Larger Than Life : Ben and Mikey Prove to Be a Big Attraction at the Fair

Sure, Michael and Angie Wittman had worked with livestock before, but then Michael answered a vaguely worded want ad one day and--VOILA!--they found themselves the caretakers of what may be the world’s biggest horse.

And for the 13th summer, their campy but popular giant animal exhibit has come to the Orange County Fair, where it is big in more ways than one.

Most days during the fair, scores of people queue up hour after hour to pony up four bits each to gawk at Ben, the huge horse and his colossal, if less acclaimed, soul mate, Mikey the Giant Steer.

First things first though. If there’s anything the caretakers of what may be the planet’s bulkiest equine are used to, it’s questions. Day in and day out, they answer the same ones again and again: “How big is he?” “What do you feed him?” So, that said:

How big is he?

Big Ben stands 6-foot-6 and tips the scales at 3,030 pounds. That’s almost as much as a Volkswagen Jetta, and more than 3 1/2 times the weight of the fattest living man on record, T.J. “Fat” Albert Jackson of Canton, Mo.

How much does he eat?

Well, it isn’t exactly accurate to say big Ben eats like a horse. Because he eats like several horses.

Every day, he gulps down a bale of hay and 25 pounds of crunchy, specially prepared, protein-packed pellets, not to mention the 30 to 50 gallons of water. By comparison, your garden-variety horse takes in three pounds of protein pellets, a fifth of a hay bale every day and a fraction of the water.

What does big Ben do?

“Whatever he wants,” jokes Angie.

Well, almost.

For their own good, both Ben and Mikey have been castrated, the Wittmans say. “It calms them down,” Michael says. “Also makes them live longer.”

Some people are offended by the use of animals in such sideshows. And some of them have made their feelings known to the Wittmans after visiting Ben and Mikey.

Philosophical issues aside, fair officials say, the exhibit has received high marks for “cleanliness” and “professionalism” during spot inspections and no complaints have been filed with the fair office.

“The only people who are dissatisfied are the animal activist types,” Angie Wittman said. “And there are a lot of them--especially in California.

“This is not a freak show . . . like the two-headed man and headless lady,” she said. “That’s fake. It’s all mirrors. These are just big animals.”

Besides, she said, eight months out of the year Ben and Mikey are “out to pasture” where they do nothing but what they do best: eat and sleep.

Based in Central Florida, every summer the Wittmans pack up their Schwarzenegger-like critters and their crew and convoy west to make the four-month fair circuit in California, Oregon and Utah. They work for a company called Outdoor Exhibits, which is owned by their boss, Tom Beimborn. He’s been in the giant animal business since 1960 and has been bringing his oversize creatures to Orange County since the early 1980s.

Three years ago, Beimborn tapped Michael, 21, to be the manager of the “show” and chief animal guardian after Michael responded to a newspaper ad.

“It didn’t say anything about big animals,” recalled Michael, Wisconsin born and bred, and the self-described son of an “eccentric” blacksmith and seamstress. “It just said they were looking for someone interested in working with livestock and traveling across the country.”

“We fell in love with the animals and taking care of them and letting people see them,” said Angie, 18, who recently married Michael and became the company’s caretaker-bookkeeper. “People in small towns don’t see this kind of thing very often. They’re in awe.”

The most rewarding part of the job: “When people remark on how well taken care of the animals are,” Angie said. “They’re like our babies.”

On the road, they are required by law to stop every five hours and give the animals some time away from their cramped traveling quarters.

Even so, the show has gone on in places as far away as Alaska, where they charge $2 for people to see both Ben and Mikey or $1 to see one. “But up there everything is expensive,” Michael said.

Of all the places they’ve gone to, the couple said, it is in Orange County, more than most, where people are willing to pay to get a look-see at the gentle giants.

“The people here seem to really like this,” Angie said. “The same people come every year to see the same animals. They say, ‘Oh yeah, we saw him last year, but I want to see him again.’ ”

Actually, they didn’t see Mikey the Giant Steer last year because this year is Mikey’s debut. Mikey replaced “Frankie,” who died earlier this year from varicose veins, “bad plumbing” and old age, Michael said.

Mikey, who weighs 3,250 pounds and has a whopping 11-foot girth, looks just like Frankie, though, and so people get confused.

Adding to the trouble: Mikey goes by the same stage name as Frankie, “White Mountain.” There’s no question Mikey is big, but it’s unclear whether he’s the biggest steer on record because there doesn’t seem to be any records on such matters.

Ben, who replaced “Hercules” and has appeared at the Orange County Fair for three years, has a stage name, too: “Belgian Supreme.”

“You know how it is with acts,” Angie said, “they have to have show names.”

You’d be hard-pressed to miss Ben and Mikey’s exhibit with the huge “World’s Largest Horse” marquee above Ben’s makeshift aluminum stable. For now, there’s a question mark after it, because the Guinness Book of Records lists a British shire gelding named “Boringdon Black King” as the tallest living horse.

But Beimborn has visited Black King, and he says he’s big, but not in Ben’s league. He has contacted the powers that be at Guinness, been told what he needs to do to get Ben in the book and vows to see it through.

During the fair, Michael rises each morning at 7 to feed Ben and Mikey, who, hopefully, have had a good night’s sleep.

If they haven’t--especially in the case of Mikey--they tend to “lie down on the job” during the day. “People don’t like that because they can’t see how big they are,” Angie said. “If they do get tired though, we just tell people they can come back later and see them for free if they want.”

Most days there’s a steady stream of people, especially in the afternoons and evenings. The reviews are usually rave:

“Holy Cow!”

“Oh, my God!”

“Even Paul Bunyan didn’t have one that big!”

The more skeptical loiter outside, scanning the faces of people leaving for clues as to whether a view of Ben and Mikey is worth a full buck (or 50 cents apiece).

One boy to another: “Is it big?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it cool?”

“Yeah.”

“OK, let’s go.”

At midnight, Ben and Mikey are given a nightly constitution through the grounds. Why then? “So we don’t get asked a million questions,” Angie said.