Evening Star Newspaper, August 17, 1930, Page 80

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, AUGUST 17, 1930. enter Market, Doomed, Is LLandmark Federal Building Program to Put New Government Structure on Site Where City Has Bought Food for Generations— Appearance Has Been Practically Same for Sixty Years. Methods of Doing Business IHave Conformed to New Conditions—Tiber Creek in History. BY JOHN CLAGETT PROCTOR. F you have any idea of leaving the ‘city for a year or so ithe writer would sug- gest that you take a good look at the Center Market, for by the time you return you may not have the pleasure of seeing it again. Of course, you do not want to see this old Jandmark go. None of us does, from the stand- point of pure sentiment, and yet, historically, this building, or its site, we must admit, is not to be compared in importance with some of the buildings elsewhere slated to go, to be replaced by Federal buildings in order to make “Washington the Beautiful” even more attrac- tive. We who have known the old “Marsh” or “Mash” Market from infancy have lived to see ever 30 many changes, not only in its imme- diate vicinity but in every way and everywhere. The present building is not so very old, for it was begun in the Spring of 1871 and opened for business on July 1, 1872. However, to many it is the only Center Market they ever knew, and the writer himself confesses he does not remember the miscellaneous buildings that occupied the site before the present market was built. But though this building has remained sub- stantially the same for 60 years, yet the meth- ods of doing business have been changed, and the surrounding neighborhood is far from be- ing the same, though some of the old residences and business houses are still standing, maybe out of respect or perhaps just to keep it com- pany. Well does the writer recall the large number of colored boys, and even some white boys, too, who would get up bright and early in the morning—particularly on Saturdays—and walk down town to the “Mash” Market to pick up » few dimes or quarters carrying the baskets of women, particularly, who went there to lay #n food supplies for the coming day or week. Boys were not allowed to enter the market, but just as soon as a man or woman emerged from one of the doors with a basket the boys in walting made a dive for the prospect, and the fleetest boy was usually employed. ® MANY of the more wealthy people of the city took along their own hired help to carry the marketing, and sometimes the coach- man doubled up for this purpose. For a few decades back many well-to-do people who owned teams employed not only a coachman but a footman as well, while today extremely few people, even of the most wealthy class, indulge in this luxury, being satisfied with just a chauffeur to drive their car and serve as footman, too. However, many just in comfortable circum- stances employed one regular boy year in and year out to carry the provisions, sometimes gust to the street car, but in other cases all the way home, for much af the marketing was done by those living within walking distance of the market, and it was the least of their worry as to how far the boy had to carry the basket in order to earn a quarter. Indeed, the old-timer will bear me out in the statement that the market baskets of today are not any- where as large as those of awhile back, for when a dozen passengers and a dozen bas- kets—quite as large as our present-day clothes baskets—were crowded into a bob-tailed street car there was litle room for any one else, i Kl R A1 m,‘..‘flmum. An open-air restaurant at the Center Market in the early days. and the boy who happened to get hold of one of these baskets to carry earned every cent he got. and then some, Perhaps it would not be far from true to say that boys worked harder in years gone by than they do today. But the writer has often seen a little tacker struggling along with a market basket almost as big as he, and maybe—who knows—he spent a dime of his hard-earned money that same afternoon to get into the peanut gallery of the Comique Theater to see Jake Budd, Billy Williams or Eugene Maas— three .of the greatest comedians of the “Elev- enth Street Opera House”—or perhaps just to see Big Winnie wabble over the stage, and if he did, that boy never begrudged or forgot it. Things that come to us most easily we forget most quickly, while the things for which we have to strive and labor are the things we rarely ever forget, and besides the struggling, toiling days of Jackson, Lincoln, Johnson and Garfield were no doubt the pleasantest ones of their lives, as they are of our own. In the early days of Washington it is sur- prising how many really important people did their own marketing, and, if anything, the men were in the majority. Senators, Repre- sentatives, cabinet officers, foreign diplomats were frequently to be seen at the Center Mar- ket, laying in a supply of meats, game and vegetables for their tables, which seem to have been of greater consequence and importance formerly than is our menus of today. Though President William Henry Harrison lived but & month in the White House before he died, in that short space of time he was frequently seen ab the Center Market. Another thing the boys of the city did at the market was to