by John Connell
Media interest was piqued by the Elvii. National coverage, and its celebration of tackiness and kitsch, focused almost exclusively on the multiple, gaudily jumpsuited Elvis look-alikes, and the Elvii brought the festival many more visitors. But, as Kelly quickly realised, the festival needed more than that:
The word began to get out and media coverage started to grow but the lack of resources and marketing skills among the committee, and lack of support from the community, saw numbers dwindle and the festival nearly fell over. The committee put in huge hours and made the festival work but none had the tourism promotion experience to get it to the next level, which is why it needed a lot of council support. The potential was there but few saw how big this could become.
Thanks to a bunch of drunken wild Boars and a sober, well-trained Tourism Officer who saw that potential, it survived, revived and eventually thrived. The Elvii had achieved a deserved notoriety and visitors thought them a hoot. The official highlights might have been the shows and the parade but the growing numbers of main street buskers and Elvii meant that ‘Watching the Elvises’ and photo opportunities with the Elvis look-alikes were the keys to success. Elvii loved being photographed.
In any case, Parkes too was slowly changing. Without fanfare the ‘Man on the Land’ page in the Post had subtly changed to ‘People on the Land’, although debutante balls survived. Parkes reluctantly approved its first tattoo and body piercing shop in 1997, but only after a heated council debate about health, advertising and loose morals. That was radical; just a year earlier the council, after similar tense debate, had finally given permission for mobile ice-cream vending at festivals and other events.
Idiosyncratic media coverage and more effective promotion helped. In 2004, for the first time, all accommodation was booked out in advance. The festival drew in more of the Parkes population and more return visits from fans. That brought new events, greater commercialisation, sponsorship, a special Elvis train, and visitors from increasingly distant places. Competition from the Hunter Valley was vanquished. In 2005 the festival literally came to town. It had outgrown small suburban Kelly Reserve and, abandoning the Elvis Wall of Fame, moved into the central Cooke Park, with the main open air stage and market stalls bordered by the big clubs that now hosted big stars. ‘Revival’ was quietly dropped from the festival title; the revival had unquestionably happened – so much so that in 2007 the Tourism Office had to establish the full-time position of Elvis festival coordinator. Rather later, that became a full-time festival director, which, in a sign of the times, was joined by a full-time festival sponsorship and marketing coordinator. Meanwhile, the festival expanded beyond its Friday-night-to-Sunday-afternoon confines. Parkes was becoming the place to be, and its Elvis Festival a national institution.
‘You give me hope and consolation’
Visitor numbers steadily increased. In the early years of the century the street parade drew a crowd of around 2500, with one or two hundred people at most commercial events, and more than 500 estimated to have come from outside the town. But by 2006, estimates suggested that over 5000 people were now involved, and numbers were claimed to have grown to 7000 by 2007, and 9500 in 2009. By 2010 as many as 10 000 were said to have come into Parkes at the peak time of Saturday morning. Counting was impossible, especially as more and more visitors rocked in on daily buses from such towns as Dubbo and Orange, 100 kilometres away. By 2012 numbers were locally said to have passed 15 000 – substantially more than the population of Parkes itself – and they were still growing: 20 000 in 2015; 22 000 in 2016. While it’s impossible to be certain about the numbers, the evidence from the rising demand for accommodation, shuttle buses, ticket sales and the intensified flow of sewage through the Parkes plant (known locally as the ‘poo’ or ‘flush’ factor) is that the numbers, whatever they may be, have certainly increased.
From even before it began, the festival consciously sought to involve local businesses and organisations, and also link the festival to the Dish, a recognised tourist attraction, by running excursions and organising events there. For the duration of the festival, special safety equipment let people see the sun, or, as it was temporarily christened, ‘a hunk a hunk of burning love’. In 2013 the festival smashed what was described as a world record, through a successful ‘paddock to plate’ attempt at the Dish, where a standing crop of wheat was converted into a baker’s dozen loaves of bread in under 18 minutes. In 2016 it did it again, this time with 19th-century technology, in a mere 36 minutes and 40 seconds. The Guinness Book of Records was informed. Elvis might have preferred meatloaf, but it further emphasised the closer relations developing between the festival and the broader community.
