It was probably the late 1970s. These peacefully assembled cool long hairs and renegades likely snuck into the Haskell Hunt through the fence and onto that infamous hill on ol Amory Haskell’s elegant estate.
Somehow, we doubt they were watching the horses. Word has it, anyone, from many who’ve traversed that hill in search of the party of the century along with some peace, love, caviar and guitars? Well, it was something like that. No tails on which to tailgate here.
Get a gander of the scene.
Recognize anyone? Looks like there’s a photo bomber by default just taking a little nap, or something. Something else, right?