Jim Tananbaum, the billionaire venture capitalist whom Bloomberg dubbed “the Google bus of Burning Man,” has resigned from the festival’s board of directors, according to the Reno Gazette-Journal. Tananbaum’s resignation marks the departure of one of Burning Man’s most divisive figures.
If you missed the Bloombergarticle in February, then you missed the tawdry saga of elite party crashers constructing what was basically a gated community in the heart of the Black Rock Desert. Tananbaum — founder of Foresite, a VC firm with a $650 million portfolio — threw an elaborate birthday party for himself at the 2014 Burn, constructing a lavish party compound that Bloomberg described as “something like staying at a pop-up W Hotel.” He charged guests $16,500 per head to enter. Some Burners began calling the compound "Billionaires' Row."
That alone would be enough to raise the hackles of veteran Burners who uphold the “10 Principles” as gospel. (Among the principles are self-reliance and a gift economy). But Tananbaum’s party city, dubbed Caravanicle, sounds like a kind of Buckminster Fuller monstrosity. It’s worth quoting Bloomberg in full: “Accommodations would consist of a series of cubical tents with carbon fiber skeletons. Each cube would have 9-foot ceilings, comfortable bedding, and air conditioning. The surrounding camp, enclosed by high walls, would be safe and private. Amenities would include a central lounge housed in a geodesic dome, private showers and toilets, solar panels, wireless Internet, and a 24-hour bar. Guests could count on a “full-service” staff, who would among other things help create “handcrafted, artisanal popsicles” to offer passers-by. To help blend in with the Burning Man regulars, who tend to parade around the commons in wild, racy outfits (if anything at all), the camp would include an entire shipping container full of costumes.”
Shit really hit the fan when 25-year-old Beth Lillie posted a scathing exposé on Facebook in which she described the trauma of being a “sherpa” at Tananbaum’s camp. For $180 a day, Lillie was hired to be the camp’s girl Friday — bartending, waitressing, and policing free cocktails to make sure only paying guests got handouts. Plans for a popsicle stand were scrapped as Tananbaum’s increasingly harried handlers scrambled to keep up with the influx of private plans bearing celebrity guests, including Leonardo DiCaprio and Diddy.
“It was like a bunch of old, married men expecting a freaky sex party at Burning Man,” Lillie wrote. “The girls were all kind of looked at as though we were going to be a part of that.”
Lillie’s Facebook tell-all sparked outrage among Burners who resisted what they saw as the festival’s takeover by wealthy moguls who treated Black Rock like their personal playground. Much of the ire focused specifically on Tananbaum, who had become the unwitting face of Burning Man’s shark-jump. As Bloomberg noted, pushback on Burn forums was savage: “The dude [Tananbaum] got special placement, unlimited tickets from a secret sale, early arrival, late departure, and some of the wealthiest people on the planet paid him a f---ton of money to package our event for their pleasure.”
Another Burner penned an open letter to Tananbaum, writing: "I think you're a highly successful guy used to dealing with people who like to be pampered. As such, it may not seem weird to you that you are literally lauding fully-functioning adults for washing their own dishes or picking up their own trash. The level of 'gaaah!' is pretty high for the rest of us though."
For his part, Tananbaum seemed blissfully clueless about the backlash. “I believe there is a silver lining in the discussion our camp has engendered because it has caused a healthy dialog about the implications for Burning Man’s evolution,” he wrote in an open letter posted in December. “I am proud to be a Burner. I am proud that my fellow Burners felt passionate enough about the sanctity of Burning Man to push this discussion, and I look forward to taking new ideas and lessons learned into the future.”
Although Tananbaum was strategically invited to join Burning Man’s board — and thereby help shape the nonprofit that organizes the annual event — his resignation probably isn’t a surprise for his cohorts, some of whom have publicly downplayed the festival’s “class warfare” issues.
Larry Harvey, a festival co-founder, wrote in December, “The curdling gaze of celebrities or the intimidating presence of the wealthy cannot possibly inhibit the remaining 99 percent of our citizens from participating. What I think these camps are really guilty of is being gauche. This is not so much about morals, it is more about manners, and we’re convinced bad manners can be mended.”
With Burning Man scalpers listing tickets at $1 million in February, and hackers further "disrupting" ticket sales, it’s unlikely that the festival’s class problems have been resolved, nor that the deeper schism is just about bad manners. As San Francisco goes, so goes the Burn.
[via Reno Gazette-Journal; photo courtesy of Julia Wolf/Flickr]
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