by Carolyn Eastwood (Roosevelt University, Chicago)
Paper presented at the 72nd Annual Meeting of the Central States Anthropological Society. March 1995
Chicago's 120 year old Maxwell Street Market was terminated Labor Day week-end, 1994. Some observers compared that last Sunday to a funeral as groups of old friends greeted one another, but anger, grief, and a sense of unreality permeated many conversations, because the market did not die; it was killed.
This paper will explore some history of America's largest open air market and how unequal interests affected its survival. Some issues bear comparison with those involved in the removal of New York's 125th St. vendors from their traditional turf to a space out of sight and mind. Commenting on attempts to save the Maxwell Street market, analyst (Whiteis 1994:9) wrote, "In retrospect, it probably wouldn't have mattered if Karl Marx, Saul Alinsky, and Moses had returned to organize the masses." Whiteis maintains that Chicago wouldn't go broke setting aside some vacant land for a few thousand people who aren't rich and powerful to a make a little money, but he concludes, "This is something much bigger: a new, corporate-driven urban vision."
This "corporate-driven vision" rejects the idea that in a modern, first world city, a market, such as Maxwell Street, could continue to fulfill the same functions that it had for 120 years -- i.e. giving people with meager means, resourcefulness, and a will to work, a chance to support their families. Mier (1994:13) said that the Maxwell Street Market represented a $10 million minority business." In this "business" 40% of the vendors were Latino, 35% were African American, 15% were white, with a remainder of Asians and mixed heritage (Morales 1993).
The market gave customers bargains, variety, and face to face, long term buyer-seller relationships. In 1993-94 I found that customers had been coming to Maxwell Street for an average of 21 years; half of the shoppers came every Sunday and another 25% shopped once or twice a month. Many customers were two and three generation family groups, and on an average Sunday, 20,000 customers visited the market.
The Maxwell Street Market, situated about one mile southwest of downtown Chicago, began after the Chicago fire of 1871 when burned out settlers and businesses flocked to this area, but the best known period was at the turn of the century when the focal point was the intersection of Halsted and Maxwell Streets. From the 1850's on this area was a port of entry for immigrants, first German, Bohemian, and Irish, and later eastern European Jews, Greeks and Italians, Mexicans and southern African Americans, but at the turn of the century the population living and running businesses in the immediate Maxwell/Halsted area was 90% Jewish. It was largely due to the Jewish immigrants that the Sunday market came into prominence. By 1912 the market had become so significant that City Council officially recognized it and directed a Market Master, appointed by the mayor, to collect fees, assign spaces, and make arrests. This post continued until 1976 when it was eliminated because of graft and corruption. After the removal of the market master, the vendors sorted out allocation of space according to their own terms of seniority, first come, first served, and watch-out-for-your-friend's-interests arrangements (Morales 1993).
Chicago's public market tradition dates to the Charter of 1837 that called for the City to create and operate markets for the welfare of its people. There were a number of public markets in Chicago, but eventually only Maxwell Street remained, and the pressure to eliminate that market was enormous during much of its 120 year history. According to Berkow (1977:26), "...there have been recurring civic movements to destroy it, thwart it, delouse it, ignore it, revamp it, rename it, remove it, and renovate it."
For the first 70 years of its history the "market" consisted of vendors selling from pushcarts and stands lining the streets in front of shops. In the 1950's it was still experiencing crowds of some 70,000 patrons (Schulz 1954:45); 50% of these customers were from outside Chicago and came to Maxwell Street to take advantage of Sunday shopping hours. Then in the 50's and 60's three important physical changes to the area dramatically altered the market.
