Cornwall Borough resident Bruce Chadbourne offers another of his “Who Knew?” installments of Lebanon Valley history.
Lebanon’s historic Farmers Market, mentioned recently in part 2 of the “Spirit of Kindness” series has been back in focus in the news with the building’s Dec. 30 auction.
In that story about the roots of the Agape Family Shelter, readers learned of Lyman Nutting, the man who built and lived in the mansion at 139 South 9th Street. The story went on to tell of his other contributions to Lebanon businesses and infrastructure including the Samler building at 8th and Cumberland streets.
Among these accomplishments Lyman Nutting was a stockholder and director of the “Farmers Market,” at the time known as the Lebanon Market House Company, built in 1892. As his sons came of age, they worked with him and, after his death, took Lebanon’s concept of markets even further. William and Harry Nutting combined the Lebanon Market House with three other markets to create the Consolidated Market House Company in 1908. Their vision ended an era of foul street markets, beginning a transition to the conveniences we take for granted today.
Here’s how it unfolded.
Lebanon’s early markets
These days Americans head to the local grocery store to purchase essentially everything and anything one could imagine. In many countries that is still not the case, nor was it even the case in this country in previous centuries.
Fortunately in this region of the country we still have expansive farms to remind us where food comes from. In previous centuries we all grew our own food and learned to trade with one another. We took our grain to the local grist mill to make the flour for our bread. Meats could be bought from a butcher, perhaps from our own livestock.
Like other American cities (like New Orleans above), as Lebanon grew, so did its marketplaces. There were open air marketplaces, street markets, street vendors, and market sheds. Some marketers operated from open wagons.
One man’s street market – Lebanon’s James Fairburn (1847-1926)
We Lebanonians herald the new year with a descending bologna, a tradition not yet 30 years old. Imagine, to be historically correct, that it might be celebrated with. . . an oversized oyster?
In the spring of 1873, the Lebanon Daily News reported several visits by Civil War veteran James Fairburn, a merchant from Philadelphia. He lodged in the Lebanon Valley House hotel and began scouting different marketing opportunities.
Then in February 27, 1874 the newspaper reported Fairburn’s return from Philadelphia with eight tons of oysters, oranges, lemons, figs, and peanuts.
He must have hurried to the newspaper office with this poetic advertisement, which ran the next day and continued throughout the month of March. Within a week he moved his “Fruit & Oyster House” several blocks from 710 Cumberland Street to 15 South 9th Street and added “Philadelphia Oyster Bay” to the name of his business.
Philadelphia beginnings
James Fairburn was born in 1847 in Philadelphia to his Irish father John Fairbairn and his Pennsylvania-born wife Mary (last name unknown). James grew up there with his brother Charles, who remained in Philadelphia until his death in 1929.
A young James enlisted in the Philadelphia regiment for 3 months in 1861 until discharged.
Jane Anderson, a young woman from Ireland became his wife in 1866 and they soon raised three children: Emma C. Fairburn Fitton (1864-1934), Anna Elizabeth Fairburn (1869-1894) and William Henry Fairburn (1870-1924).
His occupation in Philadelphia was probably in the city’s fish markets, until at age 26 he came to Lebanon seeking his fortune and a home for his young family.
“Truthful James” Fairburn
After Fairburn had sold his eight tons of oysters and produce, the next month he expanded, advertising “all kinds of fresh fish, cleaned and delivered to all parts of the town, free of charge!” His Norfolk and Chesapeake Bay oysters are “received daily” and sell for 40 cents a quart.
He advertised daily, often poetically, as the “Philadelphia Oyster Bay” enterprise, continuing business under various names at 11-15 South 9th Street into the 1900s. He and his wife Jane lived just down the street at 132 South 9th Street, across from the DeHuff family.
His seasonal business closed down by late spring, reopening in the fall, offering sweet potatoes and peanuts, with free delivery to any part of town. In the summer he kept a truck stand that moved about; one could track his whereabouts in the paper.
While he stored some of his wares in the basement of a building at Walnut Alley, he operated his outdoor stand as long as possible. He had fresh black bass for sale on one given morning. In the spring he took out advertisements announcing more fresh produce from Philadelphia and thanking the public for their continued support.
A reformed huckster
He may have enjoyed public support, but he often drew the wrong kind of attention.
“Huckster” once simply meant “a peddler,” one who re-sells merchandise. The root of the word carries the notion of “to haggle,” or “to hawk wares.” More recent connotations via Merriam-Webster re-color it as “one who sells or advertises something in an aggressive, dishonest, or annoying way.”
In Fairburn’s case, the latter was intended when the newspapers often referred to Fairburn as “the huckster.” They capitalized on his reputation, giving readers amusement, even on the front page (of course they also benefited from his paid advertising).
Our 30-something, street-wise huckster made good newsprint. Consider brief stories of him being arrested for disturbing the peace, turned in by his own wife, and more than once.
The couple made the news in 1875 when she filed for divorce (apparently later reconciled).
