A good time at the fair

Going to the Carbon County Fair was an annual summer ritual for my Summit Hill friends and me.

When I was younger, my parents and I would go, and we would explore the wonders of the many animal exhibits, the homemade desserts and other baked goodies that county residents concocted in an effort to win blue ribbons, stopped at many food stands, and, of course, I went on all the rides and amusements.

There was one section of the fairway which always intrigued me but was off limits: the sideshow tent.

Massive colorful and lurid illustrations of Dwarf Boy, Giganto, the world's tallest man, and other freaks of nature hung outside the tent next to a lectern occupied by a fast-talking man in a striped suit with a bowler hat.

As I tried to pull my mother, who was holding on to me so I wouldn't be kidnapped by some nefarious circus type, she countered each pull with a pull in the opposite direction.

"Come on, mom," I begged, "let me see what's going on." Mom would have none of it. "That's for adults, not for kids like you," she told me.

I would fantasize for days after my fair visit about what might be inside that tent, and I was determined that one day I would see for myself.

When I was 11, my parents allowed me to go to the fair with an older neighbor friend and his parents.

When we got to the fair, my friend and I went off on our own, promising to meet his parents at a predetermined location in an hour.

My friend, Jerry, wasted no time in heading toward the sideshow tent. I couldn't contain my excitement.

Even though he was a few years older than I, he was not of age to get into the tent - the age limit was 21, although I don't know how carefully the barker and his ticket-taker checked ages.

We edged into the crowd of mostly men who were gathered around the lectern where the barker was urging prospective customers to spend 50 cents to see the bizarre attractions inside the tent.

"Marvel to the fire-eating human torch," the barker screamed into his megaphone. "Watch Amazo perform feats that men of science say are impossible for a human. And, yes, of course, we have Stella, who will wow you with her, um, charms," he said. "Stella, come out here, and show these good people some of your charms."

My mouth dropped when Stella emerged from the tent. She was dressed in a full-length gown which showed ample amounts of cleavage and brought gasps from several of the men in the audience.

"Stella hootchies, she kootchies, and she does a whole lot more inside this tent," the barker said, winking and smiling in a less-than-gentlemanly way.

At that moment, the barker spotted me. "Hey, kid, this is not for you," he shouted as everyone turned to look at me. "If I let you in to see Stella, you'd have to go home to change." The crowd roared with laughter, as I turned beet red, then quickly walked away in mortified embarrassment.

Jerry caught up with me. "Hey, where are you going?" he asked. I shrugged my shoulders, still feeling like a dope. "We're going in there to see Stella," he whispered.

"And how do you figure we're going to do that?" I asked.

Jerry explained that he found an opening in the tent that he has been exploiting for the past couple of years.

He led me to the back of the huge tent, where there was little activity. There was a small, almost unnoticeable flap where apparently performers could come and go without being seen by the audience. We got inside without incident and worked our way ever so slowly to the side of the stage where Stella would be performing.

The place was packed with only men. Jerry told me to hide my face with my jacket. The men were fixated on the stage where Stella appeared in the same gown and were oblivious to our presence. Bump-and-grind music sent Stella into her routine as she blew kisses to some of the old geezers up front.

A minute or so later, she shed her gown for just a bra and panties. I gulped. She continued to dance to the suggestive music, then came off the stage to give the men a better look at her "charms." Some of the men yelled, pretending to grope at her.

A minute or so later, she returned to the stage, reached behind her, unhooked her bra, and her ample "charms" spilled out, sending the men into a frenzy as they hooted and hollered their approval. Then, in a split-second, she was gone. Just like that, the show was over.

My head was spinning.

"Come on," said Jerry, breaking my reverie. We've got to get out of here, and in a flash, we were through the flap, then slowed down and nonchalantly joined the big crowd on the midway.

When we met up with Jerry's parents, his mother asked me whether I had a good time. Jerry elbowed me. "Yeah," I said with a mischievous smile, "I had a real good time."

Bruce Frassinelli, a 1957 graduate of Summit Hill High School, resides in Schnecksville. The Carbon County Fair ends tonight.