Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, January 18, 1992 TAG: 9201180050
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BETH MACY STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
JERRY COLEMAN DOESN'T NEED A BUSINESS DEGREE
Jerry Coleman doesn't need a business degree to predict the economic outlook.He sees the realities of recession every day from his booth at Traders Market in Salem, one of two new area flea markets.
People looking for used wood stoves rather than shopping the stores. People opting for used clothes, old kitchen utensils and a lime-green lava lamp.
Same story, different recession: When money's tight and jobs scarce, flea markets attract new entrepreneurs and consumers, too.
"Like a lot of folks, if I could find a decent job right now, I'd be there," says Coleman, 44. For a year the Air Force veteran looked for work, but found companies laying off, not hiring.
Now he sells old guitars, meat grinders and jump ropes - "anything I can make a quarter on," he says. Like his fellow marketeers, who hawk everything from baseball cards to straw hats, he's not getting rich, but he is squeaking by.
Traders Market, as with most flea markets, features permanent booth operators like Coleman, plus people who rent table space on weekends to display their items. Traders also has pool tables, a mini-arcade and a home-cooking restaurant manned by Dot Wilhelm, formerly of Dot's Kitchen on nearby Fourth Street.
To be sure, the flea-market scene is full of the unusual, from characters like Carlton Price to the peculiar items he sells . . . the nifty naked statuette, for instance. "Most people just want junk, and they'll redo it themselves" stripping old furniture or painting it with bright, funky colors, he says. The more work you have to do, the cheaper the item.
Price, retired from General Electric, is one of 14 vendors at the Roanoke-Salem Flea Market, which introduced permanent indoor booths last month at the largely vacant Plaza of Roanoke-Salem. Since last summer, people have been setting up outside there, too, weather permitting.
"For nine and a half years, I've been sitting around home," Price, 71, says. "And I just wanted to get out talking and meeting people."
Across the street at Melrose Flea Market, retiree George Hooker Wilson had similar motives. He used to fish for recreation before some of his fishing buddies died. Now he hangs out at flea markets, yard sales and thrift stores looking for things he can clean up and resell - sometimes more than doubling his money.
"I've made a little money, but mostly it's just a good way to have fun and talk about old times," says the 72-year-old, who drives a 1974 Pinto he bought new.
Vendors expect that the worse the economy gets, the more their business will improve. Not that they ever expect to get rich, or even comfortable.
"It's always unpredictable," says Larry Mankins, who's had booth No. 21 at Happy's for two years. "To make a living, you have to sacrifice all the things you get working a regular job, like health insurance."
Finding things people think they can't live without is crucial, he says. Marilyn Monroe posters, Roy Rogers pins, Elvis Presley records, even that musty George Jetson lunch box in the basement.
Allowing buyers to negotiate price is part of the draw, too. Bedford County carpenter John Dotson is unwavering: " Never give 'em what they've got it priced at."
At the Treasure Island Flea Market near Rocky Mount last Saturday, Dotson tried to negotiate the price of a cast-iron dinner bell with seller James O. Ferguson of Glade Hill. A semi-retired builder, Ferguson had two tables full of homemade birdhouses, ceramics and other treasures, including a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle piggy bank.
"I like this bell, but not for $45," said Dotson, who buys everything used except his groceries. "How about $38?"
This time Ferguson was unwavering. The two were friendly, but not compromising.
Across the lot, Clyde Price spat tobacco juice next to the trailer he works from on weekends. Jessie Colter's "I'm not Lisa" blared from the inside - a fitting retro-blast among the old appliances, tools and car parts.
Just then, a man approached him carrying a jigsaw and a drill, priced at $12.50 each. "I'll give you $20 for both," he offered.
Price spit and smiled, then nodded.
"See what I done there," he explained after the transaction. "I bought both of those things for $25, plus a circular saw and a sander. . . . All told, I'll come out $20 ahead on that deal."
It's not big bucks, of course, but clearly he is tickled with himself - and the thrill of the profit.
"Basically, my business is just junk," the retired firefighter said. "Junk's the game, and money's my name."
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