The Mild, Mild West : Entertainment: Conejo Valley Days begins with a carnival and lots of cowboy garb. Some at the schmooze fest wistfully recall the good ol’ days.

Celebrating its small-town roots with a half-million-dollar extravaganza, Thousand Oaks kicked off the 37th annual Conejo Valley Days on Wednesday night with a carnival full of stomach-churning rides, mouthwatering concessions and backslapping reunions.

Cowboy boots pounded the dirt and 10-gallon hats bobbed above the crowd as hundreds commemorated the Wild West atmosphere that once prevailed in a city now dotted with apartment complexes and strip malls.

About 60,000 people, most from Thousand Oaks, Westlake Village and Agoura Hills, are expected to stomp through the fairgrounds over the next four days, as the festival roars to its finale with four rodeos this weekend and a parade Saturday morning.

During the Wednesday kickoff, children of all ages crammed their mouths with junk food and then clambered aboard rides with dizzying names like Scrambler, Tilt-a-Whirl and Mega Loop.

“I want to go on everything except the ones that go upside-down,” said Tracy Cowen, 8, confiding that she has a track record of throwing up after the topsy-turvy rides.

Nearby, Chris Janklow watched as her 4-year-old son, Daniel, hitched his double holster--complete with plastic guns--onto his belt and pointed his fringed, black cowboy boots toward the kiddie rides.

“He’s ready to be a cowboy,” Janklow said.

As excited children dragged their parents around the fairground, other adults browsed a tent offering everything from Mexican ponchos to termite inspection services to antiabortion leaflets. At outdoor picnic tables, they indulged in the schmoozing and people-watching that have become an integral part of the event.

“It’s just a big gathering of friends,” said Walt Schaedle, one of many Conejo Valley Days faithful, who relies on the festival to catch up with long-lost acquaintances.

Starting with just $5,000 in seed money from the city’s Chamber of Commerce, Conejo Valley Days organizers raised $500,000 to put on the fair, which this year features 32 adult rides, 10 Kiddy Land specials and a home-improvement show.

For some old-timers, who wistfully recall when Conejo Valley Days was little more than a barn dance at the old airport on Janss Road, the hullabaloo can be a bit disconcerting.

“It’s still a community celebration, but we’ve lost all the Western heritage,” mourned Steve Rubenstein, president of the Chamber of Commerce.

“There was a time when everybody in town would be dressed Western, wearing the latest Conejo Valley Days badge,” Rubenstein recalled. “Now, the community’s at a different level of sophistication. Tastes have changed.”

Well, not everyone’s tastes.

Although Mayor Judy Lazar wore a somber gray suit to the pre-festival City Council meeting on Tuesday night, some of her colleagues on the dais donned bright red bandannas, sheriff’s badges and denim vests.

Displaying a little Western spirit had practical advantages, as City Atty. Mark Sellers found. He hid under the brim of his oversize cowboy hat and read a magazine while public hearings dragged on well past 1 a.m.

Reflecting on the spectacle of normally staid executives tromping around in rhinestone-studded boots, Conejo Valley Days booster Jill Lederer was momentarily taken aback.

Still, she concluded, “I don’t know if it says anything strange about Thousand Oaks. This is the West, after all.”

But even Lederer might have been stunned to see Roani Lindeman decked out in lingerie, black cowboy boots, a blue feather boa and a long synthetic ponytail trailing from the back of her veiled hat. Dressed to the nines for the Women’s Western Wear contest, Lindeman said she modeled her daring costume after “one of those girls who go haul off the guys who get tired out in the fields, and show them a good time.”

Aside from digging up garb to match the theme--”Western Styles and Country Smiles”--a main concern for Conejo Valley Days participants is raising money. Many charities and service clubs rank the festival as their top fund raiser of the year.

During the five-day carnival, scores of nonprofit groups rent space in the fairgrounds for concession stands and game booths. They kick a percentage of their profits back to the chamber for overhead costs and take home the rest to support their activities.

“Any time a small county fair grows over three decades to the point where you’re funneling a half-million dollars through, the event has to get more business- oriented,” said Pete Turpel, a festival organizer.

“I still get really sparked by it,” Turpel added. “I only wear my cowboy boots once a year, and this is it.”