A family rooted in decades of Virginia Show tradition

Even in the dusty midst of their second cut of silage, the Walker family were willing to drop everything to discuss the Virginia Show.

Sitting in the living room of their homely farmstead, it’s a measure both of their obligingness, and how much they love the Show that’s been a feature of the family’s life for many a year. That the heatwave had not shown a sign of abating may have been a factor too.

Driving to Knocknaveagh, Cavan’s characteristic undulating drumlins slacken a little, hillocks begin to flatten out along with the accents. It’s proper Midlands here. A river bordering the Walker farm at one point has a damp shoulder in Leinster.

The family’s connection with the Virginia Show has its roots on Rachel’s side. Her father Robert Henry was originally from Dunancory on Virginia’s outskirts, and bought the Knocknaveagh farm in back in 1938. Two years later, he and his brother Joe were amongst the dozen or so volunteers to found the Virginia Show.

It comes as no surprise Rachel’s so long attending show that she can’t recall her first. She was Albert’s introduction to Show Day.

“I suppose ‘74, ‘75 I was brought into the Show,” recalls Albert, “and worked my way from there up - initially odd-jobs man and did stewarding around different sections of the Show – carpark, and ended up on the gate.

“I got the job then of organising the trade stands,” he recalls of the early 1980s, “and that’s the line I’ve been in since. It was a challenge but we did it.”

He recalls Patsy Denning before him had achieved much with the trade stands section, but yet there was more to do to get it to where it is today. Alongside gate receipts and sponsorship it completes the top three sources of Show income.

Virginia Show’s “good reputation” ensured the interest of stand holders in renting a spot.

“So it was just a matter of organising it and fitting them into the space – we ended up with 200 trade stands over a short enough period of time.”

The Celt wonders if there’s a bad stewarding job that no volunteer wants?

“Trade stands,” Robbie quips under his breath to his father’s amusement.

Robbie loves the Show, and his family’s lengthy involvement in it. His sister Gillian Kellett is chief steward of the ever growing Dog Show, and she has enlisted her two sons to help out. Likewise Robbie intends to rope his three sons into Show-life when they are a little older - for now their interests lie in competing in the Lego building class.

“I was just dragged along. I’ve been probably there since very early days,” Robbie says of his own introduction to Show Day.

He admits to deriving great satisfaction in seeing everything run smooth on Show Day,and can even take in some attractions with his wife Michelle and their lads.

“That’s possible more so now than we used to.

“There was a time when you had to go around collecting money off trade stands that hadn’t paid at that stage, but that’s kind of a thing of the past. It’s all done online now.”

Getting money out of the occasional awkward customer was sometimes stressful.

“Yeah,” Robbie says with a laugh of recognition. “And you knew the guys that would be awkward, especially if it was it raining or that – understandably if people didn’t have the best of days. But that didn’t happen too often. Most of the time people are very happy at it, very few and far between you would get anybody disgruntled.”

When his trade stand commitments are complete, Robbie likes to go for a mosey around the machinery section to see “what’s the latest”. Also, as a dairy man he’s interested in the Diageo Baileys Champion Cow, particularly since he will have seen the farmers around the Showgrounds in the days leading up to the show.

“The cows now lodge in a new shed at the Show Centre,” explains Albert. “Before that they were farmed out to farmers around he country. We kept cows here for instance and they would come a couple of days before hand.”

Would the farmers stay with you?

“They’d actually stay with the cow,” Albert retorts.

The Celt laughs.

“They’d physically stay with the cow,” he repeats. He’s really not joking.

Robbie adds: “They normally get B&Bs, but they always have someone stay with the cow all night, and they take it in turns.”

“Even now in Virginia they would spend a couple of days living in the shed,” continues Albert. “Just to get the cows used to the surrounds. They are well looked after these cows.”

Illustrating just how well looked after, Albert recalls hosting a Cork farmer with a cow imported from Canada that had a price tag of 25,000 - “and that was pounds at the time, that was way back”.

“The man stayed with her the whole time. He would be out walking her about,” Albert continues, looking out to the yard as if the man might yet meander out of the byre.

“They have to get the cows on a milking rhythm so they are in full milk when it comes to judging, and that’s about three or four o’clock in the afternoon - so they might be milking them at two o’clock in the morning the night before.

“It’s not just a case of throwing a halter on them and walking them out,” he emphasises.

The Celt wonders at the lengths some will go to.

“He did win the Baileys that year,” Arnold happily reports.

Albert had kept a pedigree herd, but Robbie laughs off the suggestion that they could ever enter the Baileys Cow saying “they are more for production than show”.

Albert notes the tough criteria in terms of both quantity and quality to qualify even for entry into the Baileys.

“It’s just not your ordinary molly cow can walk into it – she might be a lovely looking cow, but if she wasn’t producing the goods...”

“That’s one of the biggest changes that has happened over the years,” Albert opines, “it’s gone more professional now. It used to be everybody and anybody could enter.”

“If you had a good cow you could bring her out,” agrees Robbie.

“That day has gone now, it’s very specialised, and it’s quite expensive,” Albert continues in a conversation that could be transposed onto GAA, soccer or almost any competitive hobby.

Robbie notes that the drive for dairy perfection has necessarily resulted in “a lot less people” competing now.

Albert takes up the baton: “For example, Rachel’s father could bring his ordinary draught horse and cart. And he got prizes for his horse and cart. If you had an animal you thought was reasonably good for the job, you’d bring him in and you had a good chance, but that day has gone.”

Rachel has been silently watching proceedings. The Celt wonders of her involvement in the Show.

“I’m over the jam in the home industries section,” she says.

Regardless of her Virginia Show royal bloodline Rachel wasn’t always welcome to don a white stewards’ coat.

“They usen’t to have any women stewards, or secretaries, or anything,” she recalls as a matter of fact.

Mercifully, as Albert might say - that day is gone now.

“I was the first to get women involved in it,” says Albert who after running the trade stands, progressed to hold both vice president and president positions at different times.

Of course Virginia Show 2022 will be the first showday since August 2019. Robbie admits he missed it in 2020.

“It used to be at the end of summer – the Show was over, kids went back to school, autumn set in, it was kind of a marker in some ways. You did find there was something missing – summer just ended and there was nothing there.”

From the full-stop of 2020, last year presented a different problem.

“2021, we didn’t know what was happening, we were kind of wondering, was it going to happen?”

Robbie is hopeful that the break has whetted appetites for a recharged Virginia Show.

“Shows in general seem to be doing fairly well, so hopefully now we get them out to Virginia. We always get a good turn out anyway,” says Robbie.

“Even in rain,” adds Rachel.

Asked if he’s confident of the Show’s Robbie mulls over the many changes in recent years, then declares: “It’s gone 79 years, it’ll have to make it to 80 anyway!”