Mass Killing At The State Fair

I knew a wonderful woman at the time and she got me back stage passes.  From September 6, 1989. – JDWIt clearly states on page eleven of the Professional Columnist’s Handbook, a compelling first sentence is one of the keys to success in this business.

However, throwing caution to the winds, in the interest of brevity, I have decided to get right to this week’s topic.  The 124th Oregon State Fair.

Moment of silence, please.

Called THE BIG ONE, you know it really is.  If you had the good sense to drive to Salem and partake of this peculiarly American experience.

Because, if it does nothing else, the fair serves as a reminder there’s a lot more to this great state than the greater metropolitan area.

That’s the truth; I guarantee it.

The theme of Fair 1989 was “Through the eyes of a child….”  Which is how I do most things anyhow.  Should be noted, not taking your kid to the fair might constitute child abuse.

I have no idea how many adults were on the committee which came up with that concept, but might be wise to use the same theme every year.  “Through the eyes of a bureaucrat…” just doesn’t work for me.

Went on the first Saturday of the eleven-day run, because when I was about ten-years-old, we lived on a big farm miles and miles outside of town.  The bus ride to school took so long, I’d forget where we were going.  Anyway, there was a radio on the bus and the driver would turn the volume up, and I’d eat whatever dessert Mom had packed in my Captain Video lunch bucket and we’d all listen to a new kind of music called “rock and roll.”

I can only remember a few songs.  “Honeycomb” by Jimmie Rodgers, “Blueberry Hill” by Fats Domino and “Wake Up, Little Susie” by the Everly Brothers.  Those I remember.

So it came to pass I was sitting in the filled-to-capacity 9,000-seat L.B.Day Amphitheatre when Don and Phil came out on the Miller Genuine Draft Stage for their two p.m. show.

Katy Moffet opened with a short set of country-western classics – who can forget this one? – “I Know My Baby’s Been Drinkin’ Cause He Called Me From A Bar.”

Don is still the elder Everly and a lot chunkier than he used to be.  Phil still sings the harmony and they don’t sound nearly as good as they once did.

Of course, neither does Sinatra.  Still in all, it was a joy to hear them.  It’s always easier to reminisce with the right soundtrack.

Never went to the state fair when I was a kid.  In New York, we had the World’s Fair.  Educational but hardly agricultural.  And I think that’s what the fair here is all about.  Farms.  Farms and animals and kids.  Growing stuff.

Please, note that children themselves are not animals.  I saw far too many offspring on leashes.  One would be too many.  Okay, I am not a parent but I was a child.  And I got lost once.  It was not a pleasant experience for me or for my folks.  In those days, the only pictures on milk cartons were drawings of cows.  I learned a lesson then.  Four is too young to leave home.

I didn’t get lost again until I was eighteen.  That’s why I’d like to see a federal study to determine the long-term effects of leashing small children.

We could be fostering an entire generation of serial killers or, worse yet, television preachers.

I missed the Milk Mustache Contest and the Governor wasn’t at his official booth when I stopped by.  Both times.  Probably ducking me.  Still.

There are ninety-five thousand (95,000) diary cows in Oregon but only one 1989 Queen Cow.

Buttercup is a ten-year-old Holstein who daintily tips the scale at 1,621 pounds.

At her peak – which she may have passed although she still looks great – Buttercup produced per day one-hundred-and-twenty pounds of milk, which was then shipped to Safeway.  Roughly one-hundred-twenty pounds of milk converts to 224 half-gallons of yogurt or twenty half-gallons of ice cream or nineteen pounds of cottage cheese.  And all the Cupster asks in return is forty pounds of grain, twenty-seven pounds of alfalfa and thirty-five gallons of water per day.  Per day.

Reminds me of an eighth grade arithmetic problem.  So, how long will it take Queen Buttercup the cow to walk from Pittsburgh to Punxsutawney?

These bovine types, so amazing really, don’t get enough credit.  I saw a Simmental bull called Cornerstone.  The big fella weighed 790 pounds when he was 205 days old and 470 pounds in addition to that just 160 days later.  He gained another 790 pounds in the next year.

I could actually see him get heavier as I stood there.

White Mountain The Giant Steer has turned pro.  Costs fifty cents to view this spectacle.  Advertised as “10,000 hamburgers on the hoof,” he’s six-feet tall, eleven-feet long and about the same length around.  He’s got girth.  Parts of this 3,150-pound beast are extraordinary.

You should have seen what happened when I whispered to him just one word… “Buttercup.”

Did you know there’s an organization called the Oregon Turkey Improvement Association?

I hope they can do something about that ugly red thing dangling off the bird’s throat.

Stopped by the Division of State Land’s booth.  Hard to pass by the large sign: DO WE HAVE YOUR MONEY?  They didn’t.  But they do have $24 million belonging to 650,000 people, the vast majority of whom live right here.  Maybe you should check it out.  Better odds than the lottery.

I skipped the forty carnival rides and the forty-nine food booths.  I can still taste the corn dog I ate last year.  I almost got an ear pierced, but I can never remember… is it the right ear that means you have a liberal arts degree or the left?

For $7.95 you could make a cassette recording at Star Studio Northwest.  (Dealerships are available.)  Climb into a real sound booth, put on the headsets , and start singing.  Belt out a tune.

The music, complete with backup vocalists.  The only element missing is a lead singer – you.

I was tempted.  I really was.  Decided I’d actually do it if my favorite song was on the 22-page set list.  Hundreds and hundreds of titles, including “You Light Up My Life.”

But no “Time” – the long version – by the Chambers Brothers.  My second choice was “Wild Thing” – of course – by The Troggs.  Again, no.

So, yes, the annual Oregon State Fair could be improved.

“Wake Up, Little Susie” was also missing.

Epilogue.

You would not believe the amount of hate mail I got the next week.  Almost entirely from irate mothers.

Not so over-worked they couldn’t take the time to sit down and write or type an actual letter.

“Have you ever tried to manage three children and all their necessities and equipment in a noisy blinking crowd?”

No, I haven’t.

But here’s where we differ on leashing your offspring.

You think like a parent, while I see life through the eyes of a child.