of the first show,

in June 1969 they staged
an even larger event,

featuring the
supergroup Blind Faith.

Pink Floyd show was
seminal because it was

a whole lot of people at it,
but it was kind of small key,

We didn't promote it
viciously, as it were.

But the Blind Faith show
was seminal insofar as

they were kind of amalgam
of Cream and Traffic,

that were two huge bands,
so they played in Hyde Park.

There was 150,000
people at that.

Nobody got arrested,
there are no fights,

it was a beautiful day,
it was very kind of

Fae and woodland in a
kind of English way.

[Narrator] And and Sam Cutler

was then contacted by
The Rolling Stones.

Riding high after their

commercial success
the previous year,

they felt that a large
free concert with added

underground kudos
would offer a suitably

high profile return
to the live arena.

In May, they had also fired
the unreliable Brian Jones,

and had a new guitarist in
tow, Mick Taylor, for whom

this concert would provide
the perfect introduction.

A date was set for July,

anticipation running
high for the event.

And then, two days
before the show,

they received news that
Jones had been found dead.

A few days before
the show, Brian died.

So the question, of
course, immediately becomes

in situations like that,
well what do you do?

Well, there is of course
in the music business,

like all theatrical enterprises,

there's a the show
must go on thing.

Mick and Keith
basically, felt that

it should be held as
a memorial to Brian.

[calm music]

Blackhill Enterprises
started off with very much

the hippie bands playing;
Pink Floyd, Tyrannosaurus Rex,

and then Blind
Faith a bit later.

The Stones is a
different thing again

because they hadn't played
for a couple of years,

not since the busts,
so much had happened.

And they came out they
released the butterflies

which promptly died,
not great omen.

* I'm free to sing my song
any old time *

* So love me hold me

* Love me hold me

* Cause I'm free
to sing my song *

I thought it was one of
the most awful concerts

I've seen The Rolling
Stones perform.

They were under rehearsed.

Mick Taylor just
didn't know whether

he was coming or going
all the way through it.

Jagger dancing on the dead
butterflies was probably

the most awfully comedic
thing I've ever seen.

And they were just
so terribly sad.

Shame they felt
they had to do it.

[Narrator] Outside of
the performance itself,

the concert was a major
event bringing together

an audience of over a
quarter of a million,

who were oblivious to The
Stones' failings on stage.

In its communal atmosphere,
it echoed the peaceful unity

of the San Francisco events
it was emulating.

And in an homage to the renowned

Golden Gate Park shows,
security was overseen

by a very British version
of The Hell's Angels.

Everyone was impeccably behaved,
nobody went to hospital,

no one was stabbed, no
one was shot, any of that.

And there were these guys
that rode BSA 125 motorcycles,

which would like one
step up from the scooter,

who called themselves Hell's
Angels, and of course had

nothing whatsoever to do with
the American Hell's Angels.

The Hell's Angels in England,

they weren't California
Hell's Angels.

They had their colors drawn
on their leathers in chalk.

And they were backstage
at the Hyde Park concert

serving tea, so if that's
what the Rolling Stones

thought The Hell's Angels were,

they were in for quite
a severe surprise.

[Narrator] And soon
The Stones would come

face to face with the
real Hell's Angels.

Following the Hyde Park concert,

the band were making
plans for a new tour,

something they desperately
needed to organize.

Despite their resurgence
in the mainstream,

the band members
themselves were broke.

Back in 1965, manager
Andrew Oldham had brought

New York accountant, Allen
Klein into The Stones' team.

And overtime this
tough negotiator

had proven his
worth to the band.

Soon muscling Oldham
out of the picture,

by 1968 he was the
band's sole manager.

And his company Abkco,
had control over

their financial affairs and
their collective bank accounts.

And getting Klein to
release their funds

was proving
increasingly difficult.

They were fed up with
Allen Klein because they

could never get any
money out of Allen.

So here they were this
world famous band,

virtually starving, and they
had to do a tour of America.

Basically they knew
that if they did it

with Allen Klein, Allen
Klein would end up

with the lion's share
of the receipts.