First, the construction of the Dan Ryan Expressway cut off the eastern portion of the market resulting in its westward expansion across Halsted. Second, in 1966 the City Council designated the area as blighted under Urban Renewal terms and much of the neighborhood was bulldozed. The market flowed into this open space and took on an open market square form instead of the previous linear arrangement. Third, the University of Illinois at Chicago was built and it expanded into portions of the market area. The university has plans to build baseball fields and a security building in the market area, and the City Hall agreement to sell them that land, resulted in the final closing of the market. A 2/3 smaller, gentrified version of the market, what one writer (Ryan 1994:38) called "The Malling of Maxwell Street," has been reconstituted 1/2 mile away, but through the selective influences of high fees and excessive restrictions and procedures, most of the really poor vendors are shut out. Because of low traffic, earnings of vendors who made the move are approximately half what they were at Maxwell St. In the 1980's the university had asked the city to declare a moratorium on land sale in the market area, so in 1988, at the request of a number of community groups, a Community Assistance Panel was formed. It concluded (1989) that "the market should serve as a focal point for the area in addition to UIC." In spite of this recommendation, in the following three years UIC razed 17 buildings and fenced off the empty lots, creating more barren areas. The city pulled out trash dumpsters and the ward alderman (Mazola) said he, "...told the city to stop picking up garbage and cut police protection to only two policemen" (Longworth 1993).
Throughout this period innumerable meetings and some public hearings were held, but solid information was hard to obtain prior to votes on the crucial matters. Pro-market protagonists testified extensively, but as one vendor said, "After all this talk, it sounds like they didn't listen to a word we said." The symbolism of the meetings could not be missed -- gray flannel suited university and city officials at the front of the room with elaborate graphics and unlimited time to expound; vendors and activists at the "back of the bus" with three or four minutes each to express their opinions. It was generally believed that the meetings were a legal formality. Real decisions were likely made at the breakfast meetings of Mayor Daley and Chancellor Stukel, of the university, and influenced by their personal preferences and political ambitions.
In spite of all this history, what happened? Was the market worth saving, or was it simply a derelict standing in the way of progress? Throughout the process the most active players in efforts to transfer market land to the university have been Mayor Daley and his administration, the university, aldermen (all but ten voted for the sale), and real estate developers.
Store owners on Halsted Street were ambivalent about the market -- sometimes wanting to be rid of its clutter and other times recognizing the synergy between their businesses and the activity of the market. They were being offered "deals" by the university for their property and were threatened with eminent domain if they refused to sell. Their lack of firm information about what was happening, or likely to happen, jeopardized, and continues to affect, their planning and decision making, but most of them agree now that removal of the market has adversely affected their businesses.
A proposal to make the century old shopping area a historic landmark district was approved unanimously by the state agency on historic preservation, but the state officer (an appointee), under pressure, refused to forward the proposal to Washington. There were also anti-market neighborhood groups who concurred with the gentrification plans of real estate developers.
A university spokesman sums up the reasons for their success in achieving their expansion goals in one word, "Perserverence." He notes that they had expansion in mind from the 60's and it was brought to the front in 1985 when they began seeking political support (aldermen, the mayor, the governor), and community group support. They spent time "bringing individuals up to speed" and through one on one dialogue, convincing each that the university wasn't a "big bad institution" and explaining why they needed to expand. They contacted professionals, and certain key individuals were brought in to leadership positions if they shared areas of interest. From other sources I learned that university personnel who did not "share these interests," were, at the very least, left out of the information loop.
City administrators are less forthright. They consistently "don't know anything about that," or "don't have any information yet." This response is understandable since some who were sympathetic to the market were demoted or moved laterally out of influential positions. One administrator who was key in the planning stages did not want to talk, but he referred me to another who "is no longer with the city government and perhaps can be more candid." Her answer was, "I've moved on now -- I'm not with the city any more --and I don't want to go back and look at that issue." Perhaps this is because her development corporation may depend on the city for funds. Another administrator who was pro-market, was demoted, then saw the light, and was finally restored to a position of authority.
Mayor Daley's father (Richard J.) established the university by removing an entire neighborhood, and since Richard M. Daley sees it as "his father's university," his allegiance has never been in doubt. Mayor Daley has a managerial approach to city government, and his distaste for the untidiness of the market was well known. Couple this with a progressively "boss" style of running the city, and it is clear why he worked hard to shut down the market and brought in mounted policemen to do so.
