The ultimate variety show

In a few days, a small city within our city will begin to take form at West 5th and M streets, replaying a tradition that dates back at least 130 years, perhaps longer. I recall reading somewhere that it was first held in 1886. That seemed plausible to me because the county was first organized in 1873, but I haven’t been able to confirm that figure. A more credible date would be 1892, as proposed in a wonderful history of the institution written by Jerda Garey Vickers and edited by Connie Discoe. It’s posted on the visitmccook.com site and is well worth a read. I’ll not take on Jerda, Connie, or for that matter, Sue Doak. I love history, but in this regard, I don’t see myself adding much to their efforts.

What I find equally interesting are the cultural mashups that ensue and the refreshing (and occasionally awkward) juxtaposition of attractions. What other event would situate a half-million-dollar combine next to a dunk tank run by high school cheerleaders? What about the Nebraska Lottery booth next to military recruiters? You won’t find that kind of variety in a suburban shopping mall.

At their essence, County fairs are community gatherings. People from different professions and opposite ends of the county meet to celebrate a shared identity. The food booths and bingo tents provide a setting to reconnect with old friends and shirt-tail relations while out-of-school kids stroll the midway, making reconnections of their own.

To that, we add a trade show. It’s a place for local businesses and artisans to showcase their wares, while churches and volunteer organizations vie for new members. Local politicians also get in on the act, seizing an opportunity to shake more hands in a weekend than just about any other campaign activity available. Candidates for higher offices use state fair photo opportunities to build their “regular guy” persona, but at county fairs, we talk to our candidates–and most of them listen.

Of course, the underlying theme for most of the event is agriculture. 4-H kids, implement dealers and seed salesmen are a driving force of the event as they have been since the fair’s 19th-century beginnings. It’s a privilege to roam among them, yet for people like me who are two generations removed from the family farm, it’s an uncomfortable reminder of all the things I feel like I should know, but don’t.

County fairs are also reputed for the assortment of creatively unhealthy foods, including various experimental fried oddities. While our County Fair doesn’t pack in all the exotic creations seen elsewhere, the decadence of what we have here never disappoints. In addition to the traditional “fair fare,” like corndogs, cotton candy, nachos, and funnel cake, we frequently see something new, like the latest form of fried potato. There’s something uniquely American about spiraled french fries made with an electric drill, but the heart of the food scene does not travel with the carnival. It takes place in the locally operated church food booths, where local people serve local grub. Unsurprisingly, the rows of tables in and around the church booths also become major social hubs for the event.

We should also appreciate the county fair for the value that it offers. Old-timers may remember when, for twenty-five cents, one could enter a tent and see a scantily clad obese woman covered in tattoos. Save your quarters, friends. Times have changed. Now they just roam the grounds to be viewed free of charge.

As I look at the county fair, I see an abundance of current technology. Farm machinery is incredibly complex these days, and there are usually a few cell phone providers on hand. Will we still have satellite television dealers? I don’t know, but satellite internet would be of interest to rural folks. Driven as much by insurance rates as the expectations of younger generations, it’s not hard to imagine a few of the worn-out rides being phased out, and replaced by virtual experiences.

I also see a lot of things that technology cannot replace. Holograms won’t soon replace the livestock, and the hucksters with the wobbly darts and oddly weighted basketballs will be with us for a while. I’m guessing that some types of gadgetry have infiltrated the rodeo and stock car races, but they rely more on grit and muscle than whiz and bang.

Those are the traditional elements that transcend time and make the county fair a connection with our history. I find comfort in that. Yes, it’s usually hot, crowded, dusty, and packs a bouquet of animal smells, but that’s the charm of it all. In a world that sometimes changes a bit too fast, it’s good that we have a few lasting institutions like our local fair, and I hope that future generations continue to support it.