New Year’s Eve 2016, Cincinnati.
Have you ever committed to a lie and it turned out perfectly? I have. And this is my story.
Prologue:
December 4th, 2016.
I realize that all of the members of my weekend hangout crew were going to be out of town simultaneously, in different cities, for New Year’s Eve. I try to save face, make myself look more interesting than some schlub sitting on a couch watching football given the now scuttled plans, and make up something on the spot: my NYE plans were already set — to go to as many parties as possible, and act as a photographer.
It made sense, given I’d shot a couple of concerts and events over the year and my plans to build a portfolio were already in the works. On the other hand, there was zero way any of the venues would have said yes to some unattached rando — and even less of a chance that any publication would pick it up. So I’d have an out. A real, utter, “I tried and it didn’t work but hey, ‘Happy New Year’” sad-sack story that absolved me of the responsibility of making real plans.
So, I dropped it. But then the person who was given that excuse, told other people. And the lie spread. By December 10th, in which I was rolling to different venues photographing Cincinnati Santacon in a wholly unrelated venture, I’d already gotten too deep into this ruse to back out. I sent out feelers to all of the bars and venues I saw had events going on.
A handful didn’t respond. One accepted, then recanted. I was out.
Then one said yes. And another one. Then finally, I was set with ten venues who affirmed my ability to jump in and out of their some-private-some-with-a-cover-events on a whim to capture Cincinnati over the course of one night.
By December 26th, I had a list of 10 venues and 3 “would be nice” venues whom didn’t respond I could hit. I committed. It had to be done. A flash was purchased for the 31st with shipping well before, but was delayed so long that one was borrowed at the literal last second from a friend, giving me a piece of equipment that I had zero practice with (I prefer not to shoot with flash) on a night that would require fairly precise timing and some semblance of keeping-it-together.
And breathe. Fairly simple, right?
New Year’s Eve.
7:35 PM.
The Taft Theatre.
With the first affirmative response, and the first stop on the night’s tour of Cincinnati, the Taft Theatre and its inhabitants were decked out in the night’s common theme: speakeasy regalia. A tight crowd meandered through the lobby, waiting for their night’s entertainment: the Cincinnati Pops. It was then that I realized my lens didn’t have half the throw I really needed for this gig, but I worked with it nonetheless.
I had ten minutes in the auditorium, from a solid vantage point. Three restrictions. No flash. No glowing screens. Minimize the shutter noise. This meant that any and all adjustments would need to be done fairly blind as my SLR keeps the vast amount of its readout on said glowing screen. And that I would have very few chances for a photo…unless I timed it right.
John Morris Russell came out, applause, shutter release to join in the cadence of sharp noises. A drum crescendo happens to deafen the crowd, shutter release in time. A song ends, the conductor bows and points to the Pops Orchestra, applause, a shutter release in time with the claps. All to minimize my disruption, as I quietly slinked back out of the auditorium to the next venue.
8:20 PM
Arnold’s Bar and Grill.
Right on time, even though the place isn’t all that lively. A good crowd is in the patio, but the band hasn’t started playing. The Fiesta Bowl is playing on a tiny TV resting on the bar as I sip from a water and an Ale 8 by the only other person watching it.
“Worst part about my gig tonight, I won’t get to see the game.”
“Yeah?”
“Ten venues tonight.”
“That’s crazy.”
“A little. Ten-nothing kind of sucks. They’ll come back.”
Clemson scores another touchdown. I decide to leave.
8:38 PM
MOTR.
I overshot Japp’s and accidentally went too far North. Made a brief stop here to chat with the night’s band as they were congregated outside, and made small talk with the doorman whom I’ve run into at entirely too many music fests and events in Northside. I wish them all a solid New Year, thinking I’ll return later in the night.
I don’t return.
8:50 PM
Japp’s.
Completely dead, but the décor is on point with tonight’s speakeasy theme. I don’t spend a lot of time here, because there’s nothing to see outside of the DJ working an empty room in preparation of the crowds who will arrive in about two hours.
9:06 PM
Halfcut/Lachey’s.
Two bars, one corner, polar opposite crowds. Halfcut is nearly empty and bright, preparing for the popular Silent Disco to start at 10PM. One picture is taken of all of the patrons, as they miss watching Ohio State’s field goal go wide. Lachey’s is packed, with one game taking up the entire bar’s television presence. A slight feeling of irritation and desperation is in the air as the sports bar watches their home team get demolished.
9:38 PM
Queen City Radio.
