by Michael Allen McCormick

Created on: June 20, 2009   Last Updated: June 21, 2009

From my memoirs of 1968

Moving to Oregon from Southern California was about getting out of the rat race. The intention was to make the move to Alaska, but along the way my Dad had stopped to visit relatives in Canby, Oregon. My Mom's uncle Emil talked him into settling in Canby.

I don't think I had ever seen a real cow up close before. I had seen them out in fields when we took road trips, but before I went to the fair, I never knew they were so big and stinky. I was just a city kid.

Some of my new friends from the neighborhood suggested we all go the the Clackamas County Fair on the east side of town. It was well known among the kids in town that you could go to the backside of the horse track and crawl through a hole in the fence to get in free. Three dollars which was three weeks of allowance for me back then would last all day at the fair. All the food you would want, all the rides, rodeo and all. I estimate the equivalent experience today might be over a hundred dollars.

I asked my Dad the next day for an advance on my next week allowance, as the fair would be over by the time I got paid. Dad asked if there was some really fun ride that I wanted to go on, I shrugged and told him it wasn't a fun ride, but I would go on it anyway. Puzzled by this, he asked me why I would go on a ride that wasn't fun. I told my Dad that there was a little old man who operated this ride who looked sad and lonely. It was a kiddy ride, and I could chat with him while I rode the miniature ferris wheel. The ride would go on indefinitely through our chat until someone else came along to ride, which seldom happened, because as stated, it was not a main attraction.

My attraction to this ride was the conversation and interaction with this sad looking old man. He was obviously a carny lifer who had spent many years operating rides. He said that they didn't let him run the main attraction rides anymore because he couldn't keep up the pace.

All my buddies were checking out the new piglets, and shooting off firecrackers under the grandstand. But I broke off from them so I could talk to this interesting old man. My Dad was deeply touched that I took the time to put a smile on this old mans face. Needless to say, I got my advance. Whenever my Dad talks to me of his love for me and shares his feelings of pride and joy in having me as a son and as a friend, he always recalls this story. I guess my explanation of how the ride wasn't fun, but talking to this man made it fun was an early insight

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