Eastern Market

The Eastern Market was a super-market and a shopping district without the three or four middlemen, the food was not in cans or containers with trade names, but in their natural form from the farms and vegetables gardeners in our section of our country.

In stores around the market you could buy special foods, hardware, drugs, have your horse shoed, get your hair cut, satisfy your thirst or drown your sorrows. That made it a two way market as the farmer could also get what he wanted and that naturally made the merchants happy.

I don't know how many languages were used in trading at this market, but I'll bet there were few market places in the world that used more or made more noise--the languages were usually loud and some times very strong.

The buyers came with carts, baby buggies, horse and wagons and later in small trucks. This market serviced the small grocery stores for miles around.

Anything could happen, and did sooner or later, while this market trading was going on. I have seen fights that required a policeman. I saw a buyer's horse eat a crate of strawberries off a farmer's truck, and if I ever saw a satisfied horse that was one with strawberry juice all over his face, and the most heavenly look in his eyes. I have seen a farmer hit in the eye, with one of his own tomatoes, by a hot-headed character. I've seen a dog with one of his hind legs up leaning against a bushel of onions. I saw farmers drop cases of eggs off all ready for an omelette, watermelons slide off the wagons and splash all over the road. Saw them chase chickens that were making their break for freedom and helped to catch them hoping for a reward. These things made this place a very interesting and exciting place for us kids. It's a wonder we ever got to school on time as we had to go through this market to get to school--at least we thought we did! Another important thing was the fruit, berries, melons and flowers we could sneak off the farmer's wagons for our private use or to soften the teachers. It was an easy thing to do and never seemed to bother our conscience.

The aroma was hard to describe as when you walked the smells intermingled with each other--you could smell onions, potatoes, cheeses that blended in the fresh fruit smell, the chicken smell--as a background smell you had the farmer's horses, human beings of different standards of living and eating--as an undertone the spoiling vegetables added a mellow but spicy smell and it was like a panorama of all the smells you would find any place and the kids loved it.

The buyers loved this market, and the farmers with their wives, and often a few kids, had a wonderful adventure with all the arguments and good feelings that comes when a deal is made that satisfies both seller and buyer.

It must have been a very exciting time for a farmer and his wife as it can get awful monotonous just talking to vegetables, cows, and pigs and arguing with nature.

The modern shopping district has none of this romance, color or order--with prices set and everything in cans under different names and not smelling naturally--it's just like selling limburger that smells like lilacs.

I really believe the old foods were healthier than the stuff you get now that's been boiled, filtered and mixed with something else, minus the vitamins which you have to buy at a drug store now. In fact the middleman just removes the best part of the produce, and Better Business Bureaus don't do a thing about it.

This market was cleaned every afternoon with a hose and brushes and after a good bath smelled just like the rest of the city, and was all ready for the farmers to come in with their wonderful produce and have another wonderful day.