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The Beaver County Fair Grounds in Beaver, 1899.

There's nothing quite like that sweet fragrance of cotton candy, popcorn or waffle cakes at the local fair. A yardstick of genuine family values, it came in late summer when it seemed as if every community back in those days had one.

Most are gone now. Many have departed due to rising costs, the changes that have come over times or for other reasons. Only three remain in Beaver County today: Big Knob in New Sewickley Township, Hookstown in Greene Township and the ever-popular Chippewa Firemen's Festival.

Sure there's street fairs here and there, but there is nothing like the genuine article. Many a romance budded on the fairgrounds too. "I know of at least a half dozen that met their mate for life on the midway," Myron Elliott of Hookstown laughed. "As a matter of fact," he continued, "a wedding was held on the fair grounds 1907; they met here."

Charles Townsend, historian from Darlington said, "The New Galilee fair was big for such a small town. What a great time one could have there on a warm summer evening." It was forced to shut down in the 1980s.

Denny Krebs mentioned that it began in 1929, and took people's mind off the Great Depression for a couple hours. It went on until World War II. "It started and stopped again several times. We tried in 1999 and in 2000, but couldn't make a go of it."

South Beaver Fair thrilled fans from the early 1960's to the early 1970's, according to Robert Long. The fair was held across from the fire station on Route 168. It was small but a great diversion for this farming community.

A spokesman for the Patterson Heights fair said, "We lost most of our grounds due to the building of a new school. So we had to cut down and do a smaller version, but that closed in 1990."

At North Sewickley, I suppose my favorite treat was that pink cotton candy. I have nothing but fond memories of Mrs. Fred Teets rolling up another cone of that sticky stuff. But then, a bigger guy would get it for his girl and my grin turned to a frown. I'm sure that many of us remember being mesmerized by that machine.

Rich Vostas gives it his best shot.

Carol Senior-Vogler recalls working at the refreshment stand making "suicides." She describes them as being four kinds of pop mixed together. They were real popular though. She now marvels, "You know I was only 12 or 13 years old and they trusted us kids, not only with money, but, to give the right change." After the fair was history, she grinned, "I went bleacher to bleacher at the Rodeo selling 10-cent snow cones."
And, who can forget those games of chance? They include tossing a basketball, trying to knock over those silver milk bottles and snaring a little yellow duck from that trough.
Ray Riles, owner-operator of Giles Country Market explained that he liked to toss the hoop over the live duck's heads. "I was a farm kid all the way. If you managed to do it, you got to keep the ducks."

"The trouble is they were the kind that could fly. We put 'em in a pen, and the next morning it was empty," he sighed. "The last time I saw them, they were heading for the river."
Yours truly played safe and went for the little ducklings. That was a prize every time. I'm sure mom liked the rubber snakes, tom-toms and whistles I'd bring home.

Then there was that poor guy in the water tank. He'd be nervously watching as we made like Vernon Law or Elroy Face, firing a "must pitch" toward that arm and target which sent him down under.

And how about the fellow who guessed your weight? Generally sporting suspenders, he'd make sure our pockets were empty before he'd predict. Win by say more than three pounds, and you'd be the proud owner of a prize. Strange, but seldom were the big prizes such as stuffed animals given out.

As the years went by, and the fair-goers got older, the strapping youth would try to win that big teddy bear for that special someone, usually a pretty gal cheering him on. After a half-hour and lots of quarters later, the bear was theirs. It was only about three times the price they would have paid for it if they had bought it at the store. But it was the principle of the thing, right?

Bella Douglass orchestrated the idea of holding a fair in North Sewickley. The first few were held in the Grange Hall near what was then Marr's Market. It is now Paul's. Former Grange master Harold Douglass reported, "Exhibits, quilting displays, baked goods, etc. were on the main floor. Dinners were prepared and served in the basement. For example, a baked ham dinner with scalloped potatoes, yellow beans, tossed salad and pie a la' mode sold for $1.75. Oh, that included coffee or iced tea too.

"It was popular and well attended," Harold Douglass pointed out. "The Volunteer Fire Department across the highway was asked to join. So, we held it in big tents behind the fire hall." That didn't turn out to be a good move. The two groups then argued about chairman, committees and money.

Another factor that I think contributed to its downfall was when President Dwight Eisenhower in 1959 restructured the highway system. His administration designated that all north-south routes be odd numbered, while highways going east-west would be even numbered digits. The main route from Beaver Falls stayed 588 as it was an east-west highway, but our Route 88 became Highway 65.

A Curious Aside--There's a piece in the North Sewickley Township Bicentennial that leaves one shaking his head. It seems that a man, years ago, reportedly found a two foot vein of silver over 80 acres. He coyly covered it up again so others wouldn't stake a claim. But, before he could make arrangements to mine it himself, he was killed. His secret went with him. Fact or urban legend? We'll probably never know.

