The “Barker” had convinced these adolescents that the Hollywood characters were as real as their roles in the movies but assured them that they wouldn’t touch the boys. Then, taking their change, he pointed them toward the gangway and stuffed the tickets in their hands. The admission fee was 50¢ each for an adventure they might never forget. Cocking his straw hat off his forehead, the man turned and scanned the crowd for more customers . . . or suckers. The boys were having second thoughts. What lay on the other side of that partition?
Earlier in the week cousins Bill and Mike had planned to hit the State Fair like a tsunami . . . that is, if Bill’s dad, Uncle Al, would take them. Most of the summer, they’d saved up for just such an event by mowing lawns, running errands, collecting refunds on discarded pop bottles, and whatever else they could find to do for money. Mike had $5 and Billy had $7 and Friday was free day for school kids! They were ready.
Monday trudged by into Tuesday. Wednesday slithered in and out and still no word from Bill or his Dad. Thursday, Mike meandered home after school thinking he’d never hear now. It was too late. Walking in the door of the house, Mom spoke in her usual cheery voice, “Hi, how was your day?”
He paused as he put down his books. “Pretty normal, I guess.” In a disappointed tone, he continued, “We didn’t get much homework from Mr. Eilerts. He wants us to enjoy Fair Day and write a paper on our experiences.” He shrugged a little and commented, “Haven’t heard from Billy so I guess we won’t be going tomorrow.”
Sympathizing, she said, “I’m sorry. I have to work tomorrow or I’d take you both. Daddy will be leaving early or he would have helped, too.”
“Oh, it’s OK, Mom. I’ve been plenty of times before. It’s just . . . well, me and Billy were going alone and,” boosting his voice with pent-up enthusiasm, “Man, would that be fun!”
Mom nodded and turned back to the pot on the stove. “It will work out one way or another,” she commented. “Be patient. And just think, next year you boys can drive yourselves.” For Mike, driving wasn’t an option he would have warmly considered at the time. His last attempt behind the wheel landed him and his older brother in a ditch. He turned and headed for the front room.
Just then, the phone rang. Mom called out, “Honey, can you answer that? My hands are messy.”
“Sure.” He headed for the phone and picking up the receiver said, “Hello?”
“Hey, Mikey! Guess what?” It was Cousin Bill! Mike’s heart pounded with excitement.
“What? Are we going?”
“You bet! Dad forgot about it, said he has to meet with some guy about a job and run some errands.”
Hesitating, Mike wondered how that was good news. Apprehensively, he continued, “So . . . are we going or not?”
Bill, almost shouting, replied, “Well, yeah! We’ll get you about 9 in the morning and he’ll drop us off around 10 at the front gate. Then pick us up at 2 around the pavilion. It’s gonna be a blast!”
“Oh, wow!” was about all Mike could say. Visions of the Bumper cars, the Roller Coaster and Round-up flashed in his head. Beaming, he exclaimed, “Cool! See you tomorrow,” and slammed down the phone.
“We’re going, Mom!” he said gleefully.
Turning, she offered a loving smile and said, “See? You just needed to be patient.”
That night, Mike wrestled under the bed covers imagining the day to come. Sleep finally overtook him. The night hours whisked by as the bright rays of morning sunlight peeked through the window. Realizing it was late, Mike jumped to his feet, threw on his clothes, stuffed the hoarded stash of coins and bills into his front jean pockets, bounced down the stairwell and headed for the kitchen. Mom was setting his plate on the table.
“Good morning! You just about overslept, you know. Now sit down and eat.” She placed the steaming hot pancakes and eggs in front of him and continued, “Uncle Albert just called. He’ll be here in about ten minutes. Got your money?”
“You bet!” he said, cramming the food down his throat.
“How much are you taking?” she asked, with a glint in her eye.
“Five dollars! And it’s free day!”
“Well, you’re a rich man. And here I’d kept a couple dollars in my coin purse to get you through the gate. I guess you don’t need that now” she said laughingly. Then, pulling them from her coin purse, she slid them across the table. “Have fun! Love you.”
Mike grabbed the cash, shoved them in his pockets, wolfed down the rest of his breakfast, hugged his Mom and ran toward the front door. And just in time. Uncle Al was pulling into the driveway honking the horn. Mike shot out the front porch door, skipped the steps, and hit the ground running. Jumping in the back seat with Bill, they sped off to the fair.
As Uncle Albert pulled the car up to the front gate, he reminded the boys about being in front of the pavilion at 2 o’clock and then scooted them out. The boys slammed the car door and wiggled their way into the crowd.
The events of the morning were a complete blur as the two rode all their favorite rides. Adventure was the name of the game but the Tilt-A-Whirl made them somewhat queasy. Before getting on, they’d loaded up on corny dogs, cotton candy and chocolate malts. They skipped the Farris Wheel. It was way too tame. Seeking new thrills, our juveniles ambled into the sideshow area.
