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Tim Murphy, 20, cf Franklin, washes
after the Future Fanners of America
This apparent lack of concern for
attendance seems out of character,
since Erandt is the one who stands
to lose the most if the fair gees under. As
fair manager, Brandt gets a house on the
fairgrounds, receives phone and utilities
stipends, and earns a $43,000 salary. Fair
revenues cover everything except $12,000
of his salary, which is paid out of a
$100,000 state appropriation peanuts
compared to the $2.8 million fair budget
But his complacency is based on a
history of success. During the last 20 years,
the fair has built up a $7 million investment
fund out of surplus revenues from the salad
days of the fair, a cushion that can be used
or borrowed against when times are tough.
And after 20 years as fair manager, 62-year-old
Brandt is not too worried about
job security.
"When I took this job, there wasn't
hardly a roof that didn't leak," Brandt says.
It's true he has a lot to be proud of.
There isn't much on the fairgrounds that
pre-dates the Brandt era. And fair attend
ance has increased by 30 percent since
Brandt took over in 1965. Based on census
figures, one in every three Nebraskans
attends the state fair annually.
A cattleman from Beatrice, Brandt worked
on the board of the Gage County fair and
served as president of the Nebraska Associa
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Shojss and tooths crowd the state fair midway, each boasting its own tempting
sights and smells: spicy foodor.gs, sizzling hamburgers, sweet-spun cotton
candy.
1
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David CreamerThe Sower
that grime right outta Bessy's hair
catde show.
tion of Fair Managers prior to his term as
state fair manager. Since Brandt succeeded
the retired Ed Schultz, Brandt has held
several national offices with the inter
national fair association, including a term
as president in 1981.
While the fair is governed by a board cf
29 directors from across the state under the
auspices of the State Board of Agriculture,
Brandt rules the fair with a heavy hand. He
gets the credit when things go well, and the
blame when things sour.
After 115 years, the fair has become a
Nebraska institutioa One that Brandt says
he's not ready to write off yet
"As a kid, I always loved to go to the
fair," he says. "I still do."
In his office, 200 yards from his house,
he greets his guests with a smile and a firm
handshake. Two windows frame his world.
On his left, the midway behind him, the
track. A plaque on his desk silently reminds
all who enter: "Right or wrong, I'm still the
boss."
Participation is up. Brandt says that's
what the fair is all about.
"All the rest of this . . ." he says,
gesturing toward his attendance and revenue
figures, "All the rest of this just goes along
with iL"&
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calves,
corndogs
cavni
Fairgoers are a loyd bunch.
sounds and smells of the fair
summer, as surely as children
Piper . . .
Jack Chapman started small.
In 1924, he and some school friends held
the first Golden Valley County Fair in an old
machine shed
."It was a one-day deal," Chapman said.
The kids showed just a few hogs and cattle
and maybe some canned goods, too, he
said.
The kids grew up. Chapman sold in
surance and real estate in Hebron. But he
never lost his love for the fair.
Chapman retires at age 73 in January
after 26 years on the Nebraska State Fair
Board and two years as president.
The fair has grown up some, too, since
Chapman joined the board. He's seen the
fairgrounds expand and modernize. He's
watched the exhibits grow bigger and
better.
But Chapman still wouldn't call the fair
sophisticated.
"No," he said. "We're just good, common
folks.
For many rural Nebraskans, fair time is
time to show off. Products of long hours of
work fill the exhibition halls and livestock
pens. Rows and rows of them: Bottled beans.
Crazy quilts. Homemade farm machines.
Well-groomed animals.
Some bear blue and purple ribbons,
Ribbons make entries worth the work.
Kay Smith woke at 5 a.m. to fill 1 1 pie
crusts with custard, fruit and meringue.
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Cavii CmmerThe Sower
Ecacd ma rcund m& rozisd she goes, 1st wticre she s taps cs2y IHSssr Gmiey
knows. Cro-wfey, 62, ctaiss tie Ferris wiicd si tMs year's (dr.
vats
Magical sights and
pull them in each
followed the Pied
"I couldn't make any money doing this
commercially," said the 47-year-old Lincoln
homemaker. Two first prizes and a second
at least once a year are pay enough,
she said.
Beverly Gish cut another slice of pie and
set it beside five others on a thick paper
plate. She and Judy Weber tasted 108 pies
that day, one small bite at a time taking
coffee and potato chip breaks to revive
deadened taste buds.
Beverly Gish cut another slice of pie and set
it beside five others on a thick paper plate.
She and Judy Weber tasted 108 pies that
day, one small bite at a time . . .
Dorchester residents Weber and Gish
have judged food at fairs for 17 years. Some
entries are delicious, Gish said.
"And some are just awful. You wonder
why they brought them."
In the cattle pens, 4 H'ers slather show
animals from head to hoof with bubble
Jath, shaving cream and assorted gobs of
goo. A little oil straightens the hairs,
adhesive and hairspray make hairs stand
.7 ; vi't iii A
up. wnen tne snow is over, a cola jlast from
a hose washes the sticky mess away.
"Animals just weren't made to be
shampooed every day," said Rosalie
McKnight of Chapman.
Mother of four 4-H'ers, McKnight is a
state fair veteran. The kids all tend their
own projects, she said. But at fair time,
Mom and Dad turn out to help.
"It's a whole-family deal," she said.
The fair means long days for booth
workers in the exhibition halls. Many are
there 1 1 hours a day, peddling everything
from used T-shirts and weather vanes to
fine china. Some lean with their hands on
their chins. Some tap their fingers restlessly.
A white-haired woman dozes in the booth
for the Retired Senior Volunteer Program.
They wait for passers-by to stop. Most
just saunter by, chewing greasy corn dogs
and licking ice cream cones.
"Step right over here, sir. See the Dial A
Matic. It dices. It slices. Makes shoestring
potatoes. Julienne carrots. They may not
taste better, but they look better."
Frosty Wishon has sold vegetable sheers
for 26 years. He works the fair circuit in
summer and shopping malls in winter. He
works long hours, hawking the Dial-A-Matic
from his little outdoor booth.
For Wishon and many others, the Ne
braska State Fair is just another 1 1 days on
a long schedule of carnivals and fairs.
And it's pretty much like all the rest, said
Larry Freeman, 39, ride operator for Blue
Grass Shows. Freeman was a car hop at a
Peoria, 111., drive-in before joining the
carnival 18 years ago. Now he lives in a
trailer, travels from fair to fair and runs the
Spider ride for 1 1 hours a day.
What's a carnie to do for fun?
"Drink," Freeman said with a toothless
grin. "And make love."
Freeman travels with his buddy Mike
Estos, a 20-year-old from Los Angeles. The
son of concession-stand operators, Estos
has worked fairs as long as he can remember.
"I always wanted to be a disc jockey," he
said. "Once you get in this business, you
never get out.y
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Ann Lowe