Tori Marbone, our vital flag girl, smiles outside the Ice Palace with her husband Aaron. The two dressed as Calvin and Hobbes from the daily comic strip. (Provided photo)

Sunday’s fireworks signaled the official end of Winter Carnival. But it ended for me the day before — as soon as the Brothers of the Bush strutted their bad selves past the reviewing and into one more chapter of Carnivals past.

With me and this year’s Carnival, enough was almost too much. I’d taken the reins of three activities — The Blue Buns Wheel-a-Palooza; The Chucklehead Hoedown; and my parade group, The Brothers of the Bush. The problem was while I was holding the reins on my end, on the other end they were harnessed up to nothing but thin air. If I compiled a dictionary for my role in Winter Carnival, the word “control” would be conspicuously missing.

So if I’m in charge of those things on paper but not in reality, how do I organize them? Good question. And the answer is, I don’t. Nor do I need to, because success is always assured.

But how does that happen? It’s easy: I’ve mastered the fine art of delegating.

I hustle some of the chores myself, and farm out the rest to my loyal goombahs. who I know will take care of bizness. For example, the Blue Buns. What needs to be done? First, in advance of the event, the date and time have to squared away with the WC Committee and that info submitted for the schedule and program. Our cyber-dybbuks, Bob and Sandy Curry, Bob Gill and Dave Rockefeller take care of those details.

Then time, place, etc. have to be arranged with the local constabulary so we can get the police escort we so roundly deserve. Next, liability waivers for the riders have to be printed; posters have to be put up; an announcement put in Saranac Lake Neighbor Helping Neighbor, and another in the Enterprise letters to the editor. I take care of those things myself.

But that’s the easy part; the real work needs to be done, and done by others. Like what? Well, before I can put up the posters, someone has to draw them. That “someone” is Bruce Young, who cranks out all my posters, cards and t-shirt designs for all my meshugge projects, and does it with great skill, and without ever kvetching. The boy is worth his weight in Bubkes Bucks!

Remember the liability waivers? I get ’em printed, but how do they get signed by the riders? That’s where The Four Queens come in. They woman the tables at the Palace on ride day and under their eagle eyes and iron fists, make sure the waivers get signed. They’re The Four Queens because each one was a WC Queen, and we know them as Kelly Morgan Duprey, Barb Martin, Patti Sauvie, and last (but certainly not least, oh no no!) Liz Scammell Muray.

If — and this is a big IF — The Queens miss signing up a rider, Keith and Marge Murphy are my Signers-at-Large, wandering about, clipboards, pens and waivers in hand, doing final mop-ups.

Then there’s the tunes.

What tunes?

In the early 1700s Wm. Congreave, “…musick has charms to soothe the a savage Breast, and to soften rocks.” Maybe, but that’s not my kinda music. Espesh not for a buncha lunatic waiting around for an hour or so to hop on their bikes on a crisp five-below-zero Carnival day. Nope, the music I’m gonna play ain’t gonna soothe nothin’. Au contraire, it’s gonna ramp up the savages — breasts and everything else — and pump ’em up for Pedaling to Glory.

And I know just the tunes that’ll do it. But then the question is, How do those tunes go from my playlist to a recording? And once there’s a recording, how does that go on a PA system at the palace? For those two questions, I have a two word answer — Doug Haney.

Doug was born 125 years too late, and thus missed his chance to organize D-Day, which I’m sure he would’ve succeeded at. Plus either he really likes to help or he fakes it splendidly — either being as good as the other to yours truly. As a result, he volunteered to record my playlist and then take it and his PA to the Palace, both of which he did. He also acted as the DJ, whipping the tribe into a frenzy when the situation called for it.

But what if someone wanted to be in the ride, but didn’t have a bike? No sweat, podner, since Justin Oliver of Silver Birch Bikes offered to provide a bike, free-gratis, to any rider who wanted one for the BB. And the choices ran the gamut from one-speed beach bikes to high-end E-bikes, and everything in between.

So was that it for my helpers?

Of course not.