The funhouse and house of mirrors were old hat, and the bearded lady at the Freak Show weirded them out just by the billing. As they wandered along, they watched people at the ring toss, the Duck Shooting Gallery and Penny Arcade. One guy maneuvering a silver ring with a metal claw was diverting, but they still needed something more.
That’s when they saw it, The Monster Hall of Fame! In the midst of the noisy carnival clamor, Bill and Mike stopped as if star-struck. The sideshow semi-trailer had been fitted as a walk-thru museum featuring the scariest of them all: the Mummy, the Wolf Man, Frankenstein's Monster and Dracula!
Mesmerized, they inched toward the ticket booth. Mike pushed his hand into his pocket. He had about a dollar left. Whatever they did next had to be good. He looked over to Bill. “What do you think?”
Bill looked at his cash. “Well, why not?” Then he paused, “You know, they could be fakes. Not the real guys. What do you think?”
Not about to show his fear, he looked at Bill and said, “Ah, let’s go! . . . You first.” And up the steps of the gangway they went.
Second thoughts were cast aside as Bill flung the curtains open and stepped out of the bright sunshine into the dark inner sanctum. Mike followed in close pursuit. The curtains closed behind them enveloping them in blackness. They paused, allowing their eyes to adjust.
Pressing forward into the unknown darkness, the music subsided. Groans emerged just a few yards ahead. Slowly, they moved down the sloping sheet metal gang plank. The walkway was only wide enough to proceed in single file. The groans grew less believable as they approached the first “exhibit.”
A couple more steps and a dim light flashed on. Suddenly, a dirty rag wrapped hand jabbed through some steels bars in a feeble attempt to grab one of the travelers. Startled, they veered sideways. It was a mummy, but not the Mummy, and a poor imitation at that.
The momentary surprise subsided as they looked down toward a figure seated on a make-shift stool in the corner outside the cell. There, in a heap before them, was a dummy dressed as the Wolf Man. It was obviously a fake show. Phony costuming and fakery transformed Mike’s astonishment into annoyance. In a low voice, he whispered to Bill just inches away, “What a bunch of phony bologna!”
Bill was equally disgusted. “Yeah, what a waste of money!”
They turned left at the would-be Wolf Man and headed down the dimly lit corridor. As they walked, more confidently now, manufactured spider webs traced their faces accompanied by recorded creaky sounds, wolf howls, and banshee cries.
Bill muttered, “Oh, brother.” Boldly, he marched on, picking up the pace. Mike followed in suit allowing the inches between them to expand into feet, but something didn’t feel right. He felt a presence, but couldn’t identify it in the darkness.
Listening more intently, there seemed to be a shuffling sound coming from behind him and closing in. Shrouded by darkness, he glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, the Wolf Man had joined their solemn parade. It wasn’t a dummy at all, but a guy dressed in costume. He was inching toward the boys, providing a throaty huff and puff down Mike’s neck.
The warm breaths increased as the werewolf pressed closer. Mike was becoming agitated. He thought, “This guy is pushing the limits! Boy, if I could only stomp his foot or something.” Then, an idea flashed through his brain.
Looking ahead, he could make out one last costumed character, a guy in a black cape. Light leaking through the Exit illuminated the final bend. He saw his chance. Leaning forward, he whispered in Bill’s ear, “When I say run, RUN!”
Perplexed, Bill responded, “What? . . . Why?”
By now the werewolf had Mike pretty peeved. He hissed back, “Just do it! We have a tag-along and I’m ditching him, so get ready.”
“OK!”
The Wolf Man kept in stride, step for step, just inches from Mike’s back. He felt a nudge on the back of his head. It must have been the mask the man wore. It was probably bumping into his hair. That did it!
The trio had reached the last corner. The warm autumn breeze allowed daylight to break through the Exit curtains on their left. That was Mike’s cue. “RUN!” he shouted, and, mustering his courage, he turned, grabbed the Wolf Man’s rubber masked nose between his fingers and gave it a firm yank! The mask stretched and snapped into the face of the faker with a resounding “Whhhaaack!”
Breaking out of character, the hairy nuisance let out a hearty “Oooowww!” Without even a glance at the caped creature, the boys accelerated into full gallop, and shot out the Exit door. Like shells from a cannon, they exploded into the daylight, barely grazed the top of the exit ramp, flew over the Exit steps and went airborne, hitting the ground running a couple yards past the metal gangway.
Howls and curses echoed from inside the sideshow trailer followed by an angry, “You kids come back here!” Panting, the boys disappeared into the crowd. Glancing back to make sure no one was in hot pursuit, Mike puffed, “All clear. We can stop running.”
Half laughing, Bill blurted, “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”
Catching his breath, Mike retorted, “That guy was a real pest! I mean, breathing down my neck like that, so I twisted his nose. I might have undone his costume I suppose . . . but he deserved it!” The boys burst into laughter and headed for the pavilion to meet up with Bill’s Dad.
It had been a grand, memorable day, and they would never look at the State Fair Sideshows in the same way again.
By Michael Alumbaugh, © October 2017
