As an eye-catching introduction to who we are and what we do, the Olmsted Network has a seven-foot-tall mascot of Frederick Law Olmsted. Based on the colorful portrait done by artist David Lee Csicsko, the giant puppet was built by Randy Carfagno Productions to celebrate the bicentennial of FLO’s birth. We affectionately refer to this creature as Big Head Fred.
When our giant Olmsted appears in a crowd, you don’t need to be a landscape architect or historian to be intrigued by him and want to know more.
Less charming, perhaps, is that the outfit weighs around 30 pounds. At least two people are required to dress him. While inside, it’s stifling hot, and the wearer can see little more than the ground. Over the years, we’ve welcomed tall men and tall women, college students, and one parks director, willing to step into the mammoth suit and to “be Fred.”
When our 2024 conference arrived, however, the right candidate had not appeared. Having grown curious, I raised my hand.
The first day of the conference was in Newburgh, NY. That hot afternoon, we toured Downing Park. Attendees walked the hills, circled the pond and enjoyed the Hudson River views. And, then, they awaited a photo op with one of the creators of the park– yes me, Frederick Law Olmsted, aka Big Head Fred.
Hiding behind the park’s only roofed structure, the Shelter House, I was about to exchange comfort for a pair of huge pants, a big green coat and a giant head. First I donned a mesh poncho over my head. It had hoops sewn in at varying sizes to give Fred the girth worthy of his giant pants. The poncho also had a series of latches and a belt to secure everything in place. Because the pants and coat were voluminous, they were stuffy, but still allowed some air flow. The challenge began when the head was hoisted into place.
The head is heavy, given its massive size. It’s not hard to lift into place, but it’s ungainly. The chief weight is a metal brace worn like a backpack. From your hips, past your shoulders and above, it’s the chief support for the foam cocoon you stick upon your head.
Once in place, many snapping buckles make sure the head is well attached. Then it’s time to shift about, adjust the weight of the straps and test the limits of sight and movement. Navigating without crashing or falling is a major concern, surpassed by an even greater challenge– the inability to touch one’s face, as the first beads of sweat collect along your brow.
Left: Marion and Pam Breeman with Fred at Downing Park in Newburgh, NY.
After buttoning my coat and adjusting the collar, my colleague Leslie asked, “Ready?”
I could hear conference attendees approaching.
“I think so,” I said, and we were off. I didn’t fall over or walk into anything. I even tried a wave, knowing that nearby children had grown curious. I could hear appreciative giggling.
This was going to be fun.
In a matter of minutes, I posed with dozens of people, listened to non-stop laughter, shook hands with strangers and couldn’t stop smiling myself. Yes, I was hot. Yes, I was uncomfortable. Yes, I was blind and unable to scratch my nose. But I was also deliriously happy being the star of the show. Everyone was my friend and everyone wanted to stand beside Frederick Law Olmsted. Given a similar opportunity the next night, I could not say no. I absolutely wanted to do it again.
The lesson? Much like Olmsted’s landscapes, our mascot inspires reverence and joy. Who can resist those landscapes? Who can resist Being Fred? Surely not me.
Mark Roessler is the communications specialist for the Olmsted Network. Learn more about our staff members here.
