As the familiar creak of the Giant Ferris Wheel began, Andrew Cashman and his wife of 37 years settled in for their annual ride at the Maryland State Fair, gazing out over 140 acres filled with tradition and history.

What began with just a few dozen people gathering in Timonium for a picnic and celebration of Maryland agriculture has grown into an event that draws thousands of visitors each summer.

“A lot of traditions are here,” Cashman said. “People come year after year, and they have to do one thing or another, if it’s eating cotton candy or if it’s eating corn dogs or if it’s making sure you see the biggest cow or the biggest bull.”

For Cashman, it is more than a job. The fair’s general manager has been coming to it since childhood. His sister, Janice Corneos, who runs the fair’s museum, recalled him at age 10 declaring, “One day, I am going to run this place.”

That prediction has come true.

The siblings, who grew up showing livestock in fair competitions, are dedicated to preserving those same traditions, ensuring the fair remains a celebration of community and agriculture.

Now in its 144th year, the fair, which concludes Sunday, has become a cornerstone of late summer in Timonium. It’s a place where longtime traditions meet new experiences. And, for families like the Cashmans, it’s more than an annual event — it’s a legacy.

A rich heritage

The Maryland State Fair traces its roots to 1878 with the opening of the Lutherville Fair. Railroad development on the land forced a move, and the following year the Agricultural Society of Baltimore County established the Timonium Estate as the fair’s home, according to the fair’s website.

In the late 1800s, the Pimlico Fair competed for several years with Timonium Estate, both colloquially referenced as “the State Fair.” But by 1906 the two had combined into the fair as we know it today.

Although bright neon lights and the wafting smell of fried food may define the fair experience for modern visitors, its rural traditions remain at the heart of the event. In fact, the fair has paused only once in its history: from 1943 to 1946, when the grounds were leased to the U.S. Army for vehicle repair and storage during World War II.

The fair returned in the late 1940s and flourished through the 1950s, with the Sheep and Swine Building once again filled with livestock.

Over the decades, the fair has grown and reshaped itself. It expanded from the traditional 10 days to 11 in 1999, then to 12 in 2018.

In 2022, organizers introduced a new format of multiple long weekends stretching from late August to early September. That schedule remained in effect this year.

Where tents and wooden sheds once displayed home arts and garden goods, roller coasters now roar and carnival barkers entice players to try to win oversize prizes.

On Friday, Naomi Crawford lined up the stream from her water gun, aiming for the bull’s-eye. It was her fourth try for the stuffed, red Kool-Aid Man. When the celebratory bell rang, she leapt from her seat, slapping it, exclaiming, “That’s my lucky seat!”

New generations, old traditions

Aubry Knott, 21, of Mount Airy has spent nearly her entire life showing livestock at the Maryland State Fair.

For her, it’s deeply personal. Her father, a dairy farmer, died in a farming accident two years ago. Not long after, she lost her younger sister. Still, she continues the family’s tradition in the show ring, now passing it on to her niece and nephew.

“Doing it with our family, that’s been the No. 1 thing, especially experiencing so much loss. This is a sense of home,” she said.

Generations of Marylanders have built connections like Knott’s at the fair, forming links between agriculture and community that stretch back to the earliest days. Although the rides and carnival games of Kiddie Land are major draws, traditions like showing livestock have maintained their place.

The categories continue to evolve. This year, the addition of a competition specifically for Highland cows became a crowd favorite.

Children stroked their shaggy coats, while parents snapped photos and fairgoers stopped to take in the animals’ impressive horns and gentle temperaments — a sight more common in the Scottish Highlands than Timonium.

On the afternoon of the first Highland show, siblings Casey Turner, 19, and Aubrey Baker, 17, stretched out on cots beside their cattle, trying to steal a few hours of sleep before the big debut.

Unlike Knott, Turner and Baker are new to the Maryland State Fair, but they hope this category marks the beginning of a tradition of their own.