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Photograph by Thomas Crone
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Photograph by Thomas Crone
At 1:11 p.m. on Saturday afternoon, the People’s Joy Parade began to move eastward on Cherokee Street, before heading north, slowly edging away from the major street festival taking place just down the block. In time, the procession headed back east, then south, concluding in the center of the neighborhood’s massive Cinco De Mayo street party. The whole experience may’ve taken a bit under an hour, but felt as if it passed in a flash.
Assembling on the parking lot of El Leñador, at the corner of Cherokee and Michigan, the crews taking part began to arrive in good numbers around 45 minutes before the parade’s start. It’s unlikely that you’d find a more colorful, funky, diverse, rambunctious-yet-respectful group of humans in St. Louis at any other point this year. There were small motorbikes, edgy clowns, that controversial piñata of Donald Trump. There were dobermans in a mini-train, arm-wrestling ladies, multiple drum corps. Floats, built on-site, opened and closed the proceedings, each with their own band; at least five music groups took part in total, offering a true blend of sounds. And, of course, there was a string of Volvos, because any parade is enriched by a string of Volvos.
See also: [VIDEO] St. Louis Celebrates Cinco de Mayo By Bashing Donald Trump Piñata
The bulk of the paraders were adults, as happy and carefree as kids. There were also dozens and dozens of actual kids; many of them had taken part in pre-parade workshops at the Community Arts & Media Project, pulling tiny totem floats and singing songs. Others just showed up, their parents aware and hip enough to bring the youngsters to a truly-participatory event; one pair of kids literally pogoed the entire parade route.
As the parade lurched through its short course—this is not an event built for speed—the neighbors provided some moments of levity. Some obviously knew about this eight-year-old tradition, setting up shop on front lawns or porches for the duration, drinks and lawn chairs ready; others clearly were seeing it for the first time, confused and bemused by the carnival temporarily inhabiting their street.
At the conclusion, near one of Cinco’s three music stages, a good-sized crowd stood and cheered and gawked. There was never really much of a gap between eye-catching moments. As each parade crew concluded, they began to collectively, then individually dissipate into the bigger festival happening around them, adding touches of weirdness; seriously, those clowns seemed to be everywhere.
If you consider yourself to be a True Child of St. Louis, you’ll attend the event not just next year, but every year. If you wanna level up a bit, buy five crushed velvet tuxes or faded bridesmaid’s dresses, call up four friends, and make yourselves part of the spectacle.
Cheers to the parade organizers; you’re doing your city a solid. And thanks to the Banana Bike Brigade, for giving this PJP newbie a chance to ride the course, slowly, smiling and in circles.
For additional photos to those seen here, find a mega-set at thecherokeescene.com.
