Jerry Ferszt (pronounced first) is overflowing with positive can-do energy. He’s got that life-changing, town-growing, new-idea attitude that draws people to rural America.
We first connected through an e-mail address found on the bustling Facebook page of the Stockholm Sovereign Market, and before long we were talking on the phone for what may have been an hour, as Jerry gushed about all things happening with this brand-new first-of-its-kind endeavor.
From our family’s holler in Southeastern Vermont, it’s a brief thirteen hour drive to Stockholm, Maine (one-way) which is about twenty minutes from the northernmost border with Canada. The kiddos, Abraham and Maya, came along and mostly survived the drive reading comic books, drawing birds and chatting happily.
Friday night we had an unforgettable dinner prepared by Nicole, Jerry’s wife, who also runs a thriving bakery- mainly selling at the market.
Stockholm has a population of 250 people. When Jerry first launched the market last summer, there were twelve brave vendors who showed up. Expectations were low in a town with such a small population. If ten percent of the town showed up, that’s only 25 people. How much would they buy? Would they be scared off by unregulated, uninspected food made by their neighbors?
At the end of the day, every vendor had sold out of all goods. 75 people, or thirty percent of the town, had purchased membership. This thing had legs.
Here’s how it works: To enter the market, people purchase a one time membership for five bucks and receive an unlaminated card. They also sign a long waiver that explicity states that they are assuming responsibility for the food they are about to purchase and eat. And that’s it. Walk through the double doors of the small school gymnasium and into a hotbed of rural economic activity. Or put another way, a place where profound human connections are made. Multiple times as we filmed throughout the day, people said that the market felt like a family. People welled up.
In a culture where so many of us stare into black mirrors instead of people’s eyes, this place was building friendship and resilience. It was building trust. As someone who has shopped at dozens of farmers markets around the country, this one was by far the most emotionally connected. Perhaps it is because of the size of the town, the shared challenge of living far from a major city. But another instinct is that the key reason for the emotional intimacy is the lack of regulation. The risk. People participating in this market are essentially saying, I trust you more than I trust any food monopolist to feed my family. I trust you more than any government-stamped seal of approval. I’d rather sign my life away to buy your food than go to a grocery store. It’s profound. It’s life-changing. It’s a privilege to witness and be a part of.
This essay and the short film at the top of the page are independently produced by Leave It Better. As far as we know, we’re the first media outlet to make a short film about this remarkable market. This kind of story will not be found on the major streaming platforms. If you subscribe to monpolists like Netflix, Amazon, Apple or Hulu, I humbly ask that you become a paying subscriber to Leave It Better’s substack. We create healthy positive films about food and farming that you will feel good after watching.
best thoughts,
graham
p.s. A big thank you to Jerry, Nicole and the members of the Stockholm Sovereign Market for opening their lives and their hearts to our family. We’re excited to return soon to keep filming, and help inspire more sovereign markets across America.
p.p.s. A big hug to my kiddos, who are such wonderful road companions. Kudos to our intrepid video editor, Jasmin. And finally, a big thanks to all of our growing number of paid subscribers who help to make this work possible.
p.p.s. We posted this video and essay earlier in the morning, however, some people had problems viewing, so we have reposted it.
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