The Fire: From the Saturday Market Archives

Please note: This blog is not an official Saturday Market forum or set of posts, but a personal one of member Diane McWhorter, who happens to be archiving the Market collection this winter in preparation for the 50th season. 

In the Saturday Market archives, I stopped last night just at the newsletter announcing The Fire. It happened on May 2, 1982. It was arson.

This was when the Market was still on the Butterfly and stored equipment underneath, in two rented parking spaces with various schemes to protect it. They used a chain, but the chain got stolen. In 1981 there were six times the stuff was vandalized, spread all over the place, and whatever was of value was stolen. The fire, on a Sunday morning, was clearly arson, probably done by someone passing through who had also targeted a similar organization in Seattle. I haven't read all of the details of the recovery yet.

The leading up to it is compelling though. 1981 was a very wet, terrible weather year for an outdoor Market. In addition, in 1980 a national recession struck, thanks to Reagan I guess, or the usual things that cause recessions. Here in Eugene it was rough, with lots of people relocating to find the elusive jobs. A government program, CETA, would give people $300 grants to buy tools. It wasn't a great time to be a craftsperson, but at least that was a job. I was painting signs then, and managed to live pretty low on the food chain, though I had to sell all manner of little things at the Market to get by. It was a little before t-shirts for me, so I made cards, calendars, and painted some amazing signs for places like Mr. Moto's and Poppi's, La Primavera, whomever I could find. Hundreds of us created our own jobs and held on for better times.

The Market on the Butterfly had at times held an overflow for its 250 allowed spots, but not that year. Vendor participation dwindled and while there were always a lot of food booths, growing to 40 once, people without jobs weren't buying a lot of crafts or art until Christmas, which had always been solid. Christmas Fairs throughout the 70's were generally two weeks long, every day, long days, but enough people were still left to sell on Saturdays that in 1981, for the first time, a five-day run of the Market was tried. It included Saturday Dec. 19th, and went through the 23rd. The rest of the December Saturdays were just the usual. Fees in those days were $3 plus 10% of the previous week's sales...this structure turned out to be fatally flawed, as on a bad weather day, people often didn't return to pay their fees from the previous good day, and when it was a good day, people might be paying on the previous week's poor sales day.

It's important to remember that the Saturday Market was the first of its kind, so the whole decade of the 70s was experimental, and often the parts that didn't work well were hard to change as quickly as they needed to be fixed. When attendance was lower, so were the numbers of interested, dedicated volunteers, and the balance needed of volunteers and staff could skew. No one wanted staff to work for free, but often the winter closure resulted in staff quitting rather than waiting out the three months of no pay. At the time, staff retention was recognized as a huge benefit to the organization, so we had two great staffers who had worked for a few years by then, plus a few hard-working volunteers, just not enough of them. We budgeted for staff to work at least some over the winter, so even when there was no income, there were expenses.

As you might predict, because this is a bit of a tragic story, the extended Christmas included renting 20x20 tents for customers, lots of great entertainment and special attractions, and lots of advertising, with the attendant big budget expenditures. Fees were raised to make it work, but it was all about vendor numbers, and it rained. It rained so much that one day was described as "the rainiest day ever." I think I remember it. There was 5 inches of rain, and the nine or so of us that stood under a covered area didn't quite know how we were going to pack up and get home. Rent for the Butterfly went from $40 a day on weekends to $500 a day on the weekdays, as the County wanted to recover the costs of the lost parking revenue. We were paying for all night security too, for the booths left on site.We were paying for useless advertising as no one came like they had when times were good.

Suffice it to say, the budget was busted. In January the leaders of the Market started trying to get loans, and to get a handle on how big the deficit was. There wasn't even a solid Treasurer at the time. It's a little hard to figure it all out from the records as all the 1981 newsletters are missing, but during the winter the staff salaries were deferred with promises to pay when things improved, an April opening was decided upon instead of May, and various fees were proposed. A $5 membership fee, and a Season Reserve fee were pitched. Reserves were in place then, but this was a discounted amount to interest people in early spending to pay the December bills. It worked, as did asking for donations, but it turned out to be a deeper budget hole than was known, and everyone kept digging of course. It was never mentioned that the Market could just roll up and quit, after a successful 12-year run. It was too vital to the community, too much a part of the cultural art scene. It was called "The Cradle of the  Arts Community of Eugene" by the head of the Eugene Arts Foundation. And the economy would turn, as in 1982 the Hilton Hotel, whose balconies overlooked the Market, was scheduled to open.

Market Staff sold the promise hard, and April happened! Reforms like same day payments and raffles and promotions helped. The newly renovated info booth

looked fantastic, tables and benches were improved, there were 25 great food booths, but it hailed on Opening Day (April 3) and rained the next week too. Craft artisan booths fell to 60 and 10 food booths didn't show either on that second week. May first, however, brought the new city-aupported Imagination Celebration, which involved a parade, a Chimney Sweeps Festival and Lookalike contest (was this Mary Poppins time, or just David Stuart Bull?) and things started blooming. May first was hopeful.





