FAIR GAME YESTERDAY'S CARNIES ARE TODAY'S ENTERTAINMENT PROFESSIONALS, WORRYING ABOUT PROFITS.

Byline: Brent Hopkins Staff Writer

Federico Delgado broke into the carnival world at the age of 20, long before he had 10 snakes, 10 birds and a pickup with 500,000 miles beaten onto it.

He reports each day for work in a leopard-print vest, logging a 15-hour shift before knocking off at midnight. His companions are brightly plumed tropical birds and snakes longer than a truck, following him from fair to fair from Florida to California. He used to live in Simi Valley; Now his home's a road-worn house trailer and his roommates are boa constrictors.

At 35, Delgado grosses $400 on a good day working the fair circuit and relishes his unusual occupation.

``I'll retire doing this - I couldn't do an office job,'' he said, swinging a scarlet macaw from its perch onto his shoulder. ``I love my job. You see the expression on the kids' faces when they get to touch the animals. It's priceless.''

He's been in the business for 15 years, making his living going from county fairs to festivals with the Amazon Wonders booth. He works a grueling 11 months each year, using his days off to travel from town to town. In the old days, he'd have been called a carny, but he considers himself to be a professional.

The industry he loves, winding up its high season Oct. 2 at the Los Angeles County Fair in Pomona, has changed dramatically in recent years. Cleaned up and heavily regulated, it no longer has the wild, mysterious air of the traveling carnival but instead has taken on a friendlier, more familylike aura.

``The carnival's not what I thought of as a kid,'' said Tom Carlock, a 12-year veteran working the dart throw at the recent Ventura County Fair. ``Some of the guys are kind of scruffy, but I think it's more professional now. You get people from all walks of life, ones who were homeless or had no job before. Now they've got security.''

He cuts an interesting figure, with his tattooed arms and raspy, tobacco- cured voice. A former fisherman, he got into the fair circuit at the age of 40, and even with his tough-sounding manner, kids warm up to him as he offers up stuffed dogs as their prize.

Carlock stands as a bridge between the two worlds, with a touch of exotic mixed with a businessman's attitude. He works February to September, hunting and fishing in Mississippi to relax. To make some extra money, he also owns a couple of game stands that he'll take to little neighborhood festivals when he's not working for someone else on the main circuit.

According to the International Association of Fairs and Expositions, fairs draw more than 150 million in paid attendance each year. Though the fairs themselves are nonprofit organizations, intended to further community understanding of agriculture and handicrafts, there's serious money to be made for entrepreneurs and operators.

Annually, the industry grosses more than $1 billion, according to the Outdoor Amusement Business Association. The nonprofit trade group counts among its members 350 carnival companies and 5,000 circuses, independent ride operators and food vendors.

As the industry's matured and grown, however, it's run into the same problem that more traditional enterprises face. Insurance for the games and rides gets pricy, and this year, diesel and gasoline at more than $3 a gallon have cut deeply into the bottom line.

``Is it lucrative?'' said Michelle Knight, a third-generation carnival worker who owns MCM Concessions. ``Everyone goes back and forth on that. It's so expensive, it's getting harder and harder to make a profit. I think the fuel, the insurance, that'll put the small people out. You work so hard here, you've got to make some money. Otherwise, you'd get a regular job.''

Knight's grandparents, German immigrants, started buying carnival rides after the Great Depression and built it into a traveling business. She can't remember a time she wasn't immersed in the life. Now 30, with a child of her own, she still loves the thrill of the business.

It's not cheap to break into, which is why longtime family businesses like hers tend to make up the bulk of the players. A small roller coaster can cost $1 million and even a water race can run $50,000. They're not easy to transport, either, requiring sometimes as many as five semitrailers to haul from show to show.

Craig Sawyers, a big man with a Fu Manchu mustache and a hat adorned with flames, has watched the fair circuit change mightily in his 45 years. He's third-generation carnival, pushing his Piggly's BBQ & Grill from Texas to Canada each year, working five states and 20 events annually.

For his monthlong stand at the L.A. County Fair, which is open through Oct. 2, he'll pay 24 percent of his gross in rent, then get into his labor, insurance and supply costs.

``That's a $200,000 trailer, this one here's $250,000, that truck's $70,000,'' he said, clustered between onion fryers and barbecue turkey leg pits. ``We're sitting on a million dollars worth of gear here. In the '60s and '70s, you could run this out of the back of a pickup truck. Not anymore. You need business skills and contacts. It's not for fun - this is how we make a living.

