Weird stuff? The flea market had plenty of that. And if they didn’t have it, sometimes you could create it.
Without the Tallahassee Flea Market, there never would have been the legend of Walter Theodore Farrington, a rooster who mysteriously appeared and quickly disappeared from a residential neighborhood near downtown.
Walter was a young fellow purchased for $6 and placed in an empty Gallo wine case. My son and I took him home to my wife, who wasn’t pleased. Walter didn’t crow at the time; he hadn’t blossomed into maturity.
But when he did, he let his voice be heard, waking my wife and me at sunrise one morning as he stood proudly on the hood of my neighbor’s BMW, letting the world know he had something to say. “You’re a dead man” is what my wife had to say.
There’s more to this story. We’ll get to that.
But it was the first thing I thought of when I heard the flea market was closing after 41 years. A week after that announcement, I made one last trip to the place where I went on my first date in Tallahassee in 2001, spent time with my son on Father’s Days and where I bought a bear head that, to this day, brings strange looks, laughs – and joy.
What I found on my last visit was a shell of its former self. Most of the long-time vendors were gone. Much of the covered areas no longer had cover. There were bare slabs where small shops used to be. But some of the faithful still held on to the final days of the market.
“It’s very sad,” said Brian Johnson, a ball python draped around his neck as he visited old friends and the remaining vendors last weekend.
“I just like the interaction between the people, myself. That’s why I come out here every weekend, just to talk to all the vendors. This is good exercise – walking around the flea market. I always do one or two laps.”
He has, at times, had his own stand at the market starting in college and continuing into his 40s, usually selling “just antique stuff, weird stuff, and knives and different things like that. Coins. Silver,” he said.
Weird stuff. The flea market had plenty of that. And if they didn’t have it, sometimes you could create it. Like the time I felt my dog would be a better U.S. Senate candidate than what the major parties came up with. I saw a vendor with a make-your-own-yard-sign stand and launched a “Roxy for U.S. Senate” campaign.
The new sign promised, “Walk, naps & treats 4U.” In the years that followed, political insiders from both sides of the aisle have endorsed Roxy. While she recognized in her older years that a six-year Senate term is out of the question, she was still encouraged to run by people frustrated with government.
Roxy for Senate even had its own Facebook page, which taught our rescue mutt about political spam. Charlie Crist sent her a FB message saying, “Hi Roxy, I’m writing to because I need your help to stop Ron DeSantis … can you chip in $5 or $10?”
Roxy replied, ”Hi Charlie! I think you know my dad. I’m a dog, and unfortunately as a dog, I don’t have an income. I’m hoping to change that if elected to the U.S. Senate, so if you want to chip in $5 or $10 or a bag of treats, I’d appreciate it.”
Among other flea market items scattered around my home:
- A pomegranate tree that has gone from a large twig to a beautiful, thriving, blooming addition to our yard.
- A Dallas Morning News paper from two days after President John F. Kennedy was shot.
- A non-living yard-art metal chicken sculpture to remember Walter.
- Books that are more than a century old.
- A Michael Dukakis presidential campaign button.
Oh, and the bear head. That cost me $8. I think it came from the Island of Misfit Mascot Heads.
It’s like a Dollar Store knockoff of a Winnie The Pooh head. I immediately started walking around the flea market with it on, and had about as many confused looks as amused ones, as if I was wearing a ball python around my neck.
It become my COVID mask when I wanted to stop complaining and make social distancing more fun. I’ve worn it to Tallahassee Memorial Hospital to make crappy times a little happy. On my 35th and final cancer treatment, I wore it to amuse the health care professionals who had taken such great care of me.
And then there was Walter the rooster, who came along before Roxy.
The two of them wouldn’t have been good roommates. On the advice of the vendor, we set up our porch and backyard for him, bought more chicken feed than he could possibly eat in a lifetime, and gave him love and attention.
We had to go away for two nights and when we came back, Walter had hopped the fence and our neighbor adopted him. She had a large photo of him on her refrigerator and yelled at the party boys across the street to not eat him.
That’s when Walter found his voice and we went silent.
Walter also disappeared. Turns out another neighbor with a coop full of hens didn’t want a pubescent rooster around his egg supply. He trapped him and we never saw Walter again.
Last weekend as I finished my walk through the flea market, I heard roosters crowing. I was tempted, but thought, “No, you can’t go relive the past.”
So I left with three bird feeders made from recycled material and a smile on my face.
Final flea markets
The Flea market is open on the weekends from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. The final market day will be July 27.
Brendan Farrington is a longtime journalist who most recently was a Tallahassee-based reporter for the Associated Press (AP). He now writes occasionally for the Democrat.