But early the next Sunday, arson completely destroyed the new Info booth, all of the ten tables and 30 benches, the Lucy Booth, the stage frame and awning, all of the signs, sandwich boards, banners, flags, tools, bulletin boards, hose bibs, everything useful and necessary to put on the Market. It was estimated at $7000-10,000 but it was almost all handmade and beautiful and not really replaceable. The Info booth in particular had been made in a UO workshop, designed by architects, and handbuilt by volunteers in 1973, and was a work of art. Moreso, the community was devastated. On May 8th, members gathered for a circle and dug deep.

It was a difficult year, and leaders emerged who could dedicate time and effort, many of whom still serve the Market or support it. Still, the lot looked empty all season, and various schemes were tried to present as a lively, happy event, while privately despair sometimes emerged. Bills were gradually paid but none of the grants applied for were given. Finally in the fall, the Market wrote to downtown business leaders and politicians, asking for an Advisory Committee and some help. A move to the Park Blocks, the original location the Market had wanted in 1970, was requested.

It was granted! The Market was allowed a trial period of December and the following April, 1983, to see if the members would work together to sell in the lovely park, with only 125 spaces, (now stretched and finagled to 250 again) to revitalize the organization and continue the important work of holding up Downtown on Saturdays during the recession. The downtown mall needed the support, and by then the merchants and public servants well knew the benefit of the large Saturday event. The City Council voted to grant the Market $1850 for moving expenses, and on November 18, 1982, the First Market in the Park was held.

Even though success was still hard won after that (the 5-day Christmas Market failed again) history had been written. The Saturday Market rose from the ashes. I have a little baggie of the ashes for the archives. It's a most compelling story, and such an embedded part of my own history that to me, it explains a lot.

Fire galvanizes. It did that for us. Within a year I was on the Board, painted almost all of the Market signs for costs, and worked together with people I still work together with, to do what needs to be done to keep the Market on track, thriving, and ready for more.

I know what it feels like to sell in a parking lot, and then move to a park. I know what  it means to come on rainy days and sunny ones, and how to have the long, sometimes philosophical conversations necessary to guide and keep the Market for the longhaul. I know how it feels to be part of an ever-changing, ever-passionate community of creative, loving people who just want the best for the community and for ourselves, able to integrate our self-interest with what is best for the common good.

I'll write more as we go along, since there is so much to tell and I am practicing for the eventual book, but I wanted to share my deep feelings as I sort through these folders and piles of papers and tease out what really happened from what is said and remembered. The truth is that our community has the resilience, the strength, and the passionate dedication to not only survive the challenges of the 50th season and Anniversary, but to project beyond it for the next 50 years. I won't be here for all of that, so it might have to be you. Don't stop caring about us. We're worth it.

Here's the link to some of the vintage photos of the old days. We were so young!

Making Connections

I'll try to keep this short, but there are a lot of barely-related thoughts going through my mind today. It's going to be a production day; several of my custom accounts need things printed right now, which is going to mean next week for most of them, but some today. Thanksgiving takes a lot of time, though of course it is rewarding to give thanks and I hope I remember to fit that in amidst the pie crumbs and dirty dishes.

I don't have to cook a turkey, as Tom and Pamela do that, in a finely orchestrated duet which provides many delicious traditional and unexpected treats. I bring the cranberries, both cooked sauce and raw relish, and the pies. I usually make four for them and one or two to put in my refrigerator for breakfasts and snacks during the next week as I grow increasingly exhausted. I feel like my part is a lot of work but it's nothing compared to getting the potatoes mashed and still warm and the gravy just right. Pamela makes a lot of gravy, and at least three perfectly cooked vegetables, all hot and ready at the same time, and her dinner rolls are famous. I realized my pie crust recipe is one of my oldest, from the 1970's, and I might just switch it up this year and use a different one. I'd like a flakier texture. It's an example of how I am, stuck in tradition so deep I don't even see it, and longing a little for change if the risk level isn't too high. People will eat the pies even if the crust fails completely, because pie. And no one would care if all the sides were not hot and perfectly cooked and the projected time rather precisely met, or the cranberries too tart or sweet, but we like to work hard and do our best when we can.

My choices are so very low risk, as are most of my challenges on the world scale. I'm out of cinnamon, but I have three stores within a short walk. I have pears and apples in many varieties from the farmers, and a perfect squash all ready for the spices. I have my set of pie plates that is different from the set I ruined with drying Jell-O. I have the time to make everything without feeling pressured, my inventory is pretty dense so I don't have to print much for the next few weeks, and I have so many delightful choices of things to do in my spare time that I just wish I had more of it. I feel quite lucky, though perhaps not as smart as I sometimes do.

