Back in 1967, you could get anything you wanted at Alice’s Restaurant, excepting Alice. Fifty-five years later, the same can be said of the Illinois State Fair. As I strolled the 360 acres of fair grounds, I probably encountered a few Alices, but there was only one thing I could not find—a salad. Some will point to the taco salad on the menu at one concession stand, but that essentially is a taco in a basket. I only eat tacos on a stick.

This year, the annual showcase for Illinois’ agricultural industry ran from August 11 through August 21. I opted for Governor’s Day (August 17) and Republicans’ Day (August 18). I did get my fill of political activity, but I had plenty of extra time to explore much of what the fair had to offer — although it was impossible to see everything during my two-and-half day adventure, during which I spent nearly 30 hours on the grounds.

Agriculture is King. As I walked from my car to the fair’s entrance, passing through a tunnel under the racetrack, I immediately noticed the Ferris wheel and other amusement park rides to the east. But the low-rise agricultural buildings lining the grounds to the west are the fair’s heart and soul. I first encountered a long row of rhombus-shaped brick facades. Inside were the draft and show horses; outside were beautiful horse carriages and wagons, all coated with eye-catching colored varnishes. As I headed north toward the Director’s Lawn, I passed barns packed with cattle, sheep, pigs, goats, and rabbits. I was told poultry was excluded this year because the bird flu is once again rampant.

Earlier in the week, Governor J.B. Pritzker announced that the state would underwrite membership in the Future Farmers of America “for every single student taking agricultural classes.” The organization was well-represented, with elementary and high schoolers proudly showcasing the animals they had lovingly raised, hoping to win one of the seemingly endless competitions. Even though the kids took center stage, their parents stood closely by, ready to provide guidance if needed. When I hesitantly asked one young man whether his prize-winning goat was sold as a breeder or an “eater,” his mother knew where my inquiry was headed. She diplomatically inserted herself into the conversation, using her body to set the pick so that I found myself facing her rather than her son. She then informed me that “they” had prepared the boy for the inevitable separation — with the animal’s fate to be determined by the buyer. I assume this life lesson is part of his apprenticeship into the family business.

I was surprised by the number of out-of-state farms competing for prizes and participating in the auctions. Apparently competitive agriculture is no different from the competitive art-fair and similar circuits. Typically the competitors are small businesses — depending on the type of event, perhaps a car dealership, a frame store, a photography studio, a gunshop, or a cattle ranch. Over the course of the summer season, the proprietors travel the country from one event to another. When at the Illinois State Fair, the nomadic farmers (and vendors) enter Gate 11 off Peoria Avenue, where their campers and RVs are parked largely out of sight, which answers the question, “Where do they sleep?”

One sheep breeder offered additional details about the circuit. According to him, the prize money was more lucrative in years gone by. Elaborating, he pointed out that the competitors are not just farmers and producers, but also enthusiasts. Farmers and producers ordinarily spend no time grooming the animals headed to market for slaughter, but join in the rituals when prize money and honors are at stake.

Indeed, I watched a number of breeders devote considerable time grooming their animals before parading them before the judges and auctioneers. Before the judging, the competitors continuously adjust the posing animals’ heads and hoofs. One competitor told me that the object is to position an animal’s legs so that all four are visible from a one-point perspective, which she said is exactly what the owners do at the Westminster Dog Show, correctly assuming that I would understand that reference.

Those buying the winning animals pay many times more for an animal than the price normally paid by meatpackers. For example, MK Pritzker, the Governor’s wife, outbid her husband for the second year in a row, paying $105,000 for King, a 1,300-pound steer raised by Ashtin Guyer. Normally a steer sells for somewhere around $1.30 a pound, well below the roughly $81 per pound price paid for King, who was awarded the title Grand Champion. According to an article in the State Journal-Register, Guyer started raising cattle when she was six. She is now 21, attending Western Illinois University.

