By 4 a.m. on the Fourth, Bristol is already stirring.
Cars quietly circle the neighborhoods near Hope Street, hoping to snag one of the few precious parking spaces before roads close. Moms and dads clutch Dunkin’ coffee cups as they fumble with lawn chairs, blankets and other necessities, waiting for the clock to strike 5.
Then, it’s open season — a mad scramble to secure a spot along the parade route.
Within minutes, folding chairs sprout along both sides of Hope Street. Blankets spread across patches of grass. Wagons loaded with coolers, sunscreen and snacks rumble toward the curb.
And everyone settles in for a long wait.
By 8 a.m., when the streets around the parade route close to vehicle traffic, tens of thousands of people bide their time until the 10:30 start of America’s oldest continuous Fourth of July celebration.
Jenn Little, who serves on the Fourth of July committee, is too busy working to watch the parade these days. But she knows the drill from her many years as a spectator.
“Every year, I’d set up my blanket at our usual spot,” she said. “Then I’d walk home and grab a few more hours sleep, before returning with the children.”
Despite the crowds, she never worried about losing her place.
“I had a beautiful blanket and nobody ever moved it,” she recalled with a laugh. “Do you know why? Because my blanket said ‘Rhode Island State Troopers Association’!”
Whether out of courtesy—or caution—her family’s front-row seat was always there waiting for them.
Kya Caetano, a barista at Roberto’s Restaurant & Cafe, tends to arrive even earlier. She’s watched every parade since high school and claims her method hasn’t failed her yet.
“Right after a 3rd of July party, you walk over to your spot and you don’t leave,” she said. “You can’t!”
Officially, Bristol prohibits overnight camping in town. But Caetano said she gets by with very little sleep.
A celebration nearly as old as the nation itself
The tradition is nearly as old as the country itself; as the United States marks its 250th birthday, Bristol is holding its 241st Fourth of July celebration.
It’s the oldest Independence Day celebration in the country, according to locals, and has been held every year since 1785, just two years after the end of the Revolutionary War.
“The man who started it was Henry Wight, minister of the Congregational Church,” said Catherine W. Zipf, executive director of the Bristol Historical & Preservation Society. “He wanted to commemorate the Fourth of July.”
The first celebration was simple.
“He did a reading of the Declaration of Independence. And then a little parade was formed,” Zipf said.
“Over the course of the next few years, the parade got bigger and bigger and bigger,” she said.
“But the reading of the Declaration was always part of it.”
That original ceremony survives today as Bristol’s annual Patriotic Exercises, held just before the parade each Fourth of July.
For many of the 100 volunteers on the town’s Fourth of July committee, it’s a family tradition too. Mary Lou Palumbo remembers, as a little girl, watching her father play trumpet in a Portuguese band that marched in the parade.
“My mom and I would have matching dresses,” she said. “And our spot was in front of the fire station where my dad was a volunteer firefighter.”
Heidi Squires Vermilyea, crowned Miss Fourth of July 2000, is the third generation of her family to serve on the parade committee.
“My grandfather was on for 60 or 70 years until he died in 2011. Then my mom has been on the committee for 50 years,” Vermilyea said.
This is Vermilyea’s 19th year as an official committee member.
Aside from a single summer she spent in Europe years ago, she has either watched, worked or marched in every Bristol Fourth of July parade in her life.
“And I’m 44 now,” she said.
A town dressed in red, white and blue
For weeks before Independence Day, Bristol transforms itself into a scene worthy of Norman Rockwell.
Historic homes are draped with patriotic bunting. Some have flags in every window. Even the double yellow centerline running down Hope Street is repainted red, white and blue.
Flag Day – June 14 – marks the official start of the festivities. The town crier, dressed like a continental soldier complete with a tricornered hat, formally opens nearly three weeks of celebrations.
There’s a beauty pageant, an outdoor concert series, a carnival for the kids, and a gala ball for the grownups.
“We’re just a patriotic town,” said Donna Chabot, who serves on the parade committee. “The most patriotic town.”
Chabot coordinates the parade’s floats — 36 of them this year, nearly double the number from last year.
“They’re not like Macy’s. They’re not like the Tournament of Roses,” she said. “But people put their heart and soul into making their floats.”
Some celebrate civic organizations. Others carry a more solemn message.
One of Chabot’s favorites is “Boots on the Ground,” created by a Bristol woman whose brother was killed while serving in the military.
Rows of boots, American flags and roses honor fallen service members.
“It’s heart-wrenching,” Chabot said. “But it’s a crowd-pleaser, too.”
Bringing up the rear is another crowd-pleaser: Mr. Potato Head dressed as Uncle Sam, a playful salute to Rhode Island’s famous toy. Nevermind that Hasbro moved its corporate headquarters to Boston; as far as Bristol is concerned, the company’s most iconic toy remains a native Rhode Islander.
Celebrating what Americans have in common
Major political office-holders are expected to attend the parade, and Bristolians notice when they don’t show up. But mere candidates are not supposed to take part. The locals frown on politicians using their parade as a campaign stop.
“People who come to Bristol to celebrate the Bristol Fourth of July are here to celebrate together our freedoms,” said Little. “Everybody’s red, white and blue.”
That doesn’t mean they are blind to the country’s deep divisions. But, the way they see it, the Fourth of July is a day to set differences aside.
“I’m a proud American and I have big concerns about the country,” Chabot said. “I’m scared. I don’t like the division. It has to be fixed.”
For her, that’s exactly why the celebration matters. For one day, neighbors and visitors stand shoulder to shoulder along Hope Street and share common ground.
Children wave tiny American flags. Veterans receive standing ovations. Families celebrate together, the way they have for generations. The community comes together with a common purpose.
The celebration has endured wars, recessions, political turmoil and even a pandemic.
During the pandemic, the exercises moved to a larger park where participants could maintain social distance and the parade was restricted to vehicles only.
What began as one minister’s enthusiasm for an infant nation is now one of Rhode Island’s — indeed, one of America’s — signature summer traditions.
The bunting will come down. The painted centerline will fade. The folding chairs and blankets will disappear from Hope Street until next July.
But you can be sure they’ll be back next year, like clockwork, at 4:00 a.m. on the Fourth.
