From the very earliest of time, families and communities gather at set intervals for the social and economic events that can be lumped together into the generic term ‘market Day’. The earliest of such gatherings, paleolithic at least, were the gatherings of smaller clans each summer. The greatest need here was social and ceremonial; the intra-marriage among smaller groups to avoid continual intermarriage. Great story telling was part of these gatherings as was the beginnings of trade. Specialized artisans such as flint knappers, hide tanners and spear carvers traded their skills for the skills of others.
The ‘market days’ extended well into bronze and Iron Age cultures. More often, they too, were annual events, commonly revolving around known and predictable events, such as harvests. Artisans would work all year for the annual display and sale of their wares and the purchase of supplies needed for next year’s production. Flint from one geographic area and salt from another were brought to the various festivals. Wool from the north and shells from the sea were exchanged for wheat and olive oil. A world economy was born at market days. And, more importantly, the purveyors of these sought after, but not locally available, goods were born … the itinerant vendors.
In the middle ages, we find that market days have become extended from annual events to monthly, or even weekly, events. They have become the ‘meet and greet’ days when hardworking farmers, herdsman, cheese makers and fishermen would bring the fruits of their various labors to the agreed upon location for trade. Young people, separated by the miles of walking and working for daily survival, find the sole opportunity, as did their forbears, to meet and mate away from their ‘tribe’.
Modern times have altered ‘market day’ almost beyond recognition. The telephone, internet, automobile, universal public education and permanent markets all have participated in the reduction of ‘market day’ to a traditional, and largely vestigial, annual ‘Harvest Days’ festival. Maybe!
Dateline, Pickens, South Carolina … 6 a.m. on any Wednesday … three miles west on the Walhalla Road. They call it the Flea Market. But, it is, by any stretch of the imagination, Market Day. At its zenith, it will cover 15 acres. By six a.m. the circuit riders, those vagabonds who follow the scheduled flea markets in trucks and vans arrive to begin unloading their wares. These traveling vendors, like the tinkers, dyers, drummers and scissors sharpeners of past times, are the economic gypsy vagabonds of rural America. Beneath permanent covered pavilions are unloaded and displayed a vast array of white goods, shoes, jewelry and homemade preserves. From two enclosed 24 foot trucks are unloaded boxes of dry goods of questionable age, broken case lots, damaged boxes and truly unknown brands. From another comes a mountain of ‘previously viewed’ DVDs and CDs by ‘stars-yet-to-be’ and ‘stars-in-decline’ all for a bargain prices – and two-fers are better. From a non-descript van come stacks of shoeboxes, most-sizes and styles new and barely new. A table displays more styles of sunglasses than have ever adorned any beach. An extended Mennonite family sets up a weekly stand of baked goods, fresh smells muted by plastic wrap; a special shelf of goods marked by a hand scrawled sign, ‘No Sugar’.
Following the early birds come the residential sellers. In a rural setting where ‘yard sales’ are doomed by time and distance and where the economics of occasionally selling your own ‘unwanted’ possessions may well mean the difference between rent and new shoes, the flea market is a ‘part time job’. The mixture of table, vehicle and vendor types is as great as the mixture of goods on display. Granny’s glassware meets the rusty tools from the barn. Vinyl records intermix with game cartridges for much antiquated technology and 8-track tapes. Handmade crafts, woodwork and jewelry are displayed with the same care as the metal lunchboxes, board games, book club novels and pulp romances that have been dredged from beneath the stairs. But, then, one mans’ trash …
75 years ago they came to Market Days in buckboard and on plow-horse. Today, a wagon train of pickups, station wagons, vans and sedans brings the population. They come not so much to shop; although the vendors of fresh this and new-picked that are nearly as much the center of attention as the ‘scratched and dented’ discount grocer, but to meet and greet just as did their grandparents did so long ago every Saturday morning. So routine is this gathering that local restaurants, not the invading franchises but the locally owned eateries, plan for larger than expected crowds before and after. Old, and I mean old, friends meet and stand before a table of it-matters-not, to discuss and re-discuss matters of true importance. Young mothers, strollers complete with the next generation of flea marketers, visit; perhaps revisiting the days before the inhabitants of their strollers became the center of their young lives. Treasures, some true discoveries and others white elephants awaiting the final trip to the landfill, are evaluated and dickered over as much as the lives of friends, neighbors and acquaintances are evaluated and dickered over.
Food vendors dispense favored foods and beverages. Early on, oversized fresh donuts and sweet rolls are washed down with steaming Styrofoam cups of dark coffee. As the sun rises higher in the sky, hamburgers, BBQ, sweet tea and faux-cheese drowned nachos replace the early morning fare. Market Day continues. With the approach of noon, however, the wagon train breaks its circle and begins its exodus; gossip swapped, marketing done, socializing complete. The local sellers repack their boxes until next week’s visit and the vagabonds recase their wares for tomorrow’s market in Walhalla … or Jockey Lot … or over the next hill and around the next bend.
Perhaps someday, Market Day will be a scheduled meeting in an Internet Chat Room or on eBay. But, for today … at least in Pickens, South Carolina, Market Day is every Wednesday from 6am to noon, three miles west of town.