Governor Pritzker’s Republican opponent for high office, Darren Bailey, constantly reminds the electorate that unlike Pritzker, he has calluses on his hands because he is a farmer—and that he earned his money rather than inheriting it. Bailey must be a pretty successful farmer. He, together with a partner, bid $7,600 for three meat-pen rabbits raised by Chesney Thornton, a seventh grader. I was told that the typical rabbit sells from anywhere between $10 and $100 at market, so Bailey and his partner, like MK Pritzker, paid a hefty premium. I wonder whether these politicos can use campaign contributions to finance the purchases, although in Pritzker’s case it doesn’t really matter because much of his campaign is self-funded.

During my time at the fair, I encountered pigs twice. The first time was at an exhibit showcasing hours-old piglets fighting for one of their mother’s teats. Outside the nursery, signage displayed the different cuts of pork, so as adorable as those newborns might be, everyone entering the enclosure was forewarned about the fate awaiting those cuties. “Bacon with your eggs?”

My next encounter occurred when the breeders hit the auction block. This proved more exciting than I had had anticipated. As I walked toward the auction pen, a sow weighing several hundred pounds escaped its handler’s clutches, running directly toward me. Fortunately, she turned to my right, headed down an aisle, while I turned to the left, escaping down another aisle. Later, another sow brushed up against me to avoid the handler’s stick trying to coax her back into a metal pen. I at first thought i had gotten my revenge when I ordered a hot dog for lunch shortly after the encounter, but I the vendor point out that I was standing in a tent operated by the Beef Producers.

Not everyone at the fair was pro agra-business. While walking down Central Avenue, I encountered a large truck parked on the street. It was plastered with a mural displaying chickens tightly packed into cages, with a tagline reading, “Does this bother your? Then go vegan.” Was this guerilla-style warfare, or had PETA paid an exhibitor’s fee? Pro or con, PETA shares something in common with its adversaries: The truck driver told me that this movable feast for the eyes is traveling the country this summer, with Chicago’s westside the next stop.

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A Menagerie. Agriculture rightly receives center stage at the fair, but there is only so long that the average person can roam the barns, looking at animals and avoiding bits of manure and wet straw (although the competitors continuously work to keep the floors clean for visitors).

Thankfully, the fair has something for everyone As I walked the main streets, I encountered a comedic diving show; a water-propelled pilot attached to a large hose-like tube holding an American flag as he weaved through the air soaking the audience with white spray; countless singers and bands covering AC/DC, the Beatles, Johnny Cash, Janis Joplin, Led Zeppelin, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and countless other bands from back in the day; the Simon Wiesenthal Center’s mobile theater showing three short films followed by discussions about tolerance; a “valley” where robotic dinosaurs graze; gambling opportunities; harness racing on the fair’s oval raceway; and plenty of shopping opportunities, including a tent where deeply-discounted hot tubs were on offer. Cautionary note: Anyone wondering about how to get a prize-winning steer home should keep that thought in mind before buying a hot tub for eight.

The U.S. Army was on site recruiting, as was the Illinois Department of Corrections. I didn’t see Ron Popeil or any of his imitators in the Exposition Center, but I did see exhibits for windows, mattresses, lamps, assorted jewelry, crafts, bathroom fittings, and a host of other products that are frequently advertised on cable television, revealing a lot about the fair’s demographics.

While parents decided whether the family home needed new shingles, their children could walk through a humongous “maze” of taffy and other penny candies, all available for purchase. No doubt after their children come down from their sugar buzz, the parents will regret not buying that new mattress as they collapse into their nightly slumber.

While the fair provides plenty of opportunities for selfies, the Exposition Center included ten or so stage sets complete with ring lights so that everyone looked his or her best. On further reflection, I see the logic behind the Midway’s selfie alley. One ride, in advising patrons to secure their phones, showed before and after images of a phone that had accompanied its owner on the ride. Not a pretty sight.

