The Huckster: Farmer Nippy Heaton Sold 'The Best' Produce Off His Truck Here from 1935-75
Editor’s note: You never know where a story idea might come from. In this case, a story in our spring issue about neighborhood grocers brought an unprecedented amount of feedback from our readers. Every letter or email mentioned their personal favorite grocer. But the person or business garnering the most heartfelt recollections was a man lovingly referred to only as “The Huckster.” Even though his familiar green truck hasn’t been seen for almost five decades, memories are still clear. “My mother or my grandmother used to wait for him to come,” many said. “He had the best produce,” was also another memory. As it turns out, there’s an interesting story behind the huckster and thanks to his family, we can tell you the story.
Nippy Heaton in 1975 with Margaret Chalfont, who worked several summers on the truck. Notice the sacks of corn on the roof.
Nelson “Nippy” Heaton was up and out before sunrise most days in July 1935. No choice. There was a lot of work to be done. Not only on his farm, but he was also taking on a new venture where he would expand his farming and business operation. Despite the new venture that would make Heaton more of an independent entrepreneur, his family and the people who knew him best describe him as just “loving to farm.”
There was just one problem:
This was 1935, smack in the middle of the Great Depression. It had become increasingly difficult to sell everything that Heaton harvested from his three fields in Belleplain, located in western Cape May County. At that time, farmers sold to markets, roadside stands and businesses. They could also set up and sell their crops at the Vineland Produce Auction, which had opened several years earlier. That summer of 1935 was also warmer than usual. In July, there was little to no rain for most of the month in the county, and temperatures averaged above 80 degrees for 26 consecutive days.
No one is sure where he got the idea, but it was most likely sometime in July, as the crops began coming in, that Heaton decided to take a big step and expand his operation.
This was long before anyone would come to know the term Instacart, the company that offers home delivery of groceries on behalf of food markets. And decades prior to the term “farm to table” becoming a staple in dining circles, Heaton offered his own version of “Fresh Direct” and Instacart. Just without the computers.
Yes, it was just about daybreak when Heaton would begin filling his truck with the freshest produce – handpicked from his own fields. He then would make the 18-mile trek, most on bumpy, dusty dirt roads, from his farm to the Seven Mile Beach. He would sell his harvest door-to-door, primarily in Avalon but also Stone Harbor. Over time, he’d lovingly became referred to as “The Huckster.”
Heaton didn’t invent the business model, he just perfected it. There were at least two others working the island selling produce when he began. He ended up doing it better and longer than anyone else. From that early July morning in 1935, Heaton would make a life’s work “huckstering” to Avalon and Stone Harbor for 40 years before retiring his route in 1975. And for many of those years, the Heatons – Nippy and his wife, Ida – operated two trucks on the island.
Despite his eighth-grade education, it’s evident that whatever Heaton lacked in book smarts, he more than made up for in other areas. He developed a route of loyal customers who patronized his operation for generations, and his business thrived for four decades.
“He was a very smart man,” says Butch Creamer, the Heatons’ nephew whom they raised as their son. “He managed to build a business from scratch that built his home and provided for his family for a lifetime.”
Creamer, who worked the trucks with his “mom and dad,” goes on to explain: “The law in Avalon was that we couldn’t begin until 7am. So, we’d set out at about 6am from the farm. Loaded with their own homegrown tomatoes, pole beans, corn, cucumbers, squash, peppers and green beans six days a week. Usually from July until the end of August.
“We’d let people run a tab throughout the week,” Creamer notes. “Then, we’d collect on Saturday because in many families the husband would come down for the weekend after getting paid on Friday. That’s when families would settle.”
Extending credit assisted the families in trying times and helped Heaton’s business model thrive.
Joan Wagner, who has been visiting Avalon since the 1940s, confirms Creamer’s recollection:
“The Huckster had a green truck and came down our street on Tuesdays and Saturdays. He would keep a chit sheet on what my mom owed him. She’d pay him on Saturdays when my dad came down with some moolah! His wife, Ida, would drive a second truck. Competition was keen. Especially during the Depression. Already established, there was an another huckster – she drove a blue truck – her name was Gertie. The third produce seller was named Mr. Ludlum.”
Wagner’s memories are spot on. Heaton did drive an old green Ford truck. According to Creamer, he purchased the truck from Cape May County. Before it was used to deliver produce door-to-door, the county utilized it as an extension to the county library, taking it to remote portions of the county.
Two long honks of the truck horn at the end of your street signaled Heaton’s approach. “Then those of us who worked the truck ran up to the houses and took orders,” Creamer says. There was always a burlap bag or two of the freshest corn tied to the roof of the truck. A scale hung from the roof.
Creamer goes on to explain how Heaton assured that only the freshest produce was available on his trucks.
“We’d usually sell out each day,” he says. “When we didn’t, anything that was left at the end of the day was fed to the pigs on the farm.” (Which by the way, were the same livestock that helped feed the Heatons all winter.)
“Anything that was purchased from our trucks was always as fresh as it could be – picked for that day,” he adds. “Nothing was left over from the day before.”
The Heatons’ two trucks worked the island Monday through Saturday all summer. Ida normally worked 7th to 21st streets. Nippy would work 21st Street south into Stone Harbor as time permitted. Creamer remembers a cluster of families, who were especially good customers, in the area known at the time as “the sand dunes.”
“I remember certain customers to this day,” Creamer added “Mrs. Clevenger, across the 21st Street Bridge, was probably our best customer. “We would make her house our first stop. She was famous for hosting amazing dinner parties and was very particular about what she served.”
And as it pertains to the 21st Street bridge, that happens to be only stationary position of the Heatons’ trucks. Because of a relationship to the Shute family, they’d make a stop each day in front of Shute’s Fish Market (known to some in later years as Sylvester’s). But that’s as close as they’d get to the various retail grocers in the Seven Mile Beach.
“We never sold to any business, except for personal use,” Creamer says. “For example, we might stop at Gehringer’s for a hamburger for lunch. While we there, Mrs. Grainger might come out and grab some things for their family use, but we didn’t sell wholesale to the grocers in Avalon or Stone Harbor.”
Obviously protecting his market.
It’s ironic how so many of the conveniences and services that we desire today got their start so many years ago. For Nippy Heaton, it’s been almost 90 years since he loaded his first truck and headed to the Seven Mile Beach. It’s a tribute to his hard work and intelligence that he not only went head-to-head with two established competitors but outlasted both and managed to support his family for a lifetime.
An even greater tribute is that nearly a half-century after he made his last rounds, people still remember Nippy Heaton as “The Huckster” and treasure the memories of hearing that Ford horn beep from down the street.
Heaton died in March 1994, but Creamer still lives on the land that was the family farm in Belleplain. And the only thing greater than the success of Nippy’s business is the breadth of the memories that he established with so many families on the Seven Mile Beach.