Inside Sun Valley’s ludicrous, over-the-top security crackdown

SUN VALLEY, Idaho — “Sir, please come with us so we can talk outside,” said one of the two local police officers who suddenly towered over me in the middle of what must have been my fifth double espresso of the day.

What could the law want with me, I wondered, as I rose from my table at the Austrian-themed coffee-and-pastry haunt at this posh mountain resort. Indeed, I felt I had accomplished precious little since I arrived here this week — much less anything that would interest the cops.

Instead, I had attempted to cover the Allen and Co. conference — the so-called “summer camp for billionaires” at the Sun Valley Resort. Attendees at this year’s summit include Sam Altman (who actually did give us something to chew on — thanks Sam), Tim Cook, Anderson Cooper and CBS anchor Gayle King.

They might have thick wallets, but these card-carrying, power-vest wearing members of the global elite have thin skins — or is it just the bankers at Allen & Co. and their security goons? The latter, it seemed, had called law enforcement on me.

“We have had complaints that you have been harassing the guests, and you are going to be asked to leave the property,” said the other youngish-looking cop.

My crime, it appears, had been to lob a handful of questions in the direction of the president’s daughter, Ivanka Trump, and Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent on the luxury resort’s lush grounds.

In the case of Ivanka, I stated my business with a member of her Secret Service detail who promptly crossed the room to inform her. In response, she came over and took my question (about a DC-related exclusive, she politely professed ignorance) before exiting the premises with her coffee.

As for Bessent, I had met him at the comparatively relaxed Milken conference in May. We shook hands Wednesday morning before our extremely brief stroll. He gently parried our queries — with his usual South Carolinian politesse — about his speech to America’s uber-rich and what he made of Elon Musk’s falling out with President Trump.

His government heavies did not bat an eyelid — despite what you may have read in one loose-with-the-facts newsletter. Nevertheless, the organizer’s security took a great interest in our activities.

“We have a reporter here — asking questions!” rasped one of Allen & Co.’s wannabe Navy SEALs as he alerted his higher-ups.

Another by the name of Colby followed me to my car to ensure the message was fully understood.

Perhaps it was not Team Bessent — said to be huge fans of this newspaper — who wanted me ejected. Maybe my asking a bemused barista for details of Ivanka’s coffee order was the straw that broke the camel’s back?

Soon thereafter, a baby-faced Sun Valley apparatchik, his earpiece dangling down the front of his unironed shirt, bowled up to me and demanded that I put my name to a no-trespass order.

The bizarre diktat would ban me from the Sun Valley resort for one year, he intoned. I refused to sign it — but he told me the ban would take effect, anyway.

Security huffed and puffed that I had committed the grievous offense of talking to people, as well as “walking up and down” the premises on my coffee runs to Konditorei, the Austrian-themed cafe.

Before the constitutional know-it-alls get in touch, I understand the First Amendment does not extend to private property, which in this case has been rented out by Allen & Co, the boutique investment bank behind this conference.

But I had hoped to be treated better in the birthplace of free speech, given that back home in Britain standards have been slipping of late.

Journalists who had schlepped from New York were told in no uncertain terms that if the summit’s top brass did not like our coverage, that we would be booted off the premises.

Sun Valley’s head of security, a man who introduced himself only as “Randy”, gave a “welcome speech” in which he directly cited The Post’s coverage from Tuesday. He panned our “exposé” of the Sun Valley Lodge’s pricey wine list and NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell’s generous tipping habits.

As for this piece, Randy did not reply to The Post’s multiple requests for comment. My comment: Loosen up, Randy. A $648 bottle of Louis Roederer Cristal Brut Champagne should do the trick.