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WAUSEON — Is it the cows? The midway, merchant displays, or what?

Just why do so many people — more than 250,000 of them — trek to Fulton County's annual summer celebration of good friends, good food, and the good earth?

Possibly, just possibly, because it is a place like no other.

Consider this: Within seven days, you can hear the clang of horseshoes, the clash of combines, the call of an auctioneer.

You can see curly parsley, corn-husk creations, newborn calves, crab apples, canned elderberries, combs of honey. Rutabagas and rhubarb. Elephant ears and pigs' feet.

A place with concerts and competitions. Demolition derbies, horse and pony shows, tractor and truck pulls, and Percherons on parade. A place with prizes for decorated gourds, homemade soap, and plates of pralines.

Whether you're a veteran or 4-H member, whether you're a quilter, a from-scratch baker or amateur photographer, or if you're a farmer or city dweller, 'whoever you are and whatever you're interested in, there's something for you to see or to do at the fair,' fair secretary Jeanne Johnson of Fayette said.

That explains, at least in part, the popularity of the Fulton County Fair, which opened Friday.

How popular is the fair?

Wildly so.

Of nearly 100 agricultural fairs in Ohio, Fulton County ranks No. 2 in attendance, trailing only giant-sized Mahoning County.

In northwest Ohio, Fulton is the clear and consistent leader as the 'fairest of them all.'

Common heritage
The numbers tell a story. A story of community and connections. Of generations with a common heritage.

For Curt Johnson, a thread of blue denim ties his childhood memories to the county fair. He always, always, got his jeans dirty during fair week when he was a kid. He came to the fair with his dad, back in the late 1940s.

They'd load up a farm wagon and park it near the railroad tracks along the fairgrounds. At night, they piled into the wagon and tugged a canvas over top.

'The old train would come rattly-bang down the tracks at 11 o'clock at night.'

Annoying then, a great memory now.

These days, Mr. Johnson of Fayette still gets dirty at the fair. He's been a fair board member for 28 years.

For many, the fair is tradition, he said. It's time with friends and with family.

'If you live in this county,' Mr. Johnson said, 'you wouldn't miss Christmas. You wouldn't miss the fair. You always go to both.'

‘Fair people'
The fairgrounds is home-away-from-home for him and many other fair board members.

They have another name. Lumped together in friendly terms, they're called 'fair people.'

'You're either a fair person or you're not,' Mrs. Johnson said.

Fulton County fairly brims with fair people, people who take time off work or schedule family reunions to coincide with the event.

Thousands come to the fair just before it opens and don't leave until it ends: the fairgrounds has nearly 600 campsites and a lengthy waiting list for the coveted spots.

Solid backup
Outsiders say the county slows to a stop during fair week.

It speeds up, really, but the action is packed into the confines of the 200-acre fairgrounds.

When you invite a quarter-million people to spend a few days with you, you'd better have backup. And the fair board, of course, does.

Thousands of volunteers help tackle the massive to-do list, such as picking up trash, cooking concession-stand food, or sopping up spills with sawdust.

The fair is an expression of the county's personality, and how everyone works together during fair week says a lot about the people who live in the county, Jim Spiess of Wauseon, a member of the Fulton County Agricultural Hall of Fame, said.

During fair week, volunteers often start their chores before dawn and finish well after midnight.

At the day's end, board members gather to talk things over.

'We sit around the fire. We laugh a lot, especially about any messes we've made. At 6 o'clock, we start over and do it all over again,' Carl Buehrer, fair board president, said.

Sheepishly, he says the fair board isn't perfect. Sometimes, people mess up.

Mr. Buehrer of Delta recalled when he gave a talk to a group of senior citizens a few years ago and a lady voiced a complaint. Seems there was some sort of horse racing problem.

'Ma'am,' Mr. Buehrer said, 'Just when was this?'

She replied: 'In 1954, and I haven't been back since.'

His story underscores his philosophy: if something is wrong, correct it.

Fair board members — 15 of them — share responsibilities on a roster of 53 committees. Problems that crop up? 'Work it out,' Mr. Buehrer tells them. And check your attitude and politics at the door. Too much to do to waste time with all that.

Mr. Buehrer takes a business approach in his leadership role. 'You got to run the fair like a business. What do your customers want? Sometimes, you need to stop talking and start listening,' he said.

This customer-pleasing showcase is a living, breathing fair, alive with activities.

Sometimes, cows give birth during what become public spectacles. Visitors mob the dairy barn in anticipation.

Last year, people waited and waited. 'When the calf was born, you'd think you were at a football game, all the whooping and cheering,' said Mr. Johnson, noting that education is all part of the package.

There's a lot to learn, for instance, during the milking contest. Some young people have no idea that milk is produced by cows. 'Is that where milk comes from?' wide-eyed kids ask.

The magnet effect
In a barn on a recent morning, volunteers washed food dishes — made from empty tuna or cat food cans to save money — for chicken, turkey, duck, geese, and rabbit cages.

Bill Serna, fair board member, said more rabbits and other small animals will be entered this year by fair participants. With the economy sputtering, some young people shied away from large animals, which can cost more to own and raise.

Mr. Serna of Lyons, who has been on the fair board 20 years, knows the importance of a fair deal.

'We try to have a variety of things for people. It costs $5 to get in the gate, and there are a lot of free things to do and see. We try to be family-oriented. With families with 4, 5, or 6 kids, money can be hard to come by. We keep that in mind.'

Mr. Serna also knows the fair is like a magnet, pulling people to its gates.

Many adults who competed at the fair when they were youngsters regularly return here.

It's satisfying, Mr. Serna said, to be involved in something that continues to hold people's interest. 'They always come back to the fair.'

Contact Janet Romaker at: jromaker@theblade.com or 419-724-6006.

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