And they do this huge
tour and have no money.

So they managed, I
don't know quite how,

to seduce Allen Klein's
nephew Ronnie Schneider

away from his uncle's
company, Abkco,

to come and work for The
Stones and do that tour.

In August, I left my uncle.

A few weeks after that
I got a phone call from

Mick Jagger saying we
want you to do this tour.

And I told them that
I had left Abkco.

And they said well we know.

And I said you have to get
my uncle's permission so that

I can go, I don't want to
have a family problem here.

So they said they would
get his permission.

And what they actually did
was, that was the first time

I heard from Sam Cutler,
what they did was

they flew him over to
the UK and fired him.

[Narrator] In firing
Klein, the band's assets

were immediately frozen, and
the run of American shows

became even more crucial for
their financial survival.

And at the end of the
summer, while preparations

for the tour were underway,
a major figure from

the West Coast scene
arrived in London.

And from here the seeds of
the free concert were sown.

What happened was
that the manager,

well one of the managers
of The Grateful Dead

was a guy called Rock
Scully, lovely man.

He came to London, and a dear
friend of his was the head

of Epic Records, of guy called
Chesley Millikin in London.

And Chesley Millikin,
in turn was good friends

with Keith and Mick, so
he introduced Rock Scully

from The Grateful Dead
to Keith and Mick.

And Rock basically was
a great proselytizer

for the benefits of free
concerts, how wonderful it was,

what was going on
in San Francisco.

Rock is summoned over
to Keith Richards house.

And Rock says you
guys are coming over

to the United States,

you need to play the free
concert in the Golden Gate Park.

I know exactly how to do
that, I can fix you up.

But then they also talk
about how The Stones should

play the Taj Mahal, and all
kinds of crazy ideas come up.

And Rock leaves there
without really thinking that

he had just offered to
set up a concert for

The Rolling Stones in San
Francisco, But Keith remembered.

[Narrator] And the
prospect of headlining

another free concert
in the heartland of

the counterculture soon
became even more appealing.

In the middle of August, the
three day Woodstock Festival

became a landmark event,

bringing together
32 musical acts,

and an audience of
nearly half a million.

Despite the previous
year's struggles,

and the election
of Richard Nixon,

this peaceful harmonious
event proved that

the counterculture was
united and thriving.

The counterculture was in very
healthy condition in 1969.

And Woodstock was the
high tide, in a way.

I think in 1969 we genuinely
thought we were winning.

We thought we were growing,

and we were an
unstoppable force.

I was a teenager at the time,
and that's certainly how

I felt, however naive
that may sound today.

But I think the view that
I held was one that was

widely held, that we were
going to change the world.

We genuinely believed that.

And in 1969 we didn't think
anything could stop us.

[Narrator] In late October, 1969

The Stones' team
arrived in Los Angeles

looking to secure at least 15
venues for the upcoming tour,

but with no plans whatsoever
for a free concert.

on November seventh, at
Colorado State University

the band took to
an American stage

for the first time
in three years.

But as with the Hyde Park show,

as a live group they
were still rusty.

It showed up in
their first show,

how woefully ill-prepared
they were for the tour.

And just before that show, I
was asked to introduce them.

I didn't even think about
what I was gonna say.

But a minute before the
show, I rushed on stage

and went "the greatest
rock and roll band

in the world, The
Rolling Stones!"

Everyone cheered, the
band came out and played.

At the end of the show
Mick came off stage,

and as he walked
off stage and passed me,

he went "I wanna talk to
you," not looking very happy.

So we went into the dressing
room all on our own,

and he looked at he said "man,
don't call us the greatest

"rock and roll band in the
world, it's embarrassing."

To which I replied "well
either you are or you ain't."

They immediately went
back into rehearsal.

They got the sound stage for
"They Shoot Horses Don't They",

that film on Warner
Brothers lot in Burbank

in California, and
they rehearsed solidly.

[Narrator] And from
the next show onwards,

The Stones proved that they were

the greatest rock and
roll band in the world.

