Engine show is a living legacy

What would Woody Turner think?
That thought inevitably occurs on the eve of the 47th Tri-State Gas Engine and Tractor Association show at the Jay County Fairgrounds.
What would the father of the whole thing think of it today?
These days, only a handful of the folks attending this year’s mammoth show crossed paths with Woody. Many, many of the original members of Tri-State are long gone.
The blessed few who have survived know how lucky they are.
My path was lucky enough to cross Woody’s back in 1974. Not that anyone’s counting, but that’s 38 years ago. It wasn’t an auspicious introduction, but it grew into a great friendship.
I was a rookie reporter, first day on the job. The assignment was to find out from Woody what sort of attendance figures were available, assess the success of the show, and pretty much explain to people in Portland why traffic and parking had been so complicated the last few days. I found Woody at a campfire that Monday morning. He was dressed the way he was dressed most of the time I knew him: White T-shirt and blue jeans.
Woody worked at Portland Forge, and no-nonsense attire like Woody’s was the norm. Forget blue collar. There was no collar at all.
And — despite a great show — the Woody I met that day wasn’t in the mood to entertain stupid questions from a rookie reporter.
It seems that back when the show was just getting off the ground — when it had moved from its initial year at Ambassador Park in Fort Recovery to the Jay County Fairgrounds — someone at the newspaper had a hissy fit.
But that was the legacy I inherited when I sat down around a campfire to talk about the show.
After a brief trip to the woodshed — taking my licks for things that happened before my time — Woody opened up.
He talked, as he would in dozens of interviews over a span of decades, about the early years of the Tri-State show and the years before the first show was launched.
Woody was one of about a dozen or two dozen local collectors of old gas engines. He and some of the others had hauled engines to regional shows around the Midwest. But Woody and his buddies didn’t much like the way they’d been treated.
After all, if you have an engine or tractor show, it’s the exhibitors themselves and their collections that constitute the reason to visit.
Most shows, in those days, were taking exhibitors for granted.
Woody saw an opportunity.
He and the core group that became Tri-State started doing their own unique version of market research. They went to engine and tractor shows and asked fellow exhibitors, What irritates you about the way this show is run?
Actually, Woody wouldn’t have phrased it that way. He would have used the letters P.O., which still don’t seem right in a family newspaper.
After gathering those answers — data seems much too formal a word — Woody and his fellow Tri-State founders made a list of the things other engine shows did that irritated exhibitors.
Then they decided: We won’t do those things.
That was the marketing plan, and it was brilliant.
If you doubt that, look at this year’s show.
Woody’s gone now.
His funeral was a festival of bluegrass music, his other love besides old engines.
But the genius of his invention lives on.
Make people welcome. Eliminate the hassles when you can. And enjoy the time together.
That’s what it’s all about.
Whether you’re from Ohio or Alaska, whether it’s your first show or your 41st, welcome.
We’re glad you’re here.
Woody would be tickled pink.[[In-content Ad]]