Flea Markets & this Small Farmer

by Robert C. Yoder of New York
photographs from Robert Hassfeld and Erin Zyla

Bouckville Antique Flea Market

Here, in central New York, south of us about five miles, is route 20. One of the first coast to coast highways in the US. It winds its way through forest clad slopes and lush fertile farmland. At regular intervals, neat little villages bring slower speed zones, welcome because it allows us to see the well kept lawns, older houses, and the white clapboard sided church houses, their steeples reaching to the sky. Small one-story motels, diners and family restaurants signal a bygone era of travelers, before the pervasive rise of interstates.

One of these villages, Bouckville, is the first village east of Morrisville, site of our post office. In mid August, it becomes transformed from an almost sleepy village to a bustle of activity. Vans, trucks, and trailers from near and far arrive. As if by magic, bare fields are transformed into a tent city. A giant antique flea-market, the Madison-Bouckville Antique Week, almost envelops the entire town. Upwards of 2000 vendors unload their cargo in tents, tables and the space surrounding them.

Hordes of people become part of this scene. Campgrounds with RVs and tents fill the back of fields. Food smells waft through the crowd. Kettle corn and barbecued chicken, pulled pork and brisket sandwiches, cotton candy, and huge lemonades and even seafood – vie for attention. High prices for these help keep some of the appetite in check.

So why am I writing of an Antique flea market for SFJ? We, as farmers and homesteaders, many of us unconnected to the electrical umbilical cord have need for tools and armatures not readily available in stores, even overbearing behemoths (big-box stores).

From household uses – we have mounted on a shelf in the kitchen a hand crank coffee grinder, in use every day, purchased at the Flea market several years ago. Rachel, frugal wife that she is, uses a sad iron for most of the ironing she does. This year she bought another – and a trivet to park it on – so she can always keep one hot if needed. Various cookware, including different sizes of skillets, grace our kitchen. This year she even bought some new Tupperware for wedding gifts. All kinds of lamps and lanterns can be found. Glass canning jars and all sizes of crocks abound. This year we bought two egg baskets – or are they buckets – the covered wire type that are handy for bringing in vegetables from the garden. In one of the tents a lady was slicing different vegetables – onions, squash, tomatoes – with a small hand-held cutter. A set of two went along home with us; now Rachel’s stir fries are even faster and better then they were. Cutting tools such as knives and cleavers, meat grinders, hoists, cast iron and copper kettles, about anything needed for home butchering can be found. Colanders, larger cookers to hold canning jars, and the older, better camp stoves, used in many Amish homes during the summer when the wood burning cookstoves create too much heat on an already hot day.

Old timers tell us of better, more vibrant times for this flea market. A huge field, now in corn, had lots more vendors. Furniture, much of it Shaker or Arts and Crafts style, was available and in high demand. Many dealers now lament the drop off in interest for high priced antique furnishings. I wonder; perhaps this made more room for practical, usable furniture with a lower price. Seems to me a young married couple could now furnish their whole house with well built, affordable furniture from this event. Chairs of every type, tables beds and dressers are there. I even saw a tall highboy – for $50.

The planners of the Antique Week, mainly owners of the dozen or so show fields, and an elected board, hold monthly meetings the first Tuesday evening of every month. Wanting to learn more of the history and the dynamics of the event, I attended their first meeting recently. It was interesting to hear of their issues, some leadership changes and thoughts of the future. When the meeting was winding down, I, as a complete stranger to the group, was asked my name, and, in a friendly way, my mission. After telling them of SFJ, and wanting to write an article about Antique Week, we discussed if they had noticed, in recent years, of more plain people among their customers. Also, of some reasons for this, such as availability of usable, practical items for our way of life, and how beneficial this is for us – and for them. They very much agreed and told us of buying stock for their stands with this in mind.

The first event of what became Antique Week happened in 1971, with about 19 Exhibitors, and in the 54 years since it has become a potent force in Madison County’s Economy. Motels are booked up in areas surrounding, all the way to Syracuse. It’s hard to determine numbers of people due to no entry fees and no single entrance. Estimates are of 50,000 people in the week’s time. Most purchases are in cash – ATMs are at several different locations – so the amount of money is spent is difficult to track. Traffic on state route 20, a busy highway, slows to a pedestrian pace most of the week. True to its country roots, most vendors do not open until 8AM, and most of the curtains on tents are drawn soon after 5pm.

Over the six years we have been attending Bouckville, since retiring from farming, some of the vendors have become friends. Robert Hassfeld, from Monmouth, New Jersey is one. Robert has a very good variety of hand tools, and his selection has helped fill the available tool space in my small shop. He has deep knowledge of what he sells, and his prices are fair to buyer and seller. I was curious on his thoughts on the event. Robert is about my age, 70, and does 30-35 shows a year. Of these, Bouckville is one of his favorites, and he has never been disappointed with sales. He says vendors are there from all over the country, which attracts serious buyers that are willing to spend time and money. He did lament however, on the aging vendors, and wonders if there is enough 40 and under to fill their thinning ranks.

Speaking of tools, this is one of the very best reasons for attending such an event. An as-new Stanley miter box, complete with its specialty made handsaw, used almost daily, has permanent space on one of my workbenches. A set of Disston handsaws, both rip and crosscut, obviously never used, now see a lot of use. The old-fashioned furniture clamps – the ones that don’t slip – and several specialty planes came to me from Bouckville. Tools – woodworking, tin smithing, and more hold their value well.

