“Everyone calls us the Mobile mafia.

The Foster family has run the concession stands on the Mardi Gras parade routes in Mobile for about 50 years. We are all cousins or in-laws. This can be a back-stabbing business. We have family squabbles and fights over spots, but we also take care of each other. If someone at another stand runs out of something, I will help them out. I have a heart as big as downtown Mobile and want to see everyone make money, but don’t fool with me or get my spot. Some of us may not like each other, but family doesn’t step on each other’s toes quite as fast as an outsider will.

We started with concessions in the 1970s when my mother-in-law, Mary Foster, saw her cousin making money selling peanuts and candy apples at the Mobile Fair. She bought a concession trailer for herself, then the rest of the family got into the business. The Fosters have been selling corn dogs and funnel cakes ever since. We started out small, but it keeps growing. Some of the older Fosters are stepping back and letting the younger ones take over.

We are real carnies, and I was 14 when I started working the fairs. I had my first stand when I was 20, and I can’t imagine doing anything else. People don’t realize that carnies may wear our jeans until we can’t get another snap in the button, but we have money. 

My concession stand is on Conception Street by Flipside, and my customers find me here every year. I love that we are a part of the Mardi Gras experience and people having a good time. Some folks even call us from out of town and ask for guidance about Mardi Gras.

Mardi Gras is 13-hour days with lines wrapped around the corner. We don’t have time to take a sip of a drink, but that’s a good thing because we don’t have time to pee either. However, our business depends on the weather. Right now, the rain on parade days is killing the crowds and our business.

The hardest part of concessions is ‘slough night’. Slough is a carny term for tearing down. We use other carny words: a half yard is a fifty dollar bill, and a yard is a hundred dollar bill. Tents where we sell food are called stick joints. During Mardi Gras, I also have a stick joint on Church Street. 

I learned that a lot of our customers must go to church. After I tell them the prices, they say, ‘Oh my God’, ‘Lord, have mercy’, and ‘Jesus Christ’. Our prices are $10 for almost everything, but those complaining don’t realize that our costs keep going up. We are paying $8 for a dozen eggs. French fries went from $29 to almost $50 a case. Chicken was sky high last year. Grease has gone up, too. We are doing all we can to keep our food affordable.

My son, Dustin, is now in the business. When he was little, he bought candy apples from Mobile Popcorn and sold them on the corner of Government and Royal. Now Dustin has his own concession stand and is about to open a spot in the Box Owt food hall. I am so proud of him. I also have a granddaughter working with us who will be the next generation.

My best friend works in the concession stand with me, and we take care of each other. We are going to Las Vegas after Mardi Gras. I have never been, and I want to see the can-can girls. 

Mardi Gras kicks off our concession season. We go to carnivals, fairs, and events across the South through November. I have been doing this a long time and it’s still fun taking care of people. I am a country music fan, and we’ve had a lot of country music singers stop by the stand. Trace Atkins is one of them. He is a tall dude and had to duck to get under our awning at the Neshoba County Fair. 

During the off-season we go to the woods and the mountains. One year, we went hunting in Grove Hill. We liked it so much that we now live there for part of the year. Somehow being a carny and living in Grove Hill led to working for the Clarke County Sheriff’s Department for eight years. The sheriff hired me to run the kitchen because the inmates were barely getting the calories, meats and vegetables that they needed, but the food was costing the county an arm and a leg. I set up the menu, cut the cost of food by half, and fed the inmates better—we even cooked with seasoning. There is no need to give someone runny grits.

After I had the kitchen going, the sheriff asked me to help transport the federal inmates back and forth to court. After they were sentenced, I took them to meet the bus that would take them to prison. I learned inmates are human, too. 

My husband and I both worked at the jail and took time off for the concession dates. The benefits were good, and we had paychecks during COVID, when Mardi Gras and the fairs were canceled. A new sheriff took office, and it was time for us to go back to concessions.

These food stands are our life and our livelihood. This is who we are and all that we know. It’s family. We take a licking and keep on ticking.”

Sissy