Can the Digerati Save Burning Man? | Burning Man 1997

September 3, 1997

by Malcolm Maclachlan, TechWire

Bone Arch at Burning Man 1997

GERLACH, Nev. -- On the second-to-last day of the Burning Man festival, staffers were still charging $75 for entry at the gate. One man, however, according to Burning Man staff, pulled out his checkbook and made a $25,000 donation.
     That probably never happened at a Grateful Dead show.
     If there is any doubt that Burning Man is a labor or love, it was gone when the festival lost significant amounts of money for the second straight year. This act of altruism only made a small dent in a $200,000 debt it has suffered during the current festival. Yet it also showed there is a dedicated group of people who want Burning Man to go on.
     Festival organizers said they estimate that at least half of the people who attend the festival are from the San Francisco Bay Area, a region known for its particular combination of wealth and social tolerance. The computer industry reflects this combination, putting wealth in the hands of younger people who largely don't fit the mold of traditional liberals or conservatives.
     "It's hard to separate technology culture from Bay Area culture," said Danny O'Brein, editor of the British technology newsletter Need To Know Now and a former Wired staffer.
     Indeed, Burning Man was something of a microcosm of the Bay Area. San Franciscans were constantly running into acquaintances. One woman from nearby Reno remarked that it seemed like every person she met was from the Bay Area. A man named Gene sat atop a 15-foot rocking horse trying to recruit people for an event he called "Critical Ass." Instead of the traditional monthly protest where bicyclists tie up San Francisco rush-hour traffic, he wanted to get 5,000 people to moon unpopular mayor Willie Brown.
     Like the Bay Area itself, the festival was filled with many Californians who had used computer money to retire in their 40s and 50s. Throughout the year in the Bay Area, people attend a series of events connected to Burning Man. These include fund-raisers at hip San Francisco locations such as the SOMAR Cultural Center and the Anon Salon art gallery and nightclub.
     Yet though the festival will likely survive financially, the prospect of moving each year could undermine its momentum. This was the first year in many that the festival did not double in size. It attracted 12,000, only marginally more than last year.
     Between 1990 and 1996, the festival took place on public land several miles to the east in the Black Rock Desert. Last year's festival, however, resulted in one death and several serious injuries. By the time the Burning Man organization had paid off Pershing county for the cost of emergency services, it had lost $60,000 for the year.
     This year, organizers formed Burning Man into a corporation. They raised ticket prices from $35 to $65, and took steps to make sure there would not be a repeat of last year, where one-third of the participants wandered in for free. Driving and firearms were outlawed to lessen the chance of any more expensive tragedies.
     This increased revenue, but organizers found out that the new event on the privately owned Hualapai Playa would cost far more than last year's event. New host Washoe County wanted $360,000 for 55 fire personnel, though they settled for $250,000 and 40 personnel. Portable toilets cost another $60,000.
     The event was also far more heavily policed than in previous years. Fifteen sheriffs, at a cost of $37,000, joined scores of volunteer security people. A police helicopter buzzed the event day and night. This high level of security turned off some longtime participants, many of whom stayed away.
     "We got the feeling this year could be special," said French documentary film-maker Marc Lefedure, who was recording the event. "People say that Burning Man is about freedom, but it looks like high surveillance for prison people."
     Yet Burning Man organizers were not going to make light of their accomplishment in pulling the event off one more year.
     "We have a city of 10,000, and we've had no theft, no fire, and no major injuries," said Burning Man representative Joegh Bullock midway through the festival. "Show me another city that can do that."