The Other July Holiday

How a ten-year-old New Yorker with an Afro found himself at home in Utah

Jul 25, 2026

There’s a little-known holiday that’s only celebrated in Utah called Pioneer Day. The July 24th holiday commemorates the arrival of Brigham Young and the first members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS, or Mormons) into the Salt Lake Valley in 1847.

My mother and I moved from New York City to Salt Lake City on July 6, 1982, when I was ten years old. Salt Lake felt further away before the internet. I didn’t know what music to listen to or what clothes to wear—but it didn’t really matter. I hadn’t started school yet, so there weren’t any kids to impress. So imagine me: a ten-year-old with an Afro, fresh off the plane from New York City, standing on Salt Lake City’s State Street watching float after float crawl past at my first-ever Days of ’47 Parade. And awaiting, yes, my first rodeo.

We had just missed the July 4th holiday, but luckily Pioneer Day comes with its own fireworks spectacle—one that rivals the Fourth. Back then, fireworks were only legal for 12 days each year: the three days before and after July 4th, and the three before and after Pioneer Day.

There was nothing to do that summer, so I spent most of my time with my drum set, a brand-new, shiny midnight blue kit shipped from Sam Ash in NYC that was essentially the bribe that got me to move 2,369 miles. I played whenever I wanted. Neither my mother nor I worried about our neighbors in our apartment building. Surprisingly, they didn’t seem to care, except for one, a drummer himself, who remains a good friend to this day.

We drove to massive supermarkets that felt like food museums, with unbelievably wide aisles built to serve families with five kids. In Salt Lake, the air was so clean I noticed it constantly. I never smelled garbage. It was hot that summer, but a dry, golden kind of hot. Not muggy and disgusting like New York. The pizza, although made from the same ingredients, tasted bland, like a different food entirely. But the Mexican food was twice as good (and still is). Everything felt slow: the walking, the driving, stores and restaurants closing early. Most were closed on Sundays. The movie theaters were gigantic.

“This Is The Place” Monument in Salt Lake City

When we first heard about Pioneer Day, I remember imagining what it might’ve been like for those 1847 pioneers. Traveling for months across a dangerous country, many dying along the way, and finally arriving in this quiet, empty valley and building a city from scratch.

More than 40 years later, Pioneer Day still lives on my calendar as a quiet reminder to text a few high school friends, dig up some old photos, and remember how unexpectedly welcoming Salt Lake City felt that first summer.