range of minute problems. Other people work what is essentially a second full-time job, without pay, for up to ten weeks every summer, a commitment which testifies to the devotion the Fair solicits from its family. Beginning in mid-June hundreds of carpenters, vendors, craftspersons, performers, and a motley crew of others, make the annual trek to the site on the outskirts of Eugene to prepare for the Fair, clemag brush, repairing booths, and re-establishing the patterns of consensual decision-making. By the time it opens in mid-July the site is home to over 3,000 residents. Once the Fighting Swords of Karma marching band heralds the festivities, the Oregon Country Fair is reborn: a kaleidoscopic carnival that evades description. As the promotional material puts it, it becomes “a place where we can share ... the beautiful things we create with our hearts and hands.” For daytime visitors, it is one of the largest showcases of new vaudeville in the country: jugglers, trapeze artists, spoon performers, comics and innumerably various musical acts. Inside the loop, the polymorphous vibes — all those shapes, smells, sounds, colors, and tastes — are themselves worth the price of admission. The 250 craft and food booths display the equivalent of several shopping malls worth of toys, tasty treats, and useful items, all natural or hand made. The best of the booths have been constructed slowly and modified over time — marvels in the tradition of nomad architecture. These spaces are precious, often tended by the same folks and their children and kin for years. They now have more customers than they ever imagined possible. From Native American bark berry-picking-baskets to barbecues, from yurts to desserts, the Fair is a grand market event. For relaxation one can get massages, take solar heated showers, join a drumming circle, or sweat in a large sauna (which some claim is the event’s most profitable venture). After the crowds leave (20,000 people!) the evening party begins, gently as the sun sets and building momentum around midnight. Several thousand happy campers turn on their lanterns, begin to unwind, share some food, and choose between the drumming, the dancing, the sauna, or hanging out with old friends. Nighttime policing — the “Sweep”, an old Fair cat and mouse game — also commences. Uninvited guests to Saturday night’s candlelight bacchanal have at times numbered over 5,000. Pity the poor security guards — and there are hundreds — who must patrol for “visitors” while missing out on the celebration. The warning is out that security will continue to increase. RAIN Spring 1993 Volume XIV, Number 3 Page 37
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