Herb Benham: It's an event, an occasion -- it's the fair
| Tuesday, Sep 22 2009 05:39 PM
Last Updated Tuesday, Sep 22 2009 05:41 PM
Wednesday at the fair
Opens at 3 p.m.; features carnival rides, entertainment, concerts, food, exhibits and more. Fair runs through Oct. 4, Kern County Fairgrounds, 1142 P St. 833-4900.
Opening Day Parade, 6 p.m.
Phil Vassar, 8 p.m., Budweiser Pavilion, Free with paid fair admission.
Tuesday, I went to Media Day at the Kern County Fair and found myself talking about tattoos. It wasn't a bullet point on the "Fast Facts for Media" that Patty Griffin handed out to the dozen or so media stragglers that stretched out on benches inside the gate hoping for free food, free passes or a tidbit (like how many corndogs are consumed during the 12-day fair -- 430,000) with which to salt tomorrow's paper or the evening news.
No, tattoos just came up like an oil gusher had in Taft 100 years ago. The fair, which opens today at 3 p.m, has always been a window on Kern County.
The best, the most colorful and the most winsome. The fair also captures the end of summer. The coming of fall.
If "every moment is a window on all time," as Thomas Wolfe wrote, then the fair is a glimpse into the house in which we live in these parts. Clean shaven or with a two-day-old beard. It's all there.
I learned some things. This year's slogan is "Best in the West." It's about time. If the West still exists in California, you can find it in Bakersfield. At the fair, in the livestock barns, in the buildings filled with homemade jams, landscapes with a tumbleweed theme, and in the lamb sandwiches.
"We kept the entrance fee at $8," said Bill Blair, general manger of the fair. "It's cheaper than a movie. This is also the safest place in Kern County because of our excellent relationship with law enforcement."
Years ago, safety was a problem. It was less Knott's Berry Farm and more wild west. The fair realized that if it didn't get a handle on the outlaws, you could kiss Sadie goodbye.
It did. Now the fair is safer than a church picnic. The place is crawling with good guys.
The fair's gone green. In addition to installing solar power and supplying some of its own energy, the bright blue recycling bins are everywhere. The fair is even experimenting with diverting some of its food waste from the dump.
One thing hasn't changed. The fair is still hot. At least on Media Day.
After listening to 15 minutes of fun facts, the media piled onto trams and took a swing around the grounds. Nothing was open, but the promise of a future feast that included funnel cake (the second most popular fair food), homemade caramel corn, corn on the cob, pastrami sandwiches, turkey legs and large sugar cones filled with gelato was intriguing.
I ended up at the midway talking to Robert Holmes, one of the operators of the pop-a-balloon-with-a-dart-and-win-a-prize game. Last year, Holmes worked 12 days and made $4,000. He works four months a year and makes enough money to live in Washington state the rest of the time.
While I was talking to Holmes, Kelsey Lopresto, scooted up on his golf cart and asked what I was doing. Lopresto is a supervisor with Butler Amusements, the company that operates the rides and many of the games. I guess they're sensitive about carnies being portrayed as a bunch of drug-crazed loonies.
I'm not sure where anybody got that idea but apparently both the fair and Butler Amusements have stepped up drug testing to weed out the problem children.
Lopresto said the water races is the most popular game and the Zipper the most popular ride. Down the list is the Ferris wheel and throwing ping pong balls in goldfish bowls. Those ping pong balls bounce like they're on steroids.
I met Karen Jensen and her daughter, Kristin, a 17-year senior at Stockdale High. The Jensens were working on a Kern River display replete with water, rocks and native grasses in the Outdoor Scenes building.
"This gets your creativity going," said Jensen, who won the competition last year.
It's a mother-and-daughter thing. A way to bridge the teenage brittleness. Something to soften the awkwardness that growing up can bring.
Kristin raises lambs, too, and had entered several in this year's fair. The fair was a transition for Kristin. She might be saying hello to a first-place ribbon and $1.75 per pound and goodbye to a favorite lamb.
It was close to noon and I headed for the exits. The sun was blazing and unless I left soon, I'd have to change shirts.
Truthfully, the fair looks better at night, when the sun is no longer on the ground and the darkness can cover its flaws. Most of us can relate.
Something changes after sundown. People are excited, there are smells from a thousand foods that we have no business eating, but from which we cannot help ourselves.
At night, there is mystery. What can we ride, eat and see? Not everybody is too old or jaded for that.
It is an occasion.
It's the fair.
