escapades first I headed to the midway to scope out my other spending options. I strolled past the freak show, where a greenskinned Alligator Lady lived in a tank of water. Farther along, a root beer stand held glittering mugs waiting to be filled with the foaming contents of a large barrel. Nearby, a cotton candy machine spun fragrant, pink webs. I pressed on, resisting enticement until I reached the digger machines at the end of the midway. These ringed the edges of a flatbed trailer; an operator stood in the middle. I had tried to spy on the action at the digger machines the year before, but my mother had purposefully whisked me along. Now I saw that each wooden case had a window on top and a crank below. Inside, a miniature crane with a clamshell bucket was poised to snatch prizes from a bed of yellow corn kernels: shiny gold watches, rings, and bracelets, plus a pile of glittering dimes in a tray. “Wanna play, sonny?” asked the operator enticingly. “It’s only a tenth of a dollar, my boy. One thin dime.” I reached into my pocket and clutched my hoard. A dime could buy a stick of taffy AND a root beer. This was a big decision. “Are the watches real?” I asked. “Yes, sir, little man. Seventeen-jewel Bulovas, just like you’ll find in a jewelry store.” Watches cost a lot — more than I could earn running errands. I wanted one. If I could win a Bulova for ten cents, that would be a super bargain. “Just turn the handle in front,” the man said. “The machine will do the rest.” I held a dime aloft. An arm with a green snake tattoo reached toward me; practiced fingers snatched my coin. I heard a “click” and saw a light come on inside the treasure chest. I was in business! I turned the crank handle. The toy derrick pivoted. The scoop descended. Its jaws opened, bit into a mouthful of silver coins, and clamped shut. Wow! Easy money! I turned the crank carefully — very carefully. The dragline’s scoop rose slowly and rotated back toward the chute. After a seeming eternity of cautious cranking, the scoop jaws opened and released a stream of silver into my hands. 64
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I counted 10 shiny coins. My wealth had doubled. One dime in, 10 out. Forget the watch! I wanted cash. “Just tap on the glass with a dime when you’re ready for another go,” the man said smoothly. I tapped. Again I turned the crank and watched for the derrick to zero in on the dimes. It didn’t. Instead it stopped short and snatched up a plastic ring not fit for a Cracker Jack prize. I tapped once more. Again the derrick missed the treasure tray. Dime after dime, it became evident that the valuable prizes — the watches, the jewelry — were beyond the scoop’s reach. If only the derrick would return to the silverstacked tray, I could at least recoup my original dollar and head for the taffy stand. It didn’t. In fact, with my last dime the scoop delivered nothing but yellow kernels — hardly a prize in rural Iowa. My road to riches had hit a dead end. I left the fairgrounds forlorn. The luster of “The Greatest Show on Earth” was tarnished. But not forever. The next year a wiser young man returned to the Guthrie County Fair to savor the taffy, quaff the root beer, and ride the Ferris wheel to the heavens. He stayed clear of the digger machines.
Carroll McKibbin, a native of Guthrie Center, is a retired professor who taught at several universities, including Iowa State and Drake. Among his publications are two books about Iowa: Lillian’s Legacy: Marriage and Murder in Rural Iowa and Apron Strings. They’re available from the author by emailing cmckibbi@calpoly.edu or calling 805-544-9319. Dave Toht is a writer, illustrator, book publisher, and blogger (davetoht.tumblr.com) with a fondness for subjects having to do with growing up in the Midwest in the mid-20th century. Toht’s most recent books are 40 Projects for Building Your Backyard Homestead and Backyard Homesteading. They’re available at Lowe’s and booksellers.
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