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To rest from this heartburn-inducing ordeal, the crowd shopped for squid- marked souvenirs, such as T shirts, potholders and aprons, or for fleece boots and vests, or viewed some of the scientific exhibitions showing squid and other marine animals in various stages of development. Children could have squid (or flowers or birds) painted on their faces at one booth, and, at another, they could paint alcohol-preserved squid, then make a print of their work on white paper to take home and hang in their rooms. In the best competitive spirit, shouts of "Look at mine! Look at mine!" brought high praise from parents. Exhausted with outdoor activities, they gathered in an auditorium to watch a skit titled Billy the Squid: a Calamari Western, produced by the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Eager volunteers wearing minimal white cotton tentacle costumes were cast as a school of squid. The school's role was to appear to be a large underwater mass and thus discourage the bad-guy shark. This is apparently one of the squid's classic defensive tactics, as is shooting its ink to hide itself.
By noon Sunday the crowd may have had its fill of calamari, for by far the most popular booth was Smokin' Jim's, where ribs and chicken were barbecuing in open smoke pits, then to be brushed with a brassy sweet sauce. "I wait for this fair every year because I know Jim will be here," said a local housewife who would not give her name. "I can't give it because I sneaked in the side gate. I didn't want to pay an admission fee because all I want are the ribs. I'm buying extra slabs to freeze for my family."
As the weekend drew to a close, the happiest participant probably was Cory Pina, 8, winner of a contest to name the fair's squid mascot, henceforth to be called Cal Amore. Receiving a $500 savings bond and a family trip to Disneyland (plus $500 in cash for his school), Cory is already well financed for next year's squid gala.
When the tired, happy and squid-sated crowd wandered toward the exit, Sharon Tucker, a cauliflower trimmer from Salinas, looked forlorn. A grandmother of five who worked the midway wearing a carrot-colored fright wig and clown's costume, she was wistful. "I wish we could have a cauliflower fair," she lamented. "But who would come?"