ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Wednesday, August 14, 1996 TAG: 9608140075
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
DATELINE: LEWISBURG, W. VA.
SERIES: A TALE OF TWO FAIRS
SOURCE: MARK MORRISON STAFF WRITER
Stretched 12 feet above the crowd and dressed as boldly as a carnival midway, Chally Erb makes a big impression.
``Come on, girls!'' he hollers, blowing out a crude snake charmer's melody on a toy horn to a group of teen-agers at his feet. ``The first one who does a belly dance wins a prize.''
The girls laugh awkwardly and act embarrassed and hurry away toward the sheep barn.
``Come on, give us a belly dance!
``Hey, where ya going?''
In many ways, like a walking, talking, stilted metaphor, Erb embodies the essence of the West Virginia State Fair, which began its weeklong run last Friday in the small mountain town of Lewisburg, about 90 miles from Roanoke.
The fair makes a big impression.
Each year, it draws about 250,000 people through its gates, ranking it among the top 100 of the 3,238 fairs held in North America, according to the International Association of Fairs and Expositions in Springfield, Mo. And of those 250,000 annual visitors, some 60,000 come in from Western Virginia. This makes it, in a sense, our adopted state fair, both in terms of its geographic proximity - Virginia's fair is in Richmond - and its cultural connection to Appalachia.
Plus, it features the ``Wall of Death.''
The ``Wall of Death'' makes a big impression.
It is a motorcycle daredevil act that's loud, smells of exhaust fumes, doesn't last very long and costs $2 in addition to the $6 admission price to the fair, but it's worth every penny.
The act works like this:
A pair of true blue bikers, Rusty Linfield and Samantha Morgan, who bill themselves as the ``California Hell Riders,'' enclose themselves inside a wooden drum measuring 30 feet in diameter. Then they fire up a pair of vintage motorcycles - a 1957 Harley and a 1927 Indian - and do laps inside.
Up on the wall.
At 50 and 60 mph.
With no helmets.
It's certifiably nuts.
It's also a wild study in the laws of gravity that you won't get from any physics class.
But it is Morgan who really steals the show. She can ride the wall side-saddle with no hands and with the grace of a swan, smiling the whole way.
The ``Wall of Death'' is one of only two such motor drum shows touring the country, Morgan said. They are nothing new, however.
Decades ago, they were a more common attraction at fairs and carnivals. Some even highlighted real live lions riding along with the drivers in sidecars.
Talk about spectacle.
Now those were the days.
This year officially marks the 72nd Annual State Fair of West Virginia, but its origins date back to 1858 when there was a fair held in Lewisburg that had the distinction of a visit from Confederate General Robert E. Lee's war horse, Traveller.
Years later, the fair became known as the Greenbrier Valley Fair before it was finally recognized as the state fair and renamed by the West Virginia legislature in 1941.
Of course, the first fairs were simpler gatherings. There were no Tilt-a-Whirls, no Zippers or Scooters or Sizzlers or Gravitrons, and no sideshows as grisly and gross and cheap as this midway attraction:
``Still Alive!'' the sign shouts at you.
``Headless Centerfold Model Decapitated - Condemned to a Living Death!''
``Tracy Steel, a voluptuous model, was beheaded when her car ran under a truck. Her headless body was taken to Ruben Medical Center where doctors and scientists performed an amazing operation - making it possible for Tracy to STAY ALIVE WITHOUT A HEAD!''
A peek costs you a buck, 50 cents if you're under 10.
Next door is the ``Ring-a-Knife'' game where players try to toss rings over an assortment of vicious-looking knives to win the stiletto of their choice.
Twenty rings for $2.
And nobody under 12 can play without an adult, which also means a 13-year-old can walk away from the game with a knife that has a not-so-comforting name like ``Rambo,'' ``Black Defender'' or the ``Silver Steel Tiger.''
The first fairs also didn't bring in championship rodeos or big, city-slicker singers from far-away places like Nashville.
