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Built to Last Nine Days a Year

Cash changes hands at the Grotto Pizza stand and workers hand over slices of pizza on opening day of the Bloomsburg Fair in northeastern Pennsylvania. Grotto has grown into a regional brand with restaurants well beyond Bloomsburg, but the fair stand still draws a line on day one and that line will be constant for the next eight days.

Cash changes hands at the Grotto Pizza stand on opening day. Grotto has grown into a regional brand with restaurants well beyond Bloomsburg, but the fair stand still draws a line on day one and that line will be constant for the next eight days. Photo by Skip Hidlay

What a century of family food stands at the Bloomsburg Fair can teach brands about connecting with customers

At 4 p.m. on a Friday, two hours after the gates opened for the annual Bloomsburg Fair’s preview day, the line at the Grotto Pizza stand was already 20 people deep.

I was in it. I grew up in Bloomsburg, a town in the rolling hills of northeastern Pennsylvania, where the last full week of September belongs less to the town than to the fair. The public schools close for the entire week, because so many families, and their kids, are working at the fair. Some run their own stands. Others pick up extra cash working someone else’s.

Welcome to the sights and sounds and smells of the 171st Bloomsburg Fair. It began in 1855 as a showcase for the fruits and grains of Columbia County farmers. Today more than 500,000 people pass through the gates over nine days, making it the largest fair in Pennsylvania.

Walking the grounds this year, I was struck less by what had changed than by what hadn’t. The same families run the same stands under the same signs, some so weathered they seem held together by paint and memory. Long before “food truck” and “pop-up” became part of American culture, Bloomsburg had its own version: a temporary city of family businesses that appears every September and is gone overnight a week later.

Many of these are family-built brands that exist nine days a year. And I’ve come to believe they understand building customer loyalty better than many companies operating 365 days a year.

Stand out, or get walked past

Look at it from the stand owner’s side. Half a million people. Hundreds of stands. A few seconds of attention as each fairgoer drifts past. No ad budget, no agency, no algorithm. Just a sign, and whatever you can put on it that makes a hungry stranger stop.

The answers are gloriously unpolished.

The Hock's food stand at the Bloomsburg Fair features a homemade wooden sign on its roof with a strawberry Danish waffle topped with whipped cream beside a corn dog the size of a canoe.
Hock’s doesn’t just describe its strawberry Danish waffles. It builds one, whipped cream and all, and mounts it on the roof beside a corn dog the size of a canoe. Photo by Skip Hidlay
The Bissinger's stand at the Bloomsburg Fair peddles homemade apple and peach dumplings topped with cinnamon ice cream.
Bissinger’s promises “Old Fashion” apple and peach “Dumplins’” with cinnamon ice cream, “Home Maid.” No copy editor approved their sign. Everyone remembers it. Photo by Skip Hidlay
The Truly Tasty donut stand at the Bloomsburg Fair come in two kinds: plain or fancy. The brown, hand-lettered sign advertising the stand is worn, with peeling paint, but the donuts remain an enduring favorite of fairgoers.
Plain or fancy, these donuts come with a brand a promise painted right on the ring: “Truly Tasty!” The paint is peeling. The promise isn’t. Photo by Skip Hidlay
The Top of the Beef sandwich stand hand-lettered its name in yellow on a black top hat and hoisted it high enough to see from across the grounds of the Bloomsburg Fair.
No logo, no tagline, no font debate. Top of the Beef hand-lettered its name in yellow on a black top hat and hoisted it high enough to see from across the fairgrounds. Photo by Skip Hidlay
The Starr's Cider stand puts its hometown of Millville, Pennsylvania, right on its sign. In a crowd of strangers, "local" becomes its own brand differentiator.
Starr’s Cider puts its hometown, Millville, right on the sign. In a crowd of strangers, “local” becomes its own differentiator. Photo by Skip Hidlay
The Red Garter Saloon, a compact stand on wheels, sells birch beer, sarsaparilla and cream sodas from the Catawissa Bottling Co., from nearby Catawissa, Pa., plus an entire Old West persona, down to the wooden soda fountain barrels and the "Fast Draw" billing.
The Red Garter Saloon sells birch beer, sarsaparilla and cream sodas from the Catawissa Bottling Co., from nearby Catawissa, Pa., plus an entire Old West persona, down to the wooden soda fountain barrels and the “Fast Draw” billing. Photo by Skip Hidlay
The Karschner's food stand lets its menu do the talking at the Bloomsburg Fair: a prime rib sandwich for the main course and chocolate-covered peanut butter pie on a stick for dessert.
Karschner’s lets its menu do the talking: a prime rib sandwich for the main course and chocolate-covered peanut butter pie on a stick for dessert. Photo by Skip Hidlay
Every fair needs its novelty act. This year's lineup at the 171st Bloomsburg Fair includes deep-fried Pop-Tarts, with its sign lettered like a 1970s album cover.
Every fair needs its novelty act. This year’s lineup includes deep-fried Pop-Tarts, lettered like a 1970s album cover. Photo by Skip Hidlay
And then there's the Gunzey's stand, which sells hamburgers, cheeseburgers and sausage sandwiches. It turned a shipping container into a two-story stand with a rooftop deck and red umbrellas. Same fair, very different answer to the same question: How do you get noticed?
And then there’s Gunzey’s, which turned a shipping container into a two-story stand with a rooftop deck and red umbrellas. Same fair, very different answer to the same question: How do you get noticed? Photo by Skip Hidlay

What unites these signs isn’t design. It’s conviction. Each one tells you exactly what you’ll get and who is making it. In a crowd of half a million, authenticity isn’t a style. It’s a strategy.

