The Hairy Men Go Global, by Sarah Rohr
Sarah Rohr
Special Contributor
Photos by Sarah Rohr
The Keller Auditorium in Portland, Oregon played host to The 2014 World Beard and Mustache Championships.
This event was presided over by 6 judges: the reigning Ms. Oregon (crown, sash and all); the “real life” Penny Lane—who was the inspiration for the film character Penny Lane in Almost Famous, and Shane Piston—a student from Brigham Young University who has been instrumental organizing protests on the campus to allow students to grow beards, as it is currently forbidden.
Also judging was Portland Mercury Managing Editor Marjorie Skinner who was joined in the fun by University of Toronto Professor Alan Peterkin, author of the book One Thousand Beards, a Cultural History of Facial Hair. Rounding out the judge’s crew was Steven Wallace, a representative of High Fives Foundation, a non-profit organization that assists athletes that have suffered life-altering injuries while engaging in their preferred sport. High Fives Foundation was the recipient of funds raised by ticket sales of The World Beard and Mustache Championships.
Who Were These Judges Judging?
Approximately 300 men were vying for glory in 3 categories— Mustaches, Beards and Partial Beards, which had 18 different sub-categories ranging from Natural Mustaches, Dali Mustaches, Hungarian Mustaches, to Sideburns, Amish Beards, Garibaldi and Verdi Beards.
This contest displayed men coiffed in hairy masterpieces crafted out of beards, mustache and hair products, to messy and unkempt beards and mustaches you might see at your local grocer or a bar.
Primarily, it was the eccentric male facial hairdos that populated the scene and it was these more dedicated folks who took home the medals and award booty.
The opening ceremony consisted of a parade of nations and states, with the global representatives parading down the center aisle towards the main stage dutifully carrying their nation or state’s flag, followed by a legion of sartorially men.
As the parade of nations and states filed on, the 3,000-seat house filled with over a thousand spectators. Present in the audiences ranks were facial hair fanatics and enthusiasts, to contestants and their supportive hordes of family and friends, as well a large crowd of curious onlookers.
There was an entire section of deaf audience members there to show their support for two of the contestants from the deaf community.
The sign language interpreter stood front and center stage signing the national anthem, while all participants were asked to doff their hats and salute our great nation.
The 300 participants covered the entirety of the stage and spilled out on the area directly in front of the audience.
The contest began with the introduction of the criteria by which the judges would make their selections: “Choose a contestant whose facial hair best enhances his appearance, personality and style.” The judges then swore to an oath that they would not be swayed in any way in their decision making process.
The show was off and running with the Mustache and all its glory and variety as the first category. Contestants came out one by one, showing off their facial wonders, first to the audience and then parading themselves before the judges. Some participants took their moment very seriously and others danced, howled, crawled, cart-wheeled, yipped, or simply walked to the judges table.
Many of these men wore costumes such as a crowd of lumberjacks; a handful donned kilts, whereas steampunk attire and head-to-toe cowboy gear were rampant. For some unfathomable reason there were an excess of men in Gandalf (Lord of the Rings wizard) costumes.
The Brazen Unshaven
Once the contestants had regaled the audience, the judges then got a moment to survey the facial landscape of each contestant. When all contestants were on stage, they faced the audience and then as a group, stood before the judges for their final ruling. Each Judge would then select their top three favorite candidates in order from third to first place. The overall score then determined the winner of each category.
All first-placed winners were asked to stay for the final competition, which took place at the conclusion of the 5-hour contest. Many of the 18 sub-categories or divisions had multiple rounds to accommodate for the large number of contestants entered in some categories.
The natural beard had the most entrants— coming in at 78 competitors, who were broken down into groups of 10. This left quite a demanding task for the judges, as well as the harried Emcees who began rushing the contest at junctures, making it appear more like a carnival ride than a well paced pageant.
In the over-populated rounds, near pandemonium took place and exposed the organizational shortcomings of the event, which cracked and crumbled under time pressure, along with the mass of contestants.
Frequent computer glitches and errors on the part of the announcers gave the proceedings a slapstick-like atmosphere. One announcer’s ribald and crass sense of humor only served to egg on the rowdy crowd who only got more boisterous, the more alcohol they consumed. The inebriated audience was there for a show, and a show is what they got.
Down to the Wire: Winner By a Whisker
The grand finale of the contest was a ceremony which included all the winners of the 18 subcategories. At this point in the game, the judges relinquished their decision-making power to the audience. The audience by virtue of the volume of their voices then selected the most compelling participant from each of the 18 divisions. This person was slated to win a trip to Austria (during Oktoberfest).
After many contestants vainly stormed the stage—howling, strutting, and posing in a variety of ways that displayed their bravado and brash showmanship, the winner of the entire contest was a young man named Madison Rowley.
Mr. Rowley had a shiny and well-trimmed Garibaldi beard (a long, bushy beard rounded on the sides and bottom) and he turned shades of beet red when the audience sounded their collective wolf howls, shrieks, whistles and whoops of approval for the most humble character in the bunch.
The winner in the most elegant and sportsman-like conduct turned and bowed first to his fellow competitors, waving his arms to signal the audience to follow suit. Then he faced his fans with a look of awe rivaling Sally Fields’ moment of glory at the Oscars where she proclaimed, “You like me, you really like me.”
It was refreshing and heartening to see one with little to prove and much to gain, become the captor of the audience’s hearts and minds amongst a group of men striving for glory.