The grandstand offered more than nightly concerts, weekend autoraces, and harness racing. I enjoyed the museum filled with fair memorabilia, as well as a replica of the hearse that carried Lincoln’s body to nearby Oak Ridge Cemetery. Those not interested in history could play the video slot machines, also tucked away under the grandstands.

I simply ran out of time, but parents could also take their kids to Conservation World for fly fishing, archery, and other lessons, as well as a lumberjack show, canoe rides, and rock climbing. Next year.

Fairgoers who were willing to pay a separate admission fee could attend nightly concerts in the Grandstand featuring Brooks & Dunn, Sammy Hagar, Demi Lovato, Trevor Noah, Shaggy, amd Willie Nelson, among others. Willie Nelson’s management turned down my request for photo credentials, but representatives from the fair were kind enough to provide me with credentials for Shaggy’s reggae/rap extravaganza.

The Midway. The last time I rode a midway ride was about 38 years ago when I braved the Magic Kingdom’s Big Thunder Mountain Railroad with my late friend Judith Neese. Before that, it was the Tilt-A-Whirl in the parking lot of Brown Port Shopping Center, located just a few blocks from my home. That ride is largely responsible for my aversion to roller coasters, G-force drops, and spinning wheels—I always hated Blood, Sweat and Tears’ take on those wheels. Before being secured in a metal-shaped egg, I had eaten a couple of hot dogs and a cloud of pink cotton candy. So you can imagine what I deposited on the asphalt parking lot after stepping off the ride with my head reeling.

Nevertheless, I love carnivals and midways: the shrieks, garish colors and flashing lights, Kewpie dolls, midway games, spinning wheels, and crowds. So I spent plenty of time watching and photographing as I pinballed from ride to carnival game to ride.

Of course, I would have loved to live the youth denied me by my overprotective parents—visiting the freak show back in 1966. But by 2022, Tod Browning had been canceled, and for good reason. Back in the 6th grade, I could only imagine what “Lobster Boy,” the “Bearded Lady,” and Bruce Davidson’s Jimmy Armstrong (a midget back then; now a little person) were all about. In our more enlightened time, I now realize that many of the people who were characterized as freaks were really people with severe disabilities or who exhibited gender fluidity, which explains why freak shows are appropriately no more. A few clowns, stilt-walkers, and a magician, however, would have been nice.

I spent so much time on the Midway that the ring-toss barkers began to acknowledge me. They don’t ordinarily waste their breath on a guy carrying two cameras. Nevertheless, on my last day I chatted with one barker who was unhappy with the day’s light attendance. “The weekend would be much better.” She didn’t reveal the secret to winning a cuddly unicorn, but I did learn that she could run four of the seven booths owned by her boss.

The Battle for State Government. In November, the Republicans and the Democrats will face off for control of Illinois’ state government, so the two days designated for politicking proved to be a good choice for a visit by a political junkie. On Wednesday, the Democrats controlled the political programming. On Thursday, the Republicans received equal time. Both parties maintained large tents at the fair throughout its 11-day run, and on their designated days, both commandeered the Director’s Lawn for noontime rallies and lunches.

Given Governor’s Pritzker’s wealth, it should come as no surprise that the Democrats outspent the Republicans, with mercifully short speeches followed by a concert featuring country singer Chris Young. I overheard one person in the media pen commenting that the Democrats had devoted two weeks to reconfiguring the staging area, which must have cost a pretty penny. Yet, when all is said and done, the Republican had the better staging.

The weatherman played no favorites—both days were sunny, with temperatures in the eighties. The Republican rally worked so well because the red and white banners and the stage were lit by the noonday sun. On the other hand, the Democrats put the press in a media pen in the hot midday sun, while the stage was at the back of a dimly lit shed. A 400-mm lens was necessary to capture acceptable images, but few photographers carry such a large lens to events like this one. Adding insult to injury, the Democrats would not allow members of the press to roam freely, even requiring an escort should nature call.

