Adam Farquharson just wanted to ride his giant pumpkin down the river for a laugh, but accidentally went viral, becoming the next in a wave of “silver influencers”.
From Sydney to New York, and across Europe, Mr Farquharson’s trip down the Tumut River last month in a 407-kilogram squash he christened Cinderella caught the attention of a good-news starved world.
He was interviewed a dozen times on radio and TV in Australia and New Zealand and racked up millions of views on social media in a self-described “mind-blowing” two-weeks of fame.
Dubbed Popeye the Pumpkin Man by his neighbours, Mr Farquharson said his fame peaked when he featured on late night TV in the United States when The Late Show with Stephen Colbert tried to make sense of it all in the days after the river ride.
“I have officially found the coolest guy in Australia,” Colbert said.
“Sorry, The Wiggles.”
Seeing himself on American television was a surreal moment for the pumpkin Commodore.
“It’s a bizarre experience … that was quite unexpected. I think sitting there laughing at yourself on that show was weird, but in a really cool way,” he said.
News organisations across Europe also wrote articles recounting his escapades.
One academic says Mr Farquharson is part of a cohort of older people breaking Gen Z’s stranglehold on the internet and going viral, like Albany’s Granny Grommets or the Charlie’s Angels rescuing the dogs of Devonport.
Pure ‘cute bait’
Professor of internet studies at Curtin University Crystal Abidin said Mr Farquharson unexpectedly paddled his way into becoming “cute bait” or a “silver influencer”.
She said this was where people who were deemed “internet old” were thought of as cute and clueless about the social media landscape and therefore worthy of attention.
“We’re in the age of an internet where young people and youth are saturating celebrity creators and attention spaces,” she said.
“Adam, a bit of a middle-aged bloke, taking over this space, allows people to view him with sort of a romanticised lens.
“Viewers are seeking out silver influencers because we now pine for more diversity and perspectives to enhance our world views.”
Professor Abidin said going viral could be a random event, but at a time when the news cycle was often weighed down by heavy topics, feel-good items could really take off.
“It was just so endearing,” she said.
“This story is just really pure, it wasn’t like he was here to sell pumpkins or sell his craft. It was just someone engaging in something that he felt was fun.”
Folk hero
A former commodore of the Tumut Canoe Club, Mr Farquharson’s fame has also garnered him an accolade normally reserved for the great figures of history — a folk song in his honour.
Musician Daniel Kelly wrote H.M.A.S Pumpkin after being inspired by Mr Farquharson’s uniquely Australian brand of “absurdity”.
“The people who came here 200 years ago, you either develop despair, or you developed an absurd sense of humour, because it was such a harsh environment,” he said.
Mr Kelly was particularly inspired by this silly story as it popped up in a week of dark news, which included the massacre in Bondi Junction and the stabbing of a religious leader at a Sydney church.
“That particular week was pretty grim from a news perspective. So, it was great to see something happy and encouraging in the media,” he said.
When he’s not at the helm of a slimy, orange vessel, Mr Farquharson is teaching forestry at the local TAFE and his brush with fame came just as his school holidays started.
Fittingly, his fame ended two weeks later at Tumut’s Falling Leaf Festival, where he helmed a parade float garbed in a mocked-up navy uniform made from a chef’s white jacket and golden curtain rope for a navy aiguillette.
“It’s phenomenal, I really enjoyed it. I’m actually thoroughly glad that it sort of peaked and petered out by Friday,” he said.