Painted for the Nation: When the Bicentennial Lived on Our Street Corners
In 1976, I stood on the corner of Hundred Oaks Avenue and South Eugene Street in Baton Rouge, waiting for my grammar-school bus.
Beside me stood a fire hydrant painted like Uncle Sam—bright, unmistakable, and cheerful.
It wasn’t a monument or part of a parade route. It didn’t come with a plaque.
It was simply there, quietly marking America’s 200th birthday in the middle of an ordinary neighborhood.
At the time, I didn’t think of it as history. It was just part of the landscape of childhood.
Only later did I realize how many towns across the country were doing the same thing—turning everyday public spaces into expressions of shared civic pride.
A National Celebration, Painted by Local Hands
The American Bicentennial did not unfold solely in Washington, D.C., or on television screens. It happened in school hallways, apartment lobbies, neighborhood streets—and, remarkably often, on fire hydrants.
Across the country, students, volunteers, and local committees took it upon themselves to mark the anniversary in ways that were participatory and deeply personal.
In South Bend, Indiana, eighth graders at St. Joseph’s School completed a Bicentennial mural on the north wall of their assembly room. Thirty-three students participated, guided by a school patron who supervised the project’s preparation and layout (South Bend Tribune, Jan. 9, 1976).
In Chester, Pennsylvania, artist Gerry Morris created a striking Bicentennial mural for the lobby of the Wildman Arms Apartments. The scene depicted George Washington and the Marquis de Lafayette reviewing Revolutionary War troops at Valley Forge—bringing national history into a shared residential space (Delaware County Daily Times, July 20, 1976).
In South Chicago, students at Bowen High School used their spare time to paint a mural dedicated to labor and ancestry, honoring the work of those who came before them. Forty-five teenagers worked on the project, raising their own funds through cake sales, car washes, and other fundraisers to purchase paint (Daily Calumet, May 29, 1976).
Fire Hydrants as Civic Canvases
Among the most striking—and charming—forms of Bicentennial expression were painted fire hydrants.
In Glens Falls, New York, the Bicentennial Committee judged nearly 200 hydrants across multiple towns in a formal Fire Hydrant Painting Contest. Winning designs included figures such as Teddy Roosevelt, Betsy Ross, Uncle Sam, and Clara Barton, each assigned first-prize recognition in their respective communities (Post-Star, Jan. 7, 1976).
Elsewhere, city councils moved quickly to approve student participation. In Grand Island, Nebraska, the city council authorized Central Catholic High School students to paint hydrants with Bicentennial themes, embracing the celebration as a civic partnership between city government and youth (Grand Island Independent, Jan. 13, 1976).
Not everyone was convinced. In Kenmore, Washington, the local fire chief raised concerns that non-standard hydrant colors might make them harder to locate during emergencies—a reminder that even joyful civic expression sometimes required negotiation (Daily Herald, Everett, WA, Jan. 16, 1976).
Still, the movement spread.
In Murfreesboro, Tennessee, students at Bradley Model School painted their school’s hydrant as Snoopy, blending patriotism with childhood imagination (Daily News-Journal, Feb. 27, 1976).
In Tulare, California, fifteen hydrants were painted with Bicentennial themes, with city officials inviting anyone wishing to participate to apply for a permit through the public works department. Judging was scheduled to follow (Tulare Advance Register, April 3, 1976).
Why It Matters
What unites these stories is not artistic perfection or national coordination—it is participation.
The Bicentennial invited Americans to do something:
to paint, to organize, to raise money, to volunteer, to claim ownership of public space for a shared national moment.
For children especially, the celebration was not abstract. It lived where they waited for the bus, walked to school, or passed the same corner every day. Civic pride did not announce itself—it stood quietly beside them.
The paint faded. The hydrants were repainted. The murals aged or disappeared.
But the memory of a nation marking its history together—locally, creatively, and with optimism—has endured.
Sometimes, history doesn’t live in museums or textbooks.
Sometimes, it lives on a street corner.
Sources & Notes
Contemporary newspaper coverage from South Bend Tribune, Delaware County Daily Times, Daily Calumet, Post-Star (Glens Falls, NY), Grand Island Independent, Daily Herald (Everett, WA), Daily News-Journal (Murfreesboro, TN), and Tulare Advance Register (1976).
Additional photographic documentation available via Wikimedia Commons.
Images:
Illustration inspired by:
Painted Bicentennial fire hydrant, Wikimedia Commons (public domain photograph, 1976).
Image created by:
History in Two Voices using computer-assisted illustration tools, 2026.