we rolled up
next to the darkened man and sniffed the distinct
smell of the recent burn.
The area around the man was cordoned off, with Black
Rock Rangers and members of the crew that built the
man keeping people out. Nobody knew much about what
happened, other than it was an apparent act of
sabotage, and everyone on the perimeter was somber and
dejected. They’d been busting their asses for weeks to
get things ready and were looking to a little
recreation time, but now this.
I still wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t some kind of
Burning Man set piece, a bit of theater to test how
the community might come together to rebuild. It just
seemed too epic and strange for the man to suddenly
catch fire during this rare cosmic event, on a Monday
night that was so choked with people that it seemed
more like a Friday or Saturday. The other narrative
that seemed likely it that this bacchanalian event had
finally exceeded critical mass and was in the process
of exploding. The possibilities seemed endless and
unsettling, and the notion of what comes next after a
night like this, almost unfathomable.
As the night moved toward dawn and the moon emerged
from the eclipse, bits and pieces of information began
to trickle in. Witnesses saw someone scale the man
using rope and set off some fireworks or some other
incendiary device, and then he was arrested while
making his getaway. Word was he was Canadian, or part
of the man’s setup crew, or that he was disgruntled
DPW, or maybe a minion of John Law, a Burning Man
founder who sued the organization. But it was hard to
put stock in playa rumors, which continued to come
into our camp as the moon set and the sun rose in near
perfect synchronicity.
The next day (today), after getting a little sleep and
shaking off the night, I set out with my reporter’s
notebook to figure out what happened. Media Mecca,
where the journalists are based, had a press release
detailing how the man was torched a few minutes before
3 a.m., there were no injuries, one arrest was made
after the burn, they were sizing up the structural
damage and vowing to rebuild the man within two days
and burn it as scheduled. “We have the means an the
will. The event continues on schedule, and the Man
will burn on Saturday night,” communications director
Andie Grace said during a 5:20 press conference that I
missed. I tried to find Andie, who is also a friend,
but she and the other Burning Man honchos were said to
be huddled in meetings all day trying to figure this
thing out.
The Black Rock Beacon newspaper put out a special
issue with more details, quoting witnesses that saw
someone climbing the man’s guy wires with a cluster of
fireworks as someone yelled to him, “What the heck are
you doing?” Ranger Krizzly of the Black Rock Rangers
reportedly apprehended the man, who told him, “Please
don’t hurt me.”
But nobody yet had the guy’s name or details. Finally,
I found a friend with an Internet phone connection and
called the Pershing County Sheriff’s Department, who
told me the suspect is Paul Addis, 35, of San
Francisco, and that he was being held on charges of
arson, possession of illegal fireworks, and resisting
arrest. Now, the main question is, “Why?”
Reactions to the renegade burn range from bemusement
to anger. Burning the man early has always been sort
of a holy grail for many anti-Establishment burners,
the people who have been coming here forever and crave
tweaks on the normal routine. It’s a little like how
Critical Mass always flirts with taking the freeway
and pedaling to Treasure Island. It’s just one of
those things that we just want to have happened, and
now it has.
“Everybody talks about it every year,”Peter Hudson –
creator of Homouroboros, perhaps the best interactive
art pieces on the playa this year – told me. “We talk
about, ‘Let’s burn it down on a Monday.”
The burn is always anti-climactic anyway, and probably
will be more so this year that most. What had seemed
such an epic pinnacle last night – a moment when the
natural order on the playa was marked by more chaos
that usual, like things had been irreparably altered –
gave way to a new day on the playa. San
Franciscan-based Deep End opened their daily afternoon
dance party and we all talked and danced as my friend
and RV-mate Tamo spun the records. So we just move on.
After all, it’s still only Tuesday and we have a big
week in front of us.

P.S. As I rode to Center Camp to post this entry, I
stopped by the man as it was being removed with a
crane. The man is now down.