Jerry Garcia - electric guitar (lead), vocals

Bob Weir - electric guitar (rhythm), vocals

Phil Lesh - electric bass, vocals

Ron McKernan - organ, vocals

Bill Kreutzmann - drums, perc

Mickey Hart - drums, perc

Tom Constanten - keyboards

Guest Musicians

Gregg Allman ? (partial show) - keys

Duane Allman ? (partial show) - guitar

Garcia also appeared with Jerry Garcia - Misc at this show

Complete Show:

Morning Dew , Mama Tried > High Time > Casey Jones , Dark Star > Saint Stephen [1] > The Eleven > Turn On Your Lovelight [2]

[1] Includes William Tell Bridge

[2] With Duane Allman (?) on guitar and Gregg Allman (?) on keys

Also Appearing

Allman Brothers, Hampton Grease Band, Spirit, Delaney & Bonnie & Friends, and Chicago Transit Authority

Free Concert With The Allman Brothers. Members of all bands took part in a post-show jam

Aug 21, 2018

July 7, 1969: Piedmont Park, Atlanta

Excerpts from an untitled article on the Atlanta International Pop Festival: 

. . . you enter the cove of piedmont park 9:30 monday night down the stone grotto sheltered by the elms, the music ringing buddy holly-beatles, softly buoying you pam jesse, now floating you down onto an electric soft blanket of people covering the floor, no one stands still. currents move people smiling . . .

. . . people exchange, move on, dance, truck, hug, and you walk through this caught by something strange. delirious, you laugh, you smile amazed. the afternoon rain still hangs on the trees and in the air and the ground still springs spongey from its bath. you walk through wholly different communities of people spawned by the electricity of the music - Sitters, Viewers, Dancers, Listeners, Talkers - the light and music combining in areas to animate dances of wild beauty. lying on the ground an old black worker with his woman in his arms, both at a peace that no sound can breach. as you slide through these waves, the laughter wells, grows inside, blurts out and falls onto the heads of people around. a young girl - fairy, nymph - trips about, a redknobbed wand is her hand touching heads, the light tap spreading, suffusing its gentle innocent love - soon gone. . . .

. . . as the beatles stop, you come down almost into the womb of the speakers. catching the tuning notes of the grateful dead and you find miller, k.m., sally, bob, becky and you smile/laugh/hug. the dead play and people are not ready for them and stand at odds confused while the soft, sometimes jerky rhythms search for the chord, the cord, the resonance of the people. And soon it begins to form, as if mutually agreed upon, and people began to move again. The rhythm is caught. In the core of the left speakers' wake a dance begins. A tall slender red haired girl dances gracefully the dance of enticement, of friendship offered. A black man moves a careful, gameful dance of pride. The resonance grows, the music replies, the dance accelerates. People gather and clap and dance. The circle becomes magnetic and generates a ring of hand in hand dancers, encircling in affirmation the now contagious motion of the couple. The black man steps quickly into the circle, and selects a successor and the dance dissolves into individuals dancing. the dead play on, now gently loosing its audience. the music moves off into a corner jam session, and people find themselves again, but now elevated, and talking, moving and relaxing. . . .

. . . younger kids run through the audience sweating smiling hand in hand in a long chain of what seems to be a school day recess game of pop the whip - but there is no pop. a cheer rises. the crowd finds its modulations, the dead listen, and v-signs are thrown high. you find the core of vibration and see a young black policeman buoyed on the shoulders of an ecstatic procession. the cheers rise again and again and you smile wondering what this black jesus in uniform can mean in the day of the black panther. but the movement is delirious and you too are caught to the point of crying. he is hoisted high to the top of a car and as he stands beaming, his fist raised, surrounded by his disciples, a young girl bursts up onto the platform to hug Him and the cheers go up wild mingled with the strains of the dead. . . .

. . . the dead are through. clumps of audience still vibrate, playing in the lake, some wash their sweet sweat. out of the park in all directions people spread, radiate - like a slowly bursting nova.