Flagstock Promised a ‘Rager.’ It Mostly Left Questions. 

Around 7:30 p.m. on Labor Day, a 13-person color guard slowly marched across a large stage at Orange County’s American Legion Post No. 6 decked out in red, white, and blue, the image of a billowing American flag projected on a massive screen behind them. A lone electric guitar blasted out the national anthem.

Then came John Ondrasik—better known by his stage name, Five for Fighting—wearing a black T-shirt declaring “Grateful American.” As he played his 2003 hit “100 Years,” six planes flew over the heads of the crowd gathered in a paved parking lot outside the American Legion. After the song ended, Ondrasik joked that many in the crowd were babies when that song came out. 

He addressed the concerts’ guests of honor: the fraternity brothers from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill who went viral last April after they helped protect the American flag amid campus protests of the Israel-Hamas conflict in Gaza.

“In this day and age, common acts of patriotism tend to be few and far between,” Ondrasik said, “and you set a great example for our country, particularly on our college campuses that have run amok with anti-semitism and radicalism.”

He praised the fraternity brothers for being “on the front lines” of combatting those “trying to tear civilization down,” and urged the crowd to also stand up to the faculty that “indoctrinates our kids with hatred and radicalism” and the “administrators and presidents of the universities across our nation that enable, encourage, and sometimes support the mobs.” He added that pro-Palestinian student protesters were “a cult” and needed to be saved.

The remarks set a specific tone for “Flagstock,” the promised “rager” that conservative operatives planned to honor the so-called “Broletariat” and raised more than half a million via GoFundMe to pull off. While the organizers have maintained that Flagstock is an apolitical, patriotic endeavor, inherently politicized roots loomed over its planning and became more ingrained through its conservative cast of organizers and sponsors.

From the beginning, much of the party’s details were opaque, including to some of the fraternities it was meant to celebrate. While the total cost of the party remains unknown, organizers have continued raising money through donations and merch sales. Even the location of the party was a secret until the day of the event. 

Flagstock’s organizers included two former Republican advisers and country musician John Rich, who has a history of controversial conservative commentary, and its sponsors included a conservative consulting firm and a “pro-America” bank that Rich co-founded.

Multiple fraternities and members told The Assembly they’ve had little or no involvement with organizers. Some chose to dissociate due to the political subtext of the event. The handful of fraternity members who said they were in consistent contact with organizers said while they heeded their input, there were still unknowns about how all that money was being used. 

In a press conference before the event, organizers said that they distributed between 6,000 and 7,000 tickets to all Greek life organizations and ROTC members, estimating that up to 3,000 would attend. Talking to reporters on the day of the event, they dialed back the number of tickets distributed and revised crowd expectations to around 1,000 attendees.

But as Ondrasik kicked off the party, only a couple hundred people milled about, some listening and others chatting amongst themselves. That included throngs of younger attendees in cowboy boots, red, white and blue clothing, a few Carolina blue T-shirts, as well as members of the local American Legion and VFW chapters, some of whom sat on lawn chairs toward the outskirts of the venue.   

After Ondrasik, Rich took the stage in a black, cowboy-esque shirt and gave out a free American-flag-styled guitar signed by all the musicians performing that night. He asked the winner, a young woman with blonde hair wearing a white dress and cowboy boots, about her thoughts on Flagstock. She lifted her hand in the air and yelled, “Go USA,” prompting cheers from the audience. Rich congratulated her and promised that he’d later sing “Save A Horse, Ride a Cowboy.”

“I would assume if you’re in this field tonight, you are a patriot. Would that be correct?” Rich asked the crowd, eliciting some hoots and hollers. If the party were open to the public, Rich estimated between 20,000 to 30,000 would come. He praised all the musicians and others who donated their time to make Flagstock possible.

“They did it on their own dime. You know why?” he asked. “Because they know there’s only one of two choices coming up here soon. It’s communism versus freedom, and we’re going to pick freedom every single time.”

