Have you ever wondered what it was truly like to attend one of the most chaotic and legendary rock festivals in Midwest history? The video above offers a compelling glimpse into the infamous 1972 Erie Canal Soda Pop Festival, often simply known as Bull Island. This event was a maelstrom of music, counterculture, and sheer logistical mayhem, leaving an indelible mark on everyone who experienced it.
The Genesis of a Midwest Music Phenomenon
The early 1970s represented a vibrant era for rock music, with major festivals becoming cultural touchstones. Promoters Bob Alexander and Tom Duncan recognized this burgeoning craze, eager to bring large-scale musical events to the heartland. They first tested the waters with the Bosse Field Freedom Fest in Evansville, Indiana, held on July 2nd, just two months before the main event.
This initial festival featured prominent acts like Tina Turner, Edgar Winter, and Dr. John, proving to be a resounding success musically. However, the event attracted a “new kind of crowd”—the burgeoning hippie movement—which local Evansville officials were unprepared for. Despite the positive reception from attendees, the city experienced “a lot of problems,” as Richard Wallace recalls, making any future events there unlikely.
From Evansville’s Rejection to Bull Island’s Embrace
Determined to stage an even larger event, Alexander and Duncan planned a second festival for Labor Day weekend. Yet, Evansville’s Mayor Russell Lloyd unequivocally declared, “There ain’t no way you guys are going to do anything in Evansville or Vanderburgh County again.” This firm stance forced the promoters to seek a new location, quickly setting their sights on the Chandler Raceway in Chandler, Indiana. They initially anticipated a crowd of approximately 50,000 people, a manageable number for a rock concert of that magnitude.
Promotion for this planned event escalated dramatically. A full-page advertisement ran in Rolling Stone Magazine, causing pre-sale tickets to move rapidly. However, this national advertising also attracted unexpected attention beyond Indiana’s borders. Radio stations like WLS picked up on the buzz, broadcasting announcements about the festival frequently. This widespread promotion became a double-edged sword, drawing an astonishingly massive crowd far exceeding anyone’s expectations.
As festival-goers from across the country converged on the Midwest, local officials grew increasingly nervous. Vanderburgh, Posey, and Gibson counties, along with others in southwestern Indiana, began filing injunctions to halt the festival. Faced with a complete shutdown and thousands of ticket holders expecting a show, the promoters had to scramble for a last-minute solution.
They discovered a curious parcel of land known as Bull Island. This strip, located on the Indiana side of the Wabash River, technically belonged to Illinois due to a quirk of jurisdiction. This ambiguity meant that authorities in both states were uncertain who held legal power over the land, offering a perfect, albeit precarious, loophole for the desperate promoters. Irvin Hagedorn, the owner, was approached, eventually agreeing to sell for $200,000, with an initial payment of $50,000. Interestingly, the remaining $150,000 was never paid after the festival concluded. The deal was struck on a Tuesday, giving organizers only four days until Saturday, when the music was slated to begin.
A Journey into the Heart of Chaos
For many attendees, reaching Bull Island was an adventure in itself, often far more arduous than anticipated. Dan Davis, who hitchhiked with a younger friend, vividly recounts the journey, highlighting the sheer determination of young fans who couldn’t attend earlier festivals like Woodstock. The roads leading to the site quickly became impassable, packed with an unimaginable number of vehicles.
Herschell Gossett remembers, “It was full. There was no room nowhere for no cars. It was packed.” Many had to park miles away on the interstate, walking 5 to 10 miles through long lines of people, some even riding on car roofs. Keith Reeves, another attendee, later estimated the walk was about three miles from the interstate, a significant trek for unprepared concert-goers.
Upon arrival, the chaos only intensified. The concept of paying for a ticket quickly evaporated. Dan Davis witnessed people “stomping the corn down” and flattening fences, simply walking into the festival grounds. Keith Reeves experienced a similar situation, finding the gate “kind of chaos” with no one present to collect money. “The gate was gone,” Richard Wallace confirms, symbolizing the complete breakdown of any organized entry system.
Primitive Conditions and Resource Scarcity
The hastily chosen farmland of Bull Island proved to be a challenging venue. Organizers had only days to bulldoze rudimentary paths and clear grounds, resulting in swampy and ill-prepared conditions. Basic facilities were virtually nonexistent. Dan Davis recalls a shocking detail: there were only six porta-lets for hundreds of thousands of people. These quickly became unusable, leading attendees to create informal “facilities” in a marshy area dubbed the “Turd Field” and a nearby “crap ditch,” originally intended to keep cars away from the stage.