Chris Young may be a great singer, but he competed for the attention of a bunch of politicos looking to network. Within ten minutes after the speeches ended, just a handful of people remained standing in front of the stage as Young launched into his second or third song. As an aside, Young had imposed a “three-song, no-flash” limit, but nobody was there to photograph him.

Many attendees had left in an apparent effort to snag a selfie with Governor Pritzker, who is one of the great “retail” politicians. The press minders ordered me back to the then-empty press pen—at which point I left. But as far as I could tell, anyone who wanted a photo-op with the Governor got one.

Getting into the Republican rally was much easier. After I presented my regular credentials, I whisked past the line of attendees waiting for their wrist bands.

Following the recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance, the singing of the National Anthem, and a prayer, Illinois Republican Party Chairman Don Tracy took the stage, telling the party faithful that the Republican slate was poised to take control of state government following the November election. He or someone else referred to positive polling, but refused to reveal the numbers because the media was present—a really insipid remark.

Each candidate for statewide office had the opportunity to repeat his or her stump speech during the 80-minute program. By and large the speakers confined their remarks to economic and regulatory matters rather than throwing red meat: Donald Trump, the Big Lie, and abortion bans were the elephants in the room, either going largely without mention or referenced by thinly-veiled phrasing, allowing for deniability. The Illinois Republican Party is obviously focused on the suburbs just outside of Chicago and the collar counties, taking a cue from the Kansas election results, as well as from Florida Governor Ron DeSantis’ rising star.

One thing was made abundantly clear: Stephanie Trussell, the Republican candidate for Lieutenant Governor may be one of worst speakers imaginable, which is surprising given her seven-year stint as a talk radio host with WLS-AM. Rather than giving a seemingly extemporaneous stump speech, Trussell used her iPhone as a teleprompter — a poor strategy given that the device seized up more than a few times during her speech, resulting in a visibly flustered candidate. Should anyone who is unwilling to put in the time to rehearse a five-minute speech hold elective office? I don’t care what her positions are on the issues: She simply doesn’t deserve my or anyone else’s vote. The medium is the message.

At the press gaggle following the formal program, the media peppered gubernatorial candidate Bailey with questions about his prior comparison between the Holocaust and abortions; a comparison that he has been unable to walk back. Several reporters also cornered candidate Trussell by bringing up Bailey’s reference to “Chicago is a hellhole” quip. Gamely trying to defuse that loaded characterization, Trussell parried, referring to everyone’s concern with rising crime. Her performance during the Q & A session far exceeded her effort at the podium.

One of my favorite encounters came earlier in the day, when I met Andrew Nelson Bey on the fair’s main street. He told me he is the Republican candidate seeking to replace Chicago Mayor Lightfoot. He seemed like a nice, but fairly naive, fellow. He believes he can replace Mike Pence on Donald Trump’s 2024 presidential ticket by leveraging his position as Chicago’s next mayor.

A Coda to Republican’s Day. Late Thursday afternoon, I decided to take a walk outside the fairgrounds. After passing through the exit at Gate 2, I headed up Peoria Road, which was lined with campaign signs. I saw a sign for the Patriot Store, which turned out to be an RV owned by Max and Tina Mann. I soon found myself in a conversation with the two proprietors, who were selling Trump-related merchandise.

Several years ago they sold their home in Washington State so they could travel the country in support of then-President Trump. According to Tina, they aren’t really political; they don’t characterize themselves as Republicans or Democrats—although they characterize the Democrats as looney—but rather as people who are inspired by God and the dream of freedom for all. Tina repeatedly use the word “Freedom,” thereby turning it into a mantra.

This year’s fair has largely been a financial bust for them. They had investigated renting exhibitor space on the fairgrounds, but the $5,000 rental fee was too much, so they opted for a gravel parking lot across from the fair, paying $100 or $200 per day for the space—Tina throughout both numbers. She lamented the poor daily sales, which ranged from $600 to $1,000. In Tina’s words, “Too many lookie-loos.” I noted that she could probably classify me as a lookie-loo, but she kindly let me off the hook, noting that I was a photographer.

