As I have on the weekend before Thanksgiving for the last 28 years, I spent most of this past weekend at Holiday Folk Fair.
But this year’s trip solidified a feeling that had been building in the back of my mind for the last few seasons; as much of a Milwaukee tradition as it is, Folk Fair just isn’t Folk Fair anymore.
The event that is held at the Wisconsin Exposition Center at State Fair Park is a far cry from what the event used to be, back in the days when it filled the old MECCA in downtown Milwaukee. It’s even got a new name; Holiday Folk Fair “International”. Like nobody knew that there were different nations represented?
Not to say that it’s not a good event anymore, and it’s no knock on the facility -- I’m a pretty big fan of anything that has to do with or involve State Fair. But Folk Fair just isn’t what it used to be.
Now, Folk Fair seems like an event cramped into a facility it doesn’t belong in. It’s akin to watching a baseball game in a stadium built for football. The smell, a unique scent almost impossible to describe but made up of the aromatic foods cooking in each of the ethnic food booths all lofting into the air.
The dancing, as always, was great. But there just seems to be something anti-climactic about the performances. It’s hard to get a good view of the show with the flat seating and the dancers on a stage raised up above the floor.
It’s just not the same.
Maybe it’s a biased feeling. I spent most of my life as a performer in one of the dance groups that participated in Folk Fair every year. It was one of the proudest weekends of the year. Sure, we Germans had German Fest and our annual Labor Day weekend convention and festival; but those were a lot more work and a lot more of a party.
Folk Fair was a chance for us to really show off our heritage and get to know other young people that did the same thing -- with slightly different backgrounds - that we did.
When I was young, my friends in the Donauschwaben, the Slovaks, the Polish, the Ukrainians, and the Greeks would roam the MECCA like we owned the place. There was room to spread out, there were places to sit and have (what we told our parents) was a “quiet conversation.”
We memorized the recorded announcement on the Skywalk … “Welcome to MECCA and the Holiday Folk Fair … Please stay to the right on the ramp … Walk, do NOT run … “
And then, of course, there was the Folk Spectacle.
There was something incredible about walking out into the dark Milwaukee Arena and hearing your group introduced. The lights would go on, and thousands of people would watch you perform. If that couldn’t get your blood rushing, there was always the flag ceremony in which -- as the narration went -- “proud descendants of people from other lands carried our most precious symbol of freedom, the American Flag”.
Growing up in an ethnic dance group while most of your friends played sports was never easy. But the jokes and snide comments would always subside after your classmates would come down with your school for Folk Fair. We always got to miss school that day, and see our friends -- but we knew, for at least a few hours -- we had something on our “cooler” classmates.
Walking around this weekend, I thought of all the special people that have been so involved in the Fair; Rosemary Zelenka, who always found a job or random task for an overly-eager young helper; Carol Keidl, my old dance teacher who was instrumental in each year’s event and had me write a story on the Fair that launched my career in Journalism, and most of all, I think of all the friends that I’ve made over the years -- some, only seeing each other that one special weekend.
We all used to stay at the Hyatt across the skywalk. We would hang out until the sun came up, sharing stories, talking about our groups, and sharing our traditions. It was something special, something unique. Where else could you find a German and a Jew, a Serb and a Croat, a Slovak and a Czech all sitting in the same room, laughing and having a good time?
My brother, sister and I had our mother as a dance teacher when we were young. Oh, how we complained about having to go to practice, or miss scout meetings because of dancing. And she never said a word when she saw us running around Folk Fair -- still in full ethnic garb -- smiling and having a blast. We’d never admit that we loved it, but she knew. It was just another thing that made Folk Fair special.
Most people will never know the difference. It’s still a terrific event to bring your family to; the food is still incredible; and the dancers -- as always -- are amazing. That said, it’s still tough for veterans of the Fair to walk around and not remember what once was.
Yup, it’s a biased feeling, and maybe that’s OK. Folk Fair will never be what it used to be when it filled downtown with its sights and smells, and that’s a shame. While it’s good to see the event going strong for 63 years, here’s to hoping that somehow, the organizers find a way to bring back at least a little bit of that magic in the years to come.
