The Benicia Peddler’s Fair has been my favorite event of this town’s summer season since the early 1970s when a group of us would make the early morning drive down from Sacramento every August. An avid flea marketer, I relished the many antique shops and the bohemian atmosphere of the then funky town on the Strait. Mabel’s was the place to hang out, a tiny hole in the wall cafe with counter service and an enormous painting of Mabel by Robert Arneson on the wall behind the counter. St. Paul’s initially, constructed in 1859, created the fair back in 1963 to finance the upkeep, repair and restoration of their buildings now on the National Register of Historic Places. Ten percent of their proceeds are directed to local non profit organizations. Twelve separate committees started their work early this year and welcomed 70 new vendors.
Set my alarm for early Saturday morning, scarfed down a Kind bar, and grabbed a water bottle, sunscreen, and a giant hat. A dark thought about downsizing was replaced by the familiar mantra — “If I don’t get there early all of the good stuff will be gone.” In past years I’ve gotten some of my best vintage items from the yard sales lining J and K Streets. At 7:45 am was lucky to find a parking spot near the Bank of the West’s ATM which I drained of cash and then power walked to the nearest card table scoring an antique, cobalt blue Bauer mixing bowl for only $10.
Entering the main event in front of St. Paul’s was thrilled to see hundreds of peaked white canopy tents lined up all the way down to B St. They resembled an encampment out of Lawrence of Arabia. There were over 300 vendors, a promising sign, but what were all of those people doing there so early? “I’m so excited; I can’t deny it; I’m about to lose control and I think I like it” looped in my head.
On my first sweep through the market, I checked out handcrafted items for the home and garden, piles of indigo dyed mud cloth from Mali and colorful West African baskets. A photographer in a Civil War era dress suit stood by an old tin type camera and looked for subjects. The exotic fellow who travels the Silk Road for antique silver jewelry and other treasures from the Himalayas was back and adjacent to a woman from Oakland selling ropes of gorgeous and rare coral and amber. The Bakelite Lady landed a corner space, while booths of clothes, scarves, jewelry and metal art, abounded. Custom Handcrafted Pottery by Tayla, thrown and glazed by Tayla herself, were showcased in the space in front of Benicia Fitness, operated by her mother, Joy. The Basket Bungalow sold hand-stitched vintage Indian cotton kanthas —quilts made from saris — for only $30. Spotted Laurie LeTellier of Wimzee, “creator of all things whimsical.” Their antique, blue Moroccan wooden window frame was exactly what I’d been looking for, and they deliver. Rae Trujillo, the “Impractical Visionary,” offered handmade journals bound in antique book covers — Mexican travel guides, Nancy Drew mysteries, and French novels from the Jazz Age.
Alas, antiques were a small portion of dealers represented but not for lack of trying. St. Paul’s made a special effort to reach out to as many as possible, but very few responded. Most of that market has gone on-line. Millennials speak about “The Recline and Fall of Antique Furniture” and favor mid century design and experiential pastimes. We’re fortunate in Benicia to still have a handful of antique shops, among them Fabulous Finds at the Tannery, Steffens Antiques, and Antiques on First.
Quality control is one of the unseen but critical aspects of the event. A team of seven volunteers checks each booth, sometimes several times, to ensure that the merchandise matches each applicant’s photos. One year a vendor couldn’t attend so sold his spot to someone else who showed up with X-rated T shirts. The offender was escorted out of the fair. Another year a woman was selling ceramic figures in compromising positions alongside more innocent poses, not exactly comme il faut for a church-sponsored event.
Further along found an antique metal table which I envisioned covering with mosaics. How was I going to get that to my car? “I’ll think about that later,” I told myself as I returned to the thrill of the hunt.
By early afternoon the heat and my inability to breathe — I was wearing a KN 95 — encouraged me to call it a day. What about the my table I left with the vendor? As I rounded the corner at B St., a gracious volunteer named Dave offered to pick up the table a couple of blocks away and carry it to the corner where he suggested I drive by and he’d load it into my car. By that time his shift had ended and another equally helpful volunteer, David Lawson, was on duty and carried out the plan. Valet service was not something I’d expected at a street fair but Benicia is all about community. Thanks for the memories St. Paul’s.
Sarah Beserra is an artist, collector, Dharma practitioner and former lobbyist.
Letters From Benicia 