The Pike Place Market as cultural refuge

The year just passed has been a big one for birthdays in Seattle, with centennial celebrations for the Moore Theatre, Children's Hospital, and the Pike Place Market nearing their end. Lately I've been reflecting on my love of the Market and my experiences there, which began when I first arrived in Seattle in 1967 – an even 40 years ago.

We've been hearing a great deal about the history and chronology of the Market, with descriptions of the sounds, smells, and bustle - so I'd like to share some of my personal memories and comparisons and look at some of the changes. Pike Place Market's early history and growth have been well recounted this year by historians and journalists, but my how it has changed just in my 40 years of roaming the stalls and lower-level shops.

I arrived in Seattle in 1967 to help start what is now called the Professional Actor's Training Program, with W. Duncan Ross. Ross and I met in Montreal, shortly after my years in Paris and New York. Paris, New York, Montreal, and then Seattle. What a culture shock! The Market became a panacea to daily woes and cloudy days. Today it retains a genuine feel of Europe amidst the urban sprawl of downtown. Despite the movement of many cities to welcome local farmers, our Pike Place Market still remains a unique experience in America.

Seattle has become a slow-food town since those days, but there was a time when the Market was an oasis in a supermarket desert. City Fish and the Levy brothers were part of three generations of fish sellers (mongers). David, the grandson of the original owners, declined to continue in his father's and uncle's boots but eventually became the manager of the Central Food Market's fish department up in Shoreline. But City Fish's place in the north end, opposite the flower sellers, is anchored, one of four well-stocked fish sellers.

I remember one day in the late 1960s when Jack and Gary Levy stopped me on my stroll through the stalls that are now full of craftsman and flower sellers. "Hey Arne," called Jack. "Can you use these?" He held up a full bucket of moist and shiny mussels. "One of the fishermen gave me these and no one else knows what to do with them. Take 'em away for buck." I did. Of course, now mussels are farmed locally and available everywhere.

Louis DeLaurenti's father had a tiny shop in the basement with barrels of beans, exotic labeled cans, imported pasta, and hard salami. I bought my one and only hand-operated pasta machine from him for $25, a great sum then for a serious home chef – and I still use it. After Louis took the store from a mom-and-pop shop to an upscale corner international emporium, the food boom began to happen. One shopping trip, I noticed that Louis had some Land O'Lakes cottage cheese in his case. I proclaimed, "Land O'Lakes! Louis can you get me some unsalted butter?" He promised he'd ask his buyer for some. One week later: "Louis? Did you get the unsalted butter?" He hadn't. Each week for a month I begged for the butter. And each week Louis said he hadn't been able to get the purveyor to bring him some. Finally, he stated that a local dairy establishment (which shall go nameless) had an embargo preventing any other dairy company from bringing in their butter. Within that year, Land O'Lakes unsalted butter showed up on a supermarket shelves, and suddenly Seattle began it's foodie renaissance for real.

In those days when there were many local farmers hawking their products, one business stands out over the others. The famous poster girl for Verdi Farms, Pasqualina, held forth in the center stalls. Seemingly ageless, with gnarled hands from years of harvesting vegetables, she would always toss in for free an extra bunch of carrots or Italian parsley and give a smile to everyone that shopped there. "How do I do these greens?" I would ask, "Cook 'em up wid a liddle garlic and oliva oil, delish," she would shout back. Next week with a different green, I'd pose the same question! Same answer, of course!

The stalls that line the north end now are full primarily of flower sellers. Four decades ago, it was full of vegetable farmers. Today the arts and crafts sellers are there, too, selling seasonal gifts to the hoards of tourists and locals. A few times a week in the summer, the local farmers set up shop in the street, offering a fantastic array of locally grown fruits and veggies. Now that Seattle is a major port for cruise lines, and due to the close proximity of the Market, the tourist trade is a very necessary part of its health.