My gridwall of hats almost fell down on Saturday. I thought I reinforced it in a sturdy way so it would be rigid but the hats are really heavy so it was very out of plumb when I noticed it at 10:30 or so on opening day. I had a couple of stop-gap measures I could take, so I propped it up but had terrible thoughts of it collapsing. That would have been really bad for business. It tickles me some that after 40 years of retailing I still don't know how to construct a display properly. I tried something new to open up the doorway to seem more inviting, and it did work to do that, except for the leaning part. My solution was to go home and cut a 6-foot grid in half lengthwise and prop the wall up with one half of it. Worked like a charm, and it was fun to get out my Bosch reciprocating saw and apply it to cutting metal. So much better than the hippie way of digging out the free-box hacksaw and doing them by hand. So glad I learned how to use power tools.

I remember buying that Sawzall after most of the work it would have done had been done the hippie way, when I was remodeling my house years ago. The salvaging phase would have been much more efficient and I'd have saved more boards if I had not been too timid to get one then, but I had to do the project to learn how to do the project and that worked out in the long run. This explains the 15-year duration of the project (which of course is not exactly *finished*) but the skills and confidence have lasted and like most things, I am a work in progress. I still get a kick out of doing the non-traditional, putting on the ear protection and taking a breath and making a lot of noise and dust. I feel like I feel when I ride my trailer full of tubs across the Fairgrounds, with my grey hair poking out from underneath my helmet. Yes, I am an old lady, but not that kind of old lady. I'm the tough old bird type, and proud of it.

I've gotten back into my house research as my free time increases a little and the outdoor work is less appealing (tough luck, leaf pile). I asked the city for Cultural Resource Surveys on some of the houses surrounding the corner north of my house. I am going to be able to document the sequences of ownership and improvement of quite a few of them and prove that the same family owned or built most of them, I hope. The one on the corner of 12th and Van Buren that I call the dairy house is called the Miranda house by the city. They have a lot of the details wrong, and I'm not sure if I will be able to actually correct the records, but I might when I get the whole thing together. Miranda was F.G. Vaughan's second wife and the mother of all of his children (who lived) but the first one, Richey (who farmed down at 8th and Van Buren somewhere.) She did outlive her husband and they probably did call it her house, but there was no Miranda family so no wonder they couldn't find them in the records. I don't know a lot about her except her vital statistics, but there are other threads to follow still. She had a lot of children and some met rather colorful fates, and the Vaughan family is quite well documented and I hope to find descendants. After Floyd's death she moved into a neighboring house or two built by her daughter Grace and her husband Frank Bowers, whose name is all over my house. I'll be able to pin down a lot of details from the building permit records and census records and hope to find out more about her in the process. I'm also fascinated with Samantha Davis Huddleston and her mother Catherine and hope to find out a lot more about them. I identify so strongly with these women and their lives. I think about them all the time as I pass their houses and the trees they planted and I walk on the land they farmed and ate from.

We had a little neighbor party last night and I learned a few details from the occupants of some of the houses. History fascinates most people and a couple of them actually met Grace Bowers and other people in my study. Grace died in 1988 at 103, which is coincidentally the same year we bought this property. All of these people seem just out of my reach, but so close. I know more will come to light as I search, and my theories keep getting more firm and less speculative as I add little facts. It was also great just to know the neighbors and their interests which dovetail with mine. One is a bit of a historian and is researching the Civil War era here, and another restored his house after it was cut up as a duplex and I remember meeting the old woman who did that when a friend of mine lived upstairs. It's fun to have lived in a place for almost 40 years. My whole time in Eugene (since 1975) has been in this neighborhood, on the Huddleston DLC.

I love how things fit together. Like my propped up wall I like to make them neat and sturdy. I can't wait to write the book that documents the ordinary history of my neighborhood, which is also the neighborhood of so many, including the Lane County Historical Museum. So alive. I can't wait to strengthen the ties from the past to the present and future. It connects people just like selling at the Market connects people.

It's a bit overwhelming how many people I am connected to already, how many times at the Hol this weekend someone said to me "Since you're the person who knows everything, what about _______?" I do not know everything but I have been paying attention for a long time, so I certainly have my observations. My booth there is a little bit of a power spot right there by the door, a gathering place of its own. At least three fairly major people-issues occurred there this weekend...things that could have gone rapidly rancid but didn't. Kimberly was fabulous and really earned her stripes handling things with grace and diplomacy. I appreciated being consulted but really, she knew what to do and how to do it. She checks with people to make sure, but her instincts are sound and her ethics are right there where I want them to be, at the top of the scale. I'm so thankful for her leadership, and the collaborative style of it. Saturday Market is solid and thriving, and this will be a wonderful holiday season. We do have to stay calm and be kind, move slowly and be thoughtful. It's not going to be easy as pie, but as I know and you know, pie isn't all that easy either. Plus it makes a mess all over the floor (just like Jell-O art.)

Okay, I'm late to the shop and have to go get that cinnamon. I wish happy and warm times for all of you. If you need me I'll be right there at the Fairgrounds every weekend for what seems a very long time but will pass in a flash. Hope you can keep up. More to come....