Scenes from the Russian New Year invasion in Millennium Park
When it comes to the "Invasion of Ded Morozy and Snegurachki" event that took place in Millennium Park earlier today, two of my mom's saying comes to mind.
First is a lesson that served us all well over the years - "Hope for the best and prepare for the worst." The other is "In spite of everyone's best efforts, [action or event] succeeded."
Back in December 10, Anna Troshina, who organizes the Chicago area Immortal Regiment processions contacted me to let me know about another event coming up. Over the past few years, Russia has seen some parades and gatherings featuring people dressing up as Russian New Year folk characters - Ded Moroz (the Russian Santa Claus equivelent) and Snegurochka (his granddaughter and helper). New York City's Russian community has been doing something similar for the past few years, and Russian-American community in Chicago has been doing it since 2017, but that was the first time I ever heard about it.
At the time, I finally got some traction pitching for Block Club Chicago (something that deserves its own, separate post), and I pitched an article about it on a lark, pointing out that I was one of the three Chicago journalists who have the cultural background and knowledge of the language that could give this whole thing proper context. And, surprisingly, the pitch got accepted. I interviewed Troshina, she sent me some photos, and I turned in the article on December 19.
Now, when I interviewed Troshina, she mentioned that she wasn't sure that the costumes would get there in time, but I figured that the issue would be resolved by the time I get back to Chicago.
The article went up yesterday morning. While there was some inevitable editing, it managed to preserve most of the background information I included (so check it out if you want further context), and I got some positive comments from the editor.
Then, as I was wrapping up some stuff that I had to turn in for Austin Weekly News, I got added to the event discussion group, and Troshina was talking about how the costumes didn't arrive, and maybe they should postpone it closer to the actual New Years Eve. I was, admittedly, mortified, but I decided to wait to see what they decide and then e-mail the editor and let her know that she should add a note along the lines of "event got postponed to [x] due to unexpected circumstances." It would have sucked, but... well, those kinds of things sometimes happen in journalism.
But then, someone noticed my article and... allow me to paraphrase the ensuing furious back-and-forth:
"Holy crap, we're in the news, people will be expecting us, we have to do it tomorrow!"
"But what about the costumes?"
"I don't freaking know! Who has costumes? Who has anything that looks like costumes!"
"I got a coat that has Snegurachka colors? Would that work?"
"Yeah, that would be awesome. Does anybody have any costumes?"
Here is the thing. It's not like Troshina didn't know it was going to be in the news. I made it abundantly clear, "in plain Russian," as my people would say. The only thing I wasn't entirely sure was when it would come out. How was that a surprise?
As I later found out, the news got furiously reshared in the Russian-American Facebook groups, and, I suspect, in other social media networks. The common reaction was "holy crap, I had no idea this was happening, why did nobody tell us, can you get down there?" And it got many shares from the non-Russians as well.
My original plan was to show up there and see what happens, because I suspected that there would be crowd. Problem is, I severely overslept (probably due to not getting much sleep on the train the night before), so I didn't make it down there until about half an hour into an event.
The crowd gathered around the group was... not small. And from what I heard later, it was even bigger at the start of event at 1:00 PM. WBBN news radio sent a reporter, and I'm 95% positive that she wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for the Block Club Chicago article. I also heard that there might have been TV cameras, but so far, I haven't been able to find any signs of any of our local stations reporting anything.
While many people were there for the event, just as many were clearly just stopping by to see what all the fuss was about.
They had one Ded Moroz who showed up event a few minutes after me, and one guy, as my mom would put it, volinteered into service.
Now, from what Troshina told me, I assumed that there would be singing. And that only somewhat happened (at least while I was there). Most of the time, people just kind of swayed to the boombox of classic and modern Russian New Year songs. But eventually, they at least did some dancing.