Fairburn was arrested on another occasion when his temporary market stall encroached on too much of the pavement on 9th Street, providing further insight into the general public disgust with market men.
Fairburn took his truck stand around the county and to events like the Pinegrove campmeeting grounds, where he was tolerated briefly before being run out of the place. One time it was for selling cigars without a license.
Many years later when he visited the Pinegrove camp meeting with a large supply of cantaloupes, watermelons and peaches he informed the newspaper “that he did not receive much patronage and at about 7 o’clock in the evening he was stoned off the grounds.”
Hollywood could have made a movie, James Fairburn a caricature of a scrappy, self-respecting Irishman picking himself up and dusting off again, and again.
In December 1880 Fairburn made the news, being found nearly frozen to death while selling his wares on the road in Berks County.
Again in the spring of 1882 the newspapers noted that Fairburn had been “among the missing for some time,” yet “turned up today in Lebanon.” Likely he had been away in Philadelphia between seasons.
Glad for the return of their colorful curmudgeon, another notice cheerfully noted his presence at 8th and Cumberland streets with a load of watermelons, cantaloupes, sweet potatoes and peaches from the Jersey shore. “Astonishingly low prices, my greatest pleasure is to please.”
The green grocer
He appeared in the news almost as frequently as the weather report. Stories of remodeling his shop, and arriving produce shipments were the stuff of front page news.
Despite such a reputation as “huckster” later news items referred to him more kindly as “dealer in truck” and “the old oysterman.” In one he was the “jovial street dealer.” Later still, the “green grocer.”
As Fairburn’s reputation improved, he claimed in one advertisement “25 years in the business” which, if true confirms his early career as a merchant in Philadelphia in the thirteen years before testing Lebanon’s waters.
Certainly Fairburn was not the only street marketer in Lebanon, but a city registry of grocers showed him as the only oysterman. He claimed his experience in Philadelphia and New York enabled him to outperform other dealers in both price and quality.
His reputation improved further, drawing sympathy on occasions when thieves broke into his warehouse or into rail cars containing his produce – Lebanon had scoundrels lower than hucksters!
Among promotions, he once raffled off one of his horses at 10 cents per chance. The winner had no idea what to do with “the elephant,” other than to give it to a friend.
Fairburn should have kept the animal; three months later while visiting a town with his vegetable wagon his horse suffered a seizure and died. He claimed he would not have taken $100 for his prized animal.
About that New Year’s Eve Oyster…
Oysters featured prominently in Lebanon culture. Edward C. Freeman, residing in Cornwall’s Buckingham Mansion, frequented Fairburn’s stand, especially around Christmas and New Years, buying “Prime” and “Extras” by the hundreds at $1.50 per lot.
These mollusks were not reserved for the higher classes; in a previous story Jacob DeHuff had conducted public events featuring “all kinds of cooked oysters.”
(Thankfully, the New Year’s oyster drop was never imagined becoming a “thing” here in Lebanon. This author prefers Lebanon bologna over oysters any day of the year.)
Voice your opinion!
Like father like son
James put his teenage son William to work, who made news in 1885 having fallen from the wagon on Cumberland Street and breaking his wrist. 15 years later William was severely injured when the horse team became frightened by an automobile, causing a runaway and throwing him from the wagon.
William was later remembered for hawking bananas to the crowds on Cumberland Street in the evening. Imagine “BANANAS! – 25 CENTS a DOZEN!” on New Year’s Eve and warm summer nights.
Business expanded with William’s help. James had to advertise for another young man to open oysters for him; an unfortunate Philip Mease made news, put out of commission when gashing his hand with the sharp oyster blade.
Fairburn also hired an unmarried young man to work for his business, having acquired a team of horses from Pottsville that enabled him to put a truck on the road to distribute more of his wares. They boasted “James has an immense stock on hand and what he doesn’t know about doing business isn’t worth knowing.”
End of an era — though still making news
The consolidation of markets near the end of the century began the end of Fairburn’s career; he eased out of business over the next decade.
Eventually F. C. Rump took over operation of the oyster house.
But James was still public news, featured in advertisements endorsing “Doan’s Pills.” He suffered from lumbago which confined him to his home two weeks at a time.
Fairburn’s stature improved, having become friends of men like Mayor Gerhart, Lyman Nutting’s son Harry, and Frank Gleim, the druggist. They made news for their occasional travels out of state to places like Florida and Cuba.
On his 74th birthday, Fairburn was honored as one of three “prominent Lebanonians.” The days of the scrappy street marketer had passed.
By 1926, the year of his death, he and the “Missus” were living at 827 Chestnut Street and attended St. Mark’s Reformed Church. He was buried with military honors in Philadelphia’s North Cedar Hill Cemetery.
Stay tuned for Part 2, coming soon, which will chronicle the transition from street markets to central markets in Lebanon city.
Story Credits
Thanks to Mike Trump for providing maps and photos.
No photos of James Fairburn are known to exist; his images were generated by artificial intelligence for the sake of visual interest.
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