Is this the beginning of the end of Fair St. Louis as we know it?
By Matthew Halverson
Photograph courtesy of Fair St. Louis
Blame it on the Black Eyed Peas. The multi-platinum pop rap group probably didn’t set out to ground the Fair St. Louis air show—it’s a good bet they knew they were in St. Louis only because they were playing in the shadow of the Arch—but when they stepped on the Budweiser Stage last July 2, they unwittingly ushered in a new era in the city’s riverfront festivities, one that would no longer have room for barrel rolls and fly-bys. Just as the demographic that organizers were trying to reach was skewing younger, the fair was outgrowing one of its tent-pole attractions.
There were signs that a format shakeup was on the way, starting with the departure last November of longtime Fair St. Louis executive director Rich Meyers and the event’s merger with the Live on the Levee concert series. At the time, general chairman Arnold Donald hinted that the air show had run its course and might be nixed. The formal announcement came this April, with new executive director Missy Slay pointing out that the focus would be on the more popular aspects of the fair, namely free music and fireworks.
Rick Grissom, who coordinated the Fair St. Louis air show from 1998 through last year, learned last fall from Meyers that the final year of his contract would not be picked up. It wasn’t exactly a devastating blow to Grissom’s Kissimmee, Fla.-based business—he’d hoped to take a sabbatical this year after breaking his neck in a car accident last year—but he’s still sad to see the show die. “All of the elements were important to make it the event it was,” he says. “Otherwise, you just have a concert with fireworks.”
Last summer was the first time in the fair’s 25-year history that Col. Jack Jackson didn’t perform his nine-minute Harrier routine. He’d retired from his job as a test pilot with Boeing and started plotting his campaign for state auditor. Apparently the campaign has kept him busy; he wasn’t even aware that the show was dead—or in danger, for that matter. “People came out for the air show, but I don’t think they came out for the fair much,” he says. “It kind of saddens me [that it’s over], but it’s nice to know that I was a major player in the effort.”
Slay redirects the conversation when questions about the air show are raised, instead focusing on the expanded lineup of national acts that will be offered at this year’s fair and later in July and August at Live on the Levee (all of which are free, she mentions more than once). “We realized that people want to come downtown for two things,” she says. “They want free entertainment and fireworks, so let’s focus our resources on those two aspects of the event.” Gone are less-hip bands like Huey Lewis & the News, the Doobie Brothers and Hootie & the Blowfish; in their place this year are acts like Jason Mraz and ... Hootie & the Blowfish.
It’s the first of what may be several more changes in the fair’s future, among them, a name change. Slay says the “Fair St. Louis” moniker will be replaced “eventually.”
The sun was shining in Kiener Plaza, early in May, and local band the UltraViolets warmed up the crowd of media types and passersby before Mayor Slay took to the stage to announce acts for this summer’s Live on the Levee. The song played shortly before he walked to the mic: Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.” Whether it was a playful attempt at proclaiming solvency or an instance of unfortunate irony, it was clear to the few in attendance that as the fair hobbles into its 26th year, its viability rests heavily on the success of its new direction.
