 The Horton Farmers' Market is easy to take for granted. On a sunny Saturday, with coffee in one hand and a carton of fresh strawberries in the other, it feels like it's always been here—woven into the rhythm of life in St. Thomas. But its roots run deep, and the story of how it came to be says a lot about how this city grew and what it has always valued. In some ways, the market's history starts before the market itself. As Councillor Steve Peters puts it, you can't talk about 1878 without first going back to the road. And that road is Talbot Street—originally part of Talbot Road—was laid out in 1809 as a key east-west route through southwestern Ontario. It connected Port Talbot to communities stretching to Niagara Falls. And just as importantly, St. Thomas sat at the junction of that route and the road heading north from Port Stanley. That made it a natural gathering point for farmers moving goods by land and water. By the 1830s, it wasn't just a pass-through. St. Thomas had become the market centre for the area. The first official market was located near Talbot and Stanley Streets, an area known as the St. Andrews Market. There, farmers sold produce. You could also buy firewood to heat your home. It was practical, decentralized, and—eventually—a bit inconvenient for the growing east end of the city. As railways arrived and neighbourhoods expanded a new tension emerged: where should the city's "real" market be?  View of the St. Andrew's Market, from the City Hotel (located on the east side of William Street), St. Thomas, ca. 1882. The market was situated just south of Talbot Street between Stanley and William Streets. This stereo card is part of a series of "Views of St. Thomas and Vicinity" created by St. Thomas photographer Hugill. Stereoscopic Imaging is a technique used for creating or enhancing the illusion that an image has depth by showing two slightly offset images separately to each eye of the viewer. Both images are of the same scene or object but from a slightly different angle or perspective. That's where Ed Horton enters the picture. In 1878, Horton donated land at Manitoba Street for a new farmers' market. On paper, it was just a land gift. In practice, the strategic gift sparked a full-on East-West divide. Suddenly, residents in the east no longer had to walk across the city to buy food. And that didn't sit well with supporters of the old St. Andrews Market. The shift in traffic hurt business at the original site. By the early 1880s, it had boiled over into political drama and an entire mayoral campaign was fought over where the central market should be. 
The plan to create a new site in the "middle ground" around Mary St. failed. However, Horton's donated market land was strategic for longer-term accessibility. Situated near the recently constructed CASO Station, it capitalized on the railway's influx of goods and people. This proximity made it a bustling hub for farmers and shoppers alike. The two markets operated side by side for decades until the St. Andrews Market eventually closed in the late 1920s. By 1929, a permanent building was constructed, solidifying the Horton Farmers' Market's presence as a vendor space and community landmark. It was known then as the Horton Marketplace, and while it looked different than it does today, the spirit was already there. There's something oddly comforting about that continuity. And the site of the St. Andrew's Market still carries on the tradition of food and it's the location where Foodland sits, still providing convenient food access to the western neighbourhoods. When chatting with Councillor Peters about the market, I asked him if he thought the folks of 1978 would feel we'd been good stewards of the market here in 2025. He responded, "Honestly, yes. The food I would have bought in 1878, for the most part, is the product I can find today. You know, maybe turkey is now in a cooler where I would have been coming in and buying a live turkey and taking it home and chopping its head up to cook it, you know? It is so much the same as the product being sold that the reason somebody went to the market in 1878 is no different than going to the market in 2025."
 The layout is much the same, and the essentials, such as local produce, meat, eggs, and baked goods, haven't changed much. It's just that your chicken isn't alive in a cage anymore. And the butcher doesn't use a cleaver in front of you. But the intention—that connection between grower and buyer—still feels familiar. Still necessary. Technology and fashion choices might still make folks aware that it's not 1878. But the St. Thomas Economic Development team is committed to maintaining the spirit of the Horton Farmers' Market—fresh, local, and handmade. Sometimes, history doesn't bear repeating.  Like many local markets across Canada, Horton struggled in the late 20th century. Steve remembers the 1980s as a tough time—the space had morphed into more of a flea market, with fewer farms and more odds and ends. Still, it was functional. He and his brother would rent a table for a few bucks and sell antique bottles. It wasn't glamorous, but it kept the doors open. And for many longtime residents, the market still held emotional value. He remembers walking to the Wednesday market with his Ukrainian grandmother, his "Baba," well into the 1970s. Back then, there were two market days a week. What brought the Horton Market back to life was a community-wide push to reconnect with its original purpose: fresh, local, farmer-first. In the early 2000s, the City and local advocates began reimagining what the market could be. Regulations were put in place to prioritize local producers. Renovations followed. And little by little, it returned—not as a relic, but as a vibrant part of the city's present.
