Have stained glass or leather, will travel. That described a big part of my brother and I’s youth as the children of parents who owned a small crafting business. The only way to survive financially in the early years was for both parents to do shows nearly every weekend, so we typically hit the road with Dad and Mom.
More often than not, the old man and my mother took one of us with them, splitting the parenting duties. When we were of age, my brother Dan and I were a big help, unloading heavy boxes, setting up our booth and assisting customers. When we were younger, though, our trips were just short vacations.
There were times I didn’t enjoy that lifestyle, notably when Dad woke us up at 3 a.m. to make a three-hour drive across Missouri to get to the craft show before anybody else. Getting set up first and having the best parking spot at the event is much more important than sleep, of course. We also missed time from school, and no 8-year-old wants to sit in a van and do homework on a Saturday.
Despite that, I can’t imagine having a better and more worldly childhood. We traveled all over the region, meeting characters from Arkansas, Kansas, Oklahoma, Missouri and elsewhere. There’s something to be said for being introduced to all kinds of personalities, from hillbillies to politicians (typically working the crowd at the parades at many of these shows).
Besides spending time with my parents, though, my favorite thing about the craft shows has always been the places. In this space, you’ve read about my favorite show as a kid, St. Charles, where my parents realized they were on to something with leather goods. You’ve also read about Christmas at the mall, from North Town Mall in Springfield, to the Mall of Columbia, to West Ridge Mall in Topeka.
A close second to the Festival of the Little Hills in St. Charles was (and is) the Folklife Festival in Hannibal, Missouri, home of Mark Twain and the location of one of Dad’s best shows. Always held in October, the show is in downtown Hannibal, a nostalgic setting blanketed by the breath-taking colors of fall.
My father worked the Folklife Festival for more than 30 years before he died. A year after his last show there (2018), my brother and I decided to continue the legacy of WebbCraft and agreed to attend two craft shows a year (Hannibal and Mound City).
Aside from 2020, when the show was canceled, we’ve had the same booth as my father every year since. According to show officials, we’re the longest tenured vendor at 40 years now.
There are numerous reasons we’ve continued Dad’s business. To be clear, it’s not because we’re getting rich. It’s hard work, and our pay is far less than what we make at our regular jobs. But you can’t put a price tag on the conversations with customers who want to talk about the old man or on the time we spend together with our sons to make belts, wallets and other goods.
True to the old man’s legacy, we arrived at this year’s show far too early each day. That gave me the chance to walk down to the end of the booths, all of three blocks. It struck me, as many things do these days, that the place is much smaller now than it was as a kid. As we walked back to the booth with the Mark Twain Memorial Lighthouse on top of a scenic hill in the background, it also struck me that Hannibal really is a lovely town.
Hannibal is not a show that’s easy to get into these days. A couple of folks who stopped by the booth said they’ve been trying to get a booth for years. I’ve wondered in the past few years if the folks running the show have considered making a change. Though we still have quite a bit of my father’s stock left, we have to make plenty, and it’s never going to be as good as the old man’s work. If I had any doubt, one show official squelched it quickly.
“I’m so happy you guys keep coming back and continuing your dad’s work,” she said. “The show wouldn’t be the same without WebbCraft. You’re a cornerstone.”
Thank you, Hannibal, for keeping us around.
TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS SERIES
Twelve Days of Christmas, Part VII: A letter to Brenda Keller
Twelve Days of Christmas, Part VI: Booker the cool cat
Twelve Days of Christmas, Part V: About Joplin, my hometown
Twelve Days of Christmas, Part IV: Christmas in Arkansas
Twelve Days of Christmas, Part III: From the archives
Twelve Days of Christmas, Part II: The Pine Tar Derby
Twelve Days of Christmas, Part I: Rest in peace, Dan Ascheman
2022 finale: The search for James “Danny” Hollingshead continues