Fair entertainers rule the stage
OTHELLO — Elvis Presley passed away in 1977, despite the occasional tabloid rumor to the contrary. But the man singing “Jailhouse Rock” at the Othello Fair on Thursday made a believable substitute.
“I just loved Elvis,” said Danny Vernon. “(I) found my father’s records when I was a kid, and there was so much to listen to. Movie songs were fun because there’s always a different theme: you’re racing a car, or you’re in Hawaii or in the army.”
Vernon was part of the entertainment lineup at the Othello Fair Thursday, which included Penelope the Clown, Reptile Isle, balloonist Cody Williams and juggler Paul Isaak. Some of them performed on the two stages at the fairgrounds, and some roamed around the grounds. Most of them had at least two performances every day.
Vernon has been performing as Elvis for 25 years, he said, frequently accompanied by his wife and backup singer Marcia. When he’s not playing county fairs, he does car shows, casinos, street festivals, private parties, even funerals.
“Saturday night after I leave here, I’m going to officiate a wedding,” he said, dropping into his Elvis voice. “‘Do you promise to don’t be cruel and not have suspicious minds?’ Some people like to have me as a real officiant or sometimes like a rededication.”
Isaak winced a little when he said he’d been juggling professionally since 1988.
“Please don’t do the math,” he said. “I don’t want to think about it. I (took) a year off after school to just do something goofy for one year. It’s been a long year.”
Isaak’s show featured a lot more than just keeping balls in the air. He started with a single ball, demanding that the audience “ooh” appreciatively, then worked his way up to effortlessly tossing three around while riding a unicycle almost as tall as himself.
Across the midway, Kristina Nicholas Anderson of Cocolalla, Idaho, had set up a petting zoo with miniature horses and pigs, chickens and an enormous tortoise.
“All the animals are my personal pets,” Nicholas Anderson said. “This is my chance to share them with everybody. I just sort of hang out as the animal slave.”
The crowds during the middle of the day Thursday weren’t really crowds; the numbers were expected to swell in the evening as people got out of work and school. Isaak had perhaps a dozen at his show; Vernon’s first set had only two or three at times. It wasn’t the smallest audience Vernon had ever played, Marcia said; he’d once performed a full set at a bar with just one patron.
“He went up to this guy after an hour and a half to say, ‘Thank you for enjoying my music,’” she said. “And the waitress said, ‘Don’t bother. He’s deaf.’”