But a market is more than its buildings or bylaws. It's held together by people who grow the food, sell it and show up every week with canvas bags and coffee cups in hand. Vicki Asher, who managed the Horton Farmers' Market from 2017 through the years just before and after the pandemic, knows this better than most. "It's a feel-good space," she says. "It's a gathering place, it's a community space, it's where people come not just to shop, but to connect." That may sound sentimental, but it was also deeply practical for Vicki. The market, she explains, isn't just a venue. It's an incubator. It allows small businesses—many just starting—to sell directly to customers and keep more of their earnings. That direct connection builds loyalty between customers, vendors, and the local economy. For every dollar spent at a farmers' market, about $3.24 circulates back into the community.
She remembers a lot of little moments—more than any one big one. Watching kids grow up between stalls. Catching up with regulars on what was new in their lives. Helping a vendor tweak their display one week and hearing how it helped boost their sales later. None of it was flashy. All of it mattered. "Maybe people knew I cared," she says. "That was just how I did things." There were challenges, too. Managing the balance between vendors' individual business goals and the collective spirit of the market took what she calls "fancy footwork." Each vendor was their own business, with their own ideas of success. At times, that meant competition, concerns over booth placement, and decisions about what belonged. But for Vicki, the heart of the job was keeping the ecosystem healthy. "Happy vendors mean happy customers," she says. And that was always the goal. Her time managing Horton coincided with a turning point for the market.
After years of volunteer-led oversight and a dedicated board structure, the St. Thomas Economic Development Corporation stepped in to support operations formally. For Vicki, this shift felt like validation. She had long advocated for more investment and support. Now, the market was being taken seriously—not just as a quaint weekend tradition, but as a vital part of the city's identity and economy. If she could wave a magic wand, she says she'd love to see the market grow even further into a year-round operation—with heated outdoor pavilions like she's seen in Montreal. Farmers and producers could continue selling preserved goods, honey, meats, and baked items deep into the winter months. Some of those dreams are already in motion: Winter at Horton just completed a third season with the building for a year-round market; the commercial kitchen space, for instance, was an idea she championed that's in the works.  Vicki is now based in St. John's, Newfoundland, and owns a small retail business. And it's no coincidence that it's already becoming a community hub in its own way. "I don't think I realized how much I considered the market my community until I moved away," she says. That's something I've been trying to recreate." So much of Horton's story is about place. But maybe just as much of it is about people like Vicki—who pour themselves into building something bigger than any one stall or structure. A space where showing up means something. Where the work is hard, but the rewards are quietly, persistently personal.  The story of Horton's revitalization isn't complete without acknowledging the early 2010s when the market was still finding its footing after years of decline. At that time, Shawn DeVree was serving as Market Manager. Her years at the helm came just after the relaunch—and right as momentum started to build again. "It sort of died down a bit in the '90s," Shawn explained in a 2011 interview, "but this is the fourth season since it reopened, and it's been growing exponentially." What began as a modest reopening with ten vendors on opening day had, by 2011, grown to thirty-nine. Each vendor wasn't just a seller—they were also the maker, grower, or producer. That was central to the market's mandate and remains so today. "Everyone behind the table made what they're selling."  This producer-only structure is still important today, not just to maintain authenticity but also to build trust. As Shawn put it, "Know your farmer, know your food." The ability to ask growers directly about their practices—what they used on their crops, when something was harvested, or even how to prepare a vegetable like kohlrabi—was a defining feature of the Horton experience. It wasn't about curated aisles or polished signage. It was about conversations, relationships, and community accountability. Shawn also spoke about the broader health and environmental impacts of eating seasonally and locally. At Horton, greens aren't trucked in from the other side of the continent—they were picked the day before, just a few kilometres away. "Your food was in the dirt two days before you ate it," she said. It lasted longer in the fridge and came without wax, preservatives, or guesswork. In that sense, the market became not just a place to shop but a place to opt for a different way of eating—one that felt more grounded and conscious. Like Vicki, Shawn saw the market as an incubator. Many local businesses started at Horton and expanded into brick-and-mortar storefronts thanks to the visibility and customer base they built at the market. She noted that one vendor could represent up to five jobs, making the ripple effect of a healthy, well-supported market far greater than what you see at first glance.  Both Shawn and Vicki talked about the market in more than operational terms. For them, it was personal. It was a space where small businesses could test an idea, where families returned each week and brought their kids, where the economy felt closer to home, and where choices, even small ones, had visible outcomes. These sentiments are still very much the heart that drive the team behind The Horton Farmers' Market. The market matters to St Thomas and Elgin County because it is historic and continues to evolve in a way that reflects the values of the people it serves. From Horton's land donation in 1878 to political battles over market locations, from the struggles of the 1980s to the focused rebuilds of the 2000s, Horton Farmers' Market has always been more than a place to buy food. It's been an anchor in Downtown St. Thomas, shaped by community, ready to welcome new faces and friends each new season. if you go
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