How New York is preparing for its first total solar eclipse in a century

ALBANY, N.Y. — When a total solar eclipse starts to curve across New York state at about 3:17 p.m. on April 8, Jessica DeCerce will be somewhere near Buffalo.

It’s not out of fondness for the city on the shores of Lake Erie, although that is considerable. It’s because Buffalo — the first large city in the eclipse’s path through New York — is the “tip of the spear,” DeCerce says, a test of whether months of careful planning have paid off.

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DeCerce has overseen those preparations since 2022, making her New York’s unofficial “eclipse czar.” (The term makes her cringe; she prefers to say she is coordinating the state’s eclipse response.) Her task: to maximize tourism while avoiding disaster.

While no one knows exactly how the day will unfold, New York is expecting up to a million people to converge on the “path of totality,” a roughly 100-mile-wide swath of the state where they can experience the awe-inspiring sight of the sun blotted out by the moon.

One state official likened it to preparing for a cross between a blizzard and a very big party. Another described it as “a thousand Woodstocks,” the iconic 1969 hippie festival multiplied many times over. The event could inject more than $100 million into New York’s economy, according to preliminary state estimates.

Over the past 18 months, a multiagency task force has been meeting to plan for the event, a process run by DeCerce, who did not have prior experience with eclipses. (To use insider parlance, she was no umbraphile, but rapidly became one.)

There was no playbook she could consult. The last total solar eclipse to cross New York was in 1925 and the next one will not arrive until 2079. By that time “I’ll be dead,” DeCerce, 53, says cheerily.

What she did know was the state needed to get serious about planning: When the last total solar eclipse crossed the United States in 2017, some places experienced apocalyptic traffic jams after the celestial show ended and drivers started returning home en masse. Some bottlenecks stretched for 70 miles. Drivers reported being stuck in their cars for more than 10 hours for trips that usually took a small fraction of that time.

DeCerce says she sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night, seized by some eclipse-related task to add to her to-do list. She scribbles it down on a piece of paper or on her phone, then tries to go back to sleep. Over and over, she asks herself: “What are we missing? What else do we need to think about?”

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On a recent Monday morning, DeCerce stood in a gray dress and black blazer clutching two cellphones, watching intently as senior New York state officials kicked off a burst of publicity for the final two weeks before the eclipse.

Players for the Buffalo Bills had recorded a public service announcement with tips (wear eclipse glasses, check the weather, pay attention to traffic alerts). Kathryn Garcia, New York’s director of state operations, talked about the majesty of the 360-degree sunset during totality and the little-known Purkinje effect, an altered perception of colors caused by the eclipse.

Gov. Kathy Hochul (D) addressed the event via video from the nearby Capitol building where she was enmeshed in budget negotiations. Hochul, who will watch the eclipse from Niagara Falls State Park, implored people not to jump back on the road as soon as it’s over.

“We’re just trying to anticipate all the variables that could go wrong,” she said in an interview. “But we expect they’re going to go right.”

DeCerce’s day had begun early. She had already jumped on a call with about a dozen state agencies reviewing public safety plans for the eclipse. The rest of the week would bring briefings with the governor and other state officials, a call with Canadian officials in Ontario on cross-border coordination, a final meeting of the eclipse task force, and dozens of other calls related to the preparations.

One hurdle she faced early on was skepticism from fellow officials, some of whom questioned why an eclipse required months of preparation, especially when there were urgent crises to tackle.

Jackie Bray, the commissioner of New York’s Division of Homeland Security and Emergency Services, recalled her initial reaction as one of amused incredulity. “We were like, really? It’s two years away,” Bray said. “Someone at my agency said, ‘We’re going to treat it how we treat it every day when the sun goes down.’”

No one is joking anymore. Bray credited DeCerce with keeping the eclipse “front and center” and conveying specific requests to the government machinery. “You don’t leave us guessing,” Bray said. “You say, ‘Jackie, I need you to be able to plan for 10 hours of gridlock in the Adirondacks.’”

