By SoDak
July and August always make me think about loud music, carnival rides, and the sickening scent of sugar, sweat, grease, and farm animal shit, even though it has been decades since I experienced all this together. The Rapid City Central States Fair, in the 1970s and early 80s, was overwhelming, as far as the sounds, sights, and smells. As a young child, my family spent much time looking at the 4-H exhibits, which consisted usually of animals in cages or pens. We attended the rodeo to see our cousins ride bulls and rope calves; and, sometimes, we got to see the demolition derby. My parents would give my brother and me a few tickets, so we could enjoy riding the Octopus/Spider, the Tilt-a-Whirl, and the Zipper. My father would play a few games, such as the ring toss or ballon darts, trying to win a silly toy or stuffed animal. He generally won when shooting the BB gun at the red star. Our fingers were sticky from eating cotton candy.
By the time that I was ten years old, my parents would drop me off at the entrance to the fair, so I could meet up with friends. We skipped the buildings with all the chickens, ducks, turkeys, pigs, sheep, and cows, making our way to the rides and games. The fair always consisted of quite a cross-section of the population, as folks from the rural communities mingled with everyone from the city. By the late 1970s, with deepening economic stagnation, there was a sense of desperation among many of the attendees and the carnies. Hard times were ever present. The fairgrounds seemed more dilapidated. My shoes stuck to the concrete due to the spilled beers and sodas. I collected aluminum cans from the neighborhood parks to trade for some extra money to supplement cash from delivering newspapers.
As far as rides, the Viking was the main attraction. The swinging ship, in and of itself, was not the most exciting ride, but the music was always the loudest. There were big, mounted speakers, blasting hard rock and metal songs. I often stood close to the ride, in a spot where I could feel the vibrations from the tunes. I viscerally recall hearing “Highway to Hell,” “Back in Black,” “Fooling Yourself,” “Come Sail Away,” “Paranoid,” “Living After Midnight,” “Breaking the Law,” “Black Dog,” “Immigrant Song,” and “Rock and Roll” blaring over the sound system. This was one of the many spots and moments when I fell in love—with music. While riding the Viking, I got instant goosebumps when hearing Dio’s “Rainbow in the Dark” followed by “Holy Diver.” His voice was fucking incredible. These two songs made me obsessed, as I had to track down the record, so I could hear these tunes whenever I wanted to, which was continuously in the summer and fall of 1983. I think this was the same year I started giving the horns as a greeting and when saying goodbye to friends.
Everything seemed sketchier and more dangerous on the midway, where teenagers played various games of chance. Dollar bills were shoved to the bottom of my pocket, as my parents warned me that if I was not careful someone would try to pickpocket me. Everyone seemed to be smoking cigarettes, and cigarette butts covered the ground. At each booth, the carnie would be playing loud music, adding an exciting edge to the experience. The prizes had changed, reflecting cultural shifts, as rock gods reigned. Among the roach clips with feathers, there were carnival mirrors with band names and album covers that could be won. At the time, I had no idea what the roach clips were for; I also did not know that the carnival mirrors were coke mirrors. I just wanted to a glass mirror adorned in rock imagery. The mirrors came in three sizes, 6" by 6", 8" x 8", and 12" x 12", with the larger sizes reserved as premium prizes. As I observed the games, I starred at the mirrors, almost overwhelmed by the possible prizes, as there were ones with images of AC/DC, Judas Priest, Rush, Rainbow, Led Zepplin, Black Sabbath, Van Halen, Ozzy, Kiss, Bob Marley, Yes, Queen, Journey, Styx, Boston, Pat Benatar, Grateful Dead (at the time, I had never heard their music, but I liked the imagery), Quiet Riot, Def Leppard, and ZZ Top. I wanted as many of them as possible. After popping many ballons with darts, the carnie grabbed a mirror and handed it to me; I did not get to select the mirror—perhaps this was due to being a minor and not having any parents present. The cover of the first Loverboy record was on the small mirror. I thought fine band and record, but I wanted something more hard rock. Dejected, I stood there, as I did not have enough cash to keep playing the game. I also did not know how long it would take to win a desired large mirror with Rush on display.
In the following years, I avoided the games with mirrors as the prize, as I did not want to waste money on the long con to finally get a large mirror. Instead, I wasted money on the games where the prizes were rock shirts, which you could select the desired band. In the mid-1980s, I won a cheap-ass Ratt t-shirt, which I wore for years, until it was threadbare. A couple years later, I saw them perform at the fair, even though this was still during their ascendency as a band.
Today, as the summer heats up, I still get chills, whenever I hear:
When there’s lightning
You know it always brings me down
‘Cause it’s free, and I see that it’s me
Who’s lost and never found
I cry out for magic
I feel it dancing in the light
It was cold, lost my hold
To the shadows of the night
No sign of the morning coming
You’ve been left on your own
Like a rainbow in the dark
A rainbow in the dark.
Please turn it up, the louder, the better.
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