Small ag fairs struggle with less money, attendance and youth

MIDDLEFIELD, Mass. – The sheep barn was empty this year at the Middlefield Agricultural Fair. The cattle barn would’ve been too, if not for a hodgepodge petting zoo of a few llamas, a half-dozen goats, one potbellied pig and a handful of bunnies.

Interest and attendance is slipping at many of the state’s 40 or so small agricultural fairs that dot the calendar between May and September, even as those who track similar events across the country say interest is growing in family-style entertainment.

Volunteers who run the Heath Fair almost called last year’s event their last, and the 2006 Middlfield fair wound up $600 in the hole, the most dismal point in its 152-year history.

“You beat yourself up year after year, and it reaches a point where you ask what we’re doing this for,” said Skip Savery, a past president who still volunteers to put on the Middlefield fair. “It’s mostly about tradition. But it gets to be a real soul search.”

These aren’t the grand events like the Topsfield Fair and the Big E in West Springfield that together attract more than 1.5 million visitors each year with big name concerts, carnival rides and circus acts.

They’re not the countywide fairs in farm-rich states like Pennsylvania, where lawmakers earmark millions of dollars for the occasions.

Instead, these small-town get-togethers rely on fried dough vendors, local farmers and volunteers to entertain a few thousand people during a weekend with horse and tractor pulls, skillet throwing contests and homespun traditions that knit them to their agricultural roots.

Organizers say the decline of their events goes hand-in-hand with the state’s fading farm scene. In 1997, there were 7,300 farms in Massachusetts. Today, there are about 6,100.

“We don’t have the 500-acre farms that could sustain a family business anymore,” said Cindy Herman, president of the Middlefield fair. “Now we either have really big farms that make all the money, or the small farms that don’t.”

Around the country, about 160 million people went to state, county or regional agricultural fairs last year, said Jim Tucker, president of the International Association of Fairs and Expositions based in Springfield, Mo.

“A lot of fairs say their attendance is steady or increasing,” he said. “People go to fairs for food, animals and rides. They’re a safe place to be entertained, and you could feel a sense of community.”

Ten years ago, hundreds of head of cattle and sheep competed for blue ribbons at the Middlefield fair. But as the fair’s budget has dwindled, so has the ability to pay decent cash prizes. With shrinking purses, many exhibitors are skipping the smaller fairs and competing for larger payoffs at places like Topsfield, Marshfield and the Big E.

Fewer exhibitors mean lower ticket sales and overall support for the smaller fairs.

The money fair organizers raise through pancake breakfasts and chicken dinners goes for operating expenses and “premiums” – the cash used for prize payoffs. The state used to dole about $150,000 a year for premiums until about 10 years ago, when budget cuts stopped the funds. State money is now available through grants awarded to fairs that agree to certain land restrictions and are open to revamping their business models.

Three fairs received those grants this year.

“We’re trying some innovative ways to help the fairs help themselves rather than just giving them prize money,” said Mary Jordan, the state Agriculture Department’s director of agricultural development. “Farming is part of the American spirit, and agricultural fairs help keep people connected to that.”

George Kenney, president of the Massachusetts Agricultural Fairs Association, said the state needs to put out more money if those connections are going to remain.

“We’re in serious trouble,” said Kenney, who is also the vice president of the Bolton Fair. “Without more state support, we’re headed for a big decline.”

The volunteers who run the Middlefield fair feel lucky to have scraped together $16,000 for this year’s three-day event.

“I’m not angry or upset that the state has cut the premium money,” Herman said. “But I hope they give us a good hard look before fairs like ours do go under and just end up in the history books.”

At the same time, Herman and other fair organizers are struggling to hold on to something just as fleeting as money: youth.

In the creaky wooden grandstand overlooking the horse pull competitions at the Middlefield fair, there wasn’t a single child in the crowd. Many of the spectators had spent lifetimes raising their own animals and vegetables. And they’ve watched their children and grandchildren move miles and mindsets away from the family farm.

“Once the kids get near the cities, you don’t get them to come back to the country,” said Wes Olds. The 65-year-old has been coming to the Middlefield fair every year since he was a young boy. He gave up raising beef and vegetables on his farm in nearby Hinsdale when his three daughters moved away about 15 years ago.

“Young people aren’t interested in agriculture,” he said.

But over at the makeshift petting zoo in the cattle barn, there was something to prove him wrong.

“I’ve been coming to this fair since I was a kid, and I try to go to as many as I can each year,” said 35-year-old Roger Peltier.

As he spoke, his 4-year-old daughter wandered over to a llama and let it nibble from a 50-cent cup of grain her father let her buy.