If you do your homework and are willing to spend the time searching, some true gems maybe found; pre-WWII Stanley Chisels, Starret Squares, and calipers, which I use for sizing chair legs. And then, there is always the chance of finding a rusting but restorable Stanley #1 bench plane, however, increasingly unlikely in this era of instant cell phone knowledge.

All types of hatchets and axes, along with timber framing tools such as the large two handled drill for making mortises, long heavy slicks – really just overgrown chisels, are easily found. The vendors tell me yankee screwdrivers plus breast and eggbeater style drills are high in demand. I purchased one made several years ago; it is a post drill, now mounted in the shop.

There are always blacksmithing tools available. This year I saw all kinds of tongs and hammers, and several vices, including post vices. Our son Abe bought a forge last year. Always some anvils, of different sizes. Crosscut saws – even some usable ones – along with those with paintings on them. Last year Abe bought a packaged set – at least five – that were still shiny, never used.

Those of us who grew up using three-tined forks for threshing and loose hay making know what a travesty modern hardware forks are. Thick, heavy handles and course, blunt, but bendable tines are the norm. At least twice as much energy is needed to use these. First, they need extra strength to get the fork into a bundle – and an unpleasant jerking to get the sheaves off. And remember, this happens in the extra heat and humidity of harvest afternoons. If you are having a lucky day, sometimes the real thing can be found, with thin, sharp, spring steel tines, but usually just the fork. Sometimes – if you are really fortunate – they can be found with the thin, light, yet strong handle included. Don’t look for giveaways with these, most dealers have long ago learned to know what they have.

Every year a large tent holds a great variety of Turkish carpets, with a crew of men stacking and restacking these ornate, plush looking floor coverings for customers to select from. Several selections of artist’s work are shown in the different vendor areas. I can at least admire these paintings, event if I don’t buy them. Fishing tackle, full tackle boxes of lures. Flyrods – bamboo, graphite and glass, along with famous name reels and other tackle abound. Hunting gear, a few old muzzleloaders, and scrimshawed powder horns vie with more modern gear. Obviously there is a great interest in sports paraphernalia. One tent has leather of many hues, another has sawn live-edge lumber.

One area has a lot of heavy cast-iron machinery parts, such as gears, pulleys and wheels. There seems to be a fascination with old oil cans and gas station signs. Glass milk bottles fill other tents, along with old photographs. One vendor specializes in old maps and charts.

But probably the main reason for my attendance of this show has not been mentioned. Rachel and I are not natural shoppers. After a very short time in the large stores, my eyes start to glaze over and I long for the exit. First of all, we are old and don’t need a lot of stuff. The shop and barn are full enough, cupboards and closets are filled in the house. But – there is always room for some more books. Many of the vendors have at least some books, and some of them have a lot. This is what keeps me going through every nook and cranny of vending space, even when legs and feet long for a rest. Over the years I have found some treasured books – not as a collector, but as a reader. From the classics – Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, John Steinbeck (All of the SFJ readers should read the Grapes of Wrath) – USDA Agricultural yearbooks, The Great Gatsby, by F Scott Fitzgerald, this year, Elbert Hubbard’s scrapbook, copyright 1923, from Hubbards Arts and Craft community, the Roycrofters. A Conrad Argosy, 14 Novellas of Joseph Conrad. The Country Lawyer (where we find the delightful story of Daisy, the little gray mare, and Sim Cranford, her devoted admirer). Roots, by Alex Haley, The Chilling Night, by Elie Wiesel of his endurance through the Holocaust, some fishing books. Fishing (especially fly fishing), like farming, tends to bring forth some exceptional writing. One vendor, Mary Kathleen Mckenna, with fishing books and tackle among other things, is also an author. I bought a rod – yes, I know I don’t need another one – and her book “Whistling Up The Southwind.” Am looking forward to reading it. We had an engaging conversation.

Some of the food vendors have shaded seating areas, welcome in central New York’s August heat. These are good places for a snack and drink while resting your feet, and also watching the passing crowd. Many attendees are seniors. Often the husband is resignedly following his more enthusiastically shopping wife. Most seem to be checking information about the items they are interested in on their phones. It seems to us, the last several years, we have seen more young people. Hopefully, this trend will continue. And we realize, antiques are often the items we rememeber from childhood. So probably, the definition of an antique is now young or recent in my eyes. Also, as mentioned before, we see more Amish and Mennonites from the many surrounding communities in New York. This year, upon seeing an Amish couple pulling a coaster wagon, with side racks, completely full, I asked – Looks like you have the wagon full already. And answer – Not the first one! And then, there was the round couple with every part of their skin that was visible – as it was a warm day, there was a lot of it – covered with tattoos, well maybe not their face. The man had a multi-hued Mohawk hairstyle, and the lady had something similar.

I can just hear Mr. Mohawk tell Ms. Mohawk about this weird couple they saw. The man had this longish white beard, a hat, and suspenders and wore broad-fall pants. The lady had on a long dress and apron and wore a white thing on her head. Ms. Mohawk answers – I saw them too – what is this world coming to?