A lifelong love of Street Fair
By HOLLY GASKILL
For nearly 40 years, Dick and Beverly Smitley have joined the tradition of the Bluffton Free Street Fair with their calliope.
The unique keyboard with steam whistles, often known in circuses and steamboats, has been pulled through one of the week’s parades almost every year. Dick gets the “circus wagon” and generator attached to his truck, and Bev sits at the keys, often wearing bright, patriot colors.
“Patriotic music sounds best,” Bev smiled. “You don’t want something real slow — you’ve got to have that ‘oom-pah-pah’ beat.”
It’s a simple, sweet tradition — and a remarkable part of their lives and love story.
In 1957, 19-year-old Dick Smitley met 18-year-old Bev Singer on the corner of Main and Market streets during the fair. He was from Berne. She was from Decatur. Their friends introduced them, and they spent the whole evening together, walking through the streets of downtown Bluffton.
Smitley told one of his friends, “I’m going to marry that girl.” Their first official date was just a few days later, on Saturday night of the fair.
“And I thought, ‘That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,’” Bev laughed.
Sixty-seven years later, sitting in their home together, Dick’s not quite sure why he said it — but he knows he was right.
Dick married Bev on June 11, 1960, at the old First Methodist Church in Decatur. The two moved into Dick’s childhood home in rural Berne and had three children, Suzie, Stacy and Eric.
Bev got the calliope in 1985. It had been a long-time dream, following in the footsteps of her father, Dowell Singer. He had fixated on getting a calliope ever since seeing one at Dierkes Implement in Decatur.
By Bev’s recollection, some carnival workers had left a calliope as collateral for goods they couldn’t buy. They never returned, and the calliope sat for sale for months.
“My dad was always looking that over always, every little part of it,” Bev recalled. “He kept looking at every little detail and he’d come home and say, ‘You know what, we ought to buy that.’” Bev playfully reenacted her mother, Georgianna, sternly replying, “We don’t need that — there’s things that we need to spend money on around here.”
After months of dwelling on the purchase, Dowell finally announced that he was taking off work at noon and buying the calliope. Bev, who took piano lessons, was ecstatic.
“And when I got home from high school that night, and he came in and he said, ‘Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I didn’t get the calliope,’ and I thought, ‘He’s lying,’” Bev said. “Because my dad did things like that, he liked to kid and joke.”
It was not a joke. The calliope had sat in the store for months, and the Decatur Shriners purchased it just moments before Dowell came in. They still have it, said club treasurer Larry Macklin.
Bev smiled. “And Dad said, ‘Don’t worry about it. I looked at that enough — I can make one, and I’m going to make us one.”
Dowell started with a small calliope, which still sits on a shelf just by the Smitleys’ front door. He started on a full-size calliope in 1957 but died before completing it. The instrument sat unfinished in their garage for some time before Georgianna finally announced she was selling it if Bev wasn’t playing it.
“And I don’t know what I said, but I didn’t think she really meant it, and I didn’t realize that I didn’t mean it,” Bev said. “I don’t know how long after that, but not very long, someone — he was a carnie and he was a crook — he found out about it (and) come to my mom … She sold that thing for $350 and he took it right away, obviously.” Dick had told Bev at the time that the motor alone would’ve cost as much. “When I came from work … I just couldn’t believe it. I sat at the kitchen table and I just sobbed.”
Bev acknowledged that the calliope isn’t to everyone’s taste. It really only has one volume — loud — and there’s a select amount of music you can play on the instrument. But to Bev, it’s a joyful noise. It reminds her of her adolescence. And it reminds her of her dad.
Dick and Bev looked for her dad’s calliope for years to no avail. In the ’80s, she and Dick embarked on buying their own calliope and building a “circus wagon.”
They bought a calliope made by a man in Iowa who was transitioning from the computer business. Bev’s brother-in-law helped make the trailer to carry the instrument, which they painted to be authentic to the circus. They painted “Bev’s Calliope” on either side and “85” on the back.
“And so that was the first year I started playing,” Bev said. “I think the Bluffton fair is one of the first places that I played, and I’ve been doing it ever since … I think because my dad loved it so much and was so excited about us doing that. There’s a lot of times I always would say before I start, ‘Well, this is for you, Dad.’”
Tearfully, she added, “That and the idea that, well — Street Fair’s where we met. I guess it’s a sentimental thing.”
Dick and Bev have traveled to fairs and festivals all around the Midwest and beyond, but the Street Fair has always been a special stop for them. Every year, the two have walked those same streets together again. Bev likes a Mettler’s fish sandwich and an ice cream cone, while Dick always gets an Italian sausage and pineapple whip.
This year, however, marked the last turn through the Midway with the calliope. Now in their mid-80s, it’s gotten a lot harder physically to participate in the parade, particularly since Dick has had back and neck surgery.
Bev spoke emotionally about the final parade. “I just feel awful. It will be a miracle if I can get through that parade (without crying),” then added with a laugh, “but I’ll have my glasses on — nobody will know.”
And so on Tuesday, Dick got the wagon ready with his truck, and Bev sat at the keys, swapping her stars and stripes for a red T-shirt in the muggy weather. And for one last time, they rounded Main and Market with streets lined with smiling faces.
“We’ve been really lucky to do it all these years,” Bev said. “It’s bittersweet, but they’re all good memories.”
holly@news-banner.com