As they moved west from
Los Angeles to Texas,

Alabama to New York's
Madison Square Garden,

they improved with every show.

Alongside the writer
Stanley Booth,

who was one of The
Stones' inner circle,

New York Times journalist
Michael Lydon was able

to witness firsthand the
band's remarkable ascension.

I was embedded in the tour, I
never paid for a hotel room,

I never paid for
an airplane ticket,

I was just part
of the entourage.

And, as you can imagine
this was a plum assignment.

This was extremely groovy.

I remember thinking, Stanley
and I would look at each other

while The Stones were on stage,
and we were behind the amps.

And we go like, funny
luck between each other,

realizing where we
are right now is where

every hippie anywhere in
the world wants to be,

right in the band with
The Rolling Stones.

And it was great fun.

They were red hot, and they
were crossing the the country.

And they had been getting
better, and better, and better.

In 1969 The Stones
were incredible.

I mean they were just masterful.

I remember when the lights
were down, and all you can see

were the red lights
on their amplifiers.

and Madison Square
Garden in the dark.

And I remember thinking
God, in just a few seconds

The Rolling Stones are gonna
be performing right here.

I remember how
thrilling that felt.

And they were great.

* Yeah yeah yeah

* The honky tonk woman

* Gimme gimme gimme
the honky tonk blues *

I saw The Stones on that tour
at the Los Angeles Forum.

I had tickets for
the second show,

which was supposed to start
at 11, it started at two.

The Stones got onstage at
four, and they then proceeded

to put on what was the
greatest rock and roll show

I had ever seen at
that point in my life.

And to this day, 50 years later,
remains one of the greatest

rock and roll shows I've ever
seen, they were unbelievable.

[Narrator] But while
they were putting on

one explosive show after
another, behind the scenes

plans were developing for
a West Coast free concert.

We played in Oakland,
and all the Grateful Dead

people showed up at that
show, and that kind of

ball that had been started
in London about "wouldn't it

"be great if you
guys played a free concert

"with the Grateful Dead,"
slowly kind of accelerated.

And it became, it became
the case that somebody from

The Rolling Stones had
to go out to California

and meet with the people
from the Grateful Dead

and get serious about
whether this was possible.

So, I was chosen to go there.

Rock Scully's original
plan was to get a permit

for a concert by the
Jefferson Airplane,

and the Grateful Dead
and then 24 hours before

the show announce we've
got a special guest.

And they talked about
having The Hell's Angels

create a escort guard
and bring The Stones

from the airport into the
concert, that was the idea.

It could have been fantastic,
The Rolling Stones, right?

But, the people in charge
of The Rolling Stones

business strategies
began to think

this is getting to be too
valuable an opportunity.

Rather quickly The
Rolling Stones' management,

in the form of Ronnie
Schneider and a strange guy

named John James who attached
himself to The Stones,

they took control of the
situation, "we'll handle this."

And contacted the
mayor of San Francisco,

and that was not a good
idea, that ended any prospect

of getting that concert
in San Francisco.

[Narrator] Applying
directly for permits

for a concert in Golden
Gate Park, the Stones' team

set alarm bells ringing
in the mayor's office.

The Grateful Dead had
an envisioned a less

high profile event, with
deals made behind the scenes.

But the idea of 300,000
Stones fans descending

on a city ill-equipped for such

a large festival immediately
shut the idea down.

Now a new location was needed,

with little time to arrange it.

And while alternatives
were being considered,

the involvement of the Hell's
Angels became official.

Rock told me we'd need the
Angels to guard the generators.

There's no electricity there,
so what you did was you had to

hire in big generators to
produce enough electricity

to do the sound, and
lights, and all that stuff.

And I went to meet
The Hell's Angels.

And The Hell's Angels
went to some lengths

to explain that
they weren't cops.

Basically, they were happy
to sit by the generators

and stop people messing with
the generators for sure.

Because they love music too.

The idea initially was
that they would park

their bikes in
front of the stage.

The beauty of that would
be that no one would

rush the stage, or
that was the theory.

