Alternative education at Schwagstock

MOVE takes a wild ride through the last frontier of the counterculture in Missouri.

By Anton Berkovich

Published Sept. 17, 2008

"Happy Schwag."

That's one of the most common things you'll hear at Schwagstock. That, and the offer of "doses," but that goes without saying.

"It's not a festival," says Brandon Bernstein of St. Louis. "It's a recreational place where the youth interact with generations of before and for all of us to understand what life in tranquility is all about."

Schwagstock happens at Camp Zoe, outside of Salem and about three hours south of Columbia. Five times a year, the festival caters to the jam band scene, but has previously attracted such names as The Roots, George Clinton and P-Funk, State Radio and other groups not typically associated with the jam crowd.

At Camp Zoe, landmarks such as Echo Bluffs, a large cliff that echoes back the sound from the stages, make the Schwagstock experience that much more trippy. Also on the grounds are caves, ponds and other natural formations for attendees to check out in between music acts.

Last weekend's festival, No. 39, had three nights of music from Zoso, a Led Zeppelin tribute band, several former members of the now defunct The String Cheese Incident, The Schwag (a Grateful Dead tribute band led by Jimmy Tebeau, bassist and creator of Schwagstock), Madahoochi and the Pink Floyd tribute band Think Floyd.

We arrive at the grounds Friday night and begin wandering around. Zoso is finishing up its show on the main stage, and down the main path of the grounds, past all the vendors selling djembe drums, tie-dye and shaved ice, Madahoochi is setting up to play Stage 2. Nearby, one tent offers customers a trip through the "Mystery Tunnel: the Ultimate Illusion." Later, after the sun sets and the festival is well underway, I spot a topless woman inside dancing to Think Floyd's music. Across the path, a tent advertises the "Technoshaman Mind Machine," a video and sound display that offers "mind-blowing visuals" and "orgasmic vibrations." If I have any regret from Schwagstock 39, it's not seeing what was inside that tent.

For those seeking a more kinetic experience, the Aerial Trapeze Academy had set up an apparatus on the field above the main stage where concertgoers could pay to swing on the trapeze.

After it gets dark, Madahoochi begins playing. The crowd has no shortage of glow sticks, and one woman dances with a light-up hula hoop. A guy who calls himself "Nasa Nate" even plays a glow-in-the-dark didgeridoo.

While walking among the vendors, I ask one woman what kind of vibe I could expect at Schwagstock. She answers by hugging me and biting my neck. I wonder what else I'll see over the next two nights.

Chris Jones, a glassblower who sells jewelry at the festival, travels all over the country to sell his work at festivals.

"It's a full-time job," Jones says. "In between festivals, I sell to about 250 other stores. I come for the music, but it's still a job."

Jones, who says he learned his trade "from an old Deadhead," puts in about 70 hours a week to support himself. To sell at Schwagstock, he purchases a yearly pass for $2,000.

Joe Grasso, site director and former road manager for The String Cheese Incident, says the people behind Schwagstock often have to turn away a lot of vendors.

"I get 50 people that want to sell tie-dye, 50 people that want to sell grilled cheese," Grasso says. "We try not to overlap (the vendors). We've also eliminated all paraphernalia sales from Main Street. We're really trying to clean up the site, and make it more family friendly."

Vendors are not the only people that Grasso has to deal with.

"We also have a lot of issues with the highway patrol and the National Parks Service," Grasso says. "They set up roadblocks (and) hassle everyone coming in and out. They call them safety checks, but it's really a monetary thing for them. They make a lot of money off us (from tickets). Everyone thinks they don't like us, but I think they love us because we're making their house payments for them."

We wander down past the campsite to a bridge going over the nearby creek. People are relaxing in and around the water under a calm blue floodlight, and it's one of the quieter areas of the festival we are able to find the whole two nights.

I eventually make it back to Madahoochi, and the song's jam is reaching its crux, the number of glowing hula hoops among the dancers has tripled and the crowd has grown considerably. Like any festival, concertgoers are constantly walking between the stages.

Even with Hurricane Ike to the south, the two nights we are there are relatively free of rain.

"Everybody was expecting rain," Camp Zoe facility manager Mike Cullen says. "I think we lost a few people (coming) from Kansas City because it was raining over there, but we have a core group of three to four thousand that show up, rain or shine."

Cullen says last weekend's festival saw as many as 5,500 attendees. The most popular Schwagstock, he says, was in May of last year, which had 7,600 attendees.

At the main stage on Friday night, The Schwag is about to start playing. The field facing the stage is large and as many people sit on the grass as dance.

A guitarist often sits in with the band and this weekend, it's Michael Kang, former mandolin player and guitarist for The String Cheese Incident. The band opens with the classic tune, "Good Lovin'," but the set list doesn't stick to strictly the Dead for the night. Later, Kang leads the band with a cover of Bob Marley's "Stir It Up."

By then, three screens on stage are showing a psychedelic visualizer mixed in with a live video of a silhouette of women dancing. The image occasionally shifts to a live view of the band playing, still superimposed over the visualizer. The next day, backstage, the technicians in charge of the video tell me they use a white tarp behind a dancer to create a chroma key, the same technique used for blue screen effects.

After Think Floyd, the final band, finishes up its set on Friday night, drum circles and partying continue long into the night. Sleep is hard to come by and the next morning has a much more relaxed, albeit tired, atmosphere.

On Saturday, time on the second stage is set aside for an open mic set.

"I hate open mic, but it's very tongue-in-cheek," sound engineer Steve Thomas says. "There's two sides to it. There's the sound guy side to it, (who) looks at it and is like, 'This sucks.' But the human side says, 'You know what, man, this guy came to the festival and for five minutes, they got to sit on stage, play their songs in front of people, and it made them feel good.' So there's some value in that, or maybe that's just the justification that I make for myself."

Thomas says Tebeau insisted on providing open mic to the attendees and it was one thing that he would not budge on.

During open mic, I run into Beto Moreno, bassist for Madahoochi, reading beside the stage.

"I think we're a really good outdoor band," Moreno says. "There's a lot more culture to the outdoor shows compared to a bar or club setting."

Moreno says as the band was pulling into the festival, they came across a completely naked man stumbling out of the woods, the first he has witnessed despite playing previous festivals.

During Saturday night, many of the same bands from Friday play again, making it relatively easy to catch a missed act.

Eventually, it's time for us to leave. Though we leave Saturday night, the final night of Schwagstock 39, the crowd does not seem to have thinned out at all. Attendees are free to stay on the grounds, and Grasso says that many stayed well past the last show.

As we pull out of the campgrounds, the staff tells us through the window to make sure we have our seatbelts on, as there's increased police activity at the gate. We thank them, and drive away.

"Happy Schwag."