Greening of Downtown

"It's like Europe!" trilled one gleeful opening-day shopper, as venders with pushcarts barked out bargain prices for avocados and melons, farm-fresh eggs, Cheddar cheeses, 100 different kinds of pasta and bushels of other items. Actually the scene was not the old Les Halles in Paris or the Campo dei Fiori in Rome, but the Quincy Market, a huge, copper-domed structure in Boston, just a cod's throw from the famous old Haymarket. Last week the once-dilapidated Quincy Market reopened after a massive renovation to serve its original purpose: a central market for city dwellers. "It's not just lively and exciting," says Developer James Rouse. "It's important. It will help restore the marketplace to its importance in the central city."

Boston is not alone. Farmers' markets are sprouting in downtown areas all across the U.S. In recent years the markets have taken root in such disparate cities as Louisville, Syracuse, Santa Fe, N. Mex., and Honolulu. This year alone, farmers have opened new beachheads in Pittsburgh, San Jose, Calif., and Birmingham, among other cities. At the Greenmarket, a lot on Manhattan's East Side, 18 jovial farmers and their families roll their trucks in from upstate before dawn and roll out past dark with sales of as much as $16,000 worth of produce in their pockets.

Tasty Prices. Shoppers welcome the trend as an alternative to cellophane-wrapped tomatoes and other supermarket fare. Says Russell Wichterman, a Detroit importer: "At the market I can pick every tomato, every ear of corn and every potato myself and know it's all fresh." The prices are tasty too. Because there is no middleman, farmers can sell their produce at prices one-third to one-half less than in supermarkets. At the Greenmarket last week, a dozen ears of sweet corn sold for $1, as did 4 Ibs. of fat tomatoes. At a nearby supermarket, the same package went for $5.70.

As closing time nears, farmers can be coaxed to lower their prices even further. "Aw, c'mon, knock off another 50-c- and I'll buy double the amount," wheedles an old hand at the Detroit market. Many farmers do not put up much of a fight since they can pull in $1,000 on a good Saturday. Some of the farm folk even admit to a fondness for those odd city shoppers in their Lacoste shirts and Gucci shoes. Says Michael Temple, a grower from Brewster, N.Y., who peddles his produce in Manhattan each week: "The people here are nicer than back home, where there are farm stands all over the place."

Regular merchants complain that the new markets cut sorely into business. In the Motor City, for instance, more and more residents are doing all their food shopping on weekends at the sprawling Detroit market. Says Nowal Makhoul, owner of a local fruit market: "Without the Detroit market, we'd be booming. With it, it's a real struggle." In Nashville, Tenn., merchants once tried strenuously--but unsuccessfully --to close down market stalls as violations of zoning regulations.

Despite such problems, supporters of the new markets are growing like corn in Kansas. Politicians hail the farm stalls as excellent campaign grounds. In Syracuse, a city-zoo employee collects the market's discarded carrot tops and wilted lettuce leaves for the animals.

Shoppers find that their saunter through the peach and potato bins can be a conversation piece later. Says Paul Malon, a Syracuse architect: "You can go see a real, live farmer. For people who've been cooped up in offices all their lives, it's quite an experience to talk about back at work." As for the city-struck farmers, there's no keeping 'em down on the farm any more.

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