First July 4 display at Miles park for 250th honors America and New Mexican identity

Ericka Richards, 44, had shared neighbors’ concerns about bringing one of the city’s largest events to the largely residential neighborhood off of Siringo Road.

“I was worried about the traffic, right? But the city took care of it. … They should do it here more often,” she said, praising the ease of obtaining a residential parking pass through Kiwanis Club organizers and the city’s communication.

“I don’t know about my neighbors,” she added with a laugh. “I have some grumpy neighbors.”

Neighbor Jorge Iturralde was even more enthusiastic, hosting friends and family for a backyard party with an unobstructed view of the night’s festivities and grilling elote for passersby.

“I wish it went until midnight,” he said, smiling.

After evaluating a dozen potential sites, city officials settled on the park, arguing its amenities and access to emergency services made it the best fit. The larger space also allowed for a more ambitious production, event organizer Ray Sandoval told The New Mexican on Wednesday.

Not everyone was pleased. One man who declined to give his name watched the celebration from his patio overlooking the park, saying he did not receive enough notification from the city about the event.

Transportation also drew mixed reviews.

The city operated shuttle buses from three locations. As of 7:15 p.m., about 250 people had used the service, city spokesperson Peter Olson said.

“So far, so good,” he said, noting no incidents had occurred but the city had “a lot of apparatus pre-staged” if needed.

For Cory Blount, 46, and his cohort of fellow passengers, the shuttle ride itself went smoothly.

Finding the festival afterward did not.

After getting off the bus, Blount and his group walked aimlessly, finding no signs directing attendees where to go. They eventually wandered through Nava Elementary School, inadvertently entering behind-the-scenes areas near the fireworks launch site and drone-staging area and attracting questions from event personnel.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Blount said as the group searched for a way back into the festival.

An event official eventually guided them to the proper entrance.

“It wasn’t a very good, like, ‘OK, this is where you go,’ type thing,” he said. “Even now, like, we got this far and they’re like, ‘OK, you guys shouldn’t be here.’ “

Still, he was understanding.

“It’s the first year they did this here,” Blount said. “There’s going to be a learning curve there.”

Backstage, Sandoval hurried between staff members, finishing an energy drink in barely over a minute, fielding questions and assigning last-minute tasks to the mass of staff he managed for the event.

“It’s always like this,” he said.

“But it looks good and it’s working out well,” he added, glancing toward the growing crowd. “And knock on wood, the neighbors are still in a good place.”

Santa Fe police said the event went smoothly on their end, with one drunken-driving arrest and no major incidents.

Carmella Velarde, who works for Phoenix Security, said many nearby residents went out of their way to support staff throughout the day.

“I’ve had neighbors come out, give me waters. They bring me paper towels. … They brought me a chair,” she said. “These neighbors, I would love to live in a neighborhood like this.”

“There are some that are upset because they can’t get into their place or they can’t get out,” she added. “But everybody was given a pass.”

When the show started Velarde, of Chimayó, stood still and looked up along with the thousands of others gathered, focused on the overhead pops, flashes and beacons of light from seemingly every direction.

The park became packed. Kids crowded jungle gym equipment, weaved on scooters through pickup games on the basketball court and dodged sparklers tossed in the bowl of the skate park.

“I have never seen such a wonderful show,” she said as flashes illuminated her in the darkness of her security post.

Velarde said Santa Fe was fortunate to still have fireworks after communities such as Española canceled displays this year amid drought concerns and a request from Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham.

“Santa Fe should be proud to have fireworks,” she said.

Headlining the night was a 400-drone aerial display by Sky Elements, the Guinness World Record-holding company that operates the nation’s largest drone fleet, followed by a professional fireworks show.

Each drone lifted from the basketball courts of Nava Elementary, lights dimming and changing colors in unison to create animated scenes across the night sky.

The show blended distinctly New Mexican and American imagery.

The Liberty Bell rang as the bells of the Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi sounded. Norteño guitar music gave way to country. Rascal Flatts’ Life Is a Highway played as drones bounced to form a hopping lowrider.

Don Diego de Vargas knelt before Our Lady of Guadalupe to the sound of hymns. The white outline of an avian Chaco Canyon petroglyph transformed into a bald eagle, pyrotechnics shooting from its wings.

One of Sandoval’s favorite moments came when a transforming eagle emerged overhead.

“One of my coup d’etats,” he said. “It took forever to do.”

The goal, he said, was to celebrate both the country’s approaching 250th anniversary and Santa Fe’s distinct identity.

“I know folks have mixed feelings right now about the United States and what’s going on, so I think we need to remind them of those ideals that the United States was founded on,” Sandoval said. “But I also think we need to harken back to the other things that make us proud.”

“We’re the City Different,” he continued. “We are very, very proud to be Americans, but at the same time, we’re very, very proud of our city, and we’re very, very proud of our state.”

Jade Caya, a project coordinator who served as a liaison between Kiwanis and Sky Elements, said the greatest challenge wasn’t technical but ensuring the creative team could “[encapsulate] everything that Ray wanted to convey.”

“It definitely takes a village,” she said.

One of the highlights of the show was a short scene painting the sky with 17-year-old Josiah Montoya of Ohkay Owingeh, a senior at St. Michael’s High School and a deer dancer since childhood.

The drones depicted him on stilts reprising his role as deer dancer — an image he said represents prayer for rain and honoring his ancestors.

Asked what it meant to see Indigenous representation in a Fourth of July celebration, he paused for a few moments.

“We’re still here,” he said.