Earn it once a year

Standing out wins you one sale. Loyalty is harder when your customers see you nine days a year and spend the other 51 weeks without you.

The fair’s longtime stands earn it through ritual. Mine is vinegar on French fries, right out of the fryer. As a kid, I discovered that the Bowman’s and Gross’s French fry stands set out spray bottles of apple cider vinegar alongside the ketchup, and I’ve loved vinegar-doused fries ever since. It’s a tiny detail. Decades later, it’s still the reason I go looking for those stands.

Bowman's French Fries, from nearby Espy, has been a fair institution for 78 years: hand-lettered sign, cash only. Look for the spray bottles of apple cider vinegar.
Bowman’s French Fries, from nearby Espy, has been a fair institution for 78 years: hand-lettered sign, cash only. Look for the spray bottles of apple cider vinegar. Photo by Skip Hidlay

Every Bloomsburg native carries a list of stands like mine that are must hits as you walk the fairgrounds. Fresh apple cider from Starr’s or the Benton Cider Mill. A warm dumpling under a scoop of ice cream. Kohr’s fresh-squeezed orangeade. Hewlett’s sausage and peppers. None of those memories is about a logo. Each is about a moment: a taste, a smell, a spritz of vinegar, a familiar face behind the counter.

The Benton Cider Mill has a hand-lettered sign overhead and advertises its prices on green poster board below. The stand’s cider, fresh-pressed on site with a 1960s-era apple press, has been a fair staple since 1974. A young fairgoer in a purple dress, riding high on someone's shoulders, may be starting a list of her own Bloomsburg Fair favorites.
Benton Cider Mill: a hand-lettered sign overhead, prices on green poster board below. The stand’s cider, fresh-pressed on site with a 1960s era apple press, has been a fair staple since 1974. The young fairgoer in the purple dress, riding high on someone’s shoulders, may be starting a list of her own Bloomsburg Fair favorites. Photo by Skip Hidlay

A brand is the sum of every experience a person has with it. When you get only nine days a year, every one of those experiences must count.

Hand it down

Nowhere is that clearer than at Moyer’s Bar-B-Q.

The Moyer's Bar-B-Q stand was started in 1923 by the Moyer family. The stand's banner promises "Fresh – Local – Homemade." A century of customers has held the family to that brand standard.
Moyer’s Bar-B-Q, “Est. 1923.” The banner promises “Fresh – Local – Homemade.” A century of customers has held the family to that brand standard. Photo by Skip Hidlay

“This is our 103rd year,” Wendy Keyser told me from behind the register. The stand comes from her mother’s side of the family, which started it in 1923.

Wendy Keyser sits behind the cash register of the Moyer's Bar-B-Q stand her mother's family started 103 years ago at the Bloomsburg Fair.
Wendy Keyser at the register of the stand her mother’s family started 103 years ago. Photo by Skip Hidlay

Her son joined the business 20 years ago and now smokes all of the meats. The family still makes its own relish and barbecue sauce. “Everything’s homemade and we use local-sourced wood,” she says. When Moyer’s started, a sandwich cost 10 cents. Today it’s $10.

A pulled pork sandwich on a soft roll, heaped with Moyer's homemade relish. Some brand promises you read. This one you eat.
Pulled pork on a soft roll, heaped with Moyer’s homemade relish. Some brand promises you read. This one you eat. Photo by Skip Hidlay

What Moyer’s doesn’t have is a restaurant. For more than a century, the brand has lived almost entirely inside those nine days. “It’s pretty much just the fair,” she said.

That’s the part of the Bloomsburg story I keep coming back to. The fair lets a family business become a multigenerational brand without ever becoming a big one. And the school week off isn’t just a vacation. It’s an apprenticeship. Kids learn the counter, the fryer and the regulars. Some of them grow up to run the stand.

Preserve the core, take it on the road

In their book Built to Last, Jim Collins and Jerry Porras found that enduring companies master a paradox: They hold fast to a core ideology while relentlessly pushing for progress. Preserve the core, stimulate progress.

The Bloomsburg Fair’s longest-running stands are a small, delicious proof of that idea. Moyer’s now has a food truck, taking a 103-year-old pop-up on the road. The relish, the smoke and the family behind the counter stay the same. What changes is how many days a year people can find them.

For leaders whose brands operate 365 days, the fair offers three questions worth asking:

  1. If your customers saw you only nine days a year, would they recognize you in a crowd?
  2. Would they line up on day one, without the ads and the reminders?
  3. Is your brand something your people would want to hand down?

I left the fairgrounds after a two-hour walkabout Friday, Sept. 23, with two Grotto pizza pies and a head full of old signs.

The fair ends this Saturday, Oct. 3, at 9 pm. The small city of big-top tents, food stands, carnival rides and games of chance will disappear overnight, as if it were all just a magical dream.

Next September, the families will be back, the signs will go back up and the line will start forming the minute the gates open.

That isn’t nostalgia. It’s a brand promise, kept one year at a time.


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