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Murky Beginnings

Less than 24 hours after last April’s flag incident, John Noonan, a former adviser to Republican candidates Jeb Bush and Mitt Romney who now works for a national security organization that advocates against the Biden-Harris administration, started the GoFundMe for what would become Flagstock.

The language in the appeal was tongue-in-cheek, but the politics were clear.

“Commie losers across the country have invaded college campuses to make dumb demands of weak University Administrators,” wrote Noonan. “But amidst the chaos, the screaming, the anti-semitism, the hatred of faith and flag, stood a platoon of American heroes. Armored in Vineyard Vines and Patagonia, fueled by Zyn and White Claws, these triumphant Brohemians protected Old Glory from the unwashed Marxist horde—laughing at their shrieks and wails and shielding the Stars & Stripes from Soviet missiles.”

Within two days, the GoFundMe had reached almost half a million dollars—even as no one in the involved fraternities seemed to know who Noonan was or what would happen with all that money.

Members of several frats told The Assembly they dreamed about the kind of party they could throw, joked about using the money to bring in Drake, or thought about fixing their houses. More seriously, they wondered if they could just donate it. 

“We did not think they could spend more than $15-20,000 on an epic rager,” a spokesperson for Delta Kappa Epsilon told The Assembly.

Noonan eventually contacted the fraternities and invited members from the Interfraternity Council to meet with a friend of his about the GoFundMe, two fraternity brothers said—though neither could provide his name. A few days after the GoFundMe exploded, around 30 fraternity members met the friend at Top of the Hill, a popular spot around the corner from campus. 

Some walked away from the meeting feeling reassured now that the fundraiser finally had a face. Others said it didn’t really make them feel much better.

“It was kind of more of a listening session that seemed to be done to try to assuage the concerns of a lot of the fraternities about what would happen with this big sum of money,” said Oliver Levine, the president of Alpha Epsilon Pi. “But I really wouldn’t say that there were a lot of concrete answers that we got out of that.” 

While the fraternity brothers came to Polk Place on campus last April for different reasons—some as counter-protesters, others as observers—a majority seem to agree that their goal was protecting the flag. At that moment, it was not about some bigger act of political speech. 

“We weren’t at the flag so we could get a party,” said Zachary Serinsky, a member of Alpha Epsilon Pi. “We were at the flag because it was the right thing to do.”

Behind The Curtain

Though the party’s organizers have maintained that Flagstock is an apolitical, patriotic endeavor, conservative operatives and causes are seemingly enmeshed at every level.

Five days after the GoFundMe launched, “Pints for Patriots Foundation” was registered with no listed members or agents in Henrico County, Virginia, as a 501(c)4, a nonprofit tax designation that allows contributions to pay for unlimited lobbying. On the Wednesday before Flagstock, Pints for Patriots filed paperwork in North Carolina that recognized the nonprofit as an entity that does business in the state. Noonan is listed as the foundation’s president on that document.

Susan Ralston, a former staffer in the George W. Bush administration, joined the Flagstock team as an “event planner.” Ralston’s resume includes hosting fundraisers for Mitt Romney and other conservative causes, and founding Citizens for Responsible Solar, an anti-solar 501(c4).

Rich, half of the country duo Big & Rich who has a history of going viral for conservative commentary online, also offered the brothers a free concert. “Let’s call it #Flagstock,” Rich posted after announcing he’d gotten in touch with the fraternities. 

The initially bare-bones website for Flagstock transformed over the summer. By August, Flagstock’s event site listed a full page of sponsors, including Old Glory Bank, which advertises itself as a “cancel proof” and “anti-woke” payment platform. Rich is one of its co-founders, with former Trump secretary of Housing and Urban Development Ben Carson, conservative commentator Larry Elder, and former Oklahoma Gov. Mary Fallin-Christensen.

Earlier this year, Old Glory Bank’s operations came under the scrutiny of the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation, the government agency that protects security and public confidence in the U.S. financial system. American Banker reported that the bank posted a loss of $2.9 million in its first quarter of operations. 

