Summerfest: You've Come A Long Way Baby

Last week I attended the David Gray concert at Summerfest’s sparkling new $14 million BMO Harris Pavilion. The 10,000 capacity venue is spectacular by Summerfest’s traditional Spartan standards. It offers previously only dreamed of amenities at Summerfest – individual reserved stadium seating, views of the downtown skyline and Lake Michigan and get this – CUP HOLDERS!

As I relaxed in my seat and listened to Gray’s haunting melodies, I closed my eyes and recalled the changes that time and Don Smiley have wrought on the exact location in the last three decades. Thirty years ago the smooth asphalt surface was dusty gravel. The scenic reserved lakeside table seating for Sazama’s Lakeside Grille was a series of corn dog, cotton candy and snow cone stands. And the brand new BMO Harris Pavilion was a carnival where I worked as an accomplice to a shady sideshow hoaxster.

I had been working for Midwest Services, the Milwaukee Brewers’ security division, as an usher and ticket taker. It was the perfect college job. Taking tickets and seating baseball fans only paid minimum wage (plus the extra 11 cents an hour that Local 150 negotiated - minus the 10 cents an hour union dues), but the fringe benefits were fantastic. The main benefit was the opportunity to watchBambi’s Bombers and Harvey’s Wallbangers at the zenith of the Brewers time at Milwaukee County Stadium.

During my five seasons with Midwest Services (1979 through 1983) I watched Stormin' and Vuke, Molitor and Yount, Gumby and Coop and other Brewer legends. I saw Sixto Lezcano’s opening day walk off grand slam in 1980 off Dennis Eckersley and the Brew Crew capturing the 1982 American League pennant. As soon as Cecil Cooper closed his giant first base glove around Robin Yount’s American League clinching assist, I leaped over the field level fence on the 3rd base line as part of the crew assigned to protect the visitors’ dugout and minimize the field damage from the anticipated field invasion that joyously followed.

Getting paid to watch the ALCS and World Series was a wonderful job, but it wasn’t actually the most memorable task I undertook during my time in uniform. My other assignments included Green Bay Packers games in Milwaukee, the occasional Milwaukee County Stadium concert (Kool Jazz Festival and Simon and Garfunkel) and Summerfest. It was there on the Summerfest grounds that I had my most memorable experience as a ticket taker. The summer before the World Series I was assigned to the carnival area on the south end of the Summerfest grounds. Each day I was paired with a different sideshow act or exhibit to collect tickets, which fest goers would pay $1 each to see. Most of the acts and exhibits were odd, some of them were freaky, but one of them in particular makes me laugh to this day even though it led to an angry visitor pelting me and the exhibit barker with stones.

The sideshow exhibit featured “the world’s smallest people”. An enlarged Scientific American article describing the discovery of a tribe of Pygmy-like natives on the African continent seemed to give the exhibit credibility. The barker and owner of the exhibit stood out front next to the sign encouraging people to “Come and see the amazing tribe of 18 inch fully grown adults from Africa. They sleep in shoe boxes. Step right up, one and all,” the barker exhorted. “They’re here, they’re real and you can even talk to them.”

The barker was a convincing salesman. We had a steady stream of customers paying their $1 for a ticket, which they promptly handed to me. After I tore their tickets and returned their stubs, the patrons cautiously climbed a small set of metal stairs and with slight trepidation they proceeded behind a curtain and into a decorated trailer expecting to see a number of 18 inch walking and talking – or at the very least sleeping - human beings.

Instead, what they saw was a glass display case with a dozen clay models crafted to look like 18 inch humans that some scientists theorize may have lived in Africa in prehistoric times. The models somewhat resembled the knock-down punk dolls from the carnival’s midway games. Most visitors groaned or laughed at being duped into believing there were actually 18 inch humans on a carnival tour in downtown Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The visitors usually spent no more than 30 seconds in the exhibit then exited on the far side of the trailer. Those that were amused by the trick shook their heads and talked about whether they should go on to the rides or the carnival games or maybe risk trying another side show exhibit. Those that weren’t amused confronted the barker demanding their dollar back. The barker directed them to the small print in the giant magazine article that clearly said the 18 inch humans were a theory and from another time. Some of the folks had less of a sense of humor with the charade and complained that “you said we could talk to ‘em.” The barker always enjoyed replying, “You sure can. They won’t talk back, but you can talk to them as much as you like.”

One angry – and I suspect a bit inebriated - man who felt he was made into a fool, was so livid he picked up a few rocks from the ground and began firing at the barker and me. Fortunately his aim wasn’t true and we were able to chase him away – the barker told me he was practicing concealed carry for just such occasions (long before Wisconsin authorized it).

That was more than three decades ago though. Last week, back at the same place, during the same festival, I didn’t notice a single person throwing any rocks at David Gray. You’ve come a long way Summerfest.