This iconic 18-foot farmer is a staple at the Kentucky State Fair. Meet Freddy Farm Bureau

Freddy Farm Bureau lingers quietly in countless photos that are taken each year at the Kentucky State Fair.

In a way, though, all those pictures of the 18-foot-tall farmer ― that span decades worth of photo albums from Paducah to Pikeville ― leave out one very important and undeniably magical characteristic of this beloved unofficial ambassador of the fair.

"Say cheese," he bellows out over the crowd when folks pose in front of his white picket fence outside of Freedom Hall at the Kentucky Exposition Center.

While Freddy looks like a large doll, he has a special trick up his enormous denim sleeves. He will talk with you.

So often Freddy’s voice gets lost in the noise of the crowd, the smell of fried food and the general clamor of activities, but he's been gabbing with fairgoers for 65 years.

As I was preparing for this year's Kentucky State Fair, which runs through Sunday, Aug. 27, I stumbled across a 1997 photograph in The Courier Journal archive of a Wizard of Oz-like man peering out from an office window inside Freedom Hall. The gentleman was one of several playing the voice of Freddy, and he was speaking directly to the children and adults that he could see on the ground below. It’s a system that the Kentucky Farm Bureau seemingly, still uses today.

In a way, Freddy’s like the Santa Claus of the Kentucky State Fair, because for many, it's not really a day at the fair until you take a picture with him. His personality is as wonderous and complex as all the curves in a perfectly fried funnel cake. He’s part comedian and part fair hype man, but mostly, he’s a character.

Molly Berthold, 7, couldn’t forget the 18-foot-tall, charming farmer with bright blue eyes. “Do you remember me,” she called up to him, hopefully.

“Of course, I do,” he told her, with a kind booming voice, and lips that smiled widely but never moved.

“He’s remembered me every year,” Molly explained to me, beaming before she and her family continued on with their day at the fair.

“What size are your boots,” a small boy asked, gazing up to the farmer.

“Size 31,” Freddy called back.

“What size is your head?” the boy continued.

“Well, I don’t know that,” Freddy said.

I laughed. I don’t know the size of my head. There’s no reason to believe Freddy should know his either.

“It’s a great day to be at the fair,” he said.

That boy left, and not long after, the Brackett family swooped from Mount Washington in and posed for a photo, just like they’d done every year.

“Say cheese,” Freddy shouted.

“It’s a tradition,” Melissa Brackett told me after they’d finished their shot. Freddy has a kind, funny manner, and over the years, he’s told plenty of jokes to her children Joey, 15, and Natalie, 4.

“He’s a staple” Joe Brackett, continued. “He’s always been there.”

Observant fairgoers might notice a difference in Freddy’s voice between morning and night, and even, perhaps, a bit of amnesia from one day to the next. Certainly, more than one man plays the voice of Freddy. Some might call this a shift change, but in the spirit of Kentucky State Fair magic, we’ll call it a thirsty farmer in need of another cool lemon shake-up.

Just after noon, a grown man seemingly in his 40s pulled out his phone and prepared to take a picture.

“Cheese,” Freddy shouted. “Make sure I don’t blink!”

Sure, Freddy can talk. But those big, blue eyes of his most certainly can’t blink. The man chuckled heartily and flashed a thumbs-up at the farmer.

When a pair of older women approached the farmer holding two ice creams, Freddy introduced himself as the “nutrition police” and encouraged them to follow that snack up with “a trip to the broccoli booth.” Most folks standing around the statue were holding equally unhealthy snacks, and everyone smiled.

Over the next couple hours, I’d see that humor and personality come through over and over again, as whoever might have been playing Freddy at that moment above, catered the conversations to the people on the ground below.

A small boy made a shocked face when the giant, toy-like farmer complimented the color of his yellow sunglasses. I saw similar reactions from a young girl with pigtails and another with a bright sun on her T-shirt. Those small, personal moments are really what build memories that last for years to come.

But sometimes that means Freddy has to think on his feet.

When one child asked what he’d gotten for Christmas it stumped him for just a second, until he recalled another coveted icon of the Kentucky State Fair.

“A Kentucky Ham,” he bellowed out to the delighted crowd.

Occasionally, he gives out advice, too, and every now and then it goes beyond reminding people to drink plenty of water in the sweltering August heat.

“Is that your girlfriend,” he asked, to the couple, posing in front of him. “She’s a pretty one, you ought to keep her.”

There was another moment, too, when a middle-school-aged boy cringed as his mother led him by the arm up to the farmer for a photo. Freddy bantered kindly, saying “Don’t be embarrassed.”

The boy looked up at the giant man, horrified. Clearly, he’d outgrown this particular kind of state fair magic.

Some folks, wisely, never do.

Kay Pike of Meade County has taken a picture with Freddy at the fair every year since she was 12 years old in 1971.

Even after all this time, she still remembers how special he made her first fair experience. When he said “come on in” and told her to have a great time at the fair, she felt genuinely welcomed.

In her younger years, she always had a question for him. Once, she asked him how old he was, and he told her “I’m as old as you want me to be," but as time has gone on, she’s just quietly kept adding photos of the two of them to her collection.

“I figured all of Freddy’s wisdom, I've got most of it now,” she told me. “I'm not even going to try to tax his knowledge.”

Nevertheless, he's got a special place in her heart. Pike wishes that he would have a friend or even a dog to keep him company. “Buddy” might be a good name, she mused, as we spoke. That could update his image a bit in a fun way.

But Pike says seeing Freddy each year is as magical as it was to her in 1971.

“Freddy has remained the same,” she told me. “He’s the same guy that he was in 1971 as he is today.”

At that moment, Pike reminded me of little Molly, who I'd met earlier that morning.

“Bye Freddy,” Molly had called out to him, waving to him excitedly with both hands.

“See you next year,” he told her.

And I had no doubt that she would.

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Features columnist Maggie Menderski writes about what makes Louisville, Southern Indiana and Kentucky unique, wonderful, and occasionally, a little weird. If you've got something in your family, your town or even your closet that fits that description — she wants to hear from you. Say hello at mmenderski@courier-journal.com or 502-582-4053. Follow along on Instagram and Twitter @MaggieMenderski.

This article originally appeared on Louisville Courier Journal: Kentucky State Fair's 18-foot Freddy Farm Bureau talks to fairgoers