The goats are irresistible. They have the kind of eyes you never get a chance to see, set high and far back on the head in a totally alien fashion.

John Maher

Well, the fair’s back in Del Mar — the Southern California Exposition, covering the Del Mar race track and fairgrounds with a carpet of sightseers and trash that will take another month to clear away. The races don’t begin until July 23, and that’s little enough time to tidy away the rural sprawl that’s in control out there right now.

But 1 love the fair: flora and fauna, livestock and agriculture, the midway and the leather shops, the model electric train and Don Diego himself, wearing more make-up than the Fairest of the Fair. I wouldn't miss it for anything.

One of the rarest opportunities offered at the fair is that of watching a skilled pitchman ply his trade. For twenty years the Kitchen Queen man has held his audience enthralled while the other stalls stand empty. His method is incredibly smooth patter, leaving no holes for boredom to fill, never stuttering and always keeping his hands busy with his props as he displays the wonders of his liquifying blender. It’s a marvel; he can and does take the top off repeatedly during his twenty minute spiel to show how the blades suck down and in instead of flinging up and out. The speed in which his machine reduces solids to liquids, half a head of cabbage, a carrot and a radish into cole slaw (“No more than a few seconds, mind, or you'll get vegetable juice instead of slaw."), and dissolves whole eggs . . . well, it's breathtaking. The finale is a special health food preparation combining the most unlikely ingredients (including that raw egg): it tastes like a strawberry shake or a “smoothie" (and no strawberries anywhere, not up his sleeve, not in his hat). The free samples prove it, and if it weren’t so expensive, you'd beat a path to his door. That man can sell.

I couldn't find him this year; maybe he’s retired to the South Pacific on his profits. But beware entering the grounds by the west gate. You'll walk right into the arms of the Kitchen Magic man, who is far more dangerous than Kitchen Queen ever could have been, for the simple reason that these kitchen utensils are priced at just about the amount of cash you're carrying in your pocket. You may not see yourself succumbing to the charms of a nylon cheese grater that can't scrape your knuckles or a surgical steel knife guaranteed never to go dull, but 1 never thought to find any of those items in my kitchen, either, and I found myself clutching them before I'd even set foot on the Midway. It's a dangerous gate, and don't say you weren’t warned.

After such victimization, it seems necessary to repair to the livestock barns to look for someone to make you feel a little less foolish. I can recommend the sheep for the purpose. Clearly, anything as woolly on the outside as these creatures must have a fuzzy mentality too. But after your ego is restored, there are more interesting animals to visit.

For instance, the goats are irresistible. They have the kind of eyes you never get a chance to see, set high and far back on the head in a totally alien fashion. They come in such a variety, too. I like the Nubians, partly because I can always remember the name, but the range of colors and shapes is surprising.

Down at the far end are the swine, if you can bear to walk so far for so little reward. At the fair.' pigs are mainly notable for their immensity and excessive cleanliness, but I find that listening to them breathe for any length of time brings out the ruder instincts.

Rabbits, now. The rabbit and coney house is neat. Coneys, you ask? So did I, but my biologist roommate informed me carelessly that even scientists refer to them as guinea pigs. They have a certain strange charm. For one thing, they are specifically bred for those strange cowlicks that look like sunbursts of fur, and many of the entries had their hair in curl papers to emphasize the oddity.

But as I was saying, there are rabbits. The thing that draws me to the rabbit cages is the richness and variety of color of the fur. There are, of course, dozens upon dozens of the traditional albino variety, but there are also fox red rabbits and sable colored rabbits and rabbits with fur like Siamese cats. There are rabbits with up-right ears, and lop-eared rabbits, and very small rabbits with hardly any ears at all. compared to other rabbits. You'd be surprised at the interest you can work up in a roomful of tiny cages.

After strolling through those endless rows of penned and caged animals, you may find relief in the activity of the rodeo. A section of the race track in front of the grandstand is marked off for the event, giving the audience a clear view of all the proceedings. The riders and the animals maintain very high standards in everything from bulldogging to barrel riding, and the charm of all sport, watching something done beautifully, is redoubled here by the lovely motion of horses and bulls, plunging across the makeshift corral.

When you've finished goggling at the rodeo, it’s probably time to make for the midway and the hawkers there. The main path through the grounds is strewn with concession stands offering dozens of varieties of food, occasional benches and low walls, and masses of fair-goers who have temporarily fallen by the wayside, resting and cooling their battered feet, feeding the children, and checking out their sunburn.