Professionalism was growing. Monique Kronk arrived in 2004 as tourism officer, the last to be only a part-time Elvis Festival director, or, as she put it: ‘the last sacrificial lamb’. Monique came from rural Queensland but had relatives in both Parkes and Forbes, made annual trips there, and had always had a soft spot for the region. Seeing an ad in the paper she decided to move, not knowing what she was in for. After her first festival meeting generated a massive, chaotic to-do list, she feared she would be swallowed whole, the Jonah in the festival whale. But three years later, she and Kelly Hendry had organised a larger stage, the first tent city and home hosting (accommodating visitors with local families), various new events (from Miss Priscilla to welcoming a special train) and shuttle buses. After 2004 a Hound Dog shuttle bus operated throughout the festival weekend, moving visitors from hotels, motels and camp sites to the main venues. Three years later, as Parkes accommodation overflowed, the Hound Dogs multiplied and buses routinely ran to Peak Hill, 50 kilometres to the north, and to Forbes, 35 kilometres in the other direction. In 2006 the festival won its first Inland NSW Tourism Award, a handy $20 000 which was used to fund a television advertising campaign and print an elegant glossy festival program, with artist profiles and a full events schedule. In the following year the Tourism Office set up a separate Events Division and a half-time Elvis Festival coordinator. That had been made possible by the council chipping in $35 000 over 2007–08, as it strengthened its support, assisting with the increasingly complex logistics. The mayor reputedly said, ‘We’ll give it a shake; we have to be fair dinkum’.
With increased success, the festival not only sought to involve local businesses but in 2005 it became its own business, in competition with some local traders, by setting up an Elvis Central store, temporarily one of the largest on the main street, selling Elvis merchandise. At much the same time the festival became more inclusive, introducing a Welcome to Country from the local Wiradjuri people. A local elder, wearing a formal shirt and tie, played the didjeridu while an elaborately costumed Aboriginal Elvis impersonator from Melbourne, Gnarnayarrahe Waitairie (Black Elvis), looked on from the wings.
New sponsors came on board – at a rather more sophisticated level than in the early Video Ezy and Kelly’s Bakery era. By the middle of the decade they included such big institutions as ClubsNSW, KENO, NRMA, Country Energy, CountryLink (NSW State Rail) and Rex Regional Express, the only airline that flew to Parkes. Some felt a duty to be there, like Destination NSW (the lead government agency for New South Wales tourism and major events), and the largest local enterprise, the Northparkes mine. In time, sponsors were carefully distinguished into various groups.
There were just two ‘strategic partners’: Destination NSW and NSW Making it Happen, the slogan and logo of the state government. According to the 50-page document which announced its creation in 2015, this was to be the primary logo used on all projects and programs that focused on ‘economic growth and confidence in investing in NSW’ through a tone that ‘is confident, progressive, friendly, trustworthy, active, consistent, getting on with the job, achieving deadlines’. Without such puffery, the festival would have seen itself as all of these. After them came the ‘major partners’ (like the Parkes Shire Council), the ‘contributing partners’ (who included Coates Hire – purveyors of critically importan
t portable toilets), ‘media partners’, ‘cultural partners’, ‘travel partners’ and a lone ‘photographic partner’. The ABC was a cultural partner, alongside the United States Consulate. In the very smallest print in the program came twenty local ‘supporters’, ranging from McDonald’s to Cooke Park Takeaway, the Western Plains Zoo, and Costume Collections – who might well have been one of the biggest commercial beneficiaries of the festival. Some of the very largest town stores, the national chains including Coles, Target and Aldi, who did well from the festival, were still to be drawn in, and were yet to decorate their stores or staff.