But this year’s trip solidified a feeling that had been building in the back of my mind for the last few seasons; as much of a Milwaukee tradition as it is, Folk Fair just isn’t Folk Fair anymore.
The event that is held at the Wisconsin Exposition Center at State Fair Park is a far cry from what the event used to be, back in the days when it filled the old MECCA in downtown Milwaukee. It’s even got a new name; Holiday Folk Fair “International”. Like nobody knew that there were different nations represented?
Not to say that it’s not a good event anymore, and it’s no knock on the facility -- I’m a pretty big fan of anything that has to do with or involve State Fair. But Folk Fair just isn’t what it used to be.
Now, Folk Fair seems like an event cramped into a facility it doesn’t belong in. It’s akin to watching a baseball game in a stadium built for football. The smell, a unique scent almost impossible to describe but made up of the aromatic foods cooking in each of the ethnic food booths all lofting into the air.
The dancing, as always, was great. But there just seems to be something anti-climactic about the performances. It’s hard to get a good view of the show with the flat seating and the dancers on a stage raised up above the floor.
It’s just not the same.
Maybe it’s a biased feeling. I spent most of my life as a performer in one of the dance groups that participated in Folk Fair every year. It was one of the proudest weekends of the year. Sure, we Germans had German Fest and our annual Labor Day weekend convention and festival; but those were a lot more work and a lot more of a party.
Folk Fair was a chance for us to really show off our heritage and get to know other young people that did the same thing -- with slightly different backgrounds - that we did.
When I was young, my friends in the Donauschwaben, the Slovaks, the Polish, the Ukrainians, and the Greeks would roam the MECCA like we owned the place. There was room to spread out, there were places to sit and have (what we told our parents) was a “quiet conversation.”
We memorized the recorded announcement on the Skywalk … “Welcome to MECCA and the Holiday Folk Fair … Please stay to the right on the ramp … Walk, do NOT run … “
And then, of course, there was the Folk Spectacle.
There was something incredible about walking out into the dark Milwaukee Arena and hearing your group introduced. The lights would go on, and thousands of people would watch you perform. If that couldn’t get your blood rushing, there was always the flag ceremony in which -- as the narration went -- “proud descendants of people from other lands carried our most precious symbol of freedom, the American Flag”.
Growing up in an ethnic dance group while most of your friends played sports was never easy. But the jokes and snide comments would always subside after your classmates would come down with your school for Folk Fair. We always got to miss school that day, and see our friends -- but we knew, for at least a few hours -- we had something on our “cooler” classmates.
Walking around this weekend, I thought of all the special people that have been so involved in the Fair; Rosemary Zelenka, who always found a job or random task for an overly-eager young helper; Carol Keidl, my old dance teacher who was instrumental in each year’s event and had me write a story on the Fair that launched my career in Journalism, and most of all, I think of all the friends that I’ve made over the years -- some, only seeing each other that one special weekend.
We all used to stay at the Hyatt across the skywalk. We would hang out until the sun came up, sharing stories, talking about our groups, and sharing our traditions. It was something special, something unique. Where else could you find a German and a Jew, a Serb and a Croat, a Slovak and a Czech all sitting in the same room, laughing and having a good time?
My brother, sister and I had our mother as a dance teacher when we were young. Oh, how we complained about having to go to practice, or miss scout meetings because of dancing. And she never said a word when she saw us running around Folk Fair -- still in full ethnic garb -- smiling and having a blast. We’d never admit that we loved it, but she knew. It was just another thing that made Folk Fair special.
Most people will never know the difference. It’s still a terrific event to bring your family to; the food is still incredible; and the dancers -- as always -- are amazing. That said, it’s still tough for veterans of the Fair to walk around and not remember what once was.
Yup, it’s a biased feeling, and maybe that’s OK. Folk Fair will never be what it used to be when it filled downtown with its sights and smells, and that’s a shame. While it’s good to see the event going strong for 63 years, here’s to hoping that somehow, the organizers find a way to bring back at least a little bit of that magic in the years to come.