The food stands are a favorite with most fairgoers, and not just because of their exhaustion and hunger. Within yards of each other are stalls selling tacos, fried chicken, ginger bread and whipped cream, pizza, lox and bagels, and chow mein. Even if you aren't hungry, it's fine walking down the Midway because it smells so good.

At the end of the Midway, you come to the Fun Zone, the carnival half of the fair. Here you’ll find all the sideshows, shooting galleries and, of course, the rides. For a traveling carnival, the rides are very good. Naturally, one prime requirement is that they be scary, so that the rattletrap nature of, say, the roller coaster, only adds to the excitement. I like the umbrella ride, myself. You're strapped into a seat that dangles precariously from an umbrella and sent up to the top of the arc. swinging wide there before swooping back down to the ground, pulling your feet close to avoid catching them on the roof of the next ride or the platform of your own ride. It's like an extended ride in an elevator that insists on leaving your stomach behind on its ups and downs.

The immensely fat man who runs the umbrella ride has a grim, disinterested look as he starts up his machinery, possibly because the Fun Zone offers another umbrella ride as competition, although his is the only one with a ring of lights on each umbrella. But if he's depressed, think what it must be like for the ferris wheel concessionaires. There are at least five different ferris wheels on the grounds: two of the standard kind, simply making constant, steady circles: two more of the stomach-churning variety, where the hapless rider is bolted into a steel basket and rolled head over heels during the usual revolutions; and finally the giant double ferris wheel that offers the delights of that first downward sweep of the roller coaster at the top of the double cycle. When you have your breath and your stomach back, the top of the double ferris wheel provides the most comprehensive view possible of the fairgrounds. You can look down the length of the midway at those candy colored hordes you left only moments ago. To the north, beyond the grandstand, the cool green oval of the racetrack is in view, with the rippling fountain in the center. All around you. the other rides are continuing their frantic circling and looping, but the sounds that drift up are diminished by their distance. You really are very high indeed.

There are still the exhibit halls. Coming from the Fun Zone, you'll find in the first hall acres of fruit, advertisements for their home counties. Avocados are very popular in those exhibits. This year, the numismatists have half of that back hall for their coin collections and data concerning their interest. Here the Boy Scouts. Girl Scouts. Camp Fire girls and political groups vie for your interest with hand-lettered placards, and the county sheriff's car and the S.D.P.D. car are both open to your inspection within yards of each other. Have you really cared to know what the engine of a police car looked like? Well, here's your chance. There are small stages between this hall and the next, and various forms of entertainment take their turns here, from a trained chimpanzee to baton twirling competitions to three part harmonies a la the Andrews Sisters. Bleachers arc handily situated for interested or exhausted on lookers.

In the Bing Crosby Hall, commercialism has full sway. Vacuum cleaners, encyclopedias, and household appliances of all descriptions tend to overwhelm the League of Women Voters who want to make sure you are registered. Free drawings abound here, and if you're lucky, you could make off with a truckload of merchandise, some of it hideous, but all of it w ell -advertised — at least, here, by word of mouth.

But there is more to the county fair than selling whatever you can. The flower and garden show, for example. The best time to see these exhibits is early in the first week of the fair, before the cut flowers in the arrangements have faded and died. The titles those arrangements are given are always obscure and rather silly, but those arc the choices for entering, and the judges are better at choosing flowers than names. There are always exotic orchids, and masses of roses in incredible shades; the carnations smell better than anything, and the irises are gorgeous, especially one tiger-colored one that I saw for the first time this year.

The flower beds last longer than the arrangements, and they are even more incredible in scope and concept. Even with the schematics that some exhibiters are kind enough to provide, it is scarcely possible to identify all the plants that are included in these displays.

If you haven't worn yourself out by nightfall, there is live entertainment, on a slightly higher scale than the afternoon's amateur hour. From the Kingston Trio to the King Family, the Fair Committee does its best to provide entertainment for most tastes.

There is of course a great deal more. Baking and handcrafts, hobbies and collections, photographs and paintings, an automobile show. You have only to decide how to spend your time at the Fair, and it won't be the committee’s fault if you run out of things to see before your feet have mutinied. After all, the Fair only comes once a year.