Elizabeth Davies: County fair a revelation for reporter

We’ve had a turbulent past, the county fair and I.

As a kid — one growing up in the heart of suburbia, mind you — I thought the fair was great. There was fried food, games, more fried food, prizes, even more fried food and an array of dizzying rides that perfectly complemented all that fried food.

As a green reporter covering agriculture at my first job out of college, I realized there was another side of the county fair. And it doesn’t exactly smell like elephant ears.

The more experienced reporters assured me that there were a few bonuses to working fair week: You get to wear shorts and tennis shoes to work. You can eat corn dogs for lunch every day. You won’t get suckered into covering any late-night meetings or early-morning fires.

But then the office cynic chimed in, pointing out that you have to walk past rows of lambs who bleat pitifully all week, because they know they aren’t exactly there for the cheese fries.

Laugh if you must, but this city girl really didn’t know that there were actual animals at the county fair. I suppose they probably trucked some in to the fair when I was a kid, but who had time to look at smelly cows when there was cotton candy to be had?

There was such a sharp contrast between my hometown county fair and the one at which I later found myself swatting flies with a reporter’s notebook that I did a little research. Indeed, the only mention of animals on my hometown fair’s website was a petting zoo. In the country, kids get to raise their own cows. In the city, we pay a quarter to feed them a handful of corn.

So it was with that swell of personal inexperience that I headed off to cover my first county fair. I was a little uncertain why my editor wanted me there at 10 a.m., when everyone knows the Midway doesn’t open until evening. Not one to shirk my journalistic duties, however, I promptly drove to the fairgrounds.

I watched cow after cow being brought into an arena, which — if you haven’t had the pleasure — is about as entertaining as watching a symphony while wearing earplugs. Afterward, I interviewed cow owners and tried to piece together a usable comment about owning and showing cows.

I watched a teenager be crowned fair queen, although I didn’t think she seemed queenly in blue jeans and cowboy boots. Don’t queens wear fancy dresses?

After my first day at the fair, I was hot, dirty and hungry. I had seen carnival rides and corn dogs, but only from my perch in the pig barn. I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of returning for four more days of intensely working my sources with deep and prying questions such as, “So how much do ya think she’ll go for in auction?”

As the years went on, I eventually came to appreciate the agriculture side of the county fair. It helped when I was no longer paid by the hour to be there, which meant I could walk away when the stench got too strong.

These days, I actually pay to go to the fair. Every year, I’ll take the kids in the morning so we can see the animals and crafts. Then, we’ll return in the evening for games, rides and cotton candy.

There’s room for both sides of the county fair, I’ve found. So long as the pig barn isn’t too close to the French fry stand.

Elizabeth Davies writes for the Rockford Register Star. She can be reached at edavies@rrstar.com.