In a scene that could be straight out of a R. Crumb strip, Jerry Garcia is offstage talking with another person about the violence transpiring in front of the stage. Weir rushes over with a brief report. Garcia, Weir, and other San Francisco musicians and key figures like Janis Joplin and Ken Kesey lionized the Angels, hanging out with them, granting them special areas near the stage at concerts, and, as Echols observes, defending them as fellow outlaws. Garcia and Weir's ingenuousness is understandable given the context, but irresponsible and downright stupid in hindsight. Altamont issued from the Sixties, which were steeped in violence, and there was nothing that could stop the violence from encroaching upon the counterculture.
People get angry when they're uncomfortable or feel ripped off.
For proof, look at what happened at the Woodstock 30th anniversary concert, when the lack of decent facilities and affordable food sent the crowd into a destructive frenzy. It's very easy to blame the disorder of Woodstock 99 on our violent times or on the sexism rampant in what's left of rock culture, exemplified by the work of artists like Limp Bizkit or Kid Rock. We can point fingers at the audience, saying that their feelings of entitlement led them to violence, or chastise the bands for putting them in that mindset. But Gimme Shelter shows that the Sixties weren't very different. The Stones may not have put on a free concert if they didn't think their fans expected it of them after Woodstock.