Pike Place Market cont.

We learned how to handle shoplifters, quick change artists and horny old ( and not so old) men.
I recall Judy following a shoplifter down Farmers Row. Each time he'd sneak something into his bag, Judy would carefully remove it, and give it back to the farmer.

During the winter months the old-timers continued to bring in their produce. The only protection from the weather was a ripped canvas in back of Farmers Row. During the winter we bundled in sweaters, long underwear, pants & gloves. We had to cut the fingertips off the gloves so we could pick up the eggs. One day snow blew in and covered the eggs. Dad closed the store. This was the only day he ever closed up shop. On the way home we stopped to see Nonna
Torlai. She brought out bottles of partially frozen pop & set them on the shelf above the coal and wood stove to thaw. Any other time we would've loved to get a bottle of pop since we rarely got any at home. But this time , a bowl of soup would've felt so good in our freezing tummies.

Our stall was near the Pike street entrance making it a great place to people watch. Our young eyes learned about life.
A man without legs used to scoot his way through the market laying on a flat board with skate wheels on the bottom. His amazing effort kept us from complaining for a few hours.

Early arrival at the market was like walking into an empty theatre. Barren stalls, thoroughfare empty except for a few pigeons. Then, gates are lifted, merchants set up displays, farmers unload produce and the show begins.

Peoples Butter Store, a blend of earth tones with brown eggs, burnished cheddars and mellow monterey jack. Farmers Row, a panorama of color and design. The odor of Brenner's Bakery in harmony with the salty air of Puget Sound.