The History of County Fairs by Linda Ford

My book The Rancher’s Surprise Triplets features a county fair which the Lone Star Cowboy League hopes will raise money enough to fund their many projects. Ironically enough, I have another book out in July 2017 that also includes a county fair.  I suspect most, if not all of us, have attended a county fair, a state fair, or even a local fair.

I hadn’t given the history of fairs much thought, but my curiosity was aroused. The earliest record of a fair that I could find was in Ezekiel Chapter 27."Tarshish was thy merchant by reason of the multitude of the kinds of riches with silver, iron, tin and lead, they traded in thy fairs." But from the description, it sounds more like our modern-day farmers markets. Other research verifies this, such as this picture by Flemish artist Gillis Mostaert 1590 (as found on Wikipedia).

According to my research, the first known agricultural fair in North America took place in Windsor, Nova Scotia, in 1765 and continues to this day. The first American fair is thought to have been organized in Pittsfield, MA, in 1807 by Franklin Watson. It became known as the Berkshire County Fair and still operates as such today.

Over the years the fair developed into local exhibitions of new agricultural implements and techniques, and plowing contests and horse pulls.

Entertainment soon became part of the scene with horse racing, balloon ascensions, games of chance, and midway rides.

I couldn’t find definitive dates as to when the fair began to include exhibition and competition of domestic products such as jams and jellies, handicrafts, baked goods, and garden produce. The prizes were usually rosettes –blue for first, red for second, and green or white for third.

I find the bench show fascinating. There are samples from gardens, flower arrangements, pickles, and jams. There's baking—pies, bread, rolls, biscuits, cookies, and cakes (all with a bit taken out for testing). There's sewing. The quilts are beautiful, the crafts unique. And there's artwork—paintings, drawings, and photography. The adult entries leave me overwhelmed, but the children's entries blow me away. The level of expertise in their work, the creative energy evident is amazing. One entry I once saw was a Lego model depicting Main Street with the parade going by. There was such detail—a man in a wheelchair, children picking up candy, a garbage can at the corner—imagination and attention to detail evident in every piece. I find the bench show a veritable feast for the senses. The animal and machinery display not quite so interesting to me.

The fairs began and continue as a means of informing others of developments and local availability of goods and services. They include tribute to those who excel in various crafts and skills. I love a fair. 

Down with All Fairs! The Outcry Over Camberwell

Last week I shared my delight with our new Western Washington State Fair.  The young ladies and gentlemen of nineteenth century London were no stranger to fairs, either.  I've talked about the fair at Greenwich on Easter Monday, which was a delight or a terror depending on who you spoke with, and Bartholomew Fair, which was closer to the terror side.  But another fair near London had an even worse reputation, so much so that the local inhabitants actively campaigned for its removal, several times!

Camberwell Fair was held in the middle of August near the intersection of Church Street and Camberwell Road in what would become Camberwell Park on the south side of the Thames. Various businesses and individuals erected tents and booths from which fair goers could partake of food such as corn cakes and gingerbread.  In 1832, for example, Richardson's theatre set up a splendid tent and hosted dramas like Hamlet.  Alger's Crown and Anchor Tavern was given high praise for its sumptuous decorations, from chandeliers to flags and banners. 

During the day, the place was fairly tame, so much so that nursery maids brought their young charges down to see the animals that were displayed, the curiosities of nature, and the puppet shows.  Barkers cried out the amazing sights to be seen for only a penny behind the walls of their tents.  One year a mermaid was on display, "lately caught and highly accomplished," according to Old and New London of 1878.  She was said to have had the best instructors in her education and could debate on any topic.  She had, it was also said, recently leaped out of her tub to floor a member of the Royal Zoological Society who had disagreed with her on some topic. I imagine a number of the fairgoers had greatly enjoyed that sight.

But however amusing Camberwell Fair was by day, by night, it was another matter.  One contemporary called it "greatly animated."  That is putting it mildly.  Fires and rioting weren't uncommon.  Indeed, in 1807, a magician running a puppet show involving the devil and Napoleon had a sausage pan explode behind him, engulfing the booth in flames.  Luckily, the fire did not extend to the other booths. 

As more aristocracy and gentry displaced the farmers who had called the area home, the inhabitants began taking steps to have the fair cancelled.  Unfortunately, holding the fair was a right of the two lords of the manor associated with the area and brought the participating businesses considerable income.  A campaign in 1823 brought the matter to the courts, but ultimately failed in shutting down the fair.  The 1839 campaign involved the vicar and clergymen of the area as well as the editors of the London City Mission Magazine, who wrote to the two lords of the manor and begged them to end the fair.  Only one of the gentlemen was receptive, so that campaign too failed.  In 1855 the local inhabitants banded together and raised sufficient funds to buy the manorial rights to the area.  Only then could they cancel the fair.

And speaking of fair, it's only fair that you should have a voice as to the future of this blog.  Do come back next week for our annual birthday party and your chance to tell us what you'd like to see more (or less) of.  And you don't even have to buy the manorial rights!

Nineteenth Century Today: All's Fair in Puyallup

Our new State Fair in Puyallup starts today.  Yes, the massive, impressive, stupendous Puyallup Fair is now officially Washington's State Fair.  Having grown up not too far from it, I'm inordinately proud.  And though it started in 1900, just after the nineteenth century and on another continent from our beloved England, I thought it worthy of comment.

The Puyallup Valley runs from Mt. Rainier down to Commencement Bay in Tacoma, following the path of the glacier-fed Puyallup River.  The area has been growing crops since it was settled in the 1850s and was home to the Puyallup Tribe before that.  In 1900, local residents banded together to charter a "Valley Fair" to showcase area agriculture, horticulture, dairies, stock raising, mining, and manufacturing.  The small fair, which ran for three days, cost each family a dollar to attend.

But what really put the Puyallup Fair on the map was horse racing.  In 1901, the fair expanded to include a race track and was held over four days.  That original race track was used until 1977.  So many people came from far and wide that in 1902 the fair added parking lots for the jalopies. From there, the fair continued to expand, to more days, more acreage, more activities affecting more people in more areas.  In 1913, it became the Western Washington Fair, but even when I was born more than four decades later, everyone still called it "the Puyallup."

Attendance in 1922 was at 130,000, which skyrocketed to nearly 400,000 by the late 1930s.  Sadly, the federal government commandeered the fairgrounds for much of World War II.  It served as a camp for an army unit, then a relocation center for Japanese-Americans, and finally home to a Signal Service Battalion.  The grounds were closed until 1946, but it has continued its momentous growth since then, with attendance now in the millions.

One of the mainstays of the Fair was Fisher scones, fresh made and dripping with raspberry jam.  That tradition started in 1915 and continues today.  Another tradition was lost in a fire in 1970.  That was a ride called The Old Mill Stream, where couples could ride on boats through a shadowed waterway that included vistas from exotic locations.  It was all terribly romantic, except for the last scene.  All you saw was the back end of a donkey that kicked out at the boat.  It was supposed to drive the girl squealing into her boyfriend's arms. Though I was in elementary school, I loved that ride!  I couldn't wait until I had a boyfriend to throw myself at. All's fair in love, after all.

Welcome to statehood, Puyallup Fair!