SHOW PROBLEMS.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLV, Issue 21, 23 November 1910, Page 42

SHOW PROBLEMS.

I will undertake to say that every reader of these lines has at some time or other formed one of the crowd in the tent on flower show morning, and observed the hurrying and scurrying which often takes place in order to get the stuff staged in readiness for the judges. At such a moment, one can think out a few of the problems which present themselves under canvas, some of which may readily be solved while others are more difficult, but in their way they involve show officials, exhibitors, judges, and even the visiting publie. Problem One: How does the secretary manage to keep his temper on show morning? Some, I know, hopelessly lose it for the time being, and they are deserving of some sympathy, but others (and a good many of them) keep calm, contented, and good-humoured through it all. Well, it is all a question of human nature; first, on the part of the man himself, and, secondly, on the part of the individuals he has to deal with, but all men are not cut out to be show secretaries. Problem Two: How to enforce punctuality at local shows. Dear reader, have you never been asked as a judge to be at a show, say, at ten o’clock, and, when you have arrived, you have been informed that the exhibits were not quite ready? You have waited about for an hour or more before the tents were cleared, and then you have had to rush through your work at a pace which was unfair to the exhibitors. This is the kind of thing that ruffles judges. But how different things are at the show where everything is ready at the time appointed, and one has ample time to carefully examine everything that is presented for inspection. Here again it is a question of method, or lack of it. A good secretary,

who is backed up by a working committee, is always punctual, and never seen rushing about on show day, because he makes his arrangements beforehand; but my sympathy is extended to the secretary who finds himself deserted by his committee at the time when he most wants them, i.e., on flower show day. And struggling along alone as best he can, it is no wonder the man gets behindhand, and earns for himself the unenviable reputation for being unpunctual. Here we have a problem which an exhibitor is trying to solve. He is standing before a collection of vegetables, with a thumbed schedule in one hand and a half-inch stump of lead pencil in the other. A second prize card rests on the collection in front of him (his own, by the way), and on the next there is the first prize card. No, he is noe a cantankerous, dissatisfied exhibitor, but just an ordinary human being, trying to find out where he is beaten, with the object of doing better next year, but the competition is so close that he cannot see where the other man gained the advantage. Who can help this man to solve his problem? The judges might have done it easily enough if, when they pointed up the collections, they had put a card on each exhibit showing the marks they had given to the individual vegetables. In regard to this matter, 1 would add that cards for the purpose should be provided at all shows, and ■these should be filled up by the judges and placed on the collections. If this were done the problem which puzzled our friend would no longer exist. A few days ago four judges and a flower show secretary were partaking of a well-earned lunch after a hard morning’s work, when an excited individual entered the tent, apologised for intruding, and stated that he wished to lodge a protest against another exhibitor. It happened in this way. The schedule asked for a collection of annuals, twelve varieties, and in selecting his flowers the injured one had been careful to keep to one colour in cornflowers, coreopsis, etc., while the man objected to had mixed the colours, and the contention was that he had more than the specified number of varieties. I am aware that the schedule meant species, instead of varieties, and should have said so, but the problem is, supposing you show a bunch, say, of salpiglossis, or cornflowers, containing half-a-dozen different coloured flowers, is each one to be taken as a separate variety? If so, the judges in question were wrong in upholding their decision, and not allowing the protest. There is still some confusion amongst exhibitors at shows in respect of the •words “kind” and “variety,” and at a certain show, not long ago, a man exhibited black and red currants in a collection as distinct kinds. Another competitor pounced on it, promptly decided, to his own satisfaction, that the black and red currants were distinct varieties, but not distinct kinds, and, on these grounds, he lodged his pro test. The problem was discussed in quite a hearty manner, but I am not quite sure whether the protestor was convinced when it was pointed out to him that the red currant (Ribe.s rubrum) and the black currant (Ribes nigrum) represented different species, and, consequently, were distinct kinds, with just as much difference as there is, say, between the black currant and the gooseberry (which is Ribes grossularia). Varied opinions were expressed by the supporters on both sides, but one man, I noticed, was quite happy about it, namely, the individual who showed the red and black currants, and still retained the prize card. Sometimes judges are faced with little problems that are out of the ordinary way of things, and in which prompt action is essential. As a case in point, two judges were making their awards at a show where there is a spirit of very keen rivalry amongst the exhibitors, and, as » usual, the tent was cleared, and they had it all to themselves. Tire classes for potatoes and onions were duly disposed of, and the judges were going on to the collections, when one of them noticed the toes of half a dozen pairs of boots showing under the canvas wall of the tent. The individuals who stood in the boots were, of course, listening to the remarks of the judges, oblivious of the fact that their understanding were betraying their presence. One of the judges grasped the situation, motioned

to his colleagues, pointed a finger at the row of shoe toes, and observed in a loud voice: “I think before we go any further, we’ll judge those boots under the table.” The problem of eavesdropping was solved, and the way those boots vanished was positively amusing. There is a problem, not a pleasant one, by the way, which local flower show committees have to deal with, and it is that of the dishonest exhibitor. It is hard to believe that men are unscrupulous enough for the sake of winning a few shillings in prizes to exhibit produce as their own which they have not grown, but, unfortunately, there are, and this kind of thing has wrecked more than one show. Not infrequently other exhibitors know about the dishonesty, or have suspicions, but cases are not easily proved, and men who show straight themselves hesitate about making themselves conspicuous by raising protests. Instead of doing this, they talk amongst their neighbours, cease exhibiting, and the show gets in bad odour. There is only one way of dealing with the problem of the dishonest exhibitor, and that is for the committee to take the responsibility of investigating the first suspicious case, and, if necessary, making an example of the offender. In fact, there is no other proper course, for if dishonest exhibiting is winked at, this is really admitting that it is tolerated.— H., “Gardeners’ Magazine.”