Story County Fair outdoor arena in 1960’s
Our family started showing cattle almost 60 years ago. Along the way, we have also shown sheep and even a few hogs. We started at the Story County Fair in Nevada, Iowa, and have shown at many junior and open shows across Iowa, several state fairs, and at Kansas City, Louisville, Chicago, Denver, and Fort Worth. Someone in our family exhibited at the Iowa State Fair for 52 consecutive years until 2020 when Covid put a stop to the streak. It was something we always looked forward to. From the early days when we spent much of our time sitting on the tractors in the machinery displays, sliding down the newfangled gravity flow wagons, learning how to play penny poker on the show box, or slobbering snow cones, there were always new things to explore and new people to meet. It may come as a surprise, but going to a show is not all business. It’s also no surprise that things don’t always go smoothly at the fair. There’s always something that comes up which changes your plans or makes you shake your head. The one thing you can always count on though, is that no matter how much cash you take with you, it’s always gone by the time you go home. For the following, please remember the statute of limitations has expired for these occurrences and names may have been changed to protect the “innocent”.
We always tried to have our cattle well broke and tame before going to the county fair. There are always some ill-tempered animals that you have to deal with. I can remember several instances where a calf got loose and ran through the grounds, even leaving town on some occasions. Calves might get loose in the show ring and the ring men would be there to help grab the halter. This seemed to escalate when Chianinas became popular in the 80’s. The championship drive was often held at night in an outdoor horse arena. There were no tie outs at that time, so the calves were confined to a hot, humid barn and got little exercise for several days. Naturally, when they entered the outdoor arena, it was like being turned out to pasture. More than one kicked up its heals and went skipping across the arena. One particular steer got spooked and was finally captured at a farm over a mile way. On the other hand, a neighbor had a Hereford steer that had been treated with tranquilizers and laid down in the show ring and would not get up. He had been the breed champion and they had to continue the show around him for awhile until he finally stood up. Of course, we never had an animal act up at the fair. Wrong! My sister, Susan, took a pretty good Simmental cross steer one year. He was always calm at home and never caused any problems. We took the cattle in one evening, bedded them down, and went home for the night. The next morning, when I walked into the barn, his halter had been pulled so tight that I could not get it untied. He was blowing smoke, as they say. I brushed him for a while and he seemed to calm down. As a precaution, I decided I better lead him to the scales for weigh in. He seemed a little more alert than normal and we got to the scales with no issues, but then ran into trouble. After you leave the scales, there’s a somewhat narrow alleyway between two building to go through before you go across the grounds and back to the barn. When we got to the end of the alleyway, there was a loud noise, and he was gone! We followed him as he left the grounds and headed towards the northwest bridge. We thought we had him. Terry Robinson climbed up the west side of the bridge and I got on the east side. He charged at Terry and he had to jump off the bridge. The steer then streaked north on the blacktop. About a quarter of a mile north, he turned onto a gravel road and ran into the first farm yard he saw. When he ran into a corn crib, we shut the doors behind him. I got the trailer, backed it up to the door, and we carefully loaded him. I hauled him home and turned him into the feedlot. The next morning, I walked up to him at the feed bunk and casually removed his halter. I found out later that after we had left for the evening, two young girls would hide behind the stall divider, jump up, and throw water balloons in his face. I guess I’d have been a little excited too.
We started consigning cattle to the Iowa Royal Shorthorn Sale in the early 70’s. Our first consignment included two bred heifers and two heifer calves. None had ever been shown, but I had them broke pretty well and they were reasonably quiet. I had been washing, brushing, and clipping in the farrowing house and had them all ready to go. There were no livestock trailers then, so we had Charlie Henson haul them to Des Moines for us and had used a loading chute to unload the cattle. Someone was clipping cattle right at the bottom of the chute and one of the bred heifers lunged a little as she came off the end, like they always seem to do. I slipped on some ice and dropped the halter. The heifer wasn’t spooked, I just dropped the halter when I fell. She walked from the west end of the main cattle barn into what is now the tie out area. Of course, the snow was two feet deep. There were a few security guards there doing a wonderful imitation of Keystone Kops. I asked them to just stay away, trudged through the snow, and led her back to the barn without incident.
Lonny with his family enjoying the Olde Mill ride at Iowa State Fair.
I almost never went to the midway at the Iowa State Fair. The furthest north I usually made it was Ye Olde Mill. It was relaxing, cool, and a highlight of the fair for me. I later took our kids and grandkids on a ride every year. After the show, we would go to the Iowa Cattleman’s booth for prime rib and head straight to the Mill. In the old days, most everyone washed their cattle with Orvus. It came in a gallon jug and was a white, somewhat solid substance when cold and a clear jelly like material when it was warm. I heard once of a group of young people that decided it might be a good idea to take some plastic bags full of Orvus to the Mill, empty them in the water, and see what happened when it hit the giant paddle wheel. I can’t say if it ever really happened or what effect it might have had, but I’m pretty sure there is an anti-sudsing agent in the water now!
