Their July 4 Boom Came Out of a Box

In some ways, it was similar to many of the other Independence Day celebrations that took place nationwide this week.

Flags flew proudly on an old-fashioned Main Street. Several hundred people participated in a big parade as a thousand or more spectators watched and cheered. And stirring march music, composed by John Philip Sousa and other practitioners of the trade, provided a rhythmic and melodic impetus for the whole shebang.

And yet the 2000 Boombox Parade, in this gritty, charismatic mill city, is unlike any other such gathering. Its most immediately apparent distinction is the lack of a marching band--or, for that matter, any live music whatsoever. Instead, participants and spectators bring their own radios and tune them in to WILI-AM. The procession takes place to the accompaniment of dozens, maybe hundreds, of radios all playing the same tune.

“Canned” music for a real parade.

Kathy Clark, a Section 8 subsidy coordinator for the Willimantic Housing Authority, thought of the Boombox Parade in 1986. Funding for the arts had been cut nationwide, and Willimantic could no longer support a high school marching band.

“I was drinking with some friends,” she said, “and we came up with this crazy idea. We agreed to get our friends involved, and then we took the idea to the radio station. And I think they may have thought the idea was pretty weird, but they went with us. We had only a few floats the first year, and not too many people. But we kept coming back.”

The event, widely reported, was greeted with some initial shock. John Glasel, then president of the Associated Musicians of Greater New York, issued a statement calling it “grotesque.”

“The Orwellian year of 1984 has come and gone, and the predictions of ‘Brave New World’ are coming true,” he wrote.

Maybe. But in the case of the Boombox Parade, at least it was a fun new world, too.

And the Boombox Parade is now more popular--and unquestionably more interesting--than many a “live” celebration.

Lynn Castelli, director of Arts in Action, an educational and presenting organization in Willimantic, applauds what she calls “a very artistic parade.”

“There is no sign-up, no structure,” she said. “Anybody can be in the parade. There’s no accreditation, no set message. It’s merely a reflection of the community.”

For WILI radio host Wayne Norman, it “captures the true spirit of Independence Day. No matter who you are, you’re welcome in our parade. There’s a mixture of historic pride, local politics and a certain tongue-in-cheek quality that makes it all a little wild.”

This year, Doug Fraser proudly paraded by in his 1956 fire engine, towing a plastic buffalo and an even older firetruck--a 1926 Model T. A poodle was decked out in wildly clashing pastels; a boy made an Indianapolis-size roar with his go-cart. Candy and beads were thrown from the floats, as if this were a little northern Mardi Gras. You could have your picture taken with W.C. Fields, Albert Einstein or Bozo the Clown. It was a hot day, and one gentle soul wandered around with a watering can, drenching the bare feet of kids sitting on the curb.

Willimantic, a city of 15,000 seven miles south of the University of Connecticut at Storrs, has been through some rough times. In 1974, it was the first city to go bankrupt since the Great Depression. (It’s now officially incorporated as part of Windham County.) The following year, a mall opened just over the border in Mansfield, and many businesses on Main Street moved to the newer site.

In 1984, it was announced that the American Thread Co. was moving south to Georgia, and the largest industry in Willimantic closed up its vast and wonderful Victorian factory within two years. Many people feared this was a mortal blow.

Yet Willimantic persevered. Gigantic gingerbread homes on Prospect Street have been lovingly restored; the old post office is now a thriving bar and restaurant. There are ambitious plans for the old factory building.

“Willimantic is turning around,” affirms Selectman Tom DaVivo. “There’s a lot of positive mental energy here these days.”

Kathy Clark is certain there’ll be another Boombox Parade next year, but there are no plans to “move up” to live music.

“A band wouldn’t really work with what the parade has become,” she said. “As a matter of fact, we had a group of musicians in from Venezuela, and they wanted to play in the parade. We talked it over with them, and they understood. In the end, they carried radios. And they had a very good time.”