GLAMPING AT THE GROVE

The Power Elite's Favorite Summer Encampment

The Santa Barbara News-Press published this column in July 2022.

So where does the power elite go come summer?

A large part of that crowd hangs at their annual Bohemian Grove encampment, set within 2,700 acres of redwoods along the Russian River near Napa Valley, until the end of the month.

Grove glamping is a summertime extension of the San Francisco-based Bohemian Club, founded in 1872 by a group of artists, musicians, actors and writers including Mark Twain and Jack London.

But as often happens, artsy clubs (and neighborhoods) become trendy and ultimately get corrupted by high prices, which push artists and writers out of the ‘hood to make way for wealthier folk. 

Our research and investigation into the power elite decades ago quickly led to Bohemian Grove, which, within a few decades of its inception, got hijacked from writers and artists by industrialists, bankers, lobbyists—and their pet politicians. 

President Herbert Hoover once called the Grove encampment “The greatest men’s club in the world” and bequeathed upon it a quaint tradition: Republican politicians always disclose their intention to run for president at an off-the-record “lakeside chat” within the Grove’s grounds before making a public announcement.

The bigwigs come mostly to enjoy a good time among their fellow bigwigs—a fraternity party for men-only, whose hijinks include costuming themselves in drag for musical skits (long before it became trendy).

“Midsummer Sets Us Free”

To set the right tone, these old boys—or BoHos, as they like to call themselves—enact a pagan ritual called Cremation of Care to unburden themselves from everyday concerns.

Standing before a 40-foot shrine featuring the club mascot, an owl (symbolizing wisdom) named Moloch, ceremonially robed grown men chant “Begone dull care! Midsummer sets us free!”

They then sacrifice an effigy named “Dull Care” upon a large bonfire to symbolize their freedom to quaff martinis at 10 in the morning and wander around in pajamas all day.  If they need to take a whiz, well, they are encouraged to consult Mother Nature, which is why this place is known as “the pee on a tree club.”

BoHos are not supposed to talk shop, hence this Grove motto: Weaving spiders come not here.

Nonetheless, the Manhattan Project, which gave birth to the atomic bomb, was woven at the Grove, summer of ’42.  

And this: A 1994 doctoral dissertation by Peter Phillips (A Relative Advantage: Sociology of the Bohemian Club) reveals that in mid-1945 “the Bohemian political network played a significant role… in the original formation meeting of the United Nations.”

Conspiracy theories therefore abound about the Grove and its BoHos, about power elite machinations.

But the Bohemian brotherhood is ultimately about social bondage and networking on a super scale.

Even the socially awkward Richard Nixon bonded with these misnamed pseudo “bohemians.”  About the transvestite productions, President Nixon was tape-recorded as saying, “It is the most faggy goddamned thing you can ever imagine” and he wrote in his memoirs about being at Cave Man camp in 1950 with General Dwight Eisenhower.

Two years later, the general was elected President with Mr. Nixon as his VP.

Upon his departure from the White House in 1960, President Eisenhower warned the nation about the “military-industrial complex”—a phenomenon he witnessed up close and personal at Bohemian Grove, where top defense contractors party with those in high finance and others cherry-picked to ascend the highest levels of government—and highly-paid directorships post-government service are assured.

“Crossing the River”

The grounds are divided into about 125 camps with names such as Wild Oats, Woof, and Toyland, of 20-50 members each. One such camp—Poison Oak—would throw an annual “rocky mountain oyster” luncheon, courtesy of a cattle baron.

Perhaps this helped elderly Bohemians “cross the river,” BoHo code for decamping the grounds and taking their love to town. 

There are two such towns, Monte Rio and Guerneville, whose inns and motels swell with ladies (and gentlemen) of the night, in from Nevada and elsewhere for three bustling weeks of liberating BoHos from whatever dull care they’ve been suffering.

Decades ago, when I investigated Bohemian Grove, this tricky trail led to Manu Kanani, the manager of Northwood Lodge in Monte Rio, who confirmed to us the presence of hookers and their camper clients, the names of which were mind-blowing. 

It resulted in my front-page story in Globe, the weekly tabloid.

This was, of course, during the Grove’s heyday when just about everyone senior in the Reagan Administration—George Shultz, Caspar Weinberger, James Baker, Donald Regan and Bill Casey—unburdened themselves in the redwoods.

BoHo regular Henry Kissinger will attend this year. But only as a ghost.