Jack Drury shlepped my bike to the palace. Bruce Young was my frosty factotum, helping out hither, thither and yon with whatever new and unexpected detail presented itself. Dave Rockefeller wasn’t with the Blue Buns de jure, was with us de facto, since he’s the WC’s official Palace Parking Lot Pasha. He makes sure the parking lot doesn’t get jammed up and remains open to handicap access, which is its official designation. Dave thrives not only in the elements, but in HIS element, as The World’s Oldest Patrol Boy. I’m going to suggest that next year the WC Committee outfit him with a shiny helmet and badge and a white Sam Browne belt, as befits his status.

And then there’s the BB’s own Barbara Roufs, Tori Marbone, who positively glows in her vital role as our flag gal, and without whose effort, the ride would get off to a much duller start.

There are likely some other peeps who helped, but who slipped my recall, and if I have, I apologize to them.

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Some of the other 48

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I’ve given you all the nitty-gritty about the BB for two reasons. One is to acknowledge all the folks without whose help both the ride and I would be left in the literal and figurative cold. The other is to give you a hint of the amount of work it takes to put on Carnival.

There are 48 Winter Carnival committees, each one of which is in charge of some specific event or facet of Carnival. So if you take the Blue Buns, extrapolate, and multiply it by 48 does that give you the total number of hours and people it takes to put on Carnival? Not even close, Bubba.

For example, our Ice Palace (which I think was THE most beautiful one we’ve had in years, maybe decades): The number of people and hours they put into building it dwarfs the efforts of the BB’s. Plus of course, they’re doing ALL their work outside, which this year seemed to have been designed by a joint effort of Robert W. Service and Jack London.

Then there’s the Coronation. The Women’s Civic Chamber is in charge of it, and how many hours went into decorating the stage, let alone Carnival’s homegrown Busby Berkeley, Katie Fisher, getting the court to shake their groove things IN UNISON.

Of course, there’s the Rotary Show. And the parade.

And at all the events, there’s Shelly Manchester, snapping pic after pic after pic, which she posts online and then puts together for the slide show. By any standard it is grueling, grinding work. Yet she not only does it willingly, but joyously.

And none of that includes the behind-the-scenes generosity of our sponsors.

And on … and on … and on …

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The hows, whys … and The Secret

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What impresses and amazes me, however, isn’t the huge amount of time and effort that goes into Carnival, but the spirit of the peeps who do it. Not only have I never heard anyone complain about their chores, but everyone carries them out with smiles plastered on their mugs the whole time.

So what accounts for that? They sure don’t do it for the fame and fortune, since there’s no moolah to be had, and almost no one outside of the Carnival committees has a clue who does what. I puzzlded over that a long time, and I think I’ve finally figured it out.

First, on almost all the committees, the chairperson is also the whole committee. That’s it: One committee chairperson and one committee member, and they’re both the same person. And what a brilliant thing that is. There’s no time wasted trying to decide X, Y or Z, no pain-in-the-prat meetings. And maybe most important, no disappointment that some shmendrick didn’t do their job, because if the job wasn’t done, that shmendrick was li’l ole Y-O-U.

Second, the head honchos leave the Committee folks alone and don’t direct or order or interfere at all. But at the same time, they’ll help if asked. This gives everyone total freedom to operate how they want and to figure out the best ways to do it.

Third, everyone’s a volunteer and they’re doing their jobs because they WANT to. And thus the work isn’t really work — especially since we know what we’re doing will ultimately make lots of people happy.

Fourth, a huge amount of credit goes to Jeff Branch, who is the President of the Executive Committee and the boss, in reality, if not in title. Jeff has a special gift of being able to get things done without seeming to expend any effort and in the process he doesn’t miss much, if anything. I’ve found him a joy to deal with, and I know I’m no alone in that.

And finally, there’s a secret component to our Carnival success. It’s one everyone involved with Carnival knows, but no one (including me) can put into words. But Kelly Morgan Duprey came closest in our WC meeting this week, when we gave our after-the-event reports.

After she gave her report, she said, “Isn’t this a great community?”

Since the answer is obvious, ‘Nuff said.