For Clo insiders, working as a cow for the summer often is a fun -- and funny -- experience

By RAYNE WOLFE

Photos by KENT PORTER

THE PRESS DEMOCRAT

Everyone with a funny bone knows that Clo the Cow, the Clover Stornetta Farms mascot, is often found outstanding in her field.

But few realize the magic of Clo requires a small army of paid students to bring the local icon to life.

It's the summertime fair and parade season, and Clo "insiders" are making the rounds. Working in pairs, one dons an inflatable Clo costume and the other escorts the "cow" through adoring festival crowds. Students say the job is hot, uncomfortable and a blast.

Part of the fun is the crazed fans who barely reach Clo's kneecaps. The mascots always are on guard for small-fry leg grabbers and tail pullers. The appropriate response for these incidents? A hug, followed by a physically exaggerated belly laugh and an offer to pose for photos.

"I've had mothers tell kids, farm kids, this is where your milk comes from, and the kids will lift up my costume looking for the udders," said Karla Piazza, a 20-year-old Santa Rosa Junior College student who has worked for Clover Stornetta for about a year.

It's a fun job, the young workers say, but it has its serious side, too. Preserving Clover Stornetta's brand reputation is on Karen Vollbrecht's mind as she interviews, trains and serves as a cheerful den mother to the roving insiders. Each summer she sees the Clo experience give young people local pride as they enter the working world.

"You feel like a celebrity inside Clo. You get to dress up and have fun," said Megan Coble, 20, who also attends SRJC.

For Heather Desher, 21, another SRJC student, Clo duty may even be a steppingstone to the ultimate mascot gig.

"I'd like to work at Disneyland one day as a character, and this is a great preparation for that," she said, adding that she'd like to play a princess or "Stitch" as a future Disney employee.

To portray Clo, students need to be professional, show up on time, dress light and keep the costume's batteries charged. Pay starts at about $10 per hour.

"We are very picky about who we hire to work with Clo. I love seeing them learn and grow and become ambassadors of our family of Sonoma County dairies," Vollbrecht said.

And like other cartoon figures, such as Batman with his bat cave, Clo has her closet.

At a supersecret location stands an unmarked metal trailer filled with costumes and equipment, including two custom-made, 8-foot-tall suits, ice vests (to stay cool), battery packs (to inflate the suit), and a long rack of oversized jogging suits, dresses, aprons, headbands, hats, crowns and other costumes.

Parked nearby are two milk-white pickups gassed up and ready to go.

The trip from Clo's closet to any venue is rife with pitfalls, so it's definitely a think-on-your-hoofs kind of job.

Common new-hire mistakes include: battery packs that aren't sufficiently recharged, trouble reading maps and leaving behind costume parts like the pizza pan-sized bottoms of Clo's Velcro hoofs.

"It is a lot of responsibility. In a way, you are the face of Clover Stornetta. You have to be professional about it," said Jason Gooding, 21, a Sonoma State University student who spent two summers as Clo while attending Casa Grande High School.

Insiders sign up for events and arrive at the closet to pick up their work order, driving directions and frozen treats, as needed.

Perhaps proving that trust creates trustworthiness, these young people drive long distances and arrive on time to complete shows with enthusiasm and protect Clo's family-friendly image.

Working in pairs, one person wears a backpack frame that fills out the inflated costume, and the other is outside to zip up the back and guide the mascot around the event.

Clo doesn't talk but makes friends by spreading milk and butter joy.

"That job really helped me come out of my shell," Gooding said. "The person on the outside always jokes around with people. You learn to be polite, to improvise. I left with an attitude to always do my best."

Past disasters have included Clo's rapid deflation. Gooding remembers dashing across an athletic field, assisting a tripping friend inside the suit as it hissed air, appearing bonier and bonier with each step.

"You can't drag Clo around if she's not fully inflated. It's disturbing to have a flat Clo," said Gooding, who remembers apologizing to people the whole way, saying Clo wasn't feeling well.

Events where alcohol is served can dish up schmoozy adult fans who demand more and more photos while insiders are feeling faint in the blistering sun.

Piazza said every Clo gig results in at least one good story. Her mom's favorite focuses on Clo's hinged eyes. By pulling a paddle attached to Velcro inside the head of the costume, the illusion of winking is created on the outside.

Consider a child's interpretation of the ripping noise of Velcro.

"A little kid about 4 years old heard that noise and yelled to his mother, Mom! Clo just . . . well, you know what he yelled. My mom tells that story all the time," Piazza said.

Clover Stornetta advertisements featuring Clo debuted in 1969 with the motto, "Support your local cow," followed by "Local girl makes good."

In 1991, the Clo billboard campaign won the top award in its category of the International Advertising Festival of New York, besting 3,790 entries from 40 countries. The book of her life, "Wholly Cow," captures the billboards through 2000.

To city slickers, the campaign might seem a little hokey. Don't say that to the teens who work as Clo.

"Clo teams do educational things too. I love going to city classrooms and showing children how to make butter by shaking jars of milk," said Piazza, who is studying agriculture and animal science at the junior college. "It's really rewarding for me."

Far in the future, when Piazza has her own kids and they drive past a Clover Stornetta billboard, will she tell them that she used to be Clo?

"I would never tell little kids people are inside Clo. My kids will drink Clover milk and think Clo the Cow is a celebrity, bigger than anyone from Disneyland," she said.

This summer's Clo crew is all girls and mostly college students. In addition to Piazza, Coble and Desher, the lineup includes Katie Harris, Samantha Piehoff and Anna Welter, all 20, and Ashleigh Moore, 17.

With the temperature hovering around 105 degrees on the day of Moore's orientation, she spent a few minutes zipped up in the sheared polar fleece costume -- inside the roasting hot dressing trailer.

"I remember as a kid seeing Clo at the fair and wondering how she stood up on her hind legs that long. I think it's going to be fun," she said, wiping sweat off her face.

You can reach Staff Writer Rayne Wolfe at 521-5240 or rayne.wolfe@pressdemocrat.com.