Russian Santas have taken over Millennium Park! Ded Moroz (Grandpa Frost) is helping Chicago celebrate the new year by spreading holiday cheer! @WBBMNewsradio pic.twitter.com/2XcRINxiMO
- Rachel Pierson (@WBBMRachel) December 28, 2019
https://instagram.com/p/B6on8TjBAjO
On my part, I tried to summarize what was happening to the curious onlookers. More then a few times, I heard delightful kid shouts of "SANTA!" and, as they went to get pictures taken, I didn't bother to correct them, and neither did anybody else.
After that, the plan was to march down to the big Chicago Christmas Tree, and, since there were some spare costumes, I got volunteered as one of the Grandpas Frost. And I did try to play the part right, shouting "Happy New Year" and "С Новым Годом! С Новым Счастьем!" And, when some of the other participants said "Merry Christmas" part of me was annoyed. I couldn't help but think "If you are going to specifically dress up as Ded Moroz and Snegurachka, at least stay in character." And the Ded Moroz who got interviewed by WBBN handed out some Russian candy, which got some dubious looks, but most people accepted it. (It's the kind of Russian candy you can get in a lot of "international" stores that stock Russian products, like Devon Market and Eurofresh)
I will say that some people specifically wanted to get their pictures taken with a Ded Moroz and a Snegurochka, just to make it clear that it's not Santa. And a few times, Russian families with kids who had no idea this was happening stopped by to get pictures.
(So far, I haven't been able to find any photos of the procession that included me in the Ded Moroz outfit, but I'll put it up if I do)
In fact, as the group dispersed at around 3:00 PM, we had some last-minute stragglers who wanted to take pictures, even while most participants (including yours truly) already took off their costumes.
Overall, the participants seemed both awed that so many people showed up to see the event and frustrated that they couldn't put on a better show.
"You got to warn people when you do this," one woman told me, half-accusingly, once she found out that I wrote that article.
"We should have rehearsed something," said another. "There should have been a speech."
And I just reiterated that I made it pretty clear that the article was going to be published. Troshina knew it. It's not like there wasn't time to prepare.
But, as my mom would say in situations like this, there's no point in dwelling on what did or didn't happen. I am glad that people had fun. And it looks like the group is planning something larger and more elaborate for next year.
First is a lesson that served us all well over the years - "Hope for the best and prepare for the worst." The other is "In spite of everyone's best efforts, [action or event] succeeded."
Back in December 10, Anna Troshina, who organizes the Chicago area Immortal Regiment processions contacted me to let me know about another event coming up. Over the past few years, Russia has seen some parades and gatherings featuring people dressing up as Russian New Year folk characters - Ded Moroz (the Russian Santa Claus equivelent) and Snegurochka (his granddaughter and helper). New York City's Russian community has been doing something similar for the past few years, and Russian-American community in Chicago has been doing it since 2017, but that was the first time I ever heard about it.
At the time, I finally got some traction pitching for Block Club Chicago (something that deserves its own, separate post), and I pitched an article about it on a lark, pointing out that I was one of the three Chicago journalists who have the cultural background and knowledge of the language that could give this whole thing proper context. And, surprisingly, the pitch got accepted. I interviewed Troshina, she sent me some photos, and I turned in the article on December 19.
Now, when I interviewed Troshina, she mentioned that she wasn't sure that the costumes would get there in time, but I figured that the issue would be resolved by the time I get back to Chicago.
The article went up yesterday morning. While there was some inevitable editing, it managed to preserve most of the background information I included (so check it out if you want further context), and I got some positive comments from the editor.
Then, as I was wrapping up some stuff that I had to turn in for Austin Weekly News, I got added to the event discussion group, and Troshina was talking about how the costumes didn't arrive, and maybe they should postpone it closer to the actual New Years Eve. I was, admittedly, mortified, but I decided to wait to see what they decide and then e-mail the editor and let her know that she should add a note along the lines of "event got postponed to [x] due to unexpected circumstances." It would have sucked, but... well, those kinds of things sometimes happen in journalism.
But then, someone noticed my article and... allow me to paraphrase the ensuing furious back-and-forth:
"Holy crap, we're in the news, people will be expecting us, we have to do it tomorrow!"