By early afternoon, DeCerce was working in a borrowed office in the state Capitol, juggling eclipse-related tasks and regular responsibilities connected to the budget talks. Her day job is as director of interagency operations for the state, and she is usually based in Syracuse. On one of her phones, a countdown app ticked down the days, hours, minutes and seconds until the eclipse’s arrival.

Some aspects of the preparations are predictable: State officials told towns and counties long ago to order portable toilets before stocks ran out, DeCerce said. They’re also in touch with cellphone providers ahead of anticipated strains on telecommunication networks.

The cascading impacts of congestion are a major focus. It’s not just that traffic is guaranteed, but that people could be stuck for hours, running out of food, water, gas and heat, officials say. Any stopped or broken-down cars also become obstacles to the flow of traffic and emergency vehicles.

Other challenges that turned up in the planning process were more unusual, DeCerce said. Most of Adirondack Park is in the path of totality, and officials say there may be an influx of hikers seeking to experience the eclipse at the summits of its high peaks, something they’re discouraging (it’s also mud season). Where there are more hikers, there may be more need for search and rescue personnel, requiring advance staffing.

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State officials have urged banks to make sure ATMs are stocked with cash and gas station operators to top off their supplies of fuel. They’ve contacted trucking associations and asked them to keep double tractor-trailers off the state thruway the day of the eclipse. They’re beefing up the number of heavy tow trucks but also “help trucks” that can transport a few gallons of gas or food to stranded drivers.

They’ll also be able to assist electric vehicles that have run out of charge, DeCerce notes, then reconsiders. “Let’s not advertise that,” she says, only half-joking. She’d prefer people to be prepared and have a healthy fear of getting stuck.

The eclipse task force has also run through more dire scenarios. In February, New York officials rehearsed how they would respond if the eclipse coincided with an emergency: the eclipse plus a blizzard, or the eclipse plus a communications failure. The idea was to push people to brainstorm, DeCerce said. “It’s getting them ready for the curveball.”

Before joining state government, DeCerce’s career included stints as chief of staff to a state senator and as assistant to the president of a public university. She’s most comfortable behind the scenes and not in the spotlight. When people tell her she is “running” the eclipse, or that it’s “JD’s eclipse,” or mention the term “eclipse czar,” she winces.

She stresses that she is not an emergency manager and relies on Jennifer Wacha, an official at the New York Division of Homeland Security and Emergency Services, who co-chairs the task force. The two speak so often that DeCerce jokes they are now communicating “telepathically.”

The same is true of Richard Gagliano, the other co-chair, an official from Empire State Development who has helmed all eclipse-related marketing. An agency spokesperson said New York promoted the event using existing tourism budgets and awarded nearly $500,000 to support four local projects, including a pre-eclipse concert.

Meanwhile, the app on DeCerce’s phone continues its relentless countdown. One wild card: the forecast. Not only is there a good chance of cloudy weather in Upstate New York in early April, which would foil hopes for clear skies, but there is also the possibility of inclement weather, including snow.

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On the morning of March 26, DeCerce joined a Zoom call that served as the last official meeting of the eclipse task force. It was a bittersweet moment. The long period of planning was over; now all that remained was to execute.

The 60 participants on the call received final updates on marketing and public safety. The free eclipse glasses provided by the state had proved so popular that they had to ration supply. Three emergency operations centers are set to open in different parts of the state on the day of the eclipse.

DeCerce spoke last. “Eighteen months ago, when we formed this task force, I think we all took some ribbing from our colleagues,” she said. “Suffice it to say, they are not laughing anymore.”

She thanked all the members of the task force “from the bottom of my heart” for sharing their expertise. “I can’t believe this is it.”

As DeCerce wrapped up, the chat filled with well wishes. “Good luck with the weather everyone!” one participant wrote. Another chimed in with the umbraphile’s credo: “Totality or bust!!!”

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