table on the side of the railroad tracks
and watch in wonder as car after car
would screech to a stop, all eager for a
bucket of Ham’s peaches.
When the railroad knocked on their
door and told the Hams they couldn’t sell
down by the road anymore, Judy was
convinced they would have to sell. “But
sure enough, we moved above the tracks
the next day and the people that stopped
doubled,” laughs Judy. “People said they
were too scared to stop on the side of the
highway when we sold down by the road.”
The trains came by three or four
times a day, rattling the card tables and
knocking peaches to the ground. Sharien
would toss up peaches to the train
engineers as they sped by, the men above
grinning as they caught them. People
lined up, day after day, rain or shine.
“We had caught ourselves a gold
mine,” says Dale. “We sold ‘em cheap –
two or three bucks a basket – and let ‘em
get as ripe as they could before picking
them off of the trees. They were so good.”
In 1986, the Hams built a store, or
as Sharien puts it, “a glorified garage,”
to sell their peaches. Every single day,
they sold out by noon. It was becoming
impossible to keep up with the demand.
14
INSITE May/June 2016