Jamie Rose for The New York Times
Partying heartily at Swine on the Vine at the Potomac Polo Club near Washington.
Partying heartily at Swine on the Vine at the Potomac Polo Club near Washington.
POOLESVILLE, Md.
Christopher Philbrook with, from left, Dana Kaplan, Jessica Ferguson and Dana Harris at Swine on the Vine.
THE gravel driveway for the Potomac Polo Club is unmarked, but the 200 young men and women who traveled here, 45 minutes from Washington, knew they were at the right place when they spotted the black Hummer limousine and saw the crowd at the beer bong.
They had arrived at the fall party, Swine on the Vine, of the Capital Club, a Washington group of 100 politically connected young men, who are known for partying like they’re back at a fraternity kegger.
For a certain set of young Washington, the parties are a raucous antidote to the restrained fund-raisers and embassy cocktail gatherings that otherwise make up the district’s social life.
“The Capital Club has no mission except to show its members and their many dates a good time,” said Jayne Sandman, associate publisher of the Washington magazine Capitol File. “It’s hedonistic relief from a city of suits and ties.”
Among the club members and their guests, most in their 20’s and 30’s, were White House staff members, Capitol Hill aides, lawyers, publicists and lobbyists. About 90 percent of club members are Republican, and 80 percent work in government. Barbara and Jenna Bush have been known to show up at some of the parties, six a year, which provide a glimpse of Washington’s young power elite with ties loosened, six years into the Republican domination of government.
When the cover band took a break at Swine on the Vine, guests crowded around the beer bong, eager to take their turn guzzling a can of beer poured down a funnel. A young man shook a portable outhouse because he knew his buddy was inside.
The dress code was preppy enough for a polo ground: women in pearl necklaces, lightweight wrap sweaters and jeans tucked into riding boots. Men favored oxford shirts with sunglasses strung around their necks. Jeff Kimbell, a lobbyist who is a former club president, wore a belt buckle made from a car’s gearshift handle (with options for “drive and reverse,” he said suggestively). Josh Overbay, who works for the United States Chamber of Commerce, wore a camouflage hat that said, “Support Wildlife. Drink Wild Turkey.”
“Girls love to hate them,” observed Bridget Bunner of the Capital Club’s 100 men. Ms. Bunner, a 23-year-old fund-raiser for Democratic Congressman Alan B. Mollohan of West Virginia, added, “They’re the kind of guys their moms want them to marry.”
This summer, members sent each other Internet links to a Smirnoff ad on YouTube that parodied every cliché of the WASP elite, down to their seersucker suits and the popped collars of their polo shirts. It featured three blondes in pearls and tennis clothes, with young men rapping “where my WASP’s at?” and calling haters “jealous because our families run the nation.” Capital Club members said it reminded them of themselves.
Members of the club have connections throughout government, and in some cases are wired right into the brain trust at the White House: the Republican lobbying firm DCI Group, which has strong ties to the Republican Party chairman Ken Mehlman and the White House senior adviser Karl Rove, has sponsored its parties. But club members insist their gatherings are not about networking or advancing anyone’s career or political agenda.
“If you want networking,” said Jonathan Grella, 32, a public relations executive and Tom Delay’s former press secretary, “go to a fund-raiser or a charity event, or go to Sally Quinn’s house.”
Even if this generation had a version of Ms. Quinn’s house, the Capital Club partygoer would rather not drop by. “There’s no one talking about issues in the beer line,” said Jessica Clement, who dates a past president of the club and works for the DCI Group.
Jessica Cutler, the former congressional staff member whose blog, written under the pseudonym Washingtonienne, exposed several Washington men’s sex lives, said she attended one party — uninvited — in 2004, and that was enough for her. But Washington is not like New York, she said, and there are not many opportunities for the young and ambitious to establish themselves on the social scene.
“Either you’re dealing with college kids,” she said of Washington’s night life, “where you feel you’re the oldest person there. Or you feel like you’re way too young to be there because they’re all old men.”
Still, the Capital Club seems contrived, Ms. Cutler said. “It feels like these guys are young and they just came up with it, as opposed to it being an institution.”