"But what about the costumes?"
"I don't freaking know! Who has costumes? Who has anything that looks like costumes!"
"I got a coat that has Snegurachka colors? Would that work?"
"Yeah, that would be awesome. Does anybody have any costumes?"
Here is the thing. It's not like Troshina didn't know it was going to be in the news. I made it abundantly clear, "in plain Russian," as my people would say. The only thing I wasn't entirely sure was when it would come out. How was that a surprise?
As I later found out, the news got furiously reshared in the Russian-American Facebook groups, and, I suspect, in other social media networks. The common reaction was "holy crap, I had no idea this was happening, why did nobody tell us, can you get down there?" And it got many shares from the non-Russians as well.
My original plan was to show up there and see what happens, because I suspected that there would be crowd. Problem is, I severely overslept (probably due to not getting much sleep on the train the night before), so I didn't make it down there until about half an hour into an event.
The crowd gathered around the group was... not small. And from what I heard later, it was even bigger at the start of event at 1:00 PM. WBBN news radio sent a reporter, and I'm 95% positive that she wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for the Block Club Chicago article. I also heard that there might have been TV cameras, but so far, I haven't been able to find any signs of any of our local stations reporting anything.
While many people were there for the event, just as many were clearly just stopping by to see what all the fuss was about.
They had one Ded Moroz who showed up event a few minutes after me, and one guy, as my mom would put it, volinteered into service.
Now, from what Troshina told me, I assumed that there would be singing. And that only somewhat happened (at least while I was there). Most of the time, people just kind of swayed to the boombox of classic and modern Russian New Year songs. But eventually, they at least did some dancing.
Russian Santas have taken over Millennium Park! Ded Moroz (Grandpa Frost) is helping Chicago celebrate the new year by spreading holiday cheer! @WBBMNewsradio pic.twitter.com/2XcRINxiMO
- Rachel Pierson (@WBBMRachel) December 28, 2019
https://instagram.com/p/B6on8TjBAjO
On my part, I tried to summarize what was happening to the curious onlookers. More then a few times, I heard delightful kid shouts of "SANTA!" and, as they went to get pictures taken, I didn't bother to correct them, and neither did anybody else.
After that, the plan was to march down to the big Chicago Christmas Tree, and, since there were some spare costumes, I got volunteered as one of the Grandpas Frost. And I did try to play the part right, shouting "Happy New Year" and "С Новым Годом! С Новым Счастьем!" And, when some of the other participants said "Merry Christmas" part of me was annoyed. I couldn't help but think "If you are going to specifically dress up as Ded Moroz and Snegurachka, at least stay in character." And the Ded Moroz who got interviewed by WBBN handed out some Russian candy, which got some dubious looks, but most people accepted it. (It's the kind of Russian candy you can get in a lot of "international" stores that stock Russian products, like Devon Market and Eurofresh)
I will say that some people specifically wanted to get their pictures taken with a Ded Moroz and a Snegurochka, just to make it clear that it's not Santa. And a few times, Russian families with kids who had no idea this was happening stopped by to get pictures.
(So far, I haven't been able to find any photos of the procession that included me in the Ded Moroz outfit, but I'll put it up if I do)
In fact, as the group dispersed at around 3:00 PM, we had some last-minute stragglers who wanted to take pictures, even while most participants (including yours truly) already took off their costumes.
Overall, the participants seemed both awed that so many people showed up to see the event and frustrated that they couldn't put on a better show.
"You got to warn people when you do this," one woman told me, half-accusingly, once she found out that I wrote that article.
"We should have rehearsed something," said another. "There should have been a speech."
And I just reiterated that I made it pretty clear that the article was going to be published. Troshina knew it. It's not like there wasn't time to prepare.
But, as my mom would say in situations like this, there's no point in dwelling on what did or didn't happen. I am glad that people had fun. And it looks like the group is planning something larger and more elaborate for next year.