You may arrive at this year’s 24th of July parade at what you assume to be right on time, lawn chairs in tow, ready for the grand marshal’s whistle and the drum majors’ first beat. You are too late. You’ll be relegated to a patch of dirt near Liberty Park, while the primo spots are already filled with enthusiastic daughters and sons of Utah pioneers who have shown up ready to play…12 to 16 hours before go time.
This parade, after all, is part of the emphatically celebrated anniversary of the Latter-day Saints’ arrival in the Salt Lake Valley. Few states have such a rich history that it warrants an official day off and a parade of this magnitude.
Snagging key parade spots, and the modest revelry that ensues up and down the town’s main drag, may not be unique to Utah. We all love a parade, after all. But the vibe around 6 p.m.-ish, and on into twilight’s last fading on the 23rd, is essential Utah.
First, there are the teens, up late with a good excuse for prowling. But “prowling” is too sinister a term. These are the Archie-comic, suburban-parallel-universe versions of the bridge-and-tunnel crowd. You’ll meet a fleet of good-natured Davis County teens, enjoying nothing more intoxicating than Mountain Dew and a pass to be out beyond curfew, thrilling in the “big city.” While mom and dad (and vast extended families) dutifully GUARD THE SPOT with elaborate systems of coolers, lawn chairs and Honda generators, the young crowd is free to roam. Besides, if Mom and Dad are not physically there, the Holy Ghost stays up late tonight (this is Pioneer Day Eve, after all).
Next, there are the Bible Bangers. Limited most often to the “protest zone” just off Temple Square, this ragtag fleet of Jesus Freaks and End-of-Timers is set free to carry its fire-and-brimstone message to the gathered throngs. Everyone is up all night. What time is it? Half past John 3:16.
Combine those earnest, mostly LDS-mission-bound teens from the suburbs, all hopped up on sugary sodas, with wild-eyed prophets representing The Lord Savior Jesus Christ “hisself” on one long Rocky Mountain Las Ramblas, and now you’re in Utah, baby.
And by 2 a.m., after the SLCPD has shooed away the antagonists in the debate over the Trinity, it’s proper family time. Bring on the card games, laughter and a shared goal to enjoy the dawn’s early light, to cheer on the marathoners as they enter the city and to anticipate the Grand Marshal’s whistle—which means salt water taffy for all!
It’s going to be a good morning here in Utah.
See more stories like this and all of our culture and community coverage. And while you’re here, why not subscribe and get six annual issues of Salt Lake magazine’s curated guide to the best of life in Utah.
