Spotlight on ... The Show

Waiting All Year for the Bowen Show

A grand occasion in the community calendar

One of the most iconic of Australian traditions — The Show — means something different to each of us. For many of us, it sits somewhere deep in childhood memory, wrapped up with noise, colour, food, dust, excitement and the almost unbearable wait for it to come around again.

Here in Queensland, the annual agricultural show has long been one of the great community traditions. Across the winter months, regional shows are still held throughout the state, leading eventually to the Royal Queensland Show — the Ekka — in Brisbane each August.

The show tradition began as a celebration of rural life, with livestock, produce, flowers, baking, needlework and local skill proudly displayed. Over time, though, it became something more - a gathering place, a social occasion, and for many families, one of the most eagerly awaited days of the year.

In my hometown of Bowen, the Show was inextricably woven into the rhythm of community life. The agricultural heart of it was still there, but around it grew all the colour and excitement that made Show Day so memorable — pavilion displays, ring events, sideshow alley, food stalls, showbags and, of course, fireworks.

The Bowen Showground became the place where the district’s rural strength and the town’s social life came together in one bright, noisy celebration.

I lived for Show Day

As a child growing up in the 1960s, I lived for it.

Family photos taken on Show Day at the Bowen Show 1960s-1970s 

- my parents, myself and my brother

All year I dreamt of it, yearned for it, and relived every sight, sound and taste of it. I would have willingly wished 364 days of my life away just to have Show Day arrive again.

Not my birthday.
Not Christmas.
Not even Cracker Night, which probably came a close second.

No — for me, it was the unforgettable, spectacular Bowen Show.

It was a grand occasion, and I dressed for it. I always had new clothes.  

As a very young child, they were often made and sewn by my mother. She even made the hats I wore. That, too, was part of the Show — not just the excitement of going, but the preparation beforehand, and the sense that this was a special outing worthy of new clothes and a little extra care.

Looking back now, I can see how much love and effort sat quietly behind those childhood memories.

Part of the excitement was also knowing I would catch up with family and friends there. Everyone seemed to be going.

The first glimpse of the Ferris wheel

One of my earliest memories of Show Day -
around the age of 3 getting out of the car
and searching for the ferris wheel

Even now, I can still picture that first glimpse of the top of the Ferris wheel in the distance. 

That alone was enough to send a current of excitement through me that could probably have powered the whole town of Bowen.

Then came the moment the car door opened, and the full force of the Show hit me.

Bright flashing lights of every colour imaginable filled my vision. The smells from the food stalls drifted through the air — the sickly sweetness of fairy floss and candy apples, the smell of popcorn and hotdogs, all mingling with those other showground aromas that seemed to belong to that one special day.

But above all, it was the noise that made the biggest impression.

There was the excited babble of the announcer from the show ring, the discordant music and shrieks from sideshow alley, the cries of animals from all over the grounds, and the chatter, laughter and occasional whingeing of the crowds elbowing their way past.

As a child, I found it utterly intoxicating.

Sideshow Alley, chips and showbags

Before the Show opened, my family would sometimes drive past the Showgrounds to take a peek and see what rides had turned up that year.

Would the Big Dipper be there?
What about the Zipper?
Would the Dodgems be back?

The Ferris wheel, of course, seemed to turn up every year.

Showbags from the 1960s

My favourite part, however, was Sideshow Alley. On a tight budget, I was allowed just one precious showbag, and I held on to it as though it were treasure. I could only gaze at most of the game stalls as I wandered past, admiring the prizes and all the excitement around them.

1967  

Me with cupie doll in hand

One thing that especially captured my imagination was the cupie (or is it kewpie?) doll — that little celluloid doll perched on a cane stick, dressed in a frothy tutu dusted with glitter. 

It was an established favourite with every young girl at the Show.

To me, those dolls looked magical. But they were expensive, so they were certainly not something bought every year.

Inside the Pavilion

The Pavilion was a world of its own and an important part of the Show. It gathered together all the careful work that had been done in homes, schools and gardens across the district and put it proudly on display.

There were competitive sections for cookery, with jams and preserves, pickles, chutneys and honey, alongside cakes, sponges, lamingtons, pies, puddings, scones and sweets such as coconut ice, marshmallows, fudge, caramel and jellies. There were sections for produce too, including vegetables, fruit and eggs.

The flower sections must have been a delight for those who loved them. Entries included flower arranging and cut flowers such as roses, gerberas, carnations, gladioli, pansies, snapdragons, pentas, marigolds, phlox, nasturtiums and petunias.

My Dad, a dyed-in-the-wool rose lover and admirer of other flowers, loved lingering there. For him, the flower displays were not just something to admire - they were something he was part of.

Dad loved entering his blooms in the Show each year, and he often won prizes. In my later childhood years, I remember helping him transport his entries to the Show Pavilion ahead of Show Day. I can still picture him packing cotton wool carefully between the petals of his treasured roses so they would travel safely and arrive in the best possible condition.

Roses were a favourite entry, but he also entered gerberas and carnations.  This photo of some of his prize ribbons shows just how remarkable his flowers were.  They were not simply garden blooms taken along on the day - they were outstanding quality, grown with patience, skill and pride.

The Pavilion also celebrated arts and crafts and all the fine handwork that so often filled women’s spare hours. Fancywork sections included knitting, crochet, hand embroidery and needlework, along with smocking, embroidered tablecloths, dressed dolls, patchwork and quilting.

Looking back now, it is easy to see how much patience, pride and quiet skill was represented in those displays.

Children also entered competitions that brought together schoolwork and creativity. There were entries for handwriting, map work, printing, freehand drawing, pencil drawing, pastel drawing and painting. The Show gave children, including me, a place to proudly display both their schoolwork and their imagination.

Not every display in the Pavilion had the same appeal for me as a child. Dad’s beloved flower displays were not always high on my list, and I remember dragging my feet and moaning my way through them often enough.

But I endured them because I knew there were other pleasures waiting.

There were the mouth-watering Dagwood Dogs I had dreamt about for days, the legendary Shannon’s chips, and the chance to watch the ring events while I ate.

The heart of the Show: the ring events

The ring events were a major part of the Show’s appeal in those years. At local agricultural shows in the 1960s, the main ring was the centre of entertainment, bringing together equestrian skill and rural competition in a way that perfectly captured the spirit of the day.

High-jumping contests were major attractions, woodchopping events drew the crowds, and there was always interest in the livestock judging, including the prize bulls.

The Grand Parade, with its winning horses, cattle and local producers, was one of the traditional highlights — a proud display of the district’s effort and achievement.

For me, showjumping was always a particular favourite. I watched it eagerly while biding my time for the great “ooh-ah” event still to come.

That grand finale was the fireworks.

By the time they began, the whole day seemed to have built towards them. They lit up the sky and drew gasps from the crowd, and as a child they felt like the perfect ending to a day that had already overflowed with excitement.

It was one more marvel to store away in memory for another whole year.

A treasured piece of family memory

Looking back now, I think that is part of what made the Bowen Show so special. It brought together the serious business of rural life, the excitement of entertainment, and the small but important family rituals that surrounded a special day out.

The Show has always stood for more than entertainment. It reflects local pride, rural heritage and community resilience.

But for me, as a child, it also lives on as something deeply personal — a treasured piece of community and family tradition, stitched together from the memories of new clothes sewn by my mother, the first sight of the Ferris wheel, the smell of fairy floss and hotdogs in the air, the noise of the ring, the thrill of the Dodgems, the glamour of kewpie dolls with glittering tutus, and the fireworks blazing at the end of the night.