There was a small grocery store on the grounds just east of Ye Olde Mill. One year, to save money, I decided to buy a loaf of bread, sliced cheese, and a package of bologna. I had a sandwich or two and put the rest in my suitcase in the FFA dorm. It never got below 110 in the FFA dorm in those days. I was ready to go to lunch the next day and told our neighbor lady, Wanda Carlson, what I was doing. She informed me it might not be such a great idea for reasons obvious to her, but not to me at the time. I opened the suitcase and noticed a somewhat foul odor and discovered the bologna was about twice the size as it had been when I bought it. Lesson learned.
I also heard a story about three guys, let’s call them Moe, Larry and Curly. They ventured into the midway one evening and Curly started to play a game of chance. The object was to toss a ping pong ball into a mug or something. If successful, you won a prize. Somehow, Curly won a prize which turned out to be a gold fish in a plastic bag of water. As they headed back towards the livestock barns, the discussion centered on what in the world Curly was going to do with the stupid goldfish which, by the way, was impossible to determine if it was even still alive. Larry accidentally knocked the bag out of Curly’s hand and it fell to the concrete, splitting the bag and leaving the poor goldfish on the side walk. Quick thinking Moe grabbed the gold fish, lifted up the flap on a concession tent, and put the fish into a jug of lemonade, perhaps saving its life!
One particular year at the Iowa State Fair it was absolutely scorching and for some reasons the flies in the barn had to number in the billions. Gallons and gallons of fly spray didn't seem to do any good. It was almost unbearable for humans and cattle. Kevin Lamparek decided he wanted to take a nap on a reclining lawn chair, but spent so much time fighting flies he finally gave up and completely enclosed himself in a sleeping bag. Tom Adams and I decided we should take the opportunity to loosely wrap twine strings around him and the chair, slowly pull them tight, and then loudly yell that the cows were out. Kind of a mean trick, but everyone except Kevin thought it was funny.
I started going to the Minnesota State Fair in 1975. It soon became one of my favorite places to go. It was a couple of weeks after the Iowa State Fair, always seemed a little cooler, had great cheese curds, and the Olde Mill ride was longer. In the early 80’s, I travelled to Minnesota in a caravan with Dale and Craig Studer from Wesley, Iowa, and Duane Harms from Crystal Lake, Iowa. I had a much overloaded 16-foot bumper hitch trailer with six head of my own. Dale had purchased Dayspring Buttercup 2nd from David Castle from Eldora, and wanted me to pick her up. So, I stuffed her in and off I went to Wesley. I probably drove in excess of 100 miles out of my way, but it was fun to travel together. We were rolling into St Paul, maybe two miles from the fairgrounds, when I heard a squeaking noise. I thought it couldn’t be me, but as I slowed down for the next stop light, the squeaking slowed down right with me. I turned into an abandoned gas station lot and sure enough, the right rear wheel fell off the trailer—the whole wheel. I sent Duane and Dale on to unload at the fairgrounds so they could come back for my cattle and tack. I tied three cattle on each side of the trailer. It wasn’t more than two minutes later until I was completely surrounded by community residents from 2 to 40 years of age and from probably all over the globe. It was a blast! Everyone wanted to touch the animals and could not believe how soft they were. I seriously doubt if any of them had ever seen a live animal other than a cat, dog, or a rat before. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Dad brought up a new bearing when he came up for show day.
The Minnesota State Fair is absolutely relentless regarding ring worm and warts. The state vets constantly monitor the cattle and any animal showing signs are immediately placed in a quarantine barn, making them ineligible to show. I don’t know if any cattle have ever died from ringworm or warts, but they shouldn’t be at the fair. One year, a particular breeder, let’s call him Stanley, had a very light pigmented heifer that broke with a very slight ringworm the day he left for the show. He had six head entered and needed all six for the prestigious six head class. Oliver was there when Stanley started to unload and suggested that he leave the heifer in the trailer in the parking lot and bring her over the night before the show. The entire Shorthorn show contingent was very aware of what was going on and decided to help pull it off. The fair vets came around and were always given the excuse the that heifer was at the wash rack, someone was clipping her, or whatever excuse someone could think of. Same with the tattoo inspection crew. Show day finally arrived and Oliver brought the heifer over in the trailer about 3am. Stanley led her into the show ring and fair personnel immediately walked up to Stanley and informed him they never got a chance to check her tattoo. They read the tattoo and that was it. I think the heifer was 2nd or 3rd in the class, but Stanley did win the best six head class.
Students in the livestock judging team taking notes during a practice session.