But, back to the fairs. My own most vivid memory was running from tent to tent picking up the valuable "freebies" from the different vendors. The pavilions would be filled with representatives from hardware stores, auto dealers, farm implement stores and the like. I get misty- eyed when I think of those big green and white Mellon Bank calendars ripe for the picking.

The well-dressed men would stand behind a table of "goodies." Most would fold their arms behind their backs. Now, that I think about it, I "kinda" wonder if that was their way to control themselves and not wringing our puny little necks. We'd race back and forth across the aisle grabbing free pencils, balloons, yardsticks, auto trash bags, paint stirrers or whatever they were giving away. It was like Christmas!

These were the days of friendly "Mom and Pop" type stores. Quite often, we'd know the person at the table. It was a time of much public pride and community support. The vast Wal-Mart's, fast food joints, Home Depots and other impersonal mega-stores where still in the future ---------thank god!

Harold Douglass explained that when our fair ran, "It was the right time and the right place, for one thing." He grinned, "We were all younger. The grange was made up of a lot of strong farmers and the firemen had lots of vim and vinegar." The event, which included 12 acres, also had livestock competition and projects made by members of the 4-H Club, boy and girl scouts. This was real quality time.

And, who can forget the rides? It was far from today's costly theme parks, but we had as much fun. They'd include a train for the younger kids to ride on, a music- playing merry-go-round, a tilt-a-whirl and a tall Ferris wheel that always stopped when you were at the very tip-top. Pony rides and a petting zoo were both a "must." That tug-of-war with a barrel on a line being splashed back and forth would bring out the laughs too.

Speaking of laughter, a smiling Ray Abels asked, "Do you remember trying to straddle the ruts when parking cars? Ha, we'd be given coupons for a hot dog and drink." This writer also remembers the quagmire in the dirt lot should it rain. "Yeah," Pete Brown of Brown's auto repair on Concord Circle said, "I remember having to tow several people out. We'd be there with our tow trucks anyway, waiting for the demolition derbies."

We kids didn't worry about the "cold war" at all these nights. It'd just have to wait as we were having too much fun. This was also where I had to squeeze my way through a large throng to see this new fangled thing that had rabbit ears. I guessed it was a rare electronic animal, but I saw the strangest device. I heard adults say the guy on the fuzzy black and white screen was from Pittsburgh! Yeah, right!

Oh, we may not have had Bob Hope, John Wayne or any other big names, but we didn't care. The Rochester Tumbling Team was there along with an all- girl fife and drum corps from Meridian. The big Beaver Falls Band (this was before Riverside and Blackhawk) appeared. We even had a choral group from Midland. Abbie Neal of WDTV (Dumont) was there later.

Harold Douglass noted that the local North Sewickley fair was tailored after "Big Knob" festivities. And, those folks apparently know a thing or two as they just held their 63rd this year.

"Big Knob actually began 65 years ago," Hilda Pflug of the fair board explained. "We had to cancel one due to World War II and another time when the turnpike came through in 1950 and built their road through our fair grounds and forced us to move to our present site." The fair, sponsored by grange 2008, gets much public support, Harold Douglass conveyed.

But, the record for the oldest active fair in the County goes down to Greene Township. Myron Elliott, spokesman, specified that the Hookstown Fair's forerunner, "The Mill Creek Valley Fair began in a 15 acre field in 1885. It was incorporated in 1886." Thus, many of the first fair goers had to make the trip in hay wagons. Some came across the river and had to take Cook's Ferry over to what was State Route 243 (now Rt. 168). A newspaper story pointed out that the lineup waiting turns to cross the river extended for a mile or more.

Hookstown Fair Board 1905-1910.

"Later in 1905," Elliott disclosed, "the fair was reorganized into the Hookstown Fair. It was held across the road from where it's now located. They didn't have it for awhile but restarted it in 1947, at the present 70 acre site owned by the grange."

Elliott added that it's being expanded and now includes a one-room schoolhouse, a fully operational blacksmith shop and a log cabin.

Elliott, in closing, remarked: "A fair-goer that's really interested in this area's history and background should stop by what we call the community tent which includes hundreds of photographs." He also praised the 4-H Club, "They've been a lot of help in making the fair a success."

Ariel view of the Hookstown Fair.

However, the original Beaver County Fair goes back even further. It was held each year from 1853 to 1898 at the east end of Beaver. This would be the area where Bert's Wooden Indian restaurant and the Beaver County Times office are located today. It was forced to cancel in 1862 when confederate General Robert E. Lee was invading the north. Harness races were the main attraction and the spectators not only filled the grand stands but also watched elbow-to-elbow over the fence enclosing the track.

