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JUMP CAPTION
Jesse Bogue was born into it.
His father, Andy, was in the carnival business, and it didn't take much to get the son hooked. Bogue, now 39, has been following in his father's footsteps since age 6.
Bogue, like other carnival ride owners and vendors, lives on the road, traveling from town to town to play host to endless audiences across the country. He has called the Del Mar Fairgrounds home since June 14, and will leave San Diego after the fair ends today to start all over again in Orange County.
A native of Aspen, Colo., Bogue regards the San Diego County Fair as a homecoming of sorts.
“Actually, this particular fair was the first fair I did,” he said, standing with his arms crossed beside the water and balloon games he owns and operates. “You come here and it's pretty easy to get hooked. Come out right here on the beach as a kid, you're at the fair – there's nothing better.”
As a teenager, Bogue spent his summers touring the California carnival circuit with his father. His parents were divorced, so he would return to his mother in Colorado for the school year until he graduated from high school.
After that, he joined the carnival full-time.
He said he thought briefly about doing something else. “This is just different, though,” he added. “It's unlike anything. It's hard to explain to someone that hasn't experienced it.”
Bogue can't remember how many cities he has been to. In fact, he can't even remember all the states.
“I really don't know,” he said, laughing. “Too many to count. I've been through all of California, Oregon, Washington, Nevada, Utah – Florida and Texas, too – really, just everywhere.”
While his address keeps changing, Bogue is grateful that his family is often there with him. His three children travel with him when their school schedules allow.
“It's great because we're always together,” his said. “That part of it is really nice. You're constantly around your family.”
Family connection
The same has been true for Rob Jundt, who was Bogue's best man at his wedding. Jundt, 44, often travels with his wife and four children.
Like Bogue, Jundt joined the carnival because it was in the family. His wife's cousins owned rides and went to Jundt looking for help.
“They kind of came to me and asked if I wanted to join the carnival, and, of course, I laughed,” Jundt said. “And here I am, 21 years later, still doing it.”
Jundt grew up on his father's ranch in Rapid City, S.D. He always knew he was supposed to be a rancher. So when he told his father he was joining the carnival, his dad's reaction wasn't the best at first.
“Over time, it was fine,” Jundt said. “He and I have a very good relationship. My mom and dad have even come out and spent summers out here with us.”
Being a small-town kid, Jundt never got around much. But starting with his first stop in Boise, Idaho, his rookie year on the carnival tour changed all that.
“That year was absolutely exciting,” Jundt said. “I got to see California, Idaho – things I had never seen. Now we're doing the same spots all the time, so I've seen them all, say, 20 times.”
Jundt owns a stand called T.J.'s Ice Cream, and also operates the Sky Ride – a ski lift contraption that moves fairgoers throughout the park.
“The highest tower is 67 feet tall, and it's probably a quarter of a mile long,” Jundt said. “It'll take three days to take it all down. Then the only thing you'll see here is concrete.”
Making sure the Sky Ride is working is just one part of a long day for Jundt and the rest of the carnival workers.
“I go over to the ice cream stand first,” he said. “I stock that up and get it ready to go, and then I come over here (to the Sky Ride) and do the same things with the (daily) inspections. Then everything just keeps going.”
“It's a long day,” Bogue added. “We're here at 9 or 9:30 a.m., and then we're closing at 12 or 1 in the morning. Then you get up and do it all over again.”
City on wheels
Bogue guesses he's on the road 130 days a year. Jundt can't remember – he just knows that his family got started in February. Both said there are plenty of others doing it year-round. While the cities may change from stop to stop, the setting itself remains the same for those working the carnival.
“A carnival is a unique thing because it's almost like you're moving an entire city,” Bogue said. “Everybody is involved as far as electric power, water, sewage, all that stuff. It's all portable. Everything moves. Everybody moves and gets up and goes, and then you're at a new town.”
Those in the carnival business live out of house trailers. Bogue likens the experience to camping.
“You're dealing with so many different things that you really don't realize how much goes into making something like this until you do it hands-on,” he said. “You really can't comprehend it unless you see it from the beginning. We're in a parking lot here, and after we're gone, it's just a parking lot again.”
Once the San Diego County Fair reverts to a vacant lot beside the racetrack, Bogue, Jundt and their families will continue on to Orange County. When problems arise, they will rely on each other.
“I get to work with some of the best people there are,” Jundt said. “I'll have a flat tire and ask Jesse to send a truck over, and he'll do it first thing. When you work with good people, it's easy to keep coming back.”
Carnival workers have been stereotyped under a negative light as long as they've been in existence – from the quirky father-son duo featured in the “Bart Carny” episode of “The Simpsons” to Gary Busey's starring role in the 1980 film “Carny.”
But these carnival workers believe that light should start shining in a different direction.
“The days of the carnies and all that, that's totally changed,” Jundt said “It's run as a business. It's not just some backyard, a kid ride, and call it a carnival.
“There's drug testing. Our employees can't have tattoos, they have to be in these khaki uniforms. It has all changed. You don't get that until you come out and get to know people on a one-to-one basis.”
Bogue thinks part of their business is to enlighten the public about carnival workers, even if it means changing just a few minds at a time.
“That's what you try to do,” he said. “All of this out here – everybody has kids. Our kids are eating the food, playing the games, riding the rides. We're putting that much time and care into what we're doing because if we put our kids out there, that says a lot.”
Adam Loberstein is a Union-Tribune intern.
