MINNESOTA LAKE, Minn. – Three hours before the parade, complete with tractors, freeze-pop tossers and aloha-shirt-clad drum corps, three princesses in evening gowns gave an interview to a Blue Earth radio station.
“It's really hard to compare,” said Paige Gunsolas, a Maple River High School student who was runner-up in the 2023 Miss Fest Ag pageant. “I come every year.”
The Minnesota Lake Agriculture Festival takes place in a town of 662 people amid the corn and soybean fields of southern Minnesota about 90 minutes south of the Twin Cities. The midsummer term was coined to describe the annual two-day agricultural festival, which features a Lions Club pork burger stand, high school bands marching through downtown and even a street dance performance by the Johnny Holm Band.
Every summer, towns across Minnesota throw festivals to attract locals back home, foster a sense of community, and boost business — but also as a chance to sell country-town living to people who might not yet be convinced.
“Traditions are pretty important in small towns,” said Jeff Ramsley, Minnesota Lake's longtime mayor. “And this celebration makes us famous.”
This is a similar recipe used across the state.
Lake George has its Blueberry Festival, Braham has Pi Day and Waterville celebrates Bullhead Day with a bullhead fry, when anglers are sometimes disappointed to find a bony little fish at the end of their line instead of a meaty walleye.
Economic revitalization
In a world of big-box chains and remote work, the excuse to hold a parade or car derby is one of the few opportunities for neighbors to connect — and provide a bit of a boost to the local economy.
The 2018 Beltrami County Fair in Bemidji generated $4.43 in spending for every dollar the local agricultural association spent hosting the event, according to a University of Minnesota Tourism Center report on county fairs.
A similar U study of the Pine County Fair found that its popular demolition derby, in which cars are smashed into one another, draws enthusiasts from far and wide across the Twin Cities: The average age of attendees is 34, and the event is economically democratic, with household incomes below $100,000.
Qian Xinyi, director of the tourism centre, said the reason for the popularity of such events is easy to explain.
“We don't want to bowl alone,” Qian said, citing a 2000 non-fiction book by Robert D. Putnam that discussed growing isolation in American communities.
Of course, the national perception of small town decline is well-established, but the U.S. Census Bureau estimates that the nation's rural population has grown slightly since the COVID-19 pandemic.
For more than 70 years, Faribault County, in the corn and soybean-growing region south of Lake Minnesota, has hosted Fest-Ag, a downtown weekday party in the shadow of the grain elevators that can draw as many as 10,000 people.
At this year's FestAg, the Addis family from nearby Delavan sat front and center along the parade route.
“There's as many as I saw at the Blue Earth fair.” “It's a great opportunity to be part of the community,” said Deb Addis, a newcomer to FestAg.
Her husband, Ray, added: “I think there's more.”
The Faribault County Fair, held in the town of Blue Earth, population about 3,000, is a much larger event, but the county of 14,000 has seen its population decline by 4.3 percent since 2010, the fastest among Iowa's contiguous counties.
But areas with a mix of rural and urban populations grew at a faster rate than urban areas alone from 2020 to 2022, according to a report from the Rural Policy Development Center in St. Peter, Minnesota.
Julie Tesch, director of the Center for Rural Policy and Development, who lives on a farm just outside Waldorf (population 202), east of Lake Minnesota, sees the need for these simple annual gatherings as a sign of rural shrinkage.
“You used to go to basketball games and football games to meet your neighbors, but now kids in Waldorf go to four different school districts,” Tesch said, “so there's no way to build community.”
She also noted that it is an economic lifeline for local businesses.
“You don't see McDonald's setting up a booth,” Tesch said.
Small and medium-sized enterprises
Two sisters opened a cafe called Our Place & Little Town Treasure on Minnesota Lake's Main Street earlier this year. Laura Sonneck and Marion Roesler, a former HVAC technician and plumber, respectively, reeled off the names of former businesses, including clothing stores, grocery stores and hardware stores, that once dotted the downtown area.
“I liked the idea of bringing life back to this little town,” Sonek said.
Minnesota Lake's largest employer, Nodus American Homes, located on State Route 22, builds custom homes throughout the upper Midwest, and its designs often start with a napkin sketch of the owner's dream.
“Sunday Night Dinner” “It's a very unique experience,” said Kyle Loker, a sales rep who grew up outside of town. “That's usually what we sell.”
The company's reach has expanded during the pandemic, and manager Todd Redig said the company doesn't necessarily have a contract with Fest-Ag, but understands the social importance of the celebration.
“I met a friend from Chicago downtown the other day.” Redig said. “It really is like a family reunion.”
This year, Noldus raffled off the garden shed he towed in the parade.
Many small towns in Minnesota have shed A Prairie Home Companion's “Lake Wobegon” image in the 21st century as commuter town residents commute to the Twin Cities and other centers. In many ways, the parade and series of events itself is the glue that holds the towns together.
Maureen Frank, executive director of the nonprofit that oversees Kolucky Days in Montgomery, oversees “hundreds of volunteers” who run everything from volleyball tournaments to tractor pulls.
In Willmar, Bollig Engineering, which works with towns with populations under 5,000, provides candy-throwing volunteers in company vehicles to 12 parades each summer, from Tracy's Box Car Days to Bonanza Valley Days in Brewton.
“We want to be known as the neighborhood,” owner Brian Bollig said.
Community Traditions
At the Lake Minnesota gardening contest, weeds piled up on an upright piano as Gloria Harris' daughter-in-law carried the 102-year-old into the building in a wheelchair. Harris, who has attended FestAg every year for years, She runs a beauty salon from her home, and for the big celebration she wore a bright blue jacket to match her blue eyes.
“I think the parade has always been here,” Harris said, adding one year the event moved to the school gym, “but that was because of a storm.”
Summer festival staples have been in a precarious position since the pandemic: St. Paul's Grand Old Day was on hiatus for years due to financial difficulties, but is back for 2023. Minneapolis' Basilica Block Party is returning next month, though the music festival is no longer taking place at the Basilica after a two-year hiatus.
“We're pleased to be able to continue to work with the Minnesota Lakes Councilman, who oversees the festival's finances,” said Richard Sturrock, a Minnesota Lakes Councilman who oversees the festival's finances. He said that in 2000, a festival event cost about $40,000, but now it costs closer to $70,000.
“The community really looks forward to this festival,” Sturrock said, adding that the festival is funded primarily by donations. “Nobody wants it to die on their watch.”
At 7 p.m., the parade sprints forward as the grand marshal climbs into the back of a convertible and bands from Maple River and neighboring United South Central high schools march down Main Street. The carnival rides go quiet for a moment. Along the way, men in baseball caps drink beer from koozies. Moms in spaghetti straps wave to their high school friends and chase their kids, who scoot breathlessly around the parade float wheel hoping for sweet presents.
When the Shriners shout in the street, everyone takes a step back in unison.
As dusk falls, the streets fill with people and the princesses take to the stage. A Demolition Derby fanatic with aspirations of attending beauty school struts out in a bright blue dress, her blonde hair tied up in a bun. Unfortunately, the crown goes to her friend.
“This is your first time on Lake Minnesota, right?” the announcer said, turning to Miss Minnesota Teen from Thief River Falls.
Across the street, a parent shoves a crying child into a car seat. There's too much ice cream and candy. Tomorrow, crews will clear the road of crushed sweets and forgotten wrappers.
But there's nothing quite like being in the center of this little town's main street on that one Wednesday night a year, as the neon carousel spins, long before the string of headlights continues on the roads leading out of town.
