Word: pushcarts
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...sight of the Expressway there are more lambs, more stacks of oranges, more imported Italian groceries. Then, just when the banquet seems ended, pass through the shadow of the aerial highway and the world is bananas, watermelons and parsnips. Friday and Saturday the outdoor pushcart market comes to Dock Square, and the North End goes shopping. The vendors set up their pushcarts on Blackstone Street and enclose themselves in a square of crates. Pyramids of tomatoes and oranges. Baskets of brocholi. "A-spare-a-grass. Four pounds for 95 cents. A-spare-a-grass here," yells a short, bouncy vendor...
...edge of Blackstone Street, running parallel to the line of pushcart fortifications, is a rickety row of retail meat shops, most of which are open six days a week. So, as you start down the Blackstone sidewalk, there are turnips to the left, genoa salami to the right. The meat shops go in for variety. Capicollo. Mortadella. Proscuttino. Pepperoni. Eight different kinds of salami, including carando milanese and d'annuzio. May we suggest some Bunker Hill Baloney? The butcher men whisper loudly like dark corner procurers. "Hey, buddy, you want some nice chops? How 'bout it? I got some nice...
...plainclothes city officials check the quality of the food. The watch is careful, the punishment effective. Once, a market kibitzer recalls, a careless, stoop-shouldered vendor left a pushcart of tomatoes exposed to a fall frost. Although he knew that the centers of the vegetables had frozen, he was unwilling to lose a week-end take that might have amounted to $200. But, the next morning, when he tried to bluff his way past the officials, one kick by a robust inspector sent the frozen tomatoes pounding down the street like red rubber balls...
...produce is comparatively cheap. For slightly better and more expensive fruit which lasts longer in the refrigerator, some North End shoppers go to Cross Street. But housewives with large families shop for tomorrow, not for a week from tomorrow, and, armed with big paper bags, they rummage through the pushcart confusion in search of the good...
...took his name from what the streets of America were reportedly paved with and left his native Russian village against the will of his own father. Sam Gold is traced from the pre-World War I ghetto in New York to Cleveland; from water boy to cigar maker to pushcart vender to greengrocer to successful real estate speculator. A prodigious worker, he conquers the New World through the marketplace and adjusts to the traumas of his family's assimilation. He emerges tough, pragmatic, and optimistic beyond the comprehension of his sons...