Cacophony for All

Cacophony for All

Oakland’s John Law on Burning Man and Doggie Diner heads.

Rescued dogs: Members of the San Francisco Cacophony Society, co-founded by John Law, fought to save the famous Doggie Diner heads. Photos courtesy John Law (top two ©2003, Jillian Northrup; bottom two ©2003, Jon Alloway).

Hipsters can take for granted all the cool stuff that makes their world so doggone hip. Take the idea of relocating Burning Man from San Francisco’s Baker Beach in 1990 to the now-hallowed ground that is Nevada’s Black Rock Desert. Or the Santa flash mob (known as SantaCon) that appears worldwide every December. There’s also the fascination with fiberglass Doggie Diner heads from a long-defunct Bay Area fast-food chain. These and other vital cultural activities didn’t just materialize out of the primordial ooze. They are part of the ongoing work of the San Francisco Cacophony Society, whose exploits are now detailed in Tales of the San Francisco Cacophony Society, a new book edited by Kevin Evans, Carrie Galbraith, and John Law. As we gear up for Burning Man, I tracked down Law, Society co-founder, at his secret Oakland perch.

Paul Kilduff: If the Cacophony Society had a mission statement, what would it be? Something like wreaking merry havoc worldwide?

John Law: No. I think our mission statement or identifying tagline was always “You may already be a member.” ’Cause we didn’t know. Anybody could be a member, and a lot of different kinds of people were. I’d say the group was comprised mostly of pretty normal working folks.

PK: I have participated in several SantaCons over the years and my uniform has changed. The first time I did it, my friend said, “You’ve got to go to Walgreens and get the $10 felt Santa suit.” But I realized I was the only one adhering to that policy, so over the years, I’ve actually devolved into just having a red turtleneck and a Santa hat. Is that OK?

JL: The original idea was that everyone would look exactly the same. It was a completely universal thing, so [you] wouldn’t know which one was which. And as time went on, people personalized their Santa personae. Which is fine.

PK: I went to Burning Man in 1998 right after I got married, which was kind of weird.

JL: Did you stay married?

PK: Yes, we’re still happily married.

JL: Good.

PK: There were about 28,000 people at Burning Man in 1998 and even then I thought, “Wow, this is a little crowded.” It’s at least twice that now, and twice as expensive. Has Burning Man gotten too big?

JL: You’re asking me if Burning Man’s gotten too big? I thought it was too big when there were 5,000 people there. Burning Man is an amazing event. They have 50,000 people out there now. It’s kind of like a fabulous, gigantic Disneyland for naked attorneys on ecstasy. And God bless ’em, they need to have fun, too. And other people go and have fun, too, and it’s a great thing. I’m kind of taking the piss out of ’em here a little bit good-naturedly, but yeah, that event is a different animal. Apples and oranges. The earlier event on the desert in 1990 through probably 1996 had the complete free feeling. I’m not going to knock the event; people have a blast at it. It’s a giant party, and people have a really good time. What’s wrong with that? The questions [I] have are just simple things like the environmental situation. You simply can’t eradicate the signs of 50,000 people every year in an environment like that.

PK: If you had just one sentence to describe what Burning Man is all about, what would that be?

JL: Burning Man is the biggest, wildest psychedelic tailgate party in American history.

PK: It’s this ultimate artistic expression that you can be involved in if you can afford it. There’s a certain aspect that is not affordable for a lot of would-be artists, so I guess it must be an opportunity for them to be sort of taken care of. It’s an opportunity for people with money to pay for some of that.

JL: It was a completely free anarchist space for a long time. Some of the organizers wanted to build a city in the desert and that’s what they’ve done. Admirable might not be the right description. It’s an impressive thing, but it is a city, and it brought along with it all the things you have in a city, good and bad. And so what you have is the rich punks and hippies going out there in their RVs. They hire poor artists to build their art car or their art project, which is a good thing ’cause poor artists always need patrons. But they hire people to make their art thing and then to display it or drive around on the desert. Then you have your little sub groups of real artists and performers who go out there. They serve and perform, and they have a great time doing it ’cause it’s a good gig.

PK: Journalists have to go through a little brainwash before they can even go, right?

JL: Have you done that?

PK: I haven’t done that.

JL: Give it a try sometime. Let me know what you think. Like any big event or giant corporation or anything that generates $16 million a year, . . . of course they have spin. That’s just what happens. That doesn’t mean people don’t go and have a great time and form their own communities that are real communities.

PK: I need a Burning Man patron myself to support me in some artistic endeavor. Are you up for that, John?

JL: I don’t have any money. Are you kidding? I’m a sign hanger. I work for a living.

PK: The Doggie Diner heads have basically been saved by the Cacophony Society. What is so important about saving this icon from a failed Bay Area hamburger joint?

JL: I’m sorry, Paul, look at the Doggie Diner head [now on display on Law’s computer]. OK? It’s a religious experience. Come on! How could you not want to rescue these icons? If you look at the dog heads, they’re commercial art, but they’re the only art icon that I’ve ever seen that has a visage and a look that is as enigmatic as the “Mona Lisa.” You can’t tell if they’re happy or sad. Are they sardonic? Are they evil? Are they nice?

PK: I’m looking at the Doggie Diner head right now, and you’re quite right. It’s not looking directly back at me. It’s looking off to the side. You don’t really know what this dachshund is thinking.

JL: That’s right. You don’t know what he’s thinking. And where else but in San Francisco would you get a giant political movement to save a fiberglass dachshund head with a bow tie and chef’s hat? I mean, come on. That’s a good thing.

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John Law Vital Stats

Age: 54

Birthplace: San Luis Obispo.

Astrological Sign: Oh, come on. Gimme a break. Scorpio.

Motto: Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt yourself. Don’t hurt the general public. And don’t get caught.

Book Website: talesofsfcacophony.com

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