Another eye on Ohio

While at the Wild Turkey Fest, I met photojournalism student Amelia Holowaty Krales, whose evocative photos of Vinton County and neighboring Athens County can be found on her website here.

Thanks, McArthur, and Good Wishes (16 of 16)

How some boys play (15 of 16)

No mysteries here (14 of 16)

Pretty with Purpose (13 of 16)

In the Miss Wild Turkey Festival pageant, 8 finalists attended all four days of the festival, required to wear crown and sash at all times. I met each and asked why she wanted to be Miss Wild Turkey Festival. Considering that a tiny town like McArthur needs its festival to attract as many visitors as possible, I found most of the conversations with the girls worrisome—the Paris Hilton look-alike just rolled her eyes; another girl, nursing a huge hickey on her neck, hurriedly dug her sash out of her pocket, where it lay beneath her cigarettes, seemingly afraid I’d tell someone she’d taken it off; a third girl told me she didn’t know why she’d entered. No surprise that a number of people I talked to were a little concerned about the potential attitude of the three-girl court (Queen and two attendants) who would be the face of the town for the coming year all over Ohio. By the end of the weekend, after just a few interactions with the girls, I found myself unable to resist rooting for the three girls who seemed most enthusiastic about McArthur. The out-of-towners who served as judges, each from locales with their own festivals, apparently had the same reaction and those indeed are the three girls who won: Megan, Breana, and Emily.

Sharing the sparkle (12 of 16)

In a county where the annual per capita income averages $12,000-$14,000, most girls cannot afford an array of expensive dresses to attend these events. Often, past queens loan or give away dresses, or sell them for far less than their original cost. At the Volunteer Fireman’s Hall, where the queens met, the coatrack was hung full of dresses available to the girls for $20 or less. That's a big help to girls who must each attend 10-20 events a year for their town in order to earn their scholarships.

One size does not fit all (11 of 16)

More than 100 visiting queens, princesses, attendants, contessas, and chaperones attended the Visiting Royalty lunch. These girls earn scholarships for their service, a commitment to travel statewide for a year, encouraging others to come to their towns and support their festivals (upon which local economies and charities often depend). The gathered queens, ranging in age from 13-19, defied the kind of conformity of beauty that the media perpetuates--all sizes and body types were refreshingly represented, and braces were every bit as common as mascara. Some girls represented unusual themes—(at left) The Miss Swiss, just 15, who had to demonstrate knowledge of cheese for her title, and Miss Bratwurst (at right), who told me she was too often asked if she was carrying any sausage with her. A rare few girls worked the haughty queen angle—the Apple Queens (center) boasting their fancy dresses were paid for by “our mommies and daddies”—but most reveled in a spirit of community, gamely playing along when the event's entertainment (top) began: a hypnotist who led them to feeling their arms float away as if tied to balloons.

Where diamonds come from (10 of 16)

The

glamour

of Coal .

I love a parade (9 of 16)

Much to everyone's relief, the first true sunlight of the weekend broke through the clouds just at the moment that sirens sounded the beginning of the Grand Parade. Farmers on tractors were joined by dozens of floats, including a politician’s granddaughter in her wagon, and a rural chapter of the Red Hats.

Midway to somewhere (8 of 16)

The midway was not the focal point of the fair, even for children. A little dispirited, it sat at the end of Main Street, juxtapositions in every view: Fun Slide next to dilapidated bus, tombstones beneath a tilt-a-whirl.

What is a Turkey Drop? (7 of 16)

The fair schedule listed one Turkey Drop a day. I had no idea what it meant--frozen turkey bowling? A live turkey dropped from a height?

Nope--it's part of the tradition in which the festival uses the proceeds from raffles and craft sales for local aid. The Lions Club “Turkey Drop” offers a split-the-pot prize for raffle ticket buyers whose tickets match the numbered squares on a big grid. The outcome is determined by Charles Wilbur, the wild turkey pictured here (named by Darlene, the turkey wrangler in the cowboy hat). If Charles Wilbur poops on the grid numbered the same as a buyer's ticket, the ticket-holder gets half the prize money and the Lions Club gets the other half--$500 each for winner and Lions alike in good years, when all tickets sell. The Lions Club money goes entirely toward providing eyeglasses and other visual services (like seeing eye dogs) for Vinton County residents with no insurance to help them buy their own. But sales were down a third this year, because, as the local probate juvenile court judge said, “When gas is $3.69 a gallon, you don’t have money for a raffle ticket.”