It was said to be so popular that special trains from both the P. & L. E. and Pennsylvania railroads were run. Also, hundreds of fair-goers would pay their two-cent toll at the bridge and come across from the other shore. They'd happily climb the small hill to watch the festivities.

The April 18, 1968 issue of the News North made the statement, "that the rides included a horse or donkey powered merry-go-round." The animals would slowly walk in circles while the lucky riders would try and grab that brass ring. A concession was also, "available for those who came to spend the day."

Family passes sold for $1.00. Ribbons were given for livestock, knitted articles, quilts, and other displays.
The first joint North Sewickley Township fair was held Wednesday August 13, through Saturday August 16, 1952. According to the Beaver County Times, the last reported event was held in 1965. The fire department didn't keep records a spokesman told me.

Janet May- Copeland recalls that she went there often while growing up. "My biggest thrill was when Patty Bonnage opened it, riding down the midway standing on two horses, Annie Oakley style." "Yes," Darlene Homer agrees, "she was quite the rider." Patty, daughter of historian Bob Bonnage, married and is a schoolteacher.

When reached, Patty Sporka(Bonnage) offers that the demise of the fair, "was just a case of changing times. Televisions and other forms of entertainment have come in." Ray Abels, who parked cars and was a presenter, pointed out that, "We just weren't getting live- stock anymore. The farms were on the way out and if the pickings were slim, it's hard to attract the big buyers. A&P, Armour Star, Swift and the others weren't either coming or giving good prices anymore."

He did find more than a buyer for his live- stock though. He met Sally Scott; a romance bloomed, and four children, nine grandchildren, and eleven great- grandchildren later, they still reside on a farm just over the hill from where they met in 1958. That was also the year Ray Giles met Judy Garvin. They had three children, eleven grandchildren and four great- grandchildren.

Olive Smilek surmises that, "Orrin Swick being killed also put a damper on things." "Yes," Ray Giles stated, "I'll never forget being there that day. Everything got deathly quiet." The popular 39-year old and father of four was working as a volunteer at the time, working on a transformer when the deadly accident occurred.

As mentioned earlier, another insidious factor also eroded this popular event.

Harold Douglass, a North Sewickley icon, blames politics and discord as being the "main culprits." The grange members and firemen got to "fighting" as who the chairperson would be or who would serve on what committee." Olive, who has been a member of the auxiliary since its inception in February 1940, agreed.

Fred Teets, the oldest active firemen at 76 years young, added, "We even built a big corral behind the fairgrounds, but that didn't last long." Joyce Barnhart Woroszylo can tell you exactly how long it lasted. "It was 1969. I was very pregnant and can remember those hard seats and that hot unrelenting sun," the Brighton Hot Dog Shoppe employee sighed.
It is fitting that a girl's softball complex is there now though, keeping the screams alive. But, the fair memories are fading away.

The circus came to the county at various times too.

Keith Blaho remembers one in Beaver Falls. "My mother had $10 and seven of us went," he chuckled. "We got orange drink and peanuts to drop them into the elephants trunks." Other circuses were held at Junction Park, New Brighton.

A Wild West Show, today's rodeo, was held in 1910 on a field were the swimming pool is in upper Beaver Falls. Hundreds arrived by trolley to see Buffalo Bill and Annie Oakley performed. Hundreds more watched the parade up Seventh Avenue led by Bill Cody himself and Miss Oakley, who could hit dimes in the air.

Another was held May 10, 1937 with one of my favorite cowboy stars, Hoot Gibson, being the main attraction. Reports say the fete included stunt riders, trapeze artists, tumblers and tight-wire walkers, "in an almost unending procession of thrills and feats of daring." Elmer the elephant was also a big draw.

A three-ring affair was held as recently as June 1999 at the old Spotlight 88 drive-in grounds. The Robert bothers put on an exciting two-day, three-show run under a big blue and white tent.

Another was held recently under a red-and-yellow big top, at Hopewell Plaza.

I've saved this last circus on purpose. Some Beaver Countians might cringe when they think back 61 years ago to when the King Brothers visited the New Sheffield grounds in Hopewell Township. The pre-news release looked impressive, however the stop over proved to be a disaster.

No one paid much attention to the grand stands swaying as spectators clamored to seats. Just as the show began, a loud cracking noise was heard. Thinking it was a normal circus sound, the fans watched on. In a matter of seconds, the seats collapsed. Stunned, the crowd raced out stampeding over others. There were more than 60 persons injured.

Management used stalling tactics when patrons demanded their money back. As officials began writing out 50 word receipts, the lights "accidentally" went out. Three days later, several spectators were still in hospitals, but it also came out that King Brothers did not carry liability insurance.

Four days later, the first lawsuit was filed. The circus was impounded on June 6th as lawsuits soared.

The next day, after a mad cross-country chase, the King Brothers circus was overtaken only eight miles from the New York state line.