Shake, Rattle and Roll: the Elvis train arrives
NSW State Rail was not just a major festival sponsor, but had a massive input into the festival. Kelly Hendry had first to endure an eight-hour journey to Broken Hill, as State Rail resurrected its service to western New South Wales, but it gave her time to twist some executive arms, twitch the network structure and create the Elvis Express. Initially the Express was just a single carriage tacked onto the usual train to Dubbo, a detour that caused annoyance to the Dubbo patrons, unimpressed with the audacity of Kelly’s smart marketing from much smaller Parkes. A year later it was a separate train, with an elegant logo combining Elvis and the Dish. The Elvis Express first rolled into Parkes in 2003, a fun way of travelling from Sydney, recognition of a successful commercial venture by NSW State Rail (then CountryLink) and an inspiration for the festival, which received massive publicity from the train. It made it much easier for Sydney-based television crews to cover the increasingly colourful departure from Central Station, where the look-alikes and wannabe sound-alikes gathered, showed off and performed. Departure became a regular live cross to national breakfast television shows. State Rail loved it, proudly proclaiming that ‘it contributes to positive brand awareness’ (although there were no other railway brands to choose from).
The train was always full, and full of the keenest fans. State Rail played their part, hiring Elvis impersonators to perform through the carriages, and providing suitable refreshments (notably Viva Lasagne and Elvis cupcakes), although Jack Daniels and champagne were preferred, soon after breakfast departure from Sydney. By the mid-2000s the mayor of Parkes, resplendent in red jumpsuit and chains of office, and the town’s councillors routinely dressed up and boarded the train on the last stage to Parkes. Crowds of several hundred welcomed the train, and draped visitors in plastic leis. Enthusiastic groups travelled together. They came from rock ’n’ roll dance clubs, from particular bits of suburbia, from offices and factories, and they came for fun. They consumed the Elvis cupcakes and no small quantities of alcohol, they sang, they danced (as much as the aisles allowed them) and one legendary fixture on the Elvis Express, known only as ‘Margie with the legs’, entertained herself by groping Brandon, one of our student helpers. The party was just beginning.
A rare disappointment for the festival in the 21st century was that plans for a similar Melbourne train never came to fruition. A 200-bed sleeper train was set to bring Elvis fans for the first time in 2009, but was cancelled through lack of interest. In itself disappointing, it was doubly so since it was hoped that the carriages would stay in Parkes and help expand the festival, since, as the festival coordinator, Ellie Ruffoni, observed: ‘It meant that people would have accommodation, because we’re so limited. People would sleep on the train and one problem [would] be solved’. This was a rare setback to expansion plans. Attempts at aerial parallels were also limited. Rex Airlines sought to get in on the act, sponsored the festival and briefly had a Priscilla Plane, but the airport was out of town, even ‘special’ fares were notoriously expensive, and the short flight limited options for serious partying. Few visitors came by plane.
For Sydney it was another story, and the Elvis Express acquired its own fans.
Well, it’s an iconic thing. Everybody’s heard of the Parkes Elvis Express and so it’s one of those things that you think, I’ve definitely got to go on that. You see it on TV and you think it just looks like good fun, acting like an idiot for a few days. It’s just a good chance to sit back and party with other Elvises.
Some fans deliberately detoured to Sydney simply to take the train, get fired up, and absorb and make the mood as early as possible.
Extra carriages were added until the engines and the line could take no more, especially when speeds had to be limited as the tracks expanded in the summer heat. By 2008 the Elvis Express had reached its maximum of eight carriages and 400 passengers: the physical capacity of the line. Demand was there but the train was never going to become sixteen coaches long. It did, however, stay longer. By 2014 it was arriving in Parkes on Thursday rather than Friday, with return delayed to Monday morning. The weekend was stretching out. The early arrival of the train made a huge difference. Parkes was ready to celebrate at least a day earlier and a night longer.
‘But still his words kept returning’: media mayhem
After its first decade the festival became a regular fixture in the January dead news period. Film crews were always on hand at Sydney’s Central Station for the departure of the Elvis train, where gyrating showgirls (seemingly more nubile and skimpily garbed each succeeding year), Elvis tribute artists and gaily dressed fans were guaranteed to catch the eye and achieve their 15 seconds of fame – vibrant advertisements for all the fun of the festival.