What are the Weight Watchers Points for Fried Candy Bars? (6 of 16)

Fair food is fried food—and you can deep fry anything: pickles, cheese, Oreos, Snickers bars, even Coca-Cola. At left is a deep fried cola, which involves soda, funnel cake batter, hot oil, powdered sugar, a cherry, and a willing disregard for flavor. At right was the most prominent food version of the festival theme: turkey drumsticks the size of a small child, surprisingly often seen being consumed by small children. I saw a girl about five years old walking through the fair with the bone end of a turkey leg clutched in her tiny fist, turning the meat in slow circles for small bites, much you’d eat an ice cream cone.

The Politician & the Preacher (5 of 16)

You wouldn't want to miss breakfast in the Main Street Diner, where the $3 breakfast bowl gets you eggs, sausage, potatoes, and gravy. Ate with The Politician & The Preacher, as they are known, who hold court and greet everyone who enters. (Think Click & Clack of Appalachia.) Tom, the Politican (left) moved back to McArthur after years away because the area was in decline and he wanted to do something about it. Jim, the Preacher (right), goes “yard saling,” convincing people not to throw away clothes that he can donate to Goodwill in exchange for clothing credit for poor people. This matters because the general budget for the county lost $200,000 this year—almost 10% of its budget—with the same percentage lost in Family Services.

No place like home (4 of 16)

For $50 cash a night, I got a twin bed, a sink, and a tv, all in a small, dark room full of Indian-themed tchotchkes. Among the decorations: this framed print of what appeared to be Ricky Martin’s early work as a model for Romance Novels about love between warriors and settler women; and a curio shelf that featured a sad Indian clock and Native American Troll doll who apparently loves me “this much.”

Any place I hang my hat...(3 of 16)

I checked into the Hotel McArthur, built in 1839 and the oldest building in town. Owner Krazy Katie—a nickname she chose herself—told me that although the vast second floor ballroom had been partitioned long ago into smaller rooms, the original sprung-wood floors may still be found underfoot. A handwritten sign on the front door reads "Smile, you're on camera." Once through the door, you'll find a bar on the first floor, the Buzzard’s Knest (with a “K” for Katie), where Bikers are Welcome. Recently gave up her hotel license to instead run the place as a boarding house that takes overnight guests, a distinction that allows her to ignore the state rules that prohibit smoking in rooms. The Wild Turkey Festival midway was set up directly in front of the hotel. From my room, the amplified live entertainment—nightly shows by up-and-coming Country Music artists—filled my room with echoes of steel pedal and the throb of bass guitar.

18 wheels on the main drag (2 of 16)

Here in hardwood country, 8 sawmills are the core of industry. Tractor trailers burdened with logs roll down Market Street on their way to Highway 50. The yellow cab on this truck is the only sunshine on the first day of my visit, where smatterings of rain hurt festival attendance.

Entering Vinton County (Turkey Fest, 1 of 16)

Entering Vinton County following the curves of Rt. 93 brings you to McArthur, population 865. At the end of Main Street, this stately tree presides over the smaller of the town’s graveyards (now more populous than the town itself, according to a local preacher).

First Up: Wild Turkey Days in McArthur, Ohio

Friday morning, I head south southwest into Vinton County Ohio to tiny McArthur (pop. 865) for Wild Turkey Days. I’ll be staying in a boarding house known as Hotel McArthur, the oldest building in town, built in the mid-19th century. (The Governor has publicly described the owner, whom he calls Crazy Katie, as “a hoot.") In the next couple of days, I’ll meet the queen contestants, attend a turkey drop (more details to come), attend the Grand Parade, and talk to as many people as I can. Stay tuned for my report, with pictures and quotes from the people of Vinton County. (Photo credit: Vinton County Travel.Com)