Behind the scenes at the Lake County Fair

Long before the first paying customer comes through the main gate, the little community that is the Lake County Fair begins to hum.

As a gaggle of gulls squawk over discarded scraps in the vast, deserted parking lot of flattened grass, the bays and moos and baahs of a Noah's Ark of animals permeate the air just after sunrise.

Tractors growl. Air compressors hiss. Clippers buzz. Buckets clang. Those with animals have been at it awhile -- washing, feeding, changing the bedding and readying their charges for the coming shows.

At that time of day, most ride operators and concessionaires remain under wraps in their trailers; many having put in double-digit hours at work the previous day and night.

The midways are still, but there is a lot of traffic. Fair officials and security personnel zip around on golf carts, pick-ups and delivery vans begin their rounds, and the specialized vehicles that empty garbage cans and porta-potties go about their duties.

Here are some snapshots of a typical morning before the fair opens for business:

'Special assignment'

Instead of stopping at the usual 1,000 homes a day, waste collectors Darren Wilson and John Baus circle the fairgrounds beginning at 5:30 a.m., emptying large metal containers.

"It's a special assignment. We don't mind," says Wilson. "It's a change of pace from going house to house."

Baus agrees, saying he enjoys the scenery and friendliness of the early morning crowd.

Other than their surroundings, there isn't much different than other day, although they did find a badly counterfeited $100 bill in one load. Anything else of interest?

"It's a little stinkier than normal," Baus said. "A lot of food."

A tasty mistake?

As the bread guy drops off some samples, Bill Nichols is about to get ready for business, a 60- to 90-minute process. He travels with up to 120 cases of pasta in four freezers and is on the road from January through November.

What can be said about fair food? Plentiful and predictable come to mind. But there is at least one new entrée this year, imported from down south.

"Toasted ravioli has been around St. Louis for years. It actually was a mistake," says Nichols, proprietor of Mama Mia Concessions.

The story goes that a German cook was working in an Italian restaurant, says Nichols. There was a communication problem and the ravioli was dumped in the hot oil instead of water. Being thrifty, the owner served it anyway, unwittingly creating a local culinary legend.

Nichols, of St. Charles, Mo., said his adaptation and other offerings, such as deep fried cheesecake, have won awards at several fairs in other states. Getting new food at fairs is tough, according to Nichols, who added it took three years to break into the Lake County Fair lineup.

He founded Mama Mia five years ago out of necessity, but doesn't mind the 12-hour stints.

"I was the vice-president of a $450 million company and when the dot com crash hit, I lost my job," he explained. "This is a lot more relaxing than what I used to do."

Show time

Hog farmer Rob Schultz, his father, Robert, and cousin, Brian, just arrived from Salem, Wis. They've come to the fair for about 10 years, but this time is special. Rob's daughter, Jordan, is now 6 and can show animals for the first time.

"What it is is a family thing," said Robert. "From grandpa to my grandchild."

Down at the pens, Mandy Bowes cautions her daughter, Bridget, not to give the hogs too much water.

"Judges don't like jiggly bellies," she explains to an uninformed visitor.

Come to think of it, she says, "Nobody likes jiggly bellies."

Bowes assures the visitor it is ok to pet the pigs but offers a word of caution about the scent.

"It gets into your skin and it doesn't wash out." Oops.

A winner every time

Lynn Kehus works quickly before the morning rush, hanging little stuffed bears and roses on a lattice.

"We were all going to do this last night but we put in 16 hours," says the veteran games worker.

Eight big cardboard boxes and another big bag of stuffed animals line the counter at the balloon pop and basketball game.

Kehus has been with the operation 19 years. She has missed a few Lake County Fairs during that time but not many.

"I'm from Alabama, they're from Florida, he's from Ohio, a good hodge-podge," she says of her co-workers.

She ranks the Lake County Fair among the best and has made some friends along the way.

"I used to ride Harleys, so they all kind of remembered me," she says.

Down time means a DVD and some rest, rather than partying.

"You don't play many good fairs so when you get to a good fair, you want to be in shape."

Gatekeeper

At the only gate open at 6 a.m., Terry Rockenbach is chatting it up with the visitors. A volunteer with the Lions Club, he checks the vehicles for the proper stickers and collects fees.

By 6:30 a.m., the stream of trucks and sport utility vehicles is steady.

"This gate is for deliveries also. The concession people come in. We argue with them," jokes Rockenbach.

"I enjoy this gate. Maybe I've been here 15 years. I get to interact with people more -- I'm not behind a glass wall."

On the edge

Bob Kohler and his wife, Donna, retired teachers from Fox Lake, volunteer to place what seem like hundreds of orange cones to herd as many as 50 buses carrying groups such as senior citizens and the disabled.

"That's the key. You have to park them right the first time or your in bad shape," says Bob.

The field is on the far northern edge of the fairgrounds. It is within sight of the exotic petting zoo but still pretty far away.

This year, the new Mutton Bustin' event is nearby, giving the Kohlers a break in the action, so to speak.

"It's interesting to watch. I like sheep," says Donna.