Within the sylvan secrecy of Bohemian Grove, 75 miles north of San Francisco, there is a spot almost equidistant from the Russian River and Snob Hill Trail. It is called Cave Man Camp. There, for two days last week, Barry Goldwater slipped gratefully into seclusion, surrounded by centuries-old redwoods, water-lily-carpeted ponds, and a covey of U.S. millionaires and influentials, Republican and Democratic, who like to strip to their skivvies, swig Scotch in the sun, and forget their troubles.
Bohemian Grove is a walled-in Walden for the world-weary well-to-do; and no onebut no onegets...
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