I was always thankful that I attended a small school where I had the opportunity, and responsibility, to be in everything. My days in 4-H and FFA provided so many chances to be involved in public speaking, group activities, and individual and team contests. Among my favorite events were livestock judging contests. We participated in local, state, and national events. It was only natural, then, that I tried out for the Iowa State livestock judging team in college. The first course was basically an introduction to livestock evaluation and at the end of the term, Doc Warner, the coach, encouraged me to continue on with the team since I had done quite well in the introductory class. We spent countless hours judging cattle, hogs, sheep, and horses. We not only placed the animals, we had to give an oral set of reasons explaining and defending our placings. I will readily admit my biggest challenge was horses. Dad had a few Arabians, but all the horses at ISU and in the contests were Quarter Horses. Kind of like the difference between an Angus and old style Limousin. Our first official trip was to Denver. We left well in advance of the Denver contest and made numerous stops along the way to hone our skills. I was the only one on the trip that did not chew tobacco. We drove a 15-passenger van and a pop bottle was passed around to collect the tobacco juice. Not my favorite part of the trip. We stopped at Gene Doran's near Beaver, Iowa. Gene had been on the ISU judging team previously and Doc Warner told us he was the only member he had ever had that did not take notes during contests. That was no small accomplishment considering you had to give oral reasons from memory on most of the classes you judged. We then stopped at Wiese Herefords in Southwest Iowa and traveled on to Eastern Nebraska to several horse ranches. It seems like all I saw for three days were horses. I think I was more mixed up when we finally moved on than before we got there. I certainly had seen enough Quarter Horses. We had an all species practice contest at Lincoln, Nebraska, visited a few more horse ranches, and then moved on to Colorado. There was another practice contest at Colorado State in Fort Collins and it went well. Then it was on to Denver.
We stayed at the Albany Hotel in downtown Denver and our rooms were on the top floor. There was a rickety old fire escape right outside the door to my room and I made the mistake of mentioning my absolute fear of heights. One night the fire alarm went off. I was almost in a panic. I immediately ran to the elevator. Once I got there, I remembered that the last place you wanted to be during a fire was on the elevator. Then I thought of the rest of the guys. I ran back to the rooms and pounded on each door telling them there was a fire and we had to get out. Several of them were sitting in their room playing cards. When they didn't move and kind of smiled, I realized I'd been had. One of the highlights of the stay was when a member of the Harlem Globetrotters, I think it was Theodis Lee, gave me change for a quarter at the pop machine. The stockyards in Denver were almost still in their glory days in the mid 70's. I spent hours walking on the catwalk just looking at the pens full of Hereford bulls, one after another. Part of our group participated in a carload judging contest which required them to place groups of bulls. The next day, Joel Brinkmeyer, Ken Rossman, Roger Boatman, Jim Venner, and myself competed in the livestock judging contest. It was a long day. I can't remember how many classes of cattle, hogs, sheep, and horses we evaluated. We then congregated in a room to prepare our oral reasons. A list was drawn and you gave your reasons, in that order, on one class, then came back into the room to prepare your next set of reasons. Our team did not win the contest, but did quite well and it was good preparation for the upcoming contest season.
Deerpark Improver
I spent a lot of time wandering around the National Western grounds and loved seeing all the display bulls. There were young club calf sires and breeding bulls of all shapes, sizes, and breeds. I came across two new Shorthorn bulls, Deerpark Improver and Deerpark Leader 13th, later known as Dividend. These bulls had recently been imported from Ireland and I thought they had something to offer the breed. We had been using a lot of Dual-Purpose blood in the US and Improver and Leader 13th appeared to have a little more substance, muscling, and rear quarter structure than a lot of the bulls in use. I took several photos of each. I was probably more impressed with Improver at the time. He seemed to be a thicker kind of bull, though some of it may be due to the fact he was a little older and I don't think they had been out of quarantine for too long. I ordered two canes of Improver and one of Leader 13th. Shortly after I got home I found out that even though the ASA had started an Appendix registry, Improver and Leader 13th were not considered purebred and their descendants would never be allowed into the herd book as purebreds. I cancelled my semen order. They were later accepted into the herd book as purebreds, even though they had no real recorded ancestry—more on that in a later article.
The day after the contest, we left for home. It's about a 10-12 hour drive from Denver to Ames, Iowa, remembering the nationwide 55 mph speed limit at the time. We arrived in Ames fairly late at night and after Doc dropped off several folks at their apartments we arrived back at Kildee Hall. We were gone for maybe 10-12 days. It was a memorable trip, lots of fun, opportunities to meet people, see a lot of cattle, and very enjoyable to attend the National Western. As I exited the van, there was a Toyota parked halfway across the parking lot. My wife, Kathie, and young daughter, Betsy, were in that Toyota—in the snow, waiting for me to get home from the trip to Denver. Somewhere along that walk across the parking lot, I figured out that there were probably other places I should be rather than on a judging team trip to Denver. I retired.