Old Glory spokesperson Jules Wortman, whose PR company also leads communications for Flagstock, told The Assembly that the bank “merely needs to continue to raise capital to support its incredible customer adoption and deposit growth.” She added that the bank “is gearing up for a public offering” next quarter to raise necessary capital to match the growth in deposits.

Rich, with his signature black Stetson and horseshoe mustache, appeared in a video ad for the bank on the Flagstock livestream, just seconds before the concert began. “Why would you trust your banking with people that hate you? Well, you shouldn’t,” Rich said. “We’re building a freedom economy, and now we have a pro-America bank.” 

The ad boasted that those watching the livestream could open an account at Old Glory Bank in “just eight minutes” on their website, and the bank had an on-site booth with more information.

Other sponsors included FP1, a consulting firm that has helped run dozens of Republican campaigns. Flagstock’s website also continues to collect donations using the fundraising platform Anedot, which has largely supported conservative political campaigns. 

How the half-million dollars—and counting—raised for the rager will be spent is another open question. 

Organizers said all the performers, including Big & Rich, Lee Greenwood, Five for Fighting, and Cowboy Troy, performed for free. But organizers paid for several private jets to bring the musicians in, according to Mark Oswald, Big & Rich’s manager.

Organizers said many sponsors, mostly vendors, worked for “severely” discounted rates and provided services at-cost. They estimated that the stage cost around $100,000, and the charter buses hired to shuffle students to and from the party cost $2,500. They estimated about $15-20,000 in legal costs, which was covered by pro bono legal aid, and said they bought an insurance policy that covered up to $5 million. 

Beer was on sale at the event, as was food–so, the money doesn’t even appear to have funded the key elements for your average rager. (Noonan emailed us after this story first published to note that the beer was free inside the VIP tent at least; he also claimed it cost $10,000.)

A week before the party, Flagstock launched a merch store that included shirts and hats with slogans like “The Broletariat” and “Frat Boy Summer,” and images of Uncle Sam holding a beer. The organizers said merch sales will help “offset” costs from the party, adding that they didn’t think it would bring in much money. 

Flagstock organizers have pledged that anything leftover will go to charity, and that they will disclose final numbers in the coming weeks. But as of the day of the event, organizers did not have a specific number on the total price tag.

“I just don’t know how you’re going to spend that much on a party,” said Serinsky, one of the Alpha Epsilon Pi members at the flag event. A half-a-million-dollar party was “ridiculous,” he said.

Conflicting Perceptions

Six fraternity members who spoke with The Assembly felt as much money as possible should be donated to worthy causes. But they also acknowledge that the use of the GoFundMe platform to bring in all that money limits that ability somewhat. 

“Fundraiser organizers are prohibited from utilizing the funds raised for any purpose other than what is clearly outlined in the campaign description,” a GoFundMe spokesperson said in a statement.

In this case, what was outlined was a “rager.” The GoFundMe spokesperson said organizers can donate some of the money because they added updates to the original fundraiser page about donating to several listed charities, including Back the Blue NC, Wounded Warrior Project, Children of Fallen Patriots, and Zeta Beta Tau Foundation to Combat Anti-Semitism.

“In the end, I think it was a little bit of a letdown,” said the spokesperson for Delta Kappa Epsilon about not being able to donate the money. “But I think we are still going to give a substantial amount of money to charity and causes.”

Still, at the press conference ahead of the event, Noonan stressed that donations are a “secondary consideration.” 

“Our brains are trained to think ‘charitable donations good, giant frat rager is bad and frivolous,’ but in this case, it’s completely flipped on its head,” Noonan said. “The spirit of intent of the GoFund was to throw these guys a great party.”

Individual fraternities and their members cited different levels of contact with the organizers. Flagstock organizers told The Assembly in a statement that they offered the opportunity to all fraternities to help with planning on an “ad hoc committee.” However, just a “few individual frats gave us feedback” and “most of the others did not take us up on the offer,” the organizers wrote.

Some members of UNC’s Greek community have sought to distance themselves from Flagstock.

