Market Forces

If a great market serves its citizens, the Reading Market is terminal.

by Bruce Schimmel

"Keep moving, keep moving," Nicky Uy yells at me over her shoulder, as the slender Asian woman slips through an arcade of shoppers who are staggering with sacks of food at Headhouse Square.

Uy is worried that the crush at the Food Trust's newest farmers market will hurt her merchants' sales. But the 18th-century open-air shed off South Street seems to be handling both the heavy traffic and the high heat. Outside, it's hitting 90. But under the old "Shambles," with its high-arched ceiling, a cool breeze sweeps the crowd along.

The 250-plus-year-old food market is a food market again. Except instead of pig trotters and possum parts, the air is scented with peach pies, sweet tomatoes, fresh bread and artisanal cheeses.

As Uy and I hop from table to table, she greets everyone by name. For months, Uy cultivated these 30 or so merchants, assuring them that it's worth their Sundays to haul their produce, meat, herbs, flowers, fruit, ice cream and fudge to the old market for the summer.

I'm thrilled. Almost everything I need is here — cheaper, and fresher, too. Here, the green leaves on the red beets are still crisp, because they were picked this morning on a farm in Roxborough.

This market even beats other markets on meats. Uptown, it costs $25 for a pound for D'Artagnan brand duck breasts. Here, the exact same item costs just $10 a pound. Only it's fresher.

Nationally, especially on the West Coast, farm markets are spreading like zucchini, and Philadelphia is ripe for a market revival. The local-grown markets even worry the 800-pound gorilla of fresh groceries, Whole Foods Markets. In some areas, the grocery chain is trying to attract the same kind of family farmers that Nicky Uy has charmed by offering space in their parking lots.

Today, at the Whole Foods Market just up the street from Headhouse, business is brisk, with lines at the check-out counters. But at Philadelphia's most famous fresh foodmarket, the Reading Terminal Market, the aisles are almost empty.

"Do you need help?" a woman hawking chocolates to no one in particular shouts. I don't, I say to myself, but you sure do. Reading Terminal, the granddaddy of Philly's markets, is not only losing market share to Whole Foods, it is also losing customers. Customers like me.

Paul Steinke, who's managed the Reading for six years, says he's trying to keep the market from becoming just a food court and tourist trap. Still, Steinke seems unable to save it from the onslaught of conventioneers. Further, its fresh food can't compete with the quality, freshness, price or variety of the new Headhouse Market.

If you go to Whole Foods, you'll see the source of every item marked. If you go to a farmers market, you'll probably meet the farmer. But save for the Amish and a single, pricey Fair Foods stand, you don't know the source of the Reading's "local" food. That's why they lost my business.

As manager, Steinke has the power to require merchants to display their sources. But for reasons that I can't fathom — and I've asked — he won't.

Meanwhile, on this particular Sunday, Steinke is standing in the arcade of the new Headhouse Market, surveying the bustle with a grim look. He wanted these merchants and shoppers to be across town, next to the Reading. He even offered the cavernous Filbert Street underpass as a site for this new market.

But the Food Trust turned Steinke down. Food Trust officials say they nixed the offer because they weren't sure about getting Filbert closed on Sundays — an excuse so slender it's almost transparent. I think they didn't want to get involved with the Reading Terminal Market manager because he's arrogant and manages by intimidation.

Last year, he evicted long-standing merchants — for reasons, again, that I can't figure. This year, Steinke is set on ousting Rick Olivieri, a cheesesteak vendor with a 25-year tenure. Until just recently, Olivieri also happened to be the president of a very angry association of merchants, most of whom view Steinke's belligerence as vengeance.

If a great public market is supposed to serve the citizens who own it, the Reading Market is terminal.

(bruce@schimmel.com)