[upbeat music]

[Narrator] While
these plans developed,

renowned documentary
filmmakers The Maysles Brothers

were brought on board
the tour to capture

the Madison Square Garden shows,

and the subsequent free concert.

And during their New York
leg, The Stones themselves

made a return to the
show in which they had

so famously shocked
America back in 1964.

They had gone full circle.

Yet as a voice of
their generation,

they were more
relevant than ever.

They appeared on Ed Sullivan's
Show five years after

the first appearance,
what a difference.

They're playing "Gimme
Shelter", this song that

really symbolizes so
much of what was going on

at that time, the
tumult in the culture.

They got such great
reach, they're a pop band,

they're a rock band,
they're on Ed Sullivan

doing "Gimme Shelter" which is

a very subversive,
angry, dark song.

* Oh, a storm is threatening
my very life today *

* If I don't get some shelter
yeah I'm gonna fade away *

* War, children, it's
just a shot away *

* It's just a shot away

Rape, murder, it's
just a shot way.

What is round the corner?

We're coming to the
end of the decade.

Things are looking
pretty bleak socially.

Musically, they were probably
reaching a new kind of peak.

Have The Stones done a better
song than "Gimme Shelter"?

I'm not sure, it's
an amazing piece.

This isn't pop as we know it.

That's The Stones really on top.

[Narrator] On November 28,
riding high on the critical

acclaim for their
performances, and aware that

in the music world, they were
the biggest news in America,

they held a press
conference to publicly

announce the upcoming
free concert.

[Reporter] I read in
one of the papers that

you'll be giving a free
concert in San Francisco.

We are doing a free
concert in San Francisco

on December sixth, and
the location is not

Golden Gate Park, unfortunately,
but it's somewhere

adjacent to it,
just a bit larger.

[Narrator] Not just a Stones
show, the lineup included

the biggest names from
the West Coast scene.

From The Grateful Dead,
and the Jefferson Airplane,

to Crosby, Stills,
Nash, and Young.

Yet a location was
still not confirmed,

with Dick Saint John's
Sears Point Raceway

the most likely alternative
to Golden Gate Park.

They said Ron would you
come out and negotiate

a deal with Sears Point Raceway?

So I flew out to San Francisco,

I sat down with Dick Saint
John, and he basically said

"well your free concert
we need $100,000

"to clean everything
up, we need $100,000

"to cover a 10 million dollar
insurance policy.

They gave me another
why they needed money.

And then also we need
any rights to a film.

So I said first of all,
it's a free concert.

We're not paying you $300,000,
so that deal blew up.

[Narrator] It was two
days before the event,

and The Stones' team
was now desperate.

And at that point, a new
location was offered to them.

The Altamont Speedway, 60
miles east of San Francisco

was a remote racetrack
located amidst

the rolling hills
of Alameda County.

Owned by ex-racing
driver, Dick Carter it was

an unlikely candidate for
a major rock festival.

Dick Carter, his biggest
audience ever before

was he had 6,000 people show
up for a demolition derby.

It's Thursday afternoon,
and The Stones' people

don't know exactly what to
do, but they got a look at it.

So they get a traffic
helicopter from one of the local

radio stations and
they take Rock Scully,

and Michael Lange, the
producer of Woodstock

who showed up for
some reason, what not.

And they fly over to Altamont.

Rock looks out and he
sees oil stained asphalt,

broken glass everywhere,
just this horrible panorama.

And he's looking out
there going what the heck?

And he hears Michael
Lange go this is perfect.

We can do this here.

[Narrator] And like that
Altamont had a green light.

With only a day to
prepare the venue,

the road crew rushed to
set up this new site.

The Stones' team had already
begun building the stage

and organizing the lighting
rig at Sears Point.

And this was simply dismantled
and re-erected at Altamont.

There was no time
to properly evaluate

or rethink the original plans,
although upon his arrival

tour manager Sam Cutler
immediately had concerns.

The major, major problem
was that the stage

that had been perfect
for Sears Point,

because it was gonna be
on the side of the hill,

was now at the bottom of a hill.

And the stage was
knee high, so it was

effortlessly easy for
people to get on it.