``The bottom line is getting thinner and thinner each year. Even people who've been doing this for three or four generations, they've got to take a hard look at where it's going. Maybe there's no future with the way things are.''

While there are still opportunities for smaller entrepreneurs to hawk gadgets and inventions, Dale Coleman, Fairplex's vice president of sales, marketing and creative programming, agreed that the industry will become increasingly dominated by large operators.

``There's no question in this day and age, we couldn't survive without the big corporations,'' Coleman said.

Though the immense size of the L.A. County Fair, with 500 acres of exhibition space and 30,000 parking spaces, can be a little overwhelming for vendors, it's one of the most important destinations in the country. Drawing roughly 1.3 million visitors, one of less than a dozen fairs out of 3,000 nationwide to pull in attendance of that size, it brings in businesses that could not be farther from the road-weary ride jocks and purveyors of deep-fried delicacies.

``It's a lot of work. We complain about it, but it's all worth it, said Liza Praytor, who owns Patio Furniture Plus, a retailer in Ontario and Rancho Cucamonga, with her husband, Greg. ``We don't get a million people coming through our stores, we just get 60, 70, maybe 100 a day. Maybe not everyone stops, but eventually, you get enough.''

She figures an 18-day run at the fair will get her an extra $100,000 in business, a crucial infusion of cash during the beginning of her slow season.

A few hundred yards from her booth comes the roar of an enormous Chevrolet engine, followed by men rolling comically large tires after a monster truck. That's the Ecology Eliminator, a red pickup that shows up at seven fairs between April and October.

Unlike other businesses, Ecology Auto Parts isn't selling much. The Santa Fe Springs-based company instead uses the two booths, which cost $7,000 to rent for the length of the fair, to impress its name on the minds of more than a million potential consumers.

``Most other people here need revenue now, a ticket to ride a ride, a taco, pots, pans, everything,'' said Mark Burke, marketing director for the parts and recycling company. ``We're not here to make money right now. We're here to win friends and influence people: Instead of a one-time customer, we want one for life.''

In spite of the challenges involved, Richard Allen readily jumped into the carnival life at the age of 39. He'd been in the satellite and furniture businesses, but wanted a change, so he bought the Pennsylvania Dutch Funnel Cake stand and works 40 shows a year.

His truck gets six miles to the gallon, his Winnebago gets just three, but he grosses $1,200 a day on average and makes 1,500 funnel cakes daily when things get really hectic.

``And the people here are like family,'' the Oroville resident said as the steaming fried concoctions sailed out the window next to him at the Ventura fair. ``You run out of something, someone covers your back. If you break down on the side of the road, they'll help you.''

That's why Dudley Sheffield showed up for work 16 years ago and fell in love with the carnival. He runs the Happy Pond kiddie merry-go-round, hoisting youngsters into its aquatic-themed cars all day, then sending them around in a giggling circle. Long hours in the sun have tanned his arms a deep bronze and faded the designs inked there long ago, but the 60-year-old doesn't mind the long hours or sometimes inclement weather.

A worker like him can earn up to $300 a day, along with benefits. Unlike the game workers, they're not dependent on how many people pick their ride, earning a straight salary rather than a hustler's commission.

``If you know what you're doing, it's a good job,'' Sheffield said. ``You stay here long enough, you can make enough to live off of it. You get used to it - how to set 'em up, how to tear 'em down. It's just like clockwork.''

This is the life that lured in Carlos Serrano. A few months ago, the 27- year-old North Hollywood resident was a house painter running out of jobs when a cousin with a connection at the fair told him, ``C'mon, come make some money with me.'' Soon he was working the One Ball throw, inviting passers-by to take aim at heavy bottles with a softball.

He's what the old-timers call ``green help,'' a new guy to the lifestyle. For the Ventura fair, he shared a nearby hotel room with six guys stuffed into two beds. He was enthusiastic about his new line of work and thinks he may stick with the carnival for awhile.

``It's a different world here,'' he said. ``You see a lot of things, a lot of places you've never seen before. They say there's ones in Utah, Sacramento, Flagstaff. I don't even know where we're going next. ... It's pretty tough work, but you get used to it.''

Brent Hopkins, [phone]

brent.hopkins(at)dailynews.com

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(1 -- 9 -- color) Scenes from the Los Angeles County Fair, going on now through Oct. 2 at the Fairplex in Pomona, and the Ventura County Fair, which ran in August, show the variety of activities available, from exotic foods to rides to mariachi music to the more traditional games of skill and chance.

Photos by Michael Owen Baker and Will Lester/Staff Photographers