Death threats, fraud and deplorable hygiene standards – The Big Olive is at the centre of the most bizarre and shocking scandal in Australian history, and has become the most controversial roadside attraction on the planet.
Built on love and good intentions, the decadently-crafted Big Olive has been dragged through the tabloid media, casting a dark shadow across the rugged South Australian landscape.
The delicious duo stand silent, locked behind a barbed-wire fence, as beautiful as they are shameful. What should serve as a beautiful, bulbous celebration of Tailem Bend’s blossoming olive industry, instead divides and humiliates the locals.
Pour some wine, bring out the cheese board, and strap yourself in as we explore the dramatic rise and tragic fall of The Big Olive.
Lie-renzo’s Oil
It all started so innocently. The Big Olive (which technically should be called The Big Olives, but that’s a debate for another day) was crafted by the oliving legends at The Newell Group, and erected on April 15, 2005. The two olives – one a welcoming green, the other a mysterious, suave graphite – sent shockwaves through the Big Thing community with their eight-metre height and weight of more than a tonne.
They were conceived to draw attention to a world-class olive oil processing plant that promised to transform the region. There was a sense of hope in the crisp, country air as hundreds of well-wishers descended upon Tailem Bend for the Olives’ unveiling.
With a bouncy castle and plates of stuffed olives with little skewers poked through them, it was a day nobody would ever forget. Rumours abounded that Jamie Olive-er would be present to whip up a selection of mouthwatering antipasti.
Life was good. Little did the locals know, however, that a nightmare were just around the corner.
For not everything was as delicious as it seemed at the Big Olive factory. Shady business deals, grotesque working conditions and substandard products were the oil on which the company ran. And then, in early-2012, the little town of Tailem Bend found its way onto every television in the nation.
Oils ain’t oils
Hard-boiled Today Tonight reporter Frank Pangallo broke the outrageous story about what was really going on at The Big Olive, and the country gasped as one. The oil being produced there was, upon testing, not olive oil all. It was of such poor quality as to be unfit for human consumption and should only have been used as lamp fuel.
Expired bottles of oil were illegally relabelled, meaning they’d hit the shelves three or four years after their use-by-date. Employees who questioned these practices were berated, belittled, and bullied.
The depths of the depravity were alarming. It was common for production workers, possibly crazed from hunger due to long work hours, to slurp oil straight from a bottle, pop the cap back on and then send it off to the customer. As a result, thousands of Australians may have unwittingly drizzled saliva upon their bruschetta.
Pangallo, a fearless scribe who has built a career on standing up for the little guy, was the target of brutal death threats. But he wouldn’t back down. He couldn’t back down. The story caused widespread outrage and ushered in a new era of stringent regulation in the notoriously crime-riddled olive oil industry.
For a company that marketed their products as ‘Australia’s health gift to the world’, the fallout was terminal. The Big Olive Company was fined an incredible $13,000 and the factory, which had promised so much, was shuttered forever. This corruption, this misery, happened under the happy visage of The Big Olive.
It all seemed like such a waste.
Olive and let die
A visit to The Big Olive is a conflicting and, at times, harrowing experience. The monument is well maintained, easy to find, and every bit as mesmerising as the day it was first shown to an awestruck population.
The olives are massive, delightfully shiny, and incredibly lifelike. I particularly enjoyed the addition of a rustic, undulated stem, which perfectly frames the olives against the dusty backdrop whilst emphasising their immense size.
Their Rococo-inspired lines and simple, almost austere carapace make them perfect for a fun photo. Like any plump, fresh olive, they compliment, rather than overwhelm, the experience.
But the fact that they’re locked behind a fence, amidst an incomplete and windswept industrial complex, tosses these olives into a mediterranean salad of misery. Knowing what went on in that factory, the betrayal and the abuse, makes it difficult to truly enjoy The Big Olive in all its majesty.
The factory tours are long gone, as are the oil tastings and cooking classes that once made it a highlight of any trip through South Australia. Sure, it’s possible to lean against the fence, guzzling olive oil from a bottle, but it’s just not the same.
Hopefully one day the facility can be taken over, revamped, and re-opened. It’s time for The Big Olive to once again stand proud alongside The Big Pelican and Map the Miner as an Aussie icon. The Big Olive is a wonderful attraction and deserves to be seen and enjoyed in all its sumptuous glory.
I guess you could say olive them so much it hurts!
Having only discovered the Big Olive a few weeks ago it’s wonderful to read the back story to this ‘tourist attraction’. Thank you for the expose which takes hyperbole to incredibly enjoyable levels.
This is the single most life changing article I have ever read. I genuinely cannot describe how superb in quality this article is, I say wholeheartedly that it deserves to win a Pulitzer Prize. Reading this made me understand to some extent how the Budda must have felt upon achieving enlightenment. Keep up the good work, godspeed.