When Joey Weaver arrived at the Minnesota State Fair last week, nine days before opening day, the Mighty Midway was mostly an empty lot. Spaces for concessions, rides and games had been carefully measured off. Only one ride, the spinning, whirling, stomach-turning Equinox, was set up.
The Mighty Midway is where Minnesota State Fair's magic happens — with help of 825 workers
It takes a week to build the midway — rides, games, concessions — and a few days to tear it down.
It was nearly dark when his team from Fair Ride Entertainment parked their five RVs next to the midway and situated their seven semi trailers filled with disassembled rides.
The next morning, a carnival city began to rise.
Weaver and his 28 employees, most of whom had just finished a stint at the Wisconsin State Fair near Milwaukee, started building: The New York New York Fun House and the Haunted Castle in the midway, the Wave Swinger, Kiddie Bumper Boats and Monster Truck in the Kidway. They dozed and ate in their RVs, which the 825 midway employees call home until a few days after Labor Day, when post-fair teardown is complete. Many then head to Dallas for the State Fair of Texas, opening in late September.
For Weaver, working carnivals isn't just a lifestyle. It's life: He's a fourth-generation carnival worker. His parents met on the circuit decades before. His offseason is spent doing maintenance on other operators' rides. His wife works alongside him all summer, and his 14-year-old daughter did, too, until she headed back to Florida a couple of weeks ago to stay with grandma once school started.
"I've done this my entire life, and I love it: New places, new people," said Weaver, 33, of Tampa, Fla. "Families having fun, everybody in a good mood. It's just a really happy business."
The Minnesota State Fair has had an independent midway since 1995, meaning it's not just one company that puts on the carnival — the fair selects each ride and game for the quarter-mile strip. (The Kidway, on the opposite end of the fair, has a smaller footprint.) Between the midway and the Kidway, there are 56 rides: Downdraft and the Iron Dragon, Music Express and the Zipper. The midway also has 45 games: Sharp Shoot, Alien Blaster, Beer Bust, Balloon Water Race.
"The bright lights, the music, the fun, the kids, the smiles — it's all worth it," said Nikki Hines, the fair's midway and attractions manager. "People who work the midway, they come from all walks of life."
One group is H-2B visa holders — temporary non-agricultural workers approved through U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. Most of the guest workers at the midway are from Mexico or South Africa, happy to travel around the United States for months in mobile jobs that are tough sells for Americans.
Christoffel Opperman, a 30-year-old trucker from Cape Town, South Africa, popped out from inside the darkened Haunted Castle earlier this week. It was his third year working for Weaver's company, which has eight other South Africans on staff this summer.
"I get to see America, and the money is good," he said. "Every dollar we earn here is 17 or 18 rand back home. If you're able to save, you go home with a lot of money."
Midway employees don't mind being called carnies, though they often prefer being called showmen, and they point out that "carnie" is an antiquated term. What they do mind is people associating old stereotypes with carnival life.
First off, it's a professional, careful business; there are constant inspections. Carnival games aren't rigged, they say; basketball rims are regulation size and height, and the fair keeps careful accounting of the number of prizes they give away to make sure the games are fair.
Bigger prizes are no joke — the large stuffed animals can cost game operators $20 apiece wholesale. And the beer bottles that explode at the Beer Bust game aren't nasty old bottles filled with backwash and stale beer; Bill Thornberry, who runs that game and three others, bought seven pallets of some 16,000 new bottles just for the 12 days of Minnesota's fair.
"It's a different lifestyle — a big business but a small community," Thornberry said.
Many of the ride and game operators have been coming here for decades. Thornberry's dad started in the carnival business a few years after returning from World War II, and the family business has been operating at the Minnesota State Fair since 1995. He works hard through summer and into fall; come winter, he can travel to Hawaii, or take his boat to the Florida Keys.
Earlier this week, the midway was whirring with activity. Delivery drivers unloaded their wares: Ace Ice Co., Bauhaus beer, a truck with pallets of pickles. Lights blinked on the Magic Maze and the Arabian Daze Fun House. Dozens of semis sat in rows just west of the midway, filled with stuffed animal prizes.
Weaver stood atop his four-story New York New York Fun House. Up there, the smell of manure overpowered the smell of fair food. Every fair carries some risk for Weaver: New rides can cost up to $1 million, and operators are paid by the number of people who use their ride. There isn't much financial room for error.
He couldn't wait for the people to stream in Thursday morning, kids' faces lighting up as they went through his custom-built funhouse. He also knows that part of being a midway worker is being an ambassador for the fair.
"Our No. 1 question is, 'Where's the bathroom?'" Weaver said. "That, or how to get to Sweet Martha's."
Will the key voting bloc support Harris or Trump? We went to the Minnesota State Fair (where else?) and asked them.