Show time

Every town and city of any pretension has its show, but I need to distinguish ‘the show’, which is the Royal Agricultural Society's ‘Easter Show’ from other smaller imitations around the state.  I will say more about the ten-day Easter Show later: first, let's look more closely at the rural show, for most country towns of any size will have one, and these were the fore-runners of the ‘Show’ that everybody knows and loves today.

There is an established circuit for the country shows, and the show folk follow the same route each year, with hoop-las, shooting galleries (if there are prizes to be won, the sights on the rifles will be bent), darts games, mirror maze, hot dog vans, fairy floss (pink spun sugar) machines, and all manner of ‘try your luck’ routines.  And since they only come once a year, there is always a market for their offerings.

These carnival attractions are just the icing on the cake, to use an apt metaphor.  To country folk, the assorted craft competitions are far more important.  They compete to produce the best sponge cakes, iced cakes, plates of cakes, painting (on canvas or on plates), carving, wooden toys, wood turning, flowers of every kind, flower arranging, embroidery, knitting, scones, bread in a variety of forms, giant and gigantic vegetables, jewellery and art metalwork, leather work, pottery, sculpture, bookbinding . . . the list goes on for longer than I can talk.

Then there are the prizes for cut flowers, where the local Dahlia specialist can display all of his (or her) prize blooms, or those that have survived the opposition's sneaking around at night to lob buckets of snails into the specialist's garden.

This is a serious business to the locals, and whole families seek to dominate certain sections in the arts and crafts pavilion.  Outside, others are equally competitive in the pet shows and pony shows, or in the displays of livestock, but in the main ring, something different is going on.  There are organised groups who follow the shows, just to take part in the equestrian events.  For weeks, months even, they follow the circuit, riding their horses in every possible event, and competing with the few local hopefuls who mostly enter only at the lower grades.

The Grand Parade at Sydney's Royal Easter Show.

Depending on the showground, which usually surrounds the local football field, there may also be trotting races, where a horse tows a skeletal gig (hardly more than two light shafts, a seat and two bicycle wheels) around a track.  In a few towns, they may even organise the local picnic races to coincide with the show.

The most spectacular event at the show is always the woodchop events.  The men who enter these ‘races’ have spent their lives working on hardwood, and they have axes which are razor sharp.  The logs they have to chop are usually about a foot (30 cm) through, and they are all seasoned gum.

One type of event involves standing on a length of log, mounted on a metal stand, and chopping through the log, chopping out two V shapes between the axeman's feet.  This simulates the work of cutting a fallen tree into haulable lengths, but the more exciting event simulates actually felling a tree.

The woodchop ring, between heats.

Gum trees usually have a broad buttress at the base, so timber-getters always cut through a tree several metres above ground level.  To get there, they cut into the tree at about shoulder height, insert a plank, swing up onto it, cut a second plank-hole, insert a second plank, clamber up onto that, and so on.  In the show event, the logs are set vertically in the ground, and the wood choppers have to lop off the top section of the log, after they have climbed up to it.

Up the 'tree'.

To make life more interesting, the events are run on a handicap basis, with the ‘gun’ axeman left stranded on the ground, sometimes until the first starter is up in the air, and almost halfway through his log, almost ready to clamber down and re-set the planks to complete the cut from the other side.  This means that the finish is usually very close: it is also spectacular.

Even in ‘the bush’, the life style that is represented in the shows is one that has passed us by.  Timber getters do not chop trees with axes when they can use chain saws and bulldozers to bring the trees down faster, and these days, there are even special chain saw races, cutting three discs from a six-inch length of 18 inch hardwood log.  Horses are only kept so people can learn to perform on them — only the working dogs are as they always were, and I will say more about them some other time.

These days, they'd use s chainsaw...

But however rural life has changed, we conveniently ignore all that at show time, especially at the serious show time when the bush comes to the city for the Royal Easter Show, and the city visits the bush for a day or so.  There are more important things to worry about.

For a parent, survival is what counts at the Easter Show.  In the weeks leading up to the Show, men will discuss it over a beer in the pub, offering each other handy hints.  ‘Take an extra handkerchief’, growls an old veteran.  His younger companion asks if this is to keep off the dust.

The old man is patient.  ‘No, to put through the handles of yer show bags.  The kids want 'em, but they won't carry 'em, and the handles cut yer hand somethin' awful.’  After this long speech, he draws again on his glass.  He has done his share, paid his dues, and if he goes to the show now, it will be on one of the quieter days when the crowds are smaller, and the children fewer.

The young, of course, can survive almost anything.  It is the parents who are under the greatest strain.  First, getting their young ready, into public transport (those who drive to the Show are fools or masochists), then keeping their young together, raising the cash for fast food, carnival rides, sideshows, sample bags and more, finding the lost young, sitting calmly in the police tent, eating ice cream and chatting to the duty police, all of these take their toll.

This, of course, is the time, when the parents will power is under stress, that the young decide they would like a further nasal assault, and demand to be taken to see the animals.  Determinedly, they haul their elders past cattle, pigs, poultry, goats and sheep of many kinds, alpacas, deer, more cattle, through to the areas where small cage birds, cats and dogs are displayed.

On the lawns near the Dog Pavilion, show dogs will be given a last-minute fluff up before they are paraded past the judges who are world-weary cynics, expert themselves in the art of fluffing up, who see discerningly through to the points that will make an animal the ‘best of breed’, or better still, ‘champion of champions’.  In the cattle pavilion, enthusiastic workers steady their cows while they shave their coats to make them look all the more perfect.

This is what the show is all about, for a highly-rated animal at the Royal will command greater fees for its stud performances or litters.  Over in another stall, beef cattle are examined before being slaughtered so the beef can be internally inspected.  Over Show Week, prestigious butchers will display the ribbons won by dead cattle in their windows, telling all and sundry that they have paid over the usual rate to buy highly-regarded meat.

The regions of the state compete against each other with displays of produce, artistically arranged to paint a picture of their region, and the city folk will wander past, giving this scant regard.  On the last night of the show, canny students will gain entry at concession rates, and buy as much of the produce as they can, or they did when I was a canny student . . .

In the main arena, there will be riding displays, races of various sorts, several grand parades when large numbers of animals are led out for a confusing and noisy breath of fresh air, but for children, there are two main attractions: over-priced show food and exorbitantly-priced show bags.

In my youth, a show bag was a sample bag, which came almost for free, and which contained a few  samples, plus promotional items — a ruler with a bank's name on it, or some other ‘useful’ item.  Now a show bag is crammed with cheap toys, recycled comics, and other trivia.  To satisfy consumer legislation, a list of contents and prices must be placed on display, but there seems to be little relationship between the prices shown and any independent assessment of true value.

That does not matter.  The old man in the pub was right when he said to carry a spare handkerchief, for most of the show bags turn out to contain items which are essential to some small person's continuing street credibility, and so they must be bought.  Then with the money all gone, a family can retreat to the ring, to the central arena, to watch the show which is on offer each night.  These usually involve spectacular stunts, but the rodeo events are equally exciting to most.

These events have lost their excitement for me since Henry Cruciform told me about how Crooked Mick rode four bulls at one time.

It's true, you know: Henry never lied.