grind coffee for the coffee merchants. Sometimes they would grind a whole sack for 25 cents, and in this way they picked up as much as half a dollar or more TBOUGB quite & number of farmers still bring their vegetables, chickens and other farm products to market, as we well know, yet we do not notice it so much as in the days gone by, before such lurge quantities of com- modities were shipped in by rail, It was a common thing, years ago, to see the roads leading into Washington crowded on Priday nights with farm wagons bringing to market the results of the honest toil of the industrious farmer. Well does the writer remember the large covered wagons, now almost entirely crowded out by the automobile truck, to which were frequently hitched as many as six horses, for the roads then were very heavy, and not in the same excellent condition we find them today. One of the principal places the farmers of Montgomery County used to stop over night was the old Tyson House, still standing at Seventh and P streets. As in other places, the usual bar was in evidence, and occasionally— and most naturally—sometimes some particular farmer imbibed too freely and had to depend upon his faithful horses to carry him home, while he slept off his overindulgence. It was not an unusual sight to see some farmer fast asleep on his wagon, with his horses headed in the right direction for home, which they undoubtedly reached without any assistance from the driver. The typical old Southern negro was then a picturesque sight around the market, selling herbs and garden stuff, somewhat as we see them today, but not the same type by any means. Then it was common to see some old mammy, with basket on her hend and a clay pipe in her mouth, trudging along, but just as happy as if she were worth a million dollars. Some wore bandannas to cover their hair, giving them an appearance not soon forgotten. Washingion ladies marketing at the Center Market about 50 years A VISITOR who went to the market, back in the early 80's, to take in the sights said: “The market is ever a source of attraction to me, it is ever so full of color—I was somewhat astonished to find elegantly equipped vehicles worthy of Rotton Row, or the Bois de Boulogne, or the Prater, or Unter den Linden, dashing up to the principal entrances, the coachman in the orthodox half-moon collars and pickle-jars, while ladies attired in the ripest fashion de- scended to be assailed by another regiment of small boys of various colors, who clamored for the happy and pecuniary privilege of bearing home the choice little cuts to be selected by the fair and fashionable housewife on market- ing bent. Ah me! It was refreshing to see this all womanly and wifely and motherly practice, and I stood enjoying the sight despite the rude basket-buffetings administered to me by the eager and excited market boys. “Venturing close to the market, I was at- tracted to a group of open-air restaurants set upon the sidewalk, where ‘delicacies'—at least the habitues of the place consider them so— were administered to hungry applicants with a dexterity and rapidity bewildering to behold. These ‘restaurants’ are but indifferently shele tered, and the accomodations are of the poorest; when I saw them, under a pouring rain, the proprietors stood in puddles of water, slender streams trickling down upon them from the canvas tops which were meant to protect the ds. But all were doing a lively trade, who! unaffected by the aqueous interference of Jupiter Pluvius. The surroundings were in- finitely picturesque, but the menu—well, it was suited to those for whom it was provided.” An artist for an out-of-town newspaper, visiting the city many years ago, had this to say of our markets, particularly of the Center Market at Ninth and the Avenue. Indeed, these pen pictures are worth repeating, in view of the determination to place a Government building on this site: “The markets of the National Capital, sup- plied from the fertile country surrounding it, and from the waters of the Potomac River and Chesapeake Bay, present ever-varying scenes of animation and plenty. The principal ones, such as the Northern Liberty, Center, Eastern and Western, have commodious accommodations in structures reared expressly for them.. The open-air markets, however, are more pic= turesque. The artist has depicted an early morning scene on the portion of the Potomac flats adjoining the Smithsonian Institution, and almost under the shadow of the mighty Washington Monument, Here the farmers and negroes come before daybreak with their quaint covered wagons filled with produce and vege- tables of all kinds. The wagons are ranged in their places, the horses looked after, and then the marketmen prepare their breakfast in the open air, instead of patronizing the restaurants, as they do in New York. There is, no doubt, hearty enjoyment as well as economy in this al fresco meal, partaken of as the morning mists rise from the Potomac, half-veiling the stupendous white shaft that pierces the sky Just beyond.” NA'X'URALLY the market has produced its odd and peculiar characters, but one of the most unusual because of his modesty we find spoken of by Mrs. Jeannie Tree Rives im her “Old-Time Places and People of Wash- ington.” This is her story: “On the east side of Ninth and D sireets,