The show was on a Saturday,
I saw the place midday

on Friday for the first
time and was horrified.

And there was already
100,000 odd people on site.

And this stage was isolated
in the middle of them.

So we tried to make
barricades of trucks and stuff

around it and get
set up for a show.

And I knew on the
Friday this was gonna be

a massive, massive
public order problem.

[Narrator] The show went ahead,

with no food or water stands,
no amenities of any kind,

and only basic medical
services on site.

The 300,000 concert goers
who flocked to the venue

had no idea what
was awaiting them.

It was the very end of the
'60s, the last mass congregation

of the counterculture
before a new decade began.

This should have
been a celebration.

The sun came up,
it was a great day.

And then at some point they
officially let people in,

and this mob of young
people came rushing down

the hill with the
blankets, and trying

to grab themselves a
tiny little space to sit.

And the mood was definitely
cheerful, and fun, and like

yes this is gonna be like
Woodstock, this is groovy.

I couldn't make it to
Woodstock but I'm here.

[Narrator] But it
did not take long

for the atmosphere to change.

The problem was there
was a lot of LSD,

bad acid, bad drugs,
lots of cheap booze.

So, by the time the show
opened midday on the Saturday,

you had three, 400,000
people completely out of it.

And the fights began, and it
just degenerated from there.

[Narrator] With
The Hell's Angels,

a visible presence
around the stage

and throughout the
festival grounds,

at midday the first
act appeared, Santana.

Halfway through the performance
San Francisco peace activist

and promoter, Bert Kanegson
was the first of many victims

to face the wrath of the
concerts brutal security force.

This overweight Latino,
stark naked, whipped out of

his brains on LSD that
was probably laced

with methedrine, and
guzzling Red Mountain wine.

He wanders down the
hill into the front

of the stage where
The Hell's Angels are.

And this is just like
bad news right away.

And Bert sees this
happening, and he jumps down.

And he starts in on this
all men are brothers,

and begging the Angels
not to beat this guy.

They turn on Bert, and
they rain pool cues down.

They bust him up so good, he
has 60 stitches in his head.

[Narrator] It was
just the beginning.

The Angels' presence
on the stage

and at the front of
the audience increased.

And as The Jefferson
Airplane took

their places for the
second performance,

it was hard to distinguish
the band from the bikers.

More of the crowd were
singled out for beatings.

And when the Airplane's
lead singer Marty Balin

tried to intervene,
he too was attacked.

These guys were the
real thing, they weren't

the little biking club
that they had at Hyde Park.

They've got psychopaths,
and murderers, ex cons,

and God knows what in
there, they're bad news.

[Grace] It's all right,
it's kind of weird up here.

Hey man, I'd like to mention
that The Hell's Angels

just smashed Marty
Balin in the face,

and knocked him out for a bit.

I'd like to thank you for that.

[Grace] There's other ways.

[Hell's Angel] Hey
wait, is this on?

If you're talking to me,
I'm gonna talk to you.

I'm not talking to you
man, I'm talking to

the people that hit my
lead singer in the head.

You're talking to my people.

So let me tell you
what's happening.

You are what's happening.

Hey, oh!

[Grace] No.

[Hell's Angel] Buster
hold it, hold it.

This was scary, this was scary.

Sort of rationally scary,
we weren't inventing anything.

We'd seen real ugliness and

hurtfulness and

savagery right in
front of our eyes.

The Hell's Angels were horrible.

And it seemed almost more so
because over the past decade

there had been a kind of a
myth about how cool they were.

Really important to understand,

the San Francisco chapter
of The Hell's Angels

was located in the
Haight Ashbury.

They were well known
backstage at Grateful Dead

and Jefferson Airplane concerts.

They rode bikes
with the road crews.

They were an entirely different
group of Hell's Angels

than say the home
office over in Oakland.

The problems with The
Hell's Angels at the

eventual site of the
concert at Altamont

were all in front of the stage.

And they were almost
entirely caused

by members of the
San Jose Chapter.

And the San Jose Chapter
was entirely different.

