Beanie Fest retires with record
By ERWIN CHLANDA
The Alice Springs born and bred Beanie Festival is no more because its 120-odd volunteers are “old and tired or have fallen off the perch,” says Phil Walcott.
He was a helper during the iconic Central Australian event’s all three decades and the chairman from 2012 to 2022.
He was inducted into the Beanie Hall of Fame in 2023 – with a beanie as the prize.
Now there are no upcoming committee members, no new volunteers have put up their hands to keep it alive.
The committee even tried $5000 scholarships for young people so they would join up, help for a few days. It didn’t work.
Founder Jo Nixon (above, with microphone, staging a puppet show) just became a grandmother. Her son Monty, the little girl’s father, wasn’t even born 30 years ago when 200 beanies, worth a total of $2000, were crocheted in Yuendumu. The craze took off.
This weekend 7800 beanies were entered into the final annual festival and only 22 were left on Monday. The turnover was nearly $400,000, 70% of which went to the creators, locals or coming from around Australia and even overseas.
But the numbers mean less for Phil than the easy-going comradeship of the workers, the chats over cups of tea and cake. The “do you remember when” conversations. The people coming back year after year or extending their visit to Alice.
There were long queues to see the beanies this year in the Witchetty's part of Araluen, but the people were nice and kind to each other.
Some might have have wondered why the festival hadn’t been moved to the much bigger Convention Centre.
“It doesn’t have the atmosphere for the quirky nature of the occasion,” says Phil. "Witchetty’s was the right place to be.
“The community buzz and vibe rippling through the event, the community getting together, the wonderful people who live and work here,” is what kept him engaged.
“Making it bigger and brighter, breaking records each year.”
Plus tons of work: Hanging the beanies for display, running a cake shop out the front, serving in a bar, making cheese and ham toasties, cups of pumpkin soup, security ensuring creations don’t get pinched, Kristian driving a bus year after year, picking up tourists from their hotels.
“The community needs to contribute to it. That is where the strength is.”
Perhaps it was inevitable for the Beanie Festival has to come to an end, says Phil in a tone of sadness.
“We live for a time and then we don’t.”