Fifteen years ago, a friend and I were weaving our way down the teeming midway of the Meadowlands Fair. It was about 10 o'clock on a warm Saturday night, and the midway was bright as noon, illuminated by thousands of spinning colored lights. Everything was bright, everything was flashing-the rides and games and concession stands. The music-all kinds of music-blasted at us from all sides. The faces around us made it clear that everyone was happy to be at the fair. "You know, if there's a heaven, it'll be like this," my friend said, spreading his arms to contain it all, "extending in all directions, forever." I still feel that way.
There's very little left in this world that's quite like the Meadowlands Fair. Fairs and carnivals in their present configuration (the Meadowlands, after all, is really just a traveling carnival with a pituitary problem) can be traced back at least to the Romans. Sadly though, developments in the technologies of entertainment over the past half century have made them a fast-dying form. But for my money, they can't be topped. On the East Coast, nothing beats the Meadowlands Fair.
It's a little seedy and potentially deadly, sure, but it's also one of the most overwhelming technicolor celebrations of freedom and life I've ever known. I played poker with Grady "The Lobster Boy" Stiles at the fair the summer before his murder. Another year, ageless sideshow king Ward Hall revealed to me the secret history of his traveling wax museum. I watched dozens of terrified teenage girls tear through a tent wall when the climax of the old "Girl-to-Gorilla" show caught them off guard. I saw a sharp-eyed, cruel and psychologically astute clown point out the hidden weaknesses of complete strangers in an effort to goad them into trying to dunk him into a tank of water. I watched motorcycles roar around inside a Globe of Death, and witnessed more thrilling pig races than I can remember. I petted a six-legged goat and had a chance to chat with the World's Smallest Woman. I had a few beers, ate a few corn dogs, rode a few rides, and in one instance even won a large stuffed beast. And for all the times I've gone, I've never once left feeling anything but giddy. I don't often feel giddy.
See, there's a world of difference between the circus and the State Fair. A circus is passive. You just sit in your seat and watch a very carefully choreographed performance. Then you go home when it's over. The fair, by contrast, requires wandering around, exploring, discovering things on your own. In fact if you don't go exploring around the grounds, chances are you won't find things like the "Billy the Drug Addict" show, the "World's Smallest Horses," or the "Living Headless Girl" exhibit.
It's, again, about freedom. Well, freedom and sensory overload. There's no escaping the lights, the voices, the music, the smells. It's very easy to lose complete sense of yourself beneath the onslaught. And it's that loss of self which might help explain why the Meadowlands Fair has provided me with lessons in tolerance and diversity no pinch-faced old hippie could ever hope to top. Of course, all the freaks had something to do with that, too.
Now, admittedly, the Meadowlands Fair (at Giants Stadium Fairgrounds in East Rutherford, N.J.) is across the river in Jersey, and so is not officially a "New York" event. But it's as close as the city's going to get to a real state fair, given that the official New York State Fair takes place in Syracuse.
It's been a shaky few years for the Meadowlands Fair. In fact, there have been several recent years when (usually on account of economic disputes) it hasn't happened at all. It always left me feeling a little empty when I learned there would be no fair that year. That's why I was so happy to learn it would be back this year. And from the looks of it, it's coming back with style.
Over the course of its two-week run, the fair is offering up performances by a troupe of African acrobats, motorcycle daredevils, a human cannonball, a big cat show, rock bands, tightrope walkers, wandering clowns, jugglers and musicians, a petting zoo, fire-eaters and sword-swallowers, questionable games of chance, shaky rides, guys on stilts, age and weight guessers, beer, and the inevitable (and always strangely exciting) pig races. And though they don't like admitting it officially, they'll be a few sideshows tucked away around the edges, too.
Yes, there is a dark underbelly to be found if you go looking for it (and I always do). The quaint and charming "state fair" of Four-H clubs, blue-ribbon apple pies, and Judy Garland movies is there, but barely. You probably don't want to go trusting any of the carnies to keep an eye on your wallet or kid. But, that said, I still consider it a necessary and formative American experience; something every kid and adult alike in this increasingly cold and detached and generic country should be exposed to. Because you won't find much of anything like it anyplace else, and in a few short years, you probably won't be able to find it at all-at least until you get to heaven. n
June 22-July 9. Giants Stadium, Rutherford, N.J., $4-$9. www.NJFair.com.