The best part of the Gilroy Garlic Festival isn’t the food. Or
the entertainment. And it’s certainly not the blazing California
sun. The best part is, without a doubt, the people that make it all
happen
… and maybe the food.
Coming Saturday: a video interview with longtime volunteers at
their tasks.
For more videos, photos and stories, scroll to the bottom of this story.
The best part of the Gilroy Garlic Festival isn’t the food. Or the entertainment. And it’s certainly not the blazing California sun. The best part is, without a doubt, the people that make it all happen … and maybe the food.
A phalanx of 4,000 volunteers descend upon Christmas Hill Park every year and transform the green into a maze of food booths and stages. From trash removal to parking to filling the bellies of more than 100,000 garlic lovers, the volunteers keep the festival running smoothly, and some have been doing it since day one.
Bill Headley, 57, is one of the first people visitors see when they rumble into town. Straying for only a few years to man the beer garden, Headley worked on the parking committee in one aspect or another for the better part of 30 years.
A diehard volunteer, there were years when he never even made it down to the festival grounds, he said. After 12 to 15 hour days keeping parking lots free of traffic jams, “I got in my truck, went home and fell asleep,” he said.
Faithful volunteers have helped raise $8 million over the years that go directly back into community organizations. Last year alone, volunteers from 169 nonprofit organizations worked 41,597 hours so that $275,000 could be invested back into the community.
“What community in the Central Valley wouldn’t love to have a quarter million plowed back into community groups?” Headley said.
Over the years, he’s seen the demographic of festival goers change from mostly adults to a majority of teens, which means traffic problems. But he and his fellow volunteers take it all in stride.
“It’s all part of the challenge,” he said.
Like Headley, Ken Fry, 64, is no stranger to challenges. During any given year, he can be found at his station in Gourmet Alley. A pyrochef since the very beginning, he has held one of the hardest jobs at the festival, which involves making some tough calls: order 4,000 pounds of calamari this year or 8,000?
“It’s absolutely a kick in the pants,” he said. “The adrenaline is rushing.”
A lover of all things garlic, Fry’s mouth waters the moment he catches a whiff of the aromatic herb.
“Our town is filled with the beautiful scent of garlic,” he said. “People never forget it. The smell is so unusual but there’s no in between. It’s either ahhhh or ughhhh!” he said of outsiders’ reaction to the lingering fragrance.
Amazed but not surprised with the outpouring of support for the Garlic Festival, he has traveled across the country and turned up nothing that compares, he said.
“Nobody does what we do here,” he said.
He looks forward to the festival every year as a chance to reunite with old friends who’ve worked alongside him in Gourmet Alley. Many times, they don’t see each other in between festivals but fall into the familiar routine once the festivities begin. He likened the group of 500 Gourmet Alley volunteers to a big family. Old timers step down and newbies fill their shoes but, somehow, the show goes off without a hitch. Having served his two years as chair of the Gourmet Alley committee, he’s just a regular old volunteer this year.
“He’s the type of guy that rolls up his sleeves and gets it done,” said fellow Gourmet Alley chef, Greg Bozzo. “He can drive an 18-wheeler, he can cook calamari. He does it all.”
Taking photos of volunteers like Fry and Headley is Bill Strange’s favorite part of the festival. This year marks his 25th year volunteering as official Garlic Festival photographer.
A newcomer to Gilroy in the early years of the festival, Strange, 63, wanted to get involved and took up positions at the hospitality booth, Gourmet Alley and collecting beer tickets. Finally, he showed some of the photos he snapped over the years to the festival’s executive director.
“He loved the photos,” Strange said. He’s been snapping away ever since.
“I like the feeling of giving back to the community,” he said.
His photos have captured the festival for posterity and earned him a behind-the-scenes look at how the festival is run. Since he can’t be everywhere at once, he relies on past experience to help him sniff out the perfect photo. Children, the pyrochefs and Sha-Boom are surefire subjects, he said.
“I like the cook-off,” Strange said. “Gourmet Alley is where it all really happens. It’s where a lot of the longtime volunteers are.”
The most important photos have been of the volunteers, he said.
“When they love what they do, it really shows.”
In recent years, Strange has wrapped up the three-day weekends of lugging heavy camera equipment in the scorching sun vowing it’s his last year.
“I’m not getting any younger,” he laughed.
But every time the festival rolls around again, he can’t help it but to grab his camera and start snapping. His volunteerism has opened up doors and made him many friends, he said.
The camaraderie bred out of chaos keeps volunteers like Strange, Headley and Fry coming back for more every year.
“It’s the friendships you make,” Headley said of why he’s stuck around for 30 years. “And the feeling of ‘My God, we pulled this off again.'”
