This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2016, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.
For 30 years now, on and off, Murray's Steve Nichol has camped to secure a prime view of the Days of '47 Parade, his staked-out swath inevitably encroached upon until his group is shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee with other spectators.
Asked for streetside camping tips, he laughed: "Be prepared to not get a good night's sleep."
Tens of thousands lined the 2-mile parade route Monday — held a day late because the anniversary of the Mormon pioneers' arrival in the valley fell on the Sabbath for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Some tip-toed for glimpses of the passing floats, bands and dignitaries, while others stood on the windowsills of South Temple's Alta Club.
Nichol — who has pioneer roots and whose wife, Jodi, traces her lineage to Brigham Young's brother, Lorenzo Dow Young — said he's been smitten since he first attended in 1986.
"It's like the one time when Mormons are getting crazy and partying," he said.
The parade boasts an annual attendance of about a quarter-million, making it one of the nation's largest. Co-chairwoman Jodene Smith said this year's included between 40 and 45 floats and 15 bands, as well as a unique celebration of Utah's "honor platoon."
Fifty years prior, in 1966, 79 young Utah men in black trousers, white shirts and ties marched before getting sworn into the United States Marine Corps at the Capitol Rotunda, then bused to the airport for training.
One half flew to Los Angeles and the other half waited, standing at attention, for their arrival at Camp Pendleton. They got to sleep at 3 a.m. They were woken two hours later.
"Our whole lives changed as we knew it," said Rob Chambers, now of Beaver Dam, Ariz.
Two of the men were killed in action, said Greg James, a former KSL general manager who now serves as executive vice president of Days of '47.
James hatched the idea for a reunion with former KSL anchor Dick Nourse, who covered the platoon during Vietnam. Of the 79 who marched that day, they managed to assemble about 26, plus their drill instructor.
The Utah Military History Group's Scott Montefusco, who served as a captain in the U.S. Marine Corps, said some of the men had objected to being driven in U.S. Army trucks, so he found them a 1942 Chevrolet Marine Corps truck that he freshly painted, as well as 7-ton troop carriers and light armored vehicles from U.S. Marine Corps Reserves Company C.
The impressive convoy received the day's loudest cheers and whistles.
Elaborate floats included depictions of sun-drenched lizards water skiing at Lake Powell — thanks to the fortitude of the pioneers who settled southeastern Utah through the Hole in the Rock trail — and an Arthurian court with a smoke-breathing dragon for those Mormons rooted ancestrally in Great Britain.
Members of Bountiful's Central Stake said their float, which included a rotating carousel and bounding mechanical horses, was more than a year in the making.
A retired engineer donated more than 200 hours to the mechanics of the five-sided carousel — on which intricate murals honored the pioneering spirit of Founding Fathers, Mormon travelers, early aviators, U.S. servicemen and space explorers — and two couples spent a week handcrafting the float's foam flowers: three days to hand-cut them, two days to dye them and a whole day just to apply the glitter.
"Its purpose is to be fun," said Peter Simonsen, the chairman of the stake's float committee. "Who doesn't love giant horses bobbing up and down?"
With temperatures due to climb into triple digits Monday, Ordain Women handed out miniature bottled waters while wearing shirts that read "The Future is Female."
They brought two vans full of water, said Ogden's Debra Jenson. Few had asked about their T-shirts, she said, or their widely publicized efforts to gain inclusion in the church's all-male priesthood. Their mission Monday was to quench thirst.
Said Atlanta's Bryndis Roberts, who flew in to help, "It's just a great time to show that we're celebrating our faith, as well."
Mormons Building Bridges, a group advocating for ties between Mormon and LGBT communities, saw its parade application denied for a third consecutive year, having proposed a float that would depict Rainbow Bridge National Monument with the message "Be the Bridge."
Controversy was in short supply Monday. The extent, perhaps: A shirtless Tarzan riding in a vehicle sponsored by the Tuacahn Center for the Arts drew murmurs about his appropriateness from missionaries adjacent Temple Square.
Powell, Wyo., resident Stephanie Brown said she and her husband, Justin, first saw the parade with their daughter, Audrey, a few years ago.
"I was amazed at the quality of it," she said, while Audrey had fascinated herself with the mysteriously disappearing horse poop (the result of a two-man crew that zips around in a maintenance vehicle armed with the age-old combatant to festering feces: a shovel).
The Browns arrived with a cart that would make the pioneers proud, featuring all the days' essential amenities and water spritzers, which Audrey and her brother, Carter, gleefully used to cool off their grandparents.
Asked what the pioneers might have made of this scene, Brown said: "I think they'd be impressed that years later, somebody is still promoting the hardships that they went through."
Avenues resident Seneca Moore comforted her 13-month-old son as he found the sights and sounds "a little much" at his first Days of '47 Parade, but said she may make a tradition of it.
Moore isn't LDS, and the parade has "a very Mormon message," she said. It could focus more on the concepts of perseverance and willpower, and less on religion, "but I can just bring that myself," she laughed.
Those who camped out almost unanimously reported a degree of grogginess and few regrets.
Said Alpine's Ivalani Bradshaw, who set up a canopy on the southwest corner of South Temple and 200 East at 10 p.m. on Sunday night, "The overnight party was almost even funner than the parade."
Children rode scooters and bikes and campers played football in the street. The Bradshaws made a late-night pizza run to The Pie. This night before was relatively quiet, Nichol said, compared to other years.
When it became apparent that somebody forgot to turn off the sprinklers, campers channeled their pioneering spirit and covered them with pop cans.
Twitter: @matthew_piper