That's an hour away from San
Francisco, they're not hippies.

They're not used to
going to the Filmore,

they're not backstage presences,
they are old fashioned

California thugs, and
those were the guys

in front of the stage
with the pool cues.

[Narrator] Although
they were there

to capture a positive
end to the Stones tour,

The Maysles Brothers
and their cameramen were

now documenting the
escalating chaos.

And it was The
Stones' tour manager,

Sam Cutler, who attempted
to restore order.

In many ways I felt
essentially helpless.

In the face of people who
were determined to fight

one another, what can a
skinny little Englishman do?

And as the day progressed,
and the violence

got worse, I was faced
with this dreadful

realization that my
band was gonna come.

The Rolling Stones
were gonna come,

and we're gonna
have to appear here.

[Narrator] And in
the early afternoon

as The Flying Burrito Brothers

began the third set
of the festival,

The Stones arrived on the
speedway track by helicopter.

And almost immediately they
were met with violence.

Mick arrived, and the rest of
The Stones, minus Bill Wyman

and the first thing
that happened was

he stepped out of
the helicopter,

and some deranged kid
on acid punched him.

[calm music]

[Camera Man] They hit
Mick, somebody hit him.

So that was frightening.

And Mick arrived and
got reports from people

about how dreadful
the whole thing was.

We were all put in
a little trailer.

So, at the beginning
I'm sure we got stories

that some violence,
but we didn't see

any of it and know
what was going on.

But you can sense it,
there was--

I don't know about
situations other places,

but you can feel it in the air.

[Narrator] And this
ominous mood was enough

to convince local
headliners, The Grateful Dead

to abandon the
concert altogether.

Arriving soon after The Stones,

only to discover that
members of their road crew

had already been assaulted by
Angels, they decided to bail.

The band who had
pioneered the very idea of

the free concert, wanted
no part of this event.

The bottom line was
The Grateful Dead ran.

They backed out of it, they saw
there was too much violence.

If they would have
performed I think

it might have been a
whole different ballgame

as opposed to saying
oh The Stones--

If The Grateful Dead had
performed there two or three

hour set I'm sure it would
have mellowed everybody,

It might put everybody
to sleep eventually.

They were doing all
the drugs and all that.

But the end result was they ran.

So now you had that lag time
before The Stones came out.

And all the bad
drugs, the violence,

and all that stuff going
on there but The Stones

still came out and
performed, they didn't run.

[Narrator] Following
The Dead's departure

Crosby, Stills, Nash,
and Young played

as brief as set as they
could manage, the beatings

by the Angels continuing
throughout their performance.

After only half an hour,
they quickly exited

the stage and immediately
fled Altamont.

Now there was only The
Stones left to play.

And in the absence
of The Grateful Dead,

their headline set wasn't
due to start for hours.

The crowd just sits there,
they've been there all day.

There's no water, or
bathrooms, no food.

They're jammed in hip to
hip, shoulder to shoulder.

And they're there for more than

two hours with nothing going on.

Just as the sun
starts to go down

Sonny Barger, and the
Oakland chapter shows up.

They'd had a meeting
that afternoon.

And they literally did just
drive right through the crowd

down to the front of
the stage, get off,

park their bikes, get
off and sat on the stage.

It was an amazing display.

[Narrator] And once
darkness had fallen,

The Stones finally
took to the stage,

outnumbered by the hordes
of Angels all around them.

As they kicked off
their set they managed

to rise above the
unsettling atmosphere.

The Stones played
out of their skin,

and quite probably out of fear.

Because by this time,
The Hell's Angels

are all over the stage,
and if they stopped playing

they might not even
have got out alive.

And under duress, and with
that kind of adrenaline flowing

they put on one hell
of a performance.

* Pleased to meet you, I hope
you guess my name *

* But what's puzzling you
is the nature of my game *

It was just phenomenal,
just Charlie and Wyman

had the bottom locked down,
the guitars were going off

like sparks, and Jagger was
singing like he meant it,

like none of that sort
of loopy caricature

the he tends to go, he
was real about this thing.