“We are trying to stay out of any polarizing limelight with the event so would prefer no one from Phi Gam makes a statement,” that fraternity’s spokesperson wrote to The Assembly. “Best of luck though!”

A member of another frat who was in Polk Place last spring, who asked to speak anonymously due to the “sensitive nature” of the issue within his fraternity, said that both his local chapter and the national organization fretted about the PR look of Flagstock and the politics behind the event.

“At the end of the day, you use our name, use our image, we should have control over some aspects,” he said. 

Brendan Rosenblum, a member of the Jewish fraternity AEPi who was also in Polk last April, said he went to the protests that day to support Israel alongside some of his brothers. The party diminishes the gravity of the war in Gaza for Jewish and Arab students, he said.

“I don’t need people going out and drinking,” Rosenblum said. “There’s so many things that that money can be used for to promote those important things on campus, and yet it’s going towards getting drunk on a Labor Day weekend.”

Several other members of various Greek organizations said they declined to attend. Some cases were logistical—the Phi Gamma spokesperson estimated about a fourth of their members would attend “given the weird timing with Labor Day.” But for others, like Levine, the “right-wing, MAGA-heroes” narrative was a “misrepresentation” and “disservice” to the fraternity brothers who protected the flag. The party, in his view, was an extension of that.

A few fraternity members who spoke with The Assembly cited positive experiences planning the party. It “took a lot of effort to get into the loop,” said a Delta Kappa Epsilon spokesperson, but after he did, he felt organizers listened. Jason Calderon, a member of the Jewish fraternity Zeta Beta Tau, said organizers were receptive and their conversations reassured him that the party wouldn’t become political. 

“If the event continues just to be a celebration for everyone who was involved in that original event, I think that’s a really cool thing,” he said.

“16,000 Americans and over 40 volunteers generously took time out of their day and money out of their wallets to throw these guys a great time,” said Flagstock organizers in a statement. “It’s a personal decision to accept or decline that goodwill, and we respect that.”

‘The Boys of Chapel Hill’

A lot of the younger people at Monday night’s event gathered in a VIP tent set up for fraternity members who participated in the April flag moment. 

There, the guests of honor could play cornhole on custom-made boards engraved with dedications to the fraternity brothers, gaze at an ice luge branded with UNC and Flagstock logos, and hang out with Hooters employees, who organizers said they hired to work the event because one of the fraternity brothers sported the restaurant’s shirt that day in Polk Place. There were also free wings courtesy of Hooters.

The main concert continued until 10:30 p.m., including a performance by Big & Rich. Cowboy Troy joined them for a 25-minute medley of popular songs, like the ‘80s hits “I Wanna Rock” and “Hit Me With Your Best Shot,” that ended with dancers in hot pink crop tops and glistening white short-shorts. (They also sang “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy,” as promised earlier.) The evening also included country singer Aaron Lewis, who modified his song “Let’s Go Fishing” a couple of times for the crowd. 

“Let’s go Karen, Let’s go Brandon,” he sang out the refrain, and swapped in “and f*** Joe Biden” in lieu of the song’s titular line.  

Lee Greenwood, dressed in a white button-up shirt and blue jeans, capped off the concert with “I’m Proud to Be An American,” as fireworks streamed overhead. He dedicated it to the “boys of Chapel Hill.”

Amid the downtime ahead of the concert, students who came to the designated media area where reporters could freely interview attendees seemed aware of the political leanings and underlying tensions surrounding the event. 

“There really is no consensus on campus. It’s very split,” said one senior at Chapel Hill who came to the party with his fraternity roommate. “Some people think this is a really good look for a fraternity or sorority that they’re in, and then some people think it’s a really bad look. So it’s very, very divided.”

“I understand that they may be hesitant about it being politicized,” said Matthew Trott, the president of Chapel Hill’s College Republicans chapter who is also a member of the Christian fraternity Beta Upsilon Chi. “I get that, you know, their fraternities may not want to be seen as being political, and I completely understand that. Mine would be the same way.”

Ren Larson contributed reporting.