Pumpkin Show: Parade of Bands (feat. OSU)

Above: Normal Guy and Girl at Pumpkin Show 2006.

We arrived in Ohio after a painless afternoon flight from Boston. As soon as we stepped onto the tarmac, I realized we had not packed for the weather. A tick above fifty, air saturated, I wished for my pea coat and gloves. We’ll cross that bridge, I thought, and headed for the rental cars.

Our hotel was in Chillicothe, twenty-five minutes south of Circleville. Keryn’s grandparents live in the next town over, which made this an exceptionally convenient resting spot. It was a nice hotel, too, well kept and clean, and under $100 per night. We would have stayed closer to the festival, but all the hotels were sold out. Turns out that if you want to stay in downtown Circleville for Pumpkin Show 2007, you had better dash to Expedia this week or next.

The rain started in earnest one minute after we finished dinner with Ma-Ma and Pa-Pa. I suggested the rain might control the crowd some, seeking the silver lining in the black cloud. They informed us that it rains every year at Pumpkin Show, so we had best stifle such hopes…

After narrowly missing out on the last spot in a pay lot two blocks from the Pumpkin Show main stage, we followed orange detour signs down several blocks, fought through a few minutes of frustration, and found a free parking space on one of the side streets. The neon lights of the midway flickered four blocks up Court Street. We bundled ourselves in every sweatshirt and sweater in our suitcases and fought our way into oversized CVS-brand ponchos.

It was that kind of wet autumn cold that cuts through the thickest layers of cotton. Our sweaters and sweatshirts proved ineffective against the mid-forties temps and thick mist. At least we weren’t wearing skirts and tank tops like the cheerleaders or holding our numb hands against cold brass like the players in those marching bands.

We arrived fifteen minutes into the Parade of Bands, which featured representation from area high schools, junior high schools, and youth groups. The parade route was lined four deep on both sides. According to the official formula on the Pumpkin Show website, we calculate that at least 30,000 people endured the elements to watch the bands march past. However, I quickly realized they weren’t there to watch the various festival pageant queens or teenaged trumpeters. No, rumors spread like wild-fire about the assembling band from The Ohio State University. Circleville is solidly pro-OSU, something I learned in fewer than five minutes after arriving on the streets of Pumpkin Show. Everywhere I looked, someone was wearing the colors. Red Starter jackets, baseball caps, umbrellas, raincoats, sweatshirts, ponchos, you name it. I could feel the buzz trembling through the concrete. The OSU band is coming, it’s really coming! They’re here, here for us! Here for the 100th Annual Circleville Pumpkin Show. Not only were they marching the one-mile circuit through town, they were going to present a concert afterwards. This was huge.

According to plan, the OSU concert would start at 9:30pm, but it was already 9:00pm. The rain had caused some delays getting started, and frankly I was impressed they had gone ahead with the festivities at all. Considering the circumstances, I have to give Southern Ohio high school marching bands some credit; they sounded pretty good, and any misplayed notes (there were more than a few) can easily be attributed to the elements.

At 9:30pm, the show stopped, and the onlookers gasped – they stood us up, they’re not going to play. Folks milled in the street, squinting to see whether the band was assembling at an intersection ahead.

“The parade is not over,” the PA announcer said, “please stay out of the streets. The Ohio State University marching band is getting ready to play.”

The crowd’s fears become anticipation once again.

More than two hundred musicians marched past in rows five-to-eight abreast (depending on the instrument), an efficient military machine playing the OSU fight song. I captured most of it on film with my small digital camera. All together, we watched them for one hundred seconds. They marched onward, across Court Street, toward Scioto Street, where they would turn right and continue around the other side of downtown, past thousands more families and children up an hour past their bedtime.

Ten thousand people spilled from the sidewalks onto Franklin Street, whose asphalt reverberated with the steady pounding of marching feet two blocks ahead. Time to go home.