[Narrator] But this
impressive performance

could not suppress the brutality

that would soon
disrupt their set.

And although later some
of the band claimed

they were unable to see the
full extent of the violence,

the cameras filming the
events on and around the stage

captured a concert
descending into chaos.

Things just went
from bad to worse.

And really there's
no controlling it.

There's fights everywhere,
people rushing the stage,

being thrown off the stage,
fights in front of the stage.

We were more than aware
of what was going on.

All the light was back light,

50,000 watts of backlight,
bright is your living room.

So all this stuff about The
Rolling Stones didn't know

it was happening, and didn't
see what was happening

is complete and utter bullshit.

And you can see in the
movie where Jagger's

dancing around and his eyes
happen out in the audience.

Ae sees somebody take up
a blow from a pool cue,

and he just goes bomb
and stops dancing.

Jagger has so much
command as a performer.

And to see him struggling,
it's terrifying.

Let's get it together,
I can't do any more

than just ask you, just beg
you just to keep it together.

You can do it, it's within
your power, everyone.

Everyone, Hell's
Angels, everybody.

At that point certainly, bands
like the Jefferson Airplane

and The Rolling Stones they
were avatars, they were gods.

And to see them
desperate to try to stop

this violence happening
right in front of them,

and failing, it's unforgettable.

You could see it itched
in people's faces

at the front of the stage,
just looking at Jagger

and saying please
stop, help us out.

This is, we're watching
everything dying here.

And in between the songs you
had these deathly silences.

And then sort of then
[imitates cracking]

sort of the sound
of cracked heads and

people shouting "no" and

wanting everything to stop.

The brotherhood of man thing,
which was the hippie dream,

it was all coming really
unstuck there, very very badly.

I was right behind the
amps, so I could see,

I could only see
what I could see.

But at some point
Keith, just like Marty Balin,

Keith stops and says hey,
you can't do this here.

And the music stopped.

[Keith] Look cat, that guy
there if he doesn't stop it.

Listen, either those cats
cool it man or we don't play.

But then there was some
kind of, another one of

these attacks and you could
tell it was just awful.

And people were,

they look liked if you
were fish in a bowl

and you dropped a pebble
in, and all the fish

would scurry as
fast as they could.

That was like there
was a center place,

where something really
ugly was happening.

And people would
just try to get away

as fast as they possibly could.

I left, I just
walked, left the stage

and sort of walked away
up the little hill.

Then I realized I'm not coming
to any more of these things

I'm not gonna sort of
believe the Woodstock,

Monterey Pop, human
being myth anymore.

The Hell's Angels
were a huge mistake.

We're just not all
brothers and sisters.

There's just
elements of ugliness,

and viciousness,
and hurtfulness,

that are too powerful for that.

[Narrator] And the
viciousness unleashed

at the concert
culminated in murder.

18 year old student
Meredith Hunter,

caught up in a brawl with the
Angels in front of the stage

made the mistake of pulling
a gun on his assailants.

He would not live to see
the end of The Stones' set.

Finally they're
doing "Under my Thumb",

and a guy pulled out a
gun, got two shots off,

maybe 60 feet in
front of the stage,

and was stabbed to death by
one of the Hell's Angels.

The band stopped.

All of a sudden
I got told "Ron, Ron

we need the ambulance,
a guy's been stabbed."

So that's what I was
told, so I started running

to go to the side of the
stage to get the ambulance.

And as I'm running
along there, I get to it

and there's no driver,
typical situation.

I'm screaming for the driver,
and I'm running along there.

Where's the driver to the
ambulance, to get him for them.

And a cop says hey, wait wait.

Are you about that
guy that got stabbed?

I said yes, he said you
don't have to run, he's dead.

And that was like a gut, that
was just so bad at the time.

[Narrator] And although the
footage was never released

in The Maysles Brothers
film, "Gimme Shelter",

in the years
following the event,

eyewitness accounts
reported that Hunter's body

was brought to the stage
by members of the audience

in an attempt to end
the Angels' violence.