I asked whether they had ever met the former President. Tina indicated that they hadn’t, although they had met Eric and Don, Jr. At this point Tina stepped into the RV for a moment, returning with a colorfully-painted hard hat, which she proudly posed with, saying that she and Max looked forward to presenting it as a gift to the former president when they finally meet him.

At one point, Tina told me that this was their third RV. The two others had been vandalized by protesters. In one case, the Manns awoke to the sounds of a “bam” several days after a 2019 Trump rally in El Paso, Texas. Max told a local news station that he realized they were “a minute (small) minority” in El Paso, but “this is a motivated, political, racial crime.” Tina added that the incident, which the couple reported to the police, would only motivate them to sell more merchandise.

I later found the television station’s video report, but was a little puzzled because Tina had described the vehicle as having been destroyed. While the video showed damage, the vehicle was largely intact. Given Tina’s overall demeanor, I don’t believe she intended to mislead me, but rather, simply slipped into hyperbolic mode in what undoubtedly is just one of many retellings of a disturbing story.

I seriously considered buying some merch from the Manns. While I clearly disagree with them on many counts, they were nevertheless sincere in their beliefs. I was sympathetic to them as small business people who were not faring well financially during the fair’s run. But former President Trump represents a line that I simply couldn’t cross.

Overall Assessment. Even though I am an urbanite, I thoroughly enjoyed the fair; I considered staying another day. In terms of value, it is a bargain. This year, on weekdays, admission was $5, jumping to $10 on Fridays and Saturdays. Seniors paid $3, and children 12 and under were admitted free. Parking was $5. Most of the activities were free, and there was enough variety to satisfy all interests while filling a 12-hour day.

I was surprised just how reasonably priced the food was. One night I had a tasty BLT sandwich and a Diet Coke. The other two nights I dined on chicken wraps, which were a bit salty due to the copious amount of added bacon. All three nights, the tab came to just over $10. Each day lunch consisted of a Diet Coke and a hot dog, at a cost of $9. I splurged on ice cream twice. At $5 for two large scoops, the ice cream was a bargain, particularly when compared to my neighborhood ice cream parlor, which now charges somewhere around $10 for an equivalent amount.

The Midway is where the outing could become expensive, although the fairgoers could buy a daily bracelet for $30, entitling them to unlimited rides (excluding the SkyGlide and the Giant Slide). But even that price pales in comparison to the current $109 daily admission charge to Disney’s Magic Kingdom (for ages 10+). Nevertheless, the extras can add up. I ran into one family at the Giant Slide who had three kids in tow. At $4 each, the parents forked over $12 for an adventure that lasted 30 seconds or so. And then the kids wanted to test whether the left side of the slide was faster than the right side, so the parents forked over another $12. The kids claimed that the left side was indeed faster. I didn’t notice a perceivable difference, which I could probably prove by looking at the metadata in the files for my images.

I do have one complaint—one that I referenced in the opening paragraph—the food. An event run under the auspices of the state government should have far healthier choices on the menu. I get it—cotton candy, hot dogs, burgers, ice cream, and sugary drinks come with the territory, but there should be salads, fruits, vegetables (not fried), and similar options, if only to send a signal.

When i returned to Chicago, I reviewed the fair’s website, which included a detailed listing of food offerings. Yes, there is quinoa salad, but I didn’t see it. I suspect most of the healthy options were found in rather obscure locations rather than along the fair’s main walkways. I am not alone: I talked to at least four people who shared my feelings.

In closing, let me give a shoutout to McKenzie Turner from the fair’s press office. She did a terrific job of providing me with assistance and updates. I heard similar comments from other members of the media about her.

Copyright 2022, Jack B. Siegel. All Rights Reserved. Do Not Alter, Copy, Display, Distribute, Download, Duplicate, or Reproduce Without the Prior Written Consent of the Copyright Holder.