In 1991 the Oregon Country Fair corporation, administrator of the event, made the final mortgage payment on the land. More than ever, the institution that sprang from the festival is growing and plans to use its resources to nurture other projects. “When you got lots of money, you got lots of friends” (especially if you know how to have lots of good fun.) As a nonprofit educational entity the Fair must disperse its surplus. Pressured to focus seriously on the future, working committees will come up with plans, especially for large-scale site improvements and an endowment fund, which will over the years sponsor groups and movements the Fair collectively endorses. This re-orientation towards greater community involvement has not been simple. From time immemorial the participants’ psychic energies are directed either toward next summer’s blast — the Poster, the music, the passes — or to those earlier, better parties. The success of the Fair has brought with it a change in the way that certain things are done, although it is not easy to discern the dynamics of this transformation. In the first place, to put together a Fair history one needs to trust faulty memory and much hearsay. Some of the original folks who did the most to get things underway now reside in other regions, and those who have been around for years are not necessarily willing to say much, preserving in their way the event’s mystique. One of the oldest timers I spoke with struggled to find the nature of the changes but could only come up with: “It’s different, man, it is sooooo different”, as if his tone could explain it all (which of course, it did). Long ago, it is said, permits for the Fair might not arrive until a few days before it was scheduled to happen. When the county government finally obliged (at times threatened with legal action if it didn’t), word would spread through networks of friends. In a day or two, the party in the woods and fields by the Long Tom river was on with no, or very few, large monetary donations. About ten years ago, after years of leasing its Veneta site, the Fair board, guided by the foresight and determination of Ron Chase, made the momentous decision to take out a mortgage and purchase the property outright for $250,000. Part of this was paid up front, with about 60% left to pay. This obviously meant a much larger commitment to long range planning and to financial accountability than some had previously imagined or desired. People in positions of responsibility would now need to stay a little straighter in order to make sure that books were kept in order and receipts would add up correctly. Lines of accountability would need to be drawn on paper, not in the imagination. It is said that almost the entire board quit after the bravado of making this fateful decision. The tumultuous situation led in the early eighties to the creation of the position of general manager, first voluntary and then in 1989 the OCF’s first paid staff position. (I’ve been told the $17,000 salary works out to between $2 and $4 an hour.) From the perspective of the State, the Fair is a nonprofit educational corporation with decision-making power held by its members: those with some affdiation with certain aspects of the event. This group meets in the autumn of each year in Eugene to select a ten-person board of directors who serve staggered terms of two years. The Board prepares general proposals for the larger body, while convening committees and overseeing the small staff of three and the huge team of volunteers. These volunteers, the muscle and lifeblood of the Fair, are divided into large crews: recycling, traffic, communications, bubbles. Heads of the different crews form the site committee, the main stewards of the event. Within and without this basic structure are the “old guard” who have for years made sure their karma permeated the Fair. These are the elders who through wisdom and connections retain their traditional privileges. Some left when the decision to purchase the property rose the level of seriousness; others return annually to their funky booths or campsites, asking for little except a good time, and in turn not doing that much. With the income the Fair produces — Page 38 RAIN Spring 1993 Volume XIV, Number 3
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