In my Junior year of College, at what is today St John Fisher University, I was given an assignment to write a feature story. At that time I had been working for a flower retailer who employed me on Saturdays to take surplus flowers to the Rochester (NY) public market to sell. So here was my report on 30 July 1977. I got a grade of B/B+ on it. Tough grader!
Market Impressions '77
"Nice apples, nice apples here!" an old man chants over his eight-month old produce.
"How are the hen fruit today Dave?" asks a customer of the egg man.
"Look at the size of that hanging basket!" exclaims a lady pointing at a amazon vine.
The Rochester Public Market on North Union Street is a grand profusion of people. Two long open sheds are the main business centers on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday mornings. Now under construction is a third enclosed shed that is scheduled for completion by winter.
But for now, behind the trucks at the open air market, two men meet: "Hi there! Hey listen, you wanna buy a tax-free bond?"
A hot dog vender tinkles his bell. The enticing smell of fresh roast peanuts drifts over the sheds.
Sellers can rent a stall with ten feet of sidewalk frontage for $35 a month, if they can find empty one.
A quiet man standing alone among his baseball bat-sized squash is greeted by a friend, "So this is where they're doing all the business this morning." He smiles.
"Only a dollar on a bushel of beans, how 'bout it lady?"
The farmer said corn was 50¢ a dozen because it is so old it could collect social security.
Dispelling the myth that men are not long winded talkers, two men discuss at length the changing face of the market: "It's not like it used to be." The other man nods in agreement. Still, one cannot imagine it being any busier.
"Hey, I even sell mayonnaise!"
"Lettuce! Six heads for a buck!"
If you need a live chicken, duck, rabbit, or goat, you can find it at 280 North Union Street. If your tastes run more to the exotic, there are tropical plants, carob cookies, daggers, fresh caught sunfish, wind chimes, and statues of lions.
For the grocery shopper there is a nearly unlimited selection --
-nectarines, 2 lbs. for $1
-large eggs, a dozen for 85¢
-American cheese, 1 lb. for $1
-English muffins, six for 20¢
-cabbage, three heads for 50¢
A fruit vendor is asked about his cheap grapes. "People don't care about quality here, all they want to know is how cheap it is."
He turns away. "Grapes! 3lbs. for a dollar!"
"I can tell he don't like corn," said a Penfield farmer about a little boy who was sizing him up.
How?
"Because he's chewing gum -- can't eat corn while you're chewing gum."
The little boy is frightened away, but his mother buys a dozen ears anyway.
"Hey old man, what d'ya say?" echoes through the morning. The sparrows chirp in the rafters.
"Green Peppers 10¢ -- only a few thousand left!"
Some of the younger venders gather and speculate on the wealth of the old men. "Geez, he's got so-o-o much money! But man, he's tighter than the bark on a tree."
At nearly noon, when the venders pockets are bulging with bills, a big husky man comes through the markets flashing his fingers full of rings and a remarkable assortment of diamond watches and necklaces. He opens a velvety box in front of one of the men. But the prospective customer turns away. The big man pursues a few steps, "Hey! What d'ya need boss man?"
The boss man quickly turns and answers, "Money! That's what I need, money!"
The big man continues on his way, unruffled.
Since most of the sellers arrived by 6 AM, by noon the signs of weariness are plain to see: cracking voices, extensive yawns, more sitting down between sales. And it may be a long ride home for some of the farmers. Ontario, Sodus, Batavia, and Phelps all contribute to the melting pot. And when they get home, there is more corn to be picked, hogs to be fed, cows to be milked.
"It wasn't too good today" said a small wrinkled man as he tenderly packed up his basil plants. "Next week will be better."