This year's fair, can boast the likes of Tanya Tucker, Pam Tillis, Aaron Tippin, Lee Roy Parnell and Sawyer Brown.
It can boast Jerry Edle.
Edle is another attraction who makes a big impression. Sculptors wielding chain saws tend to do so.
He is from Iowa and spends part of his summers traveling the fair circuit to demonstrate his ability to turn a tree stump into a bear or a pelican or cowboy or some other chain saw statue that he says are worth about $300 a piece.
His sessions always draw a crowd.
``I was wondering if he ever hurts himself?'' says one mesmerized onlooker, Bob McClary of nearby White Sulphur Springs. ``I mean, I don't know, the way I handle a chain saw, I'd probably cut my leg off.''
There is a smell there, where Edle works, of sawdust and fresh cut wood and corn on the cob roasting over an open pit from the adjacent concession stand.
Over the course of the fair, the roasted corn stand will sell about 10,000 ears at $1.50 a pop.
Yet, all of these things - the big business of corn, the big buzz of a chain saw, headless centerfolds, stilt walkers, bullriders and motorcycle daredevils - in other ways are not so emblematic of the fair.
Often, it is the little impressions, the traditional things, that reflect the fair's truer essence.
The livestock competitions, the pig calling contest, the potato salad cook-off, the SPAM recipe judging, and the hundreds of displays of quilts and pies and zucchini and rhubarb and blackberry preserves and dried flowers, the things that don't attract the midway-sized crowds, but are packed with much more charm.
The fair isn't sitting at bingo counters that open at 9:30 in the morning and close near midnight.
The fair is a stroll through the beef barn or the hog barn or the goat tent or the rabbit building or the horse stables. It's the smell of straw bales and manure.
The fair is the powerful sight of a six-horse hitch team working together against the silhouette of a dusk sky.
It's the quiet care the farmers and their kids take in washing their lambs in preparation for the week's competition. And it's the noisy, annoyed bleating the lambs reply in protest.
The fair is the subtle tricks of the trade these caretakers will share with you if you ask them. Like if you don't rinse all the soap out of their white wool coats, they will turn green. Or if your lamb doesn't have a clean face and good wool socks around its hooves, then you can forget winning a blue ribbon.
America can be an ugly place sometimes. In these small corners, though, away from the crowds and crass commercialism, there is still an enchantment that is alive and thriving and beautiful.
Meanwhile, Chally Erb and his stilted sidekick, Beth White, continue on, juggling and clowning and accosting people to belly dance for them.
A woman walks by with an oversized stuffed bulldog from one of the carnival games.
She says she can't belly dance.
``You see, that's the trouble with winning those big things,'' Erb calls out after her. ``You gotta carry them around all day. Next thing you know, you'll have to start feeding them.''
He spies another woman.
``Hey, give us a belly dance!''
His sidekick demonstrates the technique.
``You just need to shake your booty and you'll go far,'' she says.
Reluctantly, the woman obliges.
``Hey shorty!'' the sidekick then says. ``Are you flirting with my boyfriend?''
LENGTH: Long : 165 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: 1. Among the biggest attractions at the fair is theby CNBprofessional rodeo (above). The fair also features Nashville musical
acts, harness racing and horse shows. color
2. Stiltwalkers Beth White and Chally Erb (inset below), who call
themselves ``The Second Story Theatre Company,'' entertain fair
goers 12 feet below. color
3. ALAN SPEARMAN STAFF The State Fair of West Virginia in Lewisburg
attracts 250,000 people each season. Sixty thousand come from
Virginia. color
4. California Hell Rider Samantha Morgan takes on the Wall of Death
- with no hands. color
5. The stiltwalkers (top) attract attention throughout the fair.
color ALAN SPEARMAN STAFF
6. Betty Reynolds of Maryland (left) bathes a lamb before it goes to
show. color
7. The Southern States Percheron Hitch Team rides off into the
sunset. color