Honestly, it wasn’t a particularly good day for me…
I wasn’t banking on Philly’s subway station bringing me out of my funk. Dragging my friend with me, we arrived at 9th and Washington to the Italian Market, and I felt like a lost puppy among the hustle and bustle of the regulars. The market seemed to have a behavior to it that was remarkable mundane. As the women in their work cloths hurriedly picked up dinner, and the workers with their dirty aprons casually stacked crates, it was all the usual. I could sense an attitude from the people that it was their way of life, and for a moment I felt apart of that routine. We started down the East side of the street, where the sounds of Mary J Blige and Ludacris blend together. Beneath the tin overhangs, a mish mosh of personalities coexisted. African American and Hispanic vendors bargained over their overstocked tables of household items and futile trinkets, reminiscent of New York’s Chinatown, as well as a neighborhood garage sale. The window shoppers lazily strolled along, blocking the narrow pathway for those in a rush to be somewhere else. Crossing the street, it felt like a boat ride away, we were crossing cultures.
The smell of fish and Italian catch phrases filled the air, and I felt queasy over the sight of a skinned pig 
hanging by its heals. I was surprised by the sudden change, and it was almost as if the modern day Jets and the Sharks from West Side Story were living amongst each other. The sidewalk was overrun by crates and runaway produce, and I felt in the way, dodging the routine of the workers. At the corner, two women stood carelessly making a scene. The big, over processed hair, and crippled figures were alive with laughter, seeming to reminisce on the good ole days.
As I approached, their gossiping, reminding me of myself brought me into their world. Viv, the smaller of the two, had make-up caked on her face and bright red lipstick that coated her lips, and most of her yellow teeth. The other, Silvia, held a pack of Menthols and cigarette that lay between her red, lengthy nails and had glasses that covered her entire face.
Pointing down the block, they said that they had been coming there all their lives, “This has been our home since we were kids.” Today, they came to get some produce and meat for dinner. “It’s nice that we’re so close, can come and get food, an hour before dinner, and have it one the table in time for the 6’oclock news,” Viv joked. I asked them what they liked the best about the market, looking at each other; they wavered on its positive attributes. “It’s just not like it used to be, not like when we were kids,” they claimed, “it used to be run by the Italians and if you weren’t one, you weren’t really welcome,” Sylvia stated.
Shocked at the statement at first, I realized that it wasn’t intentional discrimination, but a strong sense of cultural pride tat held their community together. And I couldn’t blame them for wanting things to go back to the way they were. With slight disappointment, they spoke of their childhood, playing in the street while their parents shopped. “Everyone looked out for everyone, it was like we were one big family” Viv described. The market used to be open until 7pm everyday instead of 5pm, and was never closed on Mondays, and it seemed that just 20 years ago, it was the community, not just a 9-5 job. The family business defined the family and the Italian Market was their watering hole.
Not surprisingly, Viv and Sylvia were not the only ones that missed the old days of the market. One block down, a produce 
store is holding down the corner of 9th and Washington . From grapes to broccoli, customers and money runners were scattered throughout the store, buzzing about their business. In the middle, a small booth was the hub of the chaos. Calmly, John Giovdano, the owner, warned me that he doesn’t any English, in English, and then chuckled at his seemingly overused joke. Simultaneously dishing out jokes and customer’s change, he started in on the history lesson. “There’s always constant change around here, from the stores to the stands,” he said talking about the dynamics of the market.
Beginning with the Irish and the Italians, the Jews followed with their fabrics around the 1920’s. Since then, the presence of the Asians, Mexicans, and Blacks altered everything, making it more of an international stomping ground. Now, the sounds of hip hop blend in with the sent of curry. But John doesn’t seem to mind, “as long as I have good workers,” which is an understatement. Working at the market is no joke, contrary to what the near 70 year old man says who gets up at 3:00am and doesn’t get in until 6. “Working a 14 to 18 hour job isn’t something that kids want to do anymore; they want to be doctors or lawyers.” But it’s like a ritual to him, “My parents did this, hard work built this place,” he says humbly.
That’s what it is, hard work. It is the reason why the Italian Market is still thriving, and such a beautiful place, because of the dedication of people like John. Still, in today’s society, people don’t want to cook a meal from scratch, and anyone can make a meal as long as they know how to pick it up from the store. But the people of the Italian Market haven’t abandoned the customs of past generations. Even though the market it nothing like it used to be culturally, it is more diverse and it works, there is peace among the Jets and Sharks. I left feeling slightly saddened however, wishing that I could have been here 20 years ago, when Italians ruled the yard, and seen such unity. I am also guilty of falling under the lazy category and hit up through drive through more than I take out my pots and pans. But with corn on the cob 4 for $3, that subway ride to 9th and Washington isn’t looking that bad after all. 
(Current Standing ~ 3 out of 5)
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October 27th, 2006 at 1:33 pm
bout to go get me some oranges
October 27th, 2006 at 6:13 pm
been to the Italian market many many times-even used to take my Brownie troop there for a cooking badge! Great photos-captures what the place is all about!
October 27th, 2006 at 6:16 pm
This place has some serious personalities walking through at any given point in the day
October 29th, 2006 at 5:38 pm
The photos of the guy carrying a tray by the fire and the guys in front of the butcher’s window are great!
November 2nd, 2006 at 2:11 am
Been to the Italian Market a few times, but I never knew how interesting the story of it was. That guy with the cigar looks like my Uncle Vito (thought you all might want to know). Anyway, great article!
November 2nd, 2006 at 11:58 am
I love how they have live music there…such a cool atmosphere at the Italian Market…thanks for the intriquing perspective!