The lack of sanitation was compounded by the close proximity to nature. Richard Wallace notes the startling scene at daylight, “Naked bodies everywhere… People out there taking bath, you know, washing their hair in the, you know, just everything in that river.” This unfiltered freedom, while embraced by some, underscored the primitive and unsanitary environment.
Food and water, crucial for such a massive gathering, quickly became scarce and outrageously expensive. Vendors seized the opportunity to gouge prices. Dan Davis remembers hamburger prices soaring to $10, an exorbitant amount for 1972, equivalent to approximately $77 in today’s money. This led to desperate measures, with people looting food stands simply to get something to eat. Dan himself, after seeing his $10 burger trampled, joined the crowd in taking food directly from the grills.
Music, Drugs, and a Festival Unraveling
Despite the immense challenges, music was meant to be the core of the Erie Canal Soda Pop Festival, but even that element became fraught with issues. Major acts like Black Sabbath and Joe Cocker, initially booked, walked out. They had signed contracts based on an expected attendance of 50,000 people. When confronted with an actual crowd estimated at 275,000 to 300,000+, they demanded an additional $30,000 each, which the promoters could not or would not pay. Their departure disappointed many, yet other bands persevered.
Albert King, the legendary blues guitarist, delivered a memorable performance, as did the all-girl band Bertha and the rock group Foghat. Ted Nugent is recalled for an extraordinarily long set, playing for hours into the early morning. These performances offered moments of musical reprieve amidst the surrounding chaos.
The festival grounds also became an open market for drugs, reflecting the counterculture spirit of the era. Dan Davis vividly describes “Alice in Wonderland Avenue,” an area where drug dealers openly hawked their wares like carnival vendors selling corn dogs. Herschell Gossett remembers “hundreds of booths set up and just all kinds of drugs,” noting that “so much pot being smoked that, uh, your eyes burned all the time from all the smoke.” Keith Reeves witnessed public heroin use, an alarming sight for many. Despite the pervasive drug use, attendees generally remained “calm and peaceful,” suggesting a communal, albeit unregulated, atmosphere.
The Aftermath and Lingering Memories
As the Labor Day weekend drew to a close, the festival dissolved into further disarray. Supplies were completely depleted. Trucks were looted and then set ablaze, leaving behind charred remnants. Attendees, dirty, exhausted, and often unwell, began the difficult journey home. Dan Davis recounts developing pneumonia and eventually being hospitalized after his trek. The logistical nightmares, the lack of facilities, the financial disputes, and the sheer scale of the event contributed to its reputation as a “disaster” in the press.
However, for those who lived through it, the 1972 Erie Canal Soda Pop Festival remains a complex and unforgettable experience. Keith Reeves was drawn by curiosity, believing he would “never see anything like that again.” Herschell Gossett views it as “one of the best in a lifetime experience,” an sentiment shared by many. Richard Wallace admits it “wasn’t a great concert” in the traditional sense, but it was “a great time to be able to be say that I was there.” These personal accounts highlight the profound impact of such a wild, boundary-pushing event. Its raw, unscripted nature, despite the discomforts and dangers, forged memories that few could replicate.
The legacy of this remarkable festival is actively preserved by a few dedicated individuals. Ray Kessler, the late Posey County historian, was instrumental in keeping its memory alive, even organizing a 50th-anniversary event. Eric Vincent maintains the Bull Island Facebook page, a hub for shared stories and artifacts. Herschel, through collecting posters, flyers, and making buttons, continues to champion the event’s place in history. These efforts ensure that the unique story of the Erie Canal Soda Pop Festival, a symbol of freedom, chaos, and a generation’s wild spirit, endures for future generations to explore.
Uncorking the Infamy: Your Erie Canal Festival Questions
What was the Erie Canal Soda Pop Festival?
The Erie Canal Soda Pop Festival was an infamous and chaotic rock music event held in 1972, often referred to as Bull Island.
When and where did this festival happen?
It took place over Labor Day weekend in 1972 on a remote parcel of land known as Bull Island, located on the Indiana side of the Wabash River.
Why is the Erie Canal Soda Pop Festival known as a “chaotic” event?
The festival became chaotic because far more people attended than expected, leading to a severe lack of essential facilities like proper sanitation, food, and water.
Did many well-known music acts perform at the festival?
While some major bands like Black Sabbath were scheduled but did not play, other notable acts such as Albert King, Foghat, and Ted Nugent did perform for the massive crowd.