Chill, dude: Fans of Phish know how to mellow out August 10, 2003 - Portland Press Herald By Bob Keyes LIMESTONE — When all was said and done, the shiny happy people got in Mom's Lexus or Dad's BMW and split town, leaving residents and business owners thankful, though a little bewildered. Up to 70,000 fans converged in Limestone Aug. 2-3 for the Phish concert, turning this mostly forgotten corner of Maine into the most populous town in the state, if only for the weekend. The economy got the boost it so desperately needed, as money appeared to be no object to the fans, who were mostly young - and, in the parlance of old, well-scrubbed. Many toted cell phones and drove expensive cars, spending and consuming freely. This image of Phish fans perhaps conflicts with the reputation of the so-called jam band from Vermont. Some see Phish, with its cult-like following and devotion to music over hype, as the new century's version of the Grateful Dead. Fans follow the band around religiously, earning money in the parking lots before the shows selling anything they can to raise cash for the next leg of the road trip. Along the way, Phish fans have spawned a new version of America's rock 'n' roll subculture, marked by youthful exuberance, endless camp-ins and all the attendant vices, including alcohol and drugs. While many of these young fans have parents with their own foggy memories of rock festivals, the Limestone gathering was by no means another Woodstock - not the original one in 1969, nor the one in 1994. Instead, what was billed as the "It" festival was a gathering of mostly well-behaved young adults in a remote but reasonably safe environment. That their shared social experience involved sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll did not conjure the same level of concern by officials and the "establishment" as it did a generation or two ago. "The fans were respectful and well-behaved, and people were excited about it," said Brian Hamel, president and chief executive officer of the Loring Development Authority of Maine, which played host to the festival for the third time in seven years. "I'm not saying 100 percent of the people who live here were excited about it, but the majority of them welcomed the fans." Perhaps the hippie generation that seemed such a threat to social mores in the 1960s and '70s seems quaint today compared to the violent lives glamorized by some hip-hop artists and rap musicians. David Coulter, a 28-year-old fan from Burlington, Vt., summed up the get-along attitude in Limestone when he produced a T-shirt that he was selling to fans from the back of his car. It said, "I'll try to be nice, if you'll try to be smarter." "These events are about building a community," he said. "We're all trying to make money, but we're not stingy. We all help each other out. I've seen nothing but goodness." That perception was shared by Patty Kellogg. She and her husband, Herb Brody, let their 18-year-old son, Lincoln, travel from the family home in Newton, Mass., to Limestone for the show. "One of the assurances that Lincoln gave us when he started going to jam-band concerts that took him away from home was that the type of people who go to these concerts tend to not be dangerous," said Kellogg. "They tend to be more along the lines of hippies, really." Kellogg can relate. She and her husband grew up fans of the Grateful Dead, "and now we're middle-aged professionals. And we are a fairly careful family with our kids and risk. But he's 18. We know his level of interest in good music and are very enthusiastic about his interests and want him to follow his love. "He's a fairly reasonable, self-controlled guy who doesn't seem to indulge in anything to the point that it puts him at risk," she added. "I like the way he is handling his interest, which has a lot of overlap into areas of risk." Whatever their misgivings might have been, Kellogg says that she and her husband decided it was simply time to let go. "We feel our role is to let go with some assistance and with guidance when possible. For instance, he was going to use his car, which was an old '92 Saab convertible with more than 190,000 miles on it. I let him use my Honda Odyssey instead. We felt it was worth the risk of having our car damaged in the process, because the child is more important. The Honda came back dirty and undamaged, and so did the child." So, too, did nearly all the others. The festival was wild at times in the context of individual behavior - police could have busted people at will, if they had the means or desire to do so. But it never was at risk of breaking down into anarchy, a legitimate possibility given the size of the gathering and the amount of party accelerants on hand. The biggest concern wasn't bad acid, but whether the cell phone would still work so far from home. Phish fans indeed seem to be different. Phish fans are suburban hippies and mostly mellow. They play Hacky Sack, Frisbee and trade tapes. Everybody gets along, or so it seems. There were episodes of rowdiness in Limestone, but the overall vibe was calm and cool. Police reported minimal problems - just 35 arrests - and EMTs on site treated maladies typical of this kind of festival: drug-related complications, including overdoses, but mostly dehydration, broken bones and blisters. Of the 800 people who received medical assistance at the festival, 14 were taken to a hospital for further treatment. All in all, a fairly tame affair, said Hamel. "This year's festival was the best of the three shows at Loring. Fans had a great time, from a musical and festival perspective," he said. "It was just wonderful, and very fan friendly." And a far cry from Woodstock. Copyright © 2003 Portland Press Herald