Memories of Winter Walk: Part 6

Today's Winter Walk memory is shared by Gary Schiro, who served as executive director of the Hudson Opera House, now known as Hudson Hall, for nineteen years, from 1998 to 2017.

I have been at every Winter Walk except 2018, when I was still in the midst of my "long winter's nap." And I have happy memories of each one of them, through good weather and bad. From the beginning, it was such an amazing combination of generous volunteers, lively and game merchants, hard-working civil servants, dedicated staff, and was fully embraced by the community. It has been transformational for Hudson, and a shining example of creative placemaking. There is one particular moment, though, that I know I'll never forget.

In the beginning, of course, there was no need to close off the street. Then we closed off one block, then two, and eventually almost all of Warren Street. Around the year 2000, we closed off the 300 block for the first time. I never made it very far away from the Opera House when Winter Walk was happening; there were too many things to keep an eye on in the building, too many visitors to greet, and I wanted to be easily reachable if anyone needed me. It made sense to mostly stay put. I always said the hour leading up to the kickoff of Winter Walk is the most chaotic, energetic, and unruly hour in the life of that busy building. However, once the choirs have sung, the horns have played, and Santa is on his way to City Hall, the evening moves into the happy rhythm of smiles and greetings and seeing long-lost friends--the real core of what powers the event. I had been perched in the building for an hour or so when it dawned on me that, for the first time, I could at least go into the middle of the street and take a look without being too far from Command Central. I was cold that night, but not brutally so, and very clear. There were many revelers out in the street, as well as costumed characters and carolers. I turned and looked uptown and couldn't believe my eyes. There was an absolute sea of people, an enormous crowd, seemingly headed in this direction. We had never seen a crowd like that at Winter Walk, and I realized in that instant that this was no longer an event that we produced. Though we raised the money, hired the performers, arranged the fireworks, coordinated everything with city agencies, this was no longer ours. It belonged to them. That is why, even in the worst weather, thousands still came out and were astonishingly cheerful. It's near impossible to be at the event and not smile.