Zozobra Burns

In the end, the 96th annual burning of Zozobra went as usual…in some ways: The giant puppet groaned, and then he burned, and as he went up in smoke, he took with him all of our collective woe.

And there was a lot of it: Organizers stuffed Zozobra with 100,000 glooms submitted online from all over the world when the event became a crowd-free undertaking.

In every other way, the event was singular. Last year's Zozobra drew 63,997 people. This year, 107 people, all working, were present for the show. Everyone else in Santa Fe and beyond watched the show either on TV or online via a KOAT broadcast, celebrating at home.

Despite the lack of crowds, security—always a factor at the event—was supplemented with an emphasis on COVID-19 safety, with temperature checks, social distancing, masking and other preventative measurements in place throughout the night.

"COVID-19 added an extra layer," Ray Sandoval, the event's director, said. "We do not want to have a spreader event and we think we've taken all the preventative steps." Those steps included cautioning people they could be fined or have their cars towed if they attempted to access secure areas. Sandoval stressed such measures were not intended to be punitive but to protect public health and "we think we've made an incredible experience for people to enjoy."

Building Zozobra, who this year had a coronavirus-inspired hairstyle and murder hornet cuff links, went slower than usual, Matthew Horowitz, who runs the construction each year, tells SFR. "It was a challenge," he says. "We started at the end of May and just worked, five or few people at a time, getting it done."

Horowitz took a different approach to the gloom he put in Zozobra this year, choosing instead to write a letter to his father Marty Horowitz, who passed away July 2. "It was just telling him what's been going on and how much I loved spending time with him…that I've been wearing his…watch. I like to think when [Zozobra] burns, that message will reach him."

Instead of auditioning children to serve as Gloomies, this year Kiwanis members and families stepped up.

That included Jodi McGinnis Porter, communications director for the state Human Services Department and her 28-year-old son Christian Porter. Both also had deposited their gloom. Porter, who has autism, said his gloom was to control his anger and be "nicer to my mom." McGinnis Porter, a breast cancer survivor, said a close friend of hers, also a survivor, recently had her cancer return. "I pretty much burned cancer in my gloom and the pain that people feel—my pain and all the pain survivors feel."

Santa Fe City Councilor Signe Lindell also had deposited her woe. "I can't imagine anybody's gloom doesn't start with p as in pandemic. Personally, I'm looking forward to getting rid of the gloom in the White House that's been breaking my heart for four years."

Ginger Williams, who runs the Zozofest art show, also shifted that operation online (through Monday). This was the first year she put gloom in Zozobra. "This year has been rough," she said.

All the more reason event organizers doubled down to make it happen. “Our traditions have to mean something,” Sandoval said. “We promised Will Shuster we would burn Zozobra in perpetuity. We weren’t going to abandon that commitment. Not on my watch.”