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Fair planners have a task as huge as the Wheel

Well before the thrill seekers and corn dog eaters arrive, every little detail must be ironed out.

By LETITIA STEIN
Published February 6, 2005

STATE FAIRGROUNDS - For 12 days, life turns with the Giant Wheel.

When its 6,000 light bulbs go dark, fairgoers know that the day has ended. A churning circle against the sky signals to all that the Florida State Fair is open for business.

The wheel sets the rhythm of the city springing to life in east Hillsborough County. Beginning Thursday, half a million people are expected at the fairgrounds. They will gorge on cotton candy, stroke animals and twirl on rides named Tornado and Power Surge.

Then they may take a look around. Tummy hurt? First Aid stations are stocked to help. Missing a child? Try the Lost Kids Corral. Need wet wipes? Sanitation items line the agriculture halls.

In a real city, planners are called architects. At the fair, they are the people on scooters, who aren't above picking up trash. For two weeks, they live in the shadows of the illuminated attractions on the midway. You'll only see them if something goes wrong.

Their job is to make sure that doesn't happen.

On the master plan, the Giant Wheel - an oversized relative of the Ferris wheel, which also has a home at the fair - starts off as a pink paper cutout. The base is measured exactly to scale. One-fourth of an inch represents 5 feet on the midway.

A 25-year veteran of the Florida State Fair, operations manager Fred Brown has cutouts down to a science. Rides are pink. Concession stands show up as blue boxes. Behind them, colorful thumbtacks represent the trailers that ride owners live in during the two-week fair.

"It's very first-grade looking," he admitted. "But that's the only way there is to make it work."

Brown got his start in the business as a concessions stand owner. He also inspected rides for the state of Ohio. Knowing the fair from all sides has advantages. Especially when he has just a few weeks to turn a 3- by 4-foot diagram into reality on the 9-acre midway.

When an annual RV show pulls out of the fairgrounds in mid January, his crews swoop in. Almost every exposed surface needs a fresh coat of terra cotta paint. Landscapers fill the plant beds with fresh flowers and shrubs. Appearance is everything, and everything needs work.

"So much happens in the last 10 days before the fair," said Chuck Pesano, a Valrico resident watching with wide eyes in his first year as the fair's executive director. "It's almost like a mushroom that's coming out of the ground. Every hour, things are changing."

The effort is choreographed in a 69-page manual - the Daily Operational Plan - a bible for fair managers. Instructions detail each stage, from when to order the credit card swipe machines to sheep tag validation. Daily parades are organized, along with the rooster crowing contest. Even cow pregnancies are timed for calves to be born each day.

Activity on the midway starts the last week in January.

The paper cutouts give way to lines of green paint on the midway grounds. Now ride operators know where to park. Eventually, fair officials will translate their childish diagram to a sophisticated computer model for law enforcers. But first, vendors have to fill it out.

The Giant Wheel arrived on Monday, 10 days before opening. Four semitrailer trucks carried the 90-foot-tall ride to the state fairgrounds, a 300-plus-acre campus outside Brandon.

The Florida State Fair marks the first major event of the carnival season. What seems like crunch time to planners resembles a holiday to vendors coming off their winter vacations.

Once the season is in full swing, ride operators will have to set up in hours. But before this fair, they can arrive early to touch up paint and test equipment.

Giant Wheel operators have a day to set up. Its engines rumble across the open midway, where only a handful of other rides have arrived.

Beam by beam, mechanics rig the spokes to a circular frame. Pulleys yank each piece higher.

Soon rows of orange, red and blue light bulbs glow in the midday sun.

"Up," mechanics call out. "Just a little bit."

A half-circle rises. Mechanics switch sides. Another half completes the landmark.

On the first day of the fair, the midway always opens last. Inspectors scurry from ride to ride, making the last round of safety checks. Even the games get a once-over to rule out tampering.

Fairgoers see none of the last-minute action.

"As far as the public knows, we're ready," said Brown, the operations manager. "If we are not, they won't know it. That's our job."

This year's fair opens Thursday and runs through Feb. 21. As the only state fair, the event is marketed across Florida. But three-fourths of those who come drive 50 miles or less to get here.

Food is the No. 1 reason people come to the fair, officials say. This year, more than 200 treats will be offered. But of course. The fair theme is "Eat Up the Fun."

Brown's job is to obsess about details that can make or break the experience. Each year, for example, he spends about $20,000 just to stockpile toilet paper for the fair.

To avoid surprises, managers meet daily for two weeks at 5 p.m. Sheriff's officers participate. They run over agendas. On any day, free concerts take place. The agricultural expo halls teem with contests. Thousands of fairgoers will need directions to the restrooms, coolers for medications, bag checks for security. This group tries to anticipate those needs.

As the meeting breaks up, managers can deposit dirty clothes with the fair's daily laundry service. Like ride owners, few managers dare go home. Too much could happen in an hour.

"I couldn't go home and sleep," said Brown, whose wife takes on a part-time job at the fair in order to see him. "This is where we live until the fair is over."

Nearly 1,000 people sleep at the fairgrounds each night. Vendors and ride owners also stay near their equipment during their travels. But the Florida State Fairgrounds is a special home away from home, since so many carnival operators grew up or winter in nearby Gibsonton.

"This is basically a hometown fair for most everybody," said Michael Lauther, an east Hillsborough native who now works as a supervisor for Reithoffer Shows. Based in Gibsonton, it's one of the nation's largest carnival companies. He grew up a few miles from the fairgrounds.

"I like the Florida State Fair because it's my hometown," he said.

At night, the midway lights up around the Giant Wheel. The air fills with screams from the scary rides. Mouth-watering smells waft from concession stands.

No announcement system could reach every corner of the fairgrounds. But everyone can see the illuminated wheel towering over the midway, so its lights serve as a message board.

Everyone watches the Giant Wheel. Closing hour has arrived, and the lights blink out. Vendors close, and security shoos fairgoers from the grounds.

When the Giant Wheel rests, so must everyone at the fair.

Letitia Stein can be reached at 661-2443 or lstein@sptimes.com

[Last modified February 5, 2005, 09:49:05]