Choosing Swedish American Hall


One of the first things Matt told me when we started talking about venues was that the very first WordCamp had taken place at Swedish American Hall in San Francisco, and that Om had spoken on that same stage. I loved the idea of bringing people together in a place that already had a little history with him.

But a meaningful connection alone wasn’t enough, we needed to know whether the space could actually support what we were building.

The shortlist.

I explored several San Francisco venues, each for a slightly different reason:

Some were ruled out by availability. Others were interesting creatively, but didn’t necessarily give us what we needed operationally. 

What I was looking for.

  • A connection to Om. Something tied to his life, his interests, or the neighborhoods he loved. I didn’t want to manufacture one, but a real one was a huge advantage.
  • Room to grow, without feeling empty. We didn’t know exactly how many people would come. We needed space for a growing guest list, but for an event built around connection, the room also had to feel alive if fewer people came.
  • Natural light. It’s ideal when people are meant to wander, look closely at objects, and talk. Not a dealbreaker, but it was on my list.
  • Different spaces for different experiences. Talks, exhibits, food, tea, writing, and photography, all happening at once.
  • Production capabilities. V for our speakers, space for catering, enough power, a way to bring in exhibits and furniture, and sound control between rooms.
  • Load-in the day before. With so much to install, building everything the morning of a 9am start wasn’t realistic.

The realities of a historic venue.

Swedish American Hall checked a lot of our boxes, especially character, history, and the variety of spaces. But historic buildings come with their own set of production considerations, and this one was no exception.

  • Power required extra planning. There was no comprehensive power map, and electrical capacity was limited. Between AV, lighting, exhibits, catering, and everything else, we had to be thoughtful about what needed power and where.
  • The floors needed protecting, which added coordination with every vendor bringing in equipment, furniture, or exhibits.
  • AV had some limitations. The venue had an in-house system, but it didn’t necessarily cover everything our program required. There were also restrictions on what additional equipment could be brought in, so we had to plan around both.
  • Back-of-house space was extremely limited. No dedicated storage, green room, production office, or convenient place to stash extra supplies. We had to be very intentional about what came onsite, when it arrived, and where everything would go.
  • The kitchen was small for what we were asking of it. Twelve hours of food and beverage service, with different menus and experiences throughout the day, required additional planning and kitchen support.
  • The bar required in-house service, so we needed to coordinate our beverage plans around that arrangement.
  • Facilities support was something we needed to provide. Need a table moved? Our team handled it. Trash removed? Also us. Need somewhere to put the trash? Still us! We couldn’t use the venue’s trash bins, so waste collection and removal had to be part of our production plan.

We also needed to account for security requirements, vendor access, and the building’s hard end times (we may have pushed those end times a little. The venue was incredibly gracious about it, and there’s a story for another post).

I never set foot in it ahead of time. 

Perhaps the biggest production challenge of all? I planned the entire event without ever visiting the venue in person. Would I recommend that? Absolutely not. But sometimes you work with the circumstances you have. I relied on floor plans, photos, walkthroughs, our production partners, and a lot of very specific questions.

Why it was the right choice.

Despite the challenges, Swedish American Hall turned out to be a wonderful partner. We were pulling together an ambitious event in record time, and their team was responsive, collaborative, and flexible when we needed it.

The building itself gave us a sense of place. The stage became home to Present Future, and other rooms became places to explore Om’s interests, see his photography, sit over tea, write, eat, and connect. Moving between them made twelve hours feel like a collection of discoveries rather than one long program.

And then there was the history. Our speakers stood on the same stage where Om once had. That wasn’t something we added through decor or signage. It was already part of the place.

What I’d do again.

Venue selection is often reduced to capacity, price, location, and availability. Those matter. But for OmFest, I also asked:

  • Does this place have a reason to be part of the story?
  • Will it feel good with both our minimum and maximum expected attendance?
  • Can different experiences happen at once without competing?
  • What does the venue actually provide beyond the physical space?
  • Who handles the less glamorous things: furniture moves, trash, cleaning, deliveries, storage, and room resets?
  • What extra staffing, equipment, and time will we need to make the space work?

That last set of questions mattered most. A venue’s rental fee doesn’t necessarily tell you what it will cost to run an event there. The right venue doesn’t have to be the easiest venue. But you need to understand what you’re signing up for.

We figured out how to work within the building’s constraints, and the team helped us bring it all together. For OmFest, that combination made it the right place.

Post 9 of 60 · Making OmFest

Tagged:


Leave a Reply

Discover more from Megan Marcel

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading