by Richard Prior
Staff Writer
If it springs from the ground or takes shape on the vine, the odds are it’s on display at the Beaver Street Farmers Market.
The Market, which has been around since the mid-1930s, originally housed stalls for about 150 family farmers selling their fruits and vegetables. That number now ranges between 50 and 75 vendors, “according to what’s in season,” said Jean Bowman, the Market’s manager.
There’s no denying the number of sellers has dropped as the family farm has almost become a curiosity. But it’s hard to imagine being able to pack a greater number or wider variety of goods into one space.
Every business day — which is every day of the year — the Market serves as a melting pot of Hispanic, Asian, Eastern European and home-grown vendors. The pot swells on the weekends, with as many as 20 different nationalities contributing to the “wall-to-wall people,” Bowman said.
“There are a lot of different people here,” said Bowman’s “right hand,” Walter Wehlauch. “A lot of different personalities with a lot to sell.”
Farmers from this region and from as far away as South Florida and Alabama truck their produce to the Market.
Many established residents of Jacksonville seem to have forgotten — or never knew — that the Market is such a hotbed of activity, Bowman said. Others learn quickly.
“The people in Jacksonville don’t know this place is here,” she said. “The foreigners find this place more than anyone else.”
The Market, owned by Beaver Street Fisheries, is on nine acres of land opposite the southwest end of the Beaver Street Viaduct. Cars, trucks and vans that show up to unload as early as 3 a.m. once had potholes to maneuver around. The road has now been completely resurfaced.
Vendors are open for business from 5 a.m. until 9 at night. Activity seldom stops, as greens are being divided and packaged long before the sun comes up. Selling and making plans for the next day go on well into the night.
It’s a “We Doze But Never Close” sort of arrangement in front of the rows of covered stalls: Rashied’s Produce, Roosevelt’s Produce and Sammy’s Produce, owned and operated by Sammy Boatwright.
The sign outside his business (“We Pay Top Dollar for Pecan’s”) means what it says, according to Wehlauch.
“If you’ve got pecans, any amount of pecans, this is where you come to sell them,” he said.
There used to be two restaurants on the property. The Steer Room was destroyed by fire. Only the Egg Roll Inn remains.
A fire the first week of August claimed one structure that covered 20 stalls and two enclosed buildings. The remains have been leveled and removed; bids are expected soon on a replacement.
A new tin roof now covers another building, where the electrical wiring was reworked and some old timber removed.
It wouldn’t help much to claim the Market is the area’s “best-kept secret.” That implies Bowman and Wehlauch don’t want word to get out about the variety to be savored and the deals to be made. They do.
“Prices for everything are incredible,” said Bowman. “What you pay for three or four pounds of bananas here is what you’ll pay for one pound in a store.”
Practically everyone works in the Martinez family, which specializes in wholesale and is “kind of the backbone of the market,” Wehlauch said.
A lot of their trade goes to stores, restaurants and roadside stands.
The retail specialist is Dale Collins.
“Dale has a big slice of the retail market, and he does a lot of it,” said Wehlauch.
Selenias Serrano sells fresh produce, long stalks of sugar cane . . . and an assortment of chickens, ducks, rabbits and some Chinese Silky chickens, pairs of legs beneath an abundance of soft white feathers that fan out in the breeze and just about cover their faces.
Chau Vy’s stall features boxes and stands of Oriental fruits and vegetables “you can’t find anyplace else,” Bowman said.
The Farmers Market provides a look back in time, to the days when this was primarily an agrarian economy. Those days are in the rear view mirror. The nostalgia remains.
“The age of the farmer has declined,” Bowman said sadly. “The young people don’t want to farm, and the farmers we’ve had over the years are either dead or too old.
“We’ve got some out there that come during the season every year. But they’re getting older and older, and they can’t do it anymore.”