As the rock festivals season gets under way, Dominic Prince discovers just how lucrative Glastonbury is...

As a mixture of greens, punks, old hippies and mudlarks descend on the Glastonbury Festival in Somerset next week, the local community is rubbing its hands with glee, not only at the annual beanfeast but also at the money it brings with it.

As an examination of a thriving local economy, Glastonbury is a microcosm of what might or perhaps could happen. It is a story of entrepreneurship and dogged determination.

If you thought local sourcing was something you only ever saw on gastro pub menus, think again. This is the nice face of capitalism, a world away from concerts sponsored by giant US corporations.

At Glastonbury everyone, and particularly locals, get to feed at the trough.According to a report commissioned by Mendip District Council, more than £70 million is spent nationally on the Glastonbury Festival. And of that, £52 million is spent within the direct locality of the festival with each of the 180,000 festival-goers spending an average of just under £300 over the
three days.

Of course, there are the big businesses — construction companies, sound engineers, utilities and stage construction outfits for instance.

Then there are the police, and let us not forget the armies of people from the BBC. But Glastonbury has never deserted its roots, never sold out to the giant corporation, and in a way it doesn't need to. It is a giant corporation itself. Despite playing down its sponsorship deals, Glastonbury has had longstanding deals with The Guardian newspaper and phone giant Orange, which has a “mobile recharging tent”.

Carlsberg signed a four-year deal in 2007 to be the “official” beer of the festival at its 22 bars. Cidermaker Brothers Drinks agreed a similar four-year sponsorship deal at the same time. There is also a branded festival guide.

Music mogul Vince Power, who used to run the Mean Fiddler concert chain in London, also had a stake in Glastonbury until he sold up in 2005.

And if you scratch beneath the surface of the current Glastonbury accounts, there is more evidence that some hippies are rather good at capitalism — witness Sir Richard Branson, Felix Dennis and Island Records boss Chris Blackwell. It's no different with Michael Eavis, the farmer-turned-festival organiser who started the festival on farmland he owns in the 1970s.

Although profits are a meagre £150,000 on a turnover of £22 million, more than £700,000 is given to charitable organisations. Eavis's remuneration from the festival direct is a modest £105,000 but he also gets paid £500,000 for his loss of earnings from farming the land where the festival is held. His pension fund also receives £13,000.

Another Eavis company receives £245,000 and he also gets management fees of £585,000, according to accounts filed in February. In all, Eavis and companies in which he has an interest receive fees of more than £1.4 million but even then he is owed £166,000 by way of loans he has made to Glastonbury Festival. Other enterprising local folk benefit too from the Glasto effect.

When Jennifer Lederman, a former criminal barrister, upped sticks from London and bought a derelict farm in 2000, just 500 metres from the Glastonbury site, the estate agent omitted to mention that a festival was held within earshot. What could have turned out to be a nightmare was in fact a golden goose that has enabled her to give up the Bar.

Lederman runs an outfit called Camp Kerala, where she rents out high-end luxury tents for the duration of the festival — and they are not cheap.

The 70 hand-made tents were made in Rajasthan and shipped to the UK, where they are stored on a small industrial park until Glastonbury proper begins. Lederman rents the tents, which sleep just two, at £7000 for four days. For that the punters get pampered, fed, watered and chauffeured in and out of the festival grounds, although drinks are extra. Last year, one thirsty festival-goer ran up a tab of more than £1000 over the three days.

The duration sees Lederman take a cool £500,000, and the beauty of it is that as far as possible everything is sourced locally from the catering unit to the food and drink — even the bottled water comes from nearby.

During the festival Lederman employs around 40 locals to erect tents, cook, clean, drive and generally see to it that her well-heeled clientele can experience the jamboree without the mud and discomfort associated with camping.

“The great thing about doing this is that it has meant I have been able to more or less give up the law, but more importantly my faith in human nature has been completely restored,” says Lederman. “And, what is great is that everyone benefits — 180,000 people descend and the event is all-embracing. Everyone wins.”