The print coverage was no less colourful – it was quirky and bizarre, and a vehicle for outrageous puns, bad jokes and twisted song titles. Most focused on the ubiquitous jumpsuited and caped Elvii, recognising that a whole lotta shakin’ was a constant to be welcomed: ‘“Thang yew very mush!” drawled Elvis after Elvis’. The Sun-Herald asked, ‘Are you clonesome tonight?’. The ABC recognised that ‘the King walks again’, so that, as the Global Post put it, ‘beneath the beating sun of Australia’s vast drought-afflicted plains a King still reigns from beyond the grave’.
The dazzling, the daggy and the improbable took precedence: ‘Bejewelled jumpsuits and blue suede shoes were popular costume choices, though some of the original incarnations included a Spider-Man Elvis and a spray-on Silver Elvis who won the best-dressed prize’. And the festival was for everyone. Elvis impersonators went from ‘jiving junior Elvises and clones of Presley in his hip-shaking heyday to spangled, caped Elvises of his Las Vegas days, with preening Priscillas and Lisa Maries in tow’. Just as Elvises had become Elvii, Priscillas became Priscillae. Groups of Priscilla brides, or ‘bridecillas’, proved photogenic, such as the ‘ten women who have worked since last February on their white dresses and tulle veils, hoping to meet their hunk of burning love’. All human life, and more besides, might well have been there. ‘Even Harry, a local Maltese terrier, donned his best shiny disco suit for the occasion. “This is his second time to the festival,” said his owner. “Last year he came as a criminal from Jailhouse Rock. ”’ Magazines such as Marie Claire, the Australian Senior, Open Road and even Australian Penthouse got in on the act with similar stories, and more gaudy photos.
Media coverage went international. As Kelly Hendry described it:
In 2002 we had Buckwheat Enterprises, a local company that exports noodles directly to Japan. A Japanese TV program came and filmed the festival, setting up a noodle tent down in the park, feeding the Elvises noodles throughout the festival and interviewing them, given Japan’s affiliation with Elvis and love for Elvis and crazy things.
In an effort to combine the success of Parkes’ two major attractions, the Tourism Office sought to marry Elvis to the Dish, to reconcile competing, although not necessarily contradictory, images. Kelly Hendry again:
Elvis had nothing to do with the telescope, but we’re trying to tie them together because they’ve started to become the two best things that Parkes is known for. This year for the first time we developed a new image that was used for merchandise that had Elvis singing with the telescope in his hand as a microphone. We’re trying to tie those two together, so making this Elvis unique to Parkes. He’s not just any El
vis that could be found anywhere – he’s the Parkes Elvis.
Combining the images created a new sense of place. The media were never subtle, but then neither was the festival; stories took bizarre twists, but it undeniably worked. As more than one business owner had recognised, the media blitz was ‘great for the town: publicity well above anything the town could pay for’. No publicity was bad publicity. The corner had been turned.
Hunka Hunka Breakfast
As marketing succeeded, the Elvis Express pulled in, journos filed strange stories and new events were added, the festival simply got bigger and longer: more days and more hours, from dawn far beyond dusk. By 2016, long into the night, Elvis was vividly projected onto the walls of key town buildings. Some new festival entrants proved short-lived. A new event in 2008 was the Elvis Cheeseburger Eating Contest – a minute was enough to cater for that (the winner got through one and three-quarter burgers, and lived to tell the tale) – but it was quietly dropped. Two years later Parkes Garden Club sponsored an Elvis Scarecrow Competition, which drew in several pieces made from scrap metal. It too failed to survive. By the 18th festival in 2010, which coincided with what would have been Elvis’s 75th birthday, there were some 140 distinct events spread over five days (ranging from Bingo with Elvis and Hunka Hunka Breakfast with Elvis through dozens of musical events to the regular Elvis Golf Challenge), with over 500 Elvis impersonators (not all of whom, fortunately, sang), and dozens of buskers, all vying for strategic sites on the main street.