E. Clampus Vitus Society : ‘Clampers’ Camp for Humor and History

When the speeches were over and the bronze plaque commemorating the old gold-mining town at this site had been formally dedicated, about 200 members of the Squibob Chapter of E. Clampus Vitus roared their traditional slogan of approval in unison: “Satisfactory!”

Then the “Clampers,” as they are known, made their way back to their camp at the foot of the Cargo Muchacho Mountains, which jut out of the desert plain some 40 miles east of El Centro. It was time for the real ceremony to begin--the secret ceremony initiating 26 members into the jocular, all-male group.

E. Clampus Vitus is one of California’s oldest and most intriguing organizations. Founded during the Gold Rush of the 1850s, the Clampers have no elections and pay no dues. Their officers, designated by a “Clampatriarch,” are given titles such as Illicit Solicitor and First Vice Noble Grand Humbug.

The group rarely contributes to scholarships or charity. Instead, their activities consist primarily of semiannual “Clampouts,” camping expeditions during which bronze plaques commemorating various historic sites and points of interest are dedicated.

Members include men with a serious interest in California’s history and others who just want to have fun, explained Eugene Chamberlin, Noble Grand Historian for the Squibob Chapter, which encompasses San Diego and Imperial counties. “We usually describe ourselves as a historical and hysterical organization,” he added.

Chamberlin, who teaches California history at Mesa College, said the Clampers were founded as a spoof of other men’s societies such as the Elks and the Masons. The group’s elaborate titles are one such satire; another is the name E. Clampus Vitus, which is absolutely meaningless. “It sounds Latinish,” Chamberlin noted.

The 300-member Squibob Chapter was founded in 1962 and has erected more than 30 historical monuments in San Diego and Imperial counties. Among the sites commemorated are the Spanish Fort Guijarros on Point Loma, the Johnson-Taylor adobe ranch house in Los Penasquitos Canyon Preserve, gold mines in Julian and stagecoach stops in Shelter Valley and Warner Springs.

The sites are selected by the state office of historic preservation, but Chamberlin researches the information that appears on the commemorative bronze plaques. Clamper volunteers construct the stone monuments on which the plaques are placed. The $2,000 cost of the finished monuments is covered by the $25 each Clamper pays to take part in a Clampout.

Nearly 200 Clampers showed up for the Tumco plaque dedication and accompanying weekend Clampout Oct. 18 to 20. They stayed in a sprawling cluster of trailers, campers and station wagons two miles east of the plaque site. A few of the Clampers busied themselves in the group’s fully equipped trailer-kitchen while most of the others worked on reducing a seemingly endless supply of beer.

“The bottom line is that we’re out here in the country, away from telephones and the usual deadlines,” said Danny Marshall, the group’s First Vice Noble Grand Humbug and program manager for the U.S. Navy’s vertical-takeoff aircraft in San Diego. The truth is, “We’ve got a lot more of the fun-loving types than the serious historian types,” he added.

Ron May, an archeologist for the county who recently completed excavations at Fort Guijarros, said he joined E. Clampus Vitus in 1981. The Clampouts “are the largest stag parties in Southern California, but they have a serious side, too,” he noted. “A lot of us in the group are professionals who are under a lot of stress. This is a release.”

Nearly all of the Clampers wore T-shirts, buttons, patches and even tie-clasps bearing a caricature of John P. Squibob, after whom the local chapter is named. Chamberlin explained that John P. Squibob was one of the pen names of Lt. George Horatio Derby, an Army topographical engineer who lived in San Diego in 1853 and 1854.

Derby was posted here to build a dike to prevent the San Diego River from flooding Old Town, but he was also a prankster and humorist who often penned witty essays and letters that were published in several California newspapers, including the San Diego Herald. Among his many pen names were Dr. S.S. Squizzens and Orion W. Mudge.

“We considered naming the chapter after Juan Bautista de Anza,” Chamberlin said, “but we eventually rejected him. He’s important, but he doesn’t reflect Clamper ideals as much as Derby.”

Among other things, Derby is remembered for instigating a prank in which the clothes of a dozen or so babies were switched while their mothers were dancing at a community ball in Weaverville, Calif. Reportedly, it took two days to straighten out the true identities of the babies, and Derby had to shell out $500 for a new ball to help soothe outraged sensibilities.

Derby was less than enthusiastic about living in early San Diego and once wrote to a superior officer, “I can assure you that an exile in this dreary and desolate little place, with nothing whatever to do, is about the most disagreeable duty I could possibly have performed.” According to Chamberlin, Derby also once noted that “I was sent to San Diego to dam the river and I have damned it silently and aloud many times.”

Although the Clampers are intended as a spoof of other men’s societies, they seem to perform a similar social function for their members by providing a few nights out with “the boys.” At the Tumco Clampout, members patrolled assiduously to prevent women from entering the camp, and even male visitors were asked to leave before the initiation ceremony began.

“There’s nothing utterly indecent about it, but there are some things on the shadowy side,” Chamberlin said.

Still, even the exclusion of women is treated humorously. Notes are often obtained from the wives or girlfriends of prospective members, permitting their men to join the group. The funniest notes are read out loud at the Clampouts. And women are allowed to attend the annual Demotion Dinner, at which new officers are announced.

It is not a fraternity for men who are no longer in college, Chamberlin insisted. “You have to prove you’re a mature male, not a kid. We don’t want to create nuisances--at least not for people outside the organization.”

While few of the Clampers have the overwhelming enthusiasm for history that Chamberlin has, quite a few on the Tumco Clampout did hike half a mile from their camp to the ruins of Tumco, where gold was mined off and on between 1884 and 1941. The town boasted 3,200 residents during the 1890s and is the only ghost town in San Diego and Imperial counties that still has ruins that can be visited, according to Chamberlin.

May, the county archeologist, pointed out that the historical monuments erected by the Clampers “call attention to the sites and make it embarrassing to destroy them.” Too often, important historical sites are obliterated by modern development before they have been investigated and preserved, he said.

Chamberlin seemed to echo that sentiment when, after the Tumco monument had been dedicated and the crowd had melted away, he glanced at the bronze plaque and quipped, “Well, plaque, I hope you’re still here in a hundred years, but you might be a condominium.”