PLEASURES OF LIFE

Ever dine in a Waffle House at 3 a.m.? Well, welcome to the fair.

In 50 years of announcing horse shows, I’ve attended over 30 state and county fairs, from Texas to New York, Florida to Colorado, and each and every one of them is a true slice of Americana — hold the grits.

Growing up in Syracuse, New York, my father hosted an early morning (around milkin’ time) agricultural radio show for WSRY — 570 on the dial — and served as a board member and horse show announcer at the Great New York State Fair.  He was at the radio station by 4:30 in the morning, on air from 5 to 7, then off to the fairgrounds until well into the night talking to throngs of spectators and producing the horse show.

When I was 6, I couldn’t wait to watch the train pull in from Buffalo (its county fair was the week before) like a rolling midway. Most of the rides arrived by truck, but the vast number of tents, generators, animals and all the carnies I could count traveled by train. The vagabond equipment came from James E. Strate Shows in Florida. I thought it was so cool that I created my own Strate Show train and vehicles on my HO scale train set in the basement of my house.

In those days fairs had agriculture, history and competition components, but the midway was always the centerpiece. Forget OSHA; how dizzy could you make yourself on the spinning and rattling Tilt-A-Whirl, and how many times in a row did you dare ride it? The view from the very top of the double Ferris wheel was impressive enough that it yielded my first kiss at the ripe old age of 11.

Every game on the midway had its own barker and its own tricks. Why couldn’t anyone make a basket? Was the ball too big or the hoop too small? One year the guy overseeing the ring toss felt so sorry for me he gave me a stuffed animal out of pity. At the Erie County Fair in Hamburg, New York, there was a giant tent with rows of stools and small boxes arranged like a bingo card. The speaker would call out “number one,” and people hoping to win a set of kitchen china would throw tiny red rubber balls that had as much chance of staying in box number one as a bowling ball has of floating. I couldn’t wait to see the bearded lady, the snake boy of Borneo and the alligator man. And I thought it was all real.

Features at fairs ranged from old-time stock car racing to its ultimate icon, the Demolition Derby. At a county fair in western New York the 3,000-seat grandstand was sold out, with people watching their neighbors destroy cars for nothing more than bragging rights at the local garage the next morning. The last time I watched a derby there were 75 cars and a completely superfluous announcer, since you couldn’t hear a word he said once the crunching began. The fire department got a major workout.

Every fair has a smell and aroma all its own, a combination of hundreds of different forms of food, fried in unimaginable combinations. Some of the most bizarre treats I’ve seen included a burger cooked inside a doughnut. If I could have figured out the overhead and net from selling fully loaded baked potatoes I could’ve been a millionaire.

Dairy and beef cattle, goats, sheep and pigs were judged, and the horse shows at the fair featured every imaginable breed. Every fair, it seemed, had its own “world’s largest pumpkin.” And how, exactly, does one judge a hay contest?

One of my fondest memories of the New York State Fair was the day my name was announced over the entire fairgrounds to report to the State Police exhibit in Hall A. I was 7 years old and my name had been drawn to win a German shepherd puppy. I named him Trooper. It had a better ring than Bumper Cars.