I talked to the guys
that carried his body

to the stage, and I talked
to the guy who carried

his body from the
stage backstage.

And they put it on the
stage, right in front

of Keith Richards
and the Hell's Angels

swarmed over and just
pushed it back off.

There's a photograph of that.

There's a photograph of
Mick Jagger looking away

with his hand over his face
like this, and a bunch of

Hell's Angels bent over
mysteriously in the corner.

Yeah they just
dropped a dead body

on your stage, and
they're pushing it off.

What are you gonna
do about that fellas?

They're gonna stay on stage
for another hour...

terrified.

I whispered to Mick, "the
guy's been killed man,

you gotta get off
stage right now", right?.

"He had a gun, you
gotta get off stage,"

to which Mick replied,
and kudos to the man,

and I've always
admired him for it.

"We can't get off
stage, we can't leave,

"we have to finish the show."

[Narrator] When The Stones
eventually boarded a helicopter

and left Altamont, they
were shell shocked.

Due to fly out for a number
of European shows the next day

their schedule didn't allow
them time to fully grasp

the magnitude of the event
they had just experienced.

In the days that followed,
where some news reports

glossed over the
violence of the festival,

slowly the facts
began to emerge.

And alongside the arrests of
cult leader Charles Manson

and his murderous followers
only days beforehand,

soon Altamont was
being identified as an

event of real
historical significance.

Well Altamont is always
the thing that's cited

as being the end of the flower
power era, the hippie era.

And I think, it's
certainly a signpost.

I think it was downhill
all the way after that.

Murder does tend to
concentrate the mind a little.

I don't think The Stones
realized the significance,

or the impact of Altamont
until long after.

I think most of us didn't.

This is the famous Zhou Enlai
thing when, asked in about 1950

about the impact of the French
Revolution on the subsequent

course of history, and he
said it was too early to say.

So, ultimately the sort of
rock and roll equivalent

of that in a way, no
one knew in December '69

or even by summer
1970 that it was gonna

go down in rock history
as this seminal moment,

this turning point,
this tipping point.

The hard truths that
those events represent

about how hard change
is to achieve, and what

violence in American
culture represents,

and how it can manifest
itself even in contexts where

you would think would be the
last place it would occur,

those were important lessons.

And those were
lessons that signaled,

guess what we're not
going back to The Garden.

That became pretty apparent.

I don't think anybody
was walking around

with flowers in their
hair after all that.

A new equilibrium was
found, and actually

very quickly people
almost thought,

did that late '60s what happen
then, what really happened?

The negative out punched the
good there, unfortunately.

And people wanted to distance
themselves from that.

So the '70s there was
kind of a marked break.

The flower stuff seemed
just an absolute joke.

I saw Monetary Pop in 1975,
and the audience laughed,

they laughed at the look,
the sound, everything.

I was horrified by
that, it's the '60s.

To me, I hung onto the
good part of the '60s.

It had really been put
to bed, that period.

People didn't want
to know, you know.

It kind of quickly became
the forgotten zone.

And Altamont, and
the Manson murders

were instrumental, really,
in closing that door.

[Narrator] And although
The Stones moved

ever onwards with their career,

the event also closed
the door for them too.

The bad boys of the
British Invasion would

never again be at the
center of the culture,

politics and social
commentary notably absent from

their subsequent work,
they're remarkable reign

as the voice of a
generation was over.

There's The Rolling
Stones before Altamont,

and there's The Rolling
Stones after Altamont.

Their just two separate things.

All that stuff about the
dark guys, and the bad boys,

and the sympathy for
the Devil had played out

to this absolute,
real example of evil.

And having faced that
that could never go back

to their little pretend kingdom.

And you can see that in
the "Sticky Fingers" album.

The three songs recorded
before Altamont,

"Brown Sugar", "Wild Horses",
and "You Got to Move"

are completely
different type of music

than the rest of that album.

Whatever happened at Altamont
to the Rolling Stones

it changed them forever, and
their music was never the same,

their shows were never the same,

their personal relations
were never the same,

nothing about their lives
went on the way it was before.

[contemplative music]