The mood starts to change. People are starting to filter out to venues. A trio of people stand around a fire, two of the three being transplants. Two of the three connected by their time in the Navy. People are starting to look festive or impatient, depending on how their nights’ trajectories have gone. Marvin Lewis is spotted at a table, with an expression that says he’s thinking about personal finance.
9:49 PM
On the way to the next stop, I spot a handful of people outside of The Vestry. They’re dressed well, I ask if it’s a NYE party and note my night’s mission, they agree to a photo then tell me there’s a wedding inside. As I pass the corner of the building with my camera still out, a woman in a trenchcoat wearing patent leather boots asks if I’m here to shoot the confetti party. Instead saying “yes” I asked “confetti party?” This may or may not have been a wise decision.
9:59 PM
The Know Theatre.
Flappers abound, with another speakeasy. This is the second location in which I run into someone I actually know. Great music, wonderful vibe, an upstairs “casino” that’s authentically unsafely packed. There’s a bit of fakeness to it, but it is a Theatre afterall. Of all of the venues, this is probably the one with the best overall appearance of the night.
10:34 PM
Fountain Square.
A Radio DJ pumps up the crowd with a much-too-early countdown and “Shout” by Otis Day. People and families of every stripe are collected around the fountain, around the stage, on the ice-skating rink. Seeing a community area be this packed and this vibrant is a little beautiful.
10:47 PM
Igby’s.
Have you ever been bad at keeping track of messages of whom accepted requests, and successfully charmed your way into a bar on nothing but a text message who came from somebody wholly unrelated to the venue? I have. Totally packed venue, filled with young professionals and older executives trying to hang.
An older woman gropes me while I’m photographing and gives me a shot. I notice her husband from a P&G corporate headshot. I accept, wish them both the best, and chalk it up to business networking.
While I’m leaving, someone I know enters.
Two ships passing in the night.
11:03 PM
While on the way out of Igby’s, I remember the phone conversation with one of the accepted requests that mentioned “seven levels.” Of course.
11:08 PM
The Contemporary Arts Center.
One of the most beautiful venues in the city, with lighting and design that made everyone look great. This place sells out within a day of tickets going on sale. I can understand why. Everyone is on their A-Game, the music is at a perfect level, everything is right on part with the glamor you come to expect from such a gala on the ground level.
A brief visit to the basement has a handful of people hanging around, and a dance floor that’s almost completely dark, but nothing that compares to the art gallery feel up top.
11:24 PM
I wind up back at Arnold’s again, for a moment, and take a couple of photos of the band whom are now playing. An Uber is hailed back to my car on the West End, as I make for my Hail Mary of the night. The biggest party, the one that didn’t reply to my request, the one that several of my friends asked about and bemoaned that it sold out.
11:41 PM
Rhinegeist.
This was a last ditch, a venue I was going to attempt and figured I’d fail. They never replied to my request, nor did they have to: this is a New Year’s Eve party that consistently sells out a month ahead of time.
I walk up to the doorman.
“Hey, I’m here to do photography,” as I open my bag to show the equipment.
“Did you let them know?”
“Yeah.”
I go to the ticket man.
“Hey, I’m here to do photography.”
“Do I have to check you in?”
“Not sure.”
He pulls out his phone. I see him go to an app I’m not familiar with, looks to be a texting app, but it’s to search for people he has to check in. My name’s obviously not on the list.
“They probably didn’t put you on that because you didn’t pay. Do you want a wristband?”
I’m in, and I decline as I’m going to be leaving in ten minutes anyway.
The brewery floor is packed, dim, festive. Magic is in the air as we’re within ten minutes of the New Year. The event space is (at this point) bright, traditional, but sort of dead. My focus shifts back to the brewery floor as I see everyone getting ready for the countdown.
Five minutes to go, I drive back down towards the river.
“3, 2, 1, Happy New Year” comes over the radio. Fireworks shoot off from near the Bengals Stadium as well as the Great American Building. And I’d done it. I’d followed up on that white lie from a month prior, and traveled through the masses to feel the story of the night.
And that story was simple. For everyone who went out — whether they were at a finer event, a darkened dance floor, a divey bar, a public square, a wedding, watching the game, they all had one thing in common. They were celebrating one year ending, and another beginning, by doing what they wanted to do. It’s that sort of freedom I’d have explored if my hangout crew were in town, and what I wound up exploring since they weren’t.
Epilogue:
I’d consulted with some local interest and event blogs about republishing the photos from this night, but they declined. As such, the worst case scenario I’d already discussed with the venue of them becoming portfolio fodder is a real thing. But even then, how can I feel anything less than great about having a totally magical evening?