“That didn’t appeal to me,” she said, “but I can see why it appeals to the D.C. type. They do want to be on the board of the museum.”
Many members do come from privileged backgrounds; Mississippi Gov. Haley Barbour’s son, Reeves, is a member, as are West Virginia Rep. Shelley Moore Capito’s son, Moore, and Georgia Senator Saxby Chambliss’s son, Bo, a lobbyist, all Republicans. Billy Bush, President Bush’s cousin and a host of “Access Hollywood,” is a former member, as is John Breaux Jr., a lobbyist whose father is the former Democratic Louisiana senator.
But
the club is, in some ways, populist. Annual dues are only $250. Anyone
who buys a ticket can come to the parties. The cost for Swine on the
Vine for nonmembers was $50 for men, $40 for women. At the end of the
year, the club donates about $5,000 to charities like the American Red Cross
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“I hate when we get painted with that picture of a bunch of bratty kids or of a privileged young Republicans’ club,” said George Vincent, 25, a real estate developer. “I know a lot of the guys fit that, but not all. The Republican part works, but I’m not pretentious.”
Jonathan Grella, left, Mat Lapinski, president of the Capital Club, and Jeff Kimbell, a past president.
The club was formed in 1980 — the year Ronald Reagan was elected president — by five graduates of the University of Virginia and Washington and Lee, with the intent of recreating their fraternity parties.
“The first one, as it has been described to us, was three kegs of beer in a hotel ballroom in Crystal City, Virginia,” said Mat Lapinski, 26, the current club president and a lobbyist with a Washington law firm.
The Clinton years were not good for the club; according to some members, it tried to become too exclusive, restricting access to its parties. It could hardly refill its membership ranks. The return of the Republicans to Congress in the mid-90’s marked the club’s resurgence.
The club says 60 to 70 men try to join each year for the dozen spots that open up. A thousand people went to the Sinatra Soiree in July, where the “summer ahoy” dress code must have prompted a run on the J. Crew catalog. More than one guest carried a polo mallet as a walking stick.
Even with the polls this month showing Democrats threatening the Republican majority in Congress, and the House leadership under attack, members insisted that a shift in the balance of power in Washington would not dim the club’s appeal, or its party-hearty spirit. The next gathering, a Halloween costume affair on Oct. 28, is 10 days before Election Day. Some members said they were looking forward to it as a timeout from the tense political season.
“It wouldn’t matter if the Democrats controlled Congress or if Ralph Nader were president,” said Mr. Kimbell, 35, the former president. “The club isn’t about politics. It is precisely the opposite, as it gives members an opportunity to get away from politics for at least a little while, listen to some live music, throw down a few shots of Patrón and have a few howls with the boys. And perhaps enjoy the fruits of some of our lady guests.”
The parties aren’t so wild that anyone will be forced to issue a public apology the next day. This being Washington, Capital Club members are aware that once you damage your reputation, it’s not easy to repair it. A lesson was learned from an experience with the Madison, a women’s club similar to the Capital Club, after a member told The Hill newspaper that she “would be the ultimate trophy wife.”
The same article called the Madison the female equivalent of the Capital Club. The Capital Club rushed out an e-mail message to the Madison’s board insisting they “do not want the Madison to be referenced as the female equivalent to the club.”
Mr. Lapinski, the Capital Club’s president, said: “We have always welcomed everyone to our events. And some members worried that referring to the organizations as equivalents would have a negative impact on attendance at our events by our friends in the Junior League and other non-Madison ladies.”
When the sun went down at Swine on the Vine, a few couples retreated to blankets by the bonfire, but the majority jammed together in front of the stage to hear the band, as if they were at a high school dance. Men on the sideline fired up cigars.
At the end of the night, 10 empty kegs were lined up as people danced to the last song, Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.” A young man stumbled out of the darkness while rebuttoning his untucked white shirt. Guests left in pairs, holding hands, while some single women consoled each other. “He’s a dirtbag,” one said.
“I just want to get out of here,” her friend said.
A boisterous group piled into the Hummer limo, and all of the cars
headed back to Washington together.
End article MPG