The most active protagonists for the market were vendors, customers, blues and recycling enthusiasts. To them, the loss of the market is a loss of place, of the economic purposes and social functions of the market. They tried to organize opposition to the move, but obstacles were formidable. People in the neighborhood were influenced by the city and university. For example, even finding a meeting place was problematic. Community centers would allow a meeting and then became so afraid of repercussions that they refused future meetings. Adjacent to the market was the 150 year old St. Francis of Assisi Church with a 3000 family, Spanish speaking congregation; many of these parishioners would have been natural allies of the market, but they were deeply involved in a struggle to save their church. It was closed by the archdiocese shortly after the market closed.
Stereotypes against vendors were used in subtle ways. As one Latino vendor said, "To them Maxwell Street was bad things, bad people robbing and stealing; it's not fair, they see bad things about poor people."
This same vendor summed up problems among members of the opposition, "We didn't cooperate altogether." Another activist said, "Nobody could really understand what a nightmare it was to try and motivate people." A dedicated customer, a scientist said, "If people who loved the market could have devoted full time to the fight we might have won." A community organizer called the vendors "too docile." A pro-market urban planner saw apathy among vendors who felt powerless; with other vendors there was a sense of injustice; others thought, "Let's see what kind of a deal we can get." The most active protesters were the Latino vendors and they were split into two warring factions. As the planner said, "It was only a small group fighting City Hall, and then to be divided was fatal."
A Black vendor commented, "I feel that if the city, the vendors, and the university could have come up with a plan where everybody came together, we could have had a cleaner, safer market, and we could have been doing the same thing there that we're doing here. But they wanted to move us over here and start charging us money."
A public administration analyst summed up the struggle to save the market saying, "It was a fight that probably couldn't have been won. But it was worth fighting."
In New York's Harlem more than 1000 vendors (largely West African and American Blacks) were ousted in the fall of 1994 from their lucrative 125th Street location to two empty lots in a quiet neighborhood nine blocks away. The structured market, accommodating 400 vendors at 116th and Lenox, is called the Malcolm Shabazz International Plaza. Similarities to Maxwell Street include the following: business is very slow in the new location--when I visited the market there were many vendors and few customers. As Sargent (1995:29) writes, "Successful markets develop almost spontaneously, thriving on a healthy flow of pedestrians. This condition is impossible to reproduce at an out-of-the-way site." Next, the cost of doing business has increased dramatically because of the $8 per day fees. Store owners in the both New York and Chicago locations are ambivalent about the moves -- some say their sales have gone down while others appreciate the "cleaner streets" (Hicks 1994:A16). Information about policy is hard to come by in both cases. For example, when I first started talking to vendors in the 116th St. market I was intercepted and taken to the trailer office for the official word. Although the organization running the market is called the New York Vendor's Association, according to one Senegalese vendor, the organization of the market is "...from the top down, not from the vendors up." Another similarity is that, in both New York and Chicago the future is uncertain. In New York, the Malcolm Shabazz Mosque owns both lots, leases them to the city and runs the market. As soon as they have raised enough money to build a new mosque the market will be ousted. In Chicago, when Mayor Daley's pet project, a light rail "circulator" becomes a reality, the new market will be in jeopardy. Finally, in both Chicago and New York the city administrations say that this will be a learning experience for vendors; i.e. the vendors can learn how to conduct a business.
Differences in the New York and Chicago situations include: the mix of minorities is more heterogeneous in Chicago; in New York the cap on licenses (only 853 general vendors' permits granted for the whole city) is more restrictive; in New York the role of mosque leaders is relatively clear, but in Chicago interconnections of the city, university and archdiocese are harder to trace.
This paper is mainly about the process of change that culminated in closing the Maxwell Street Market and forcing the vendors from 125th Street, but from the discussion it is clear that these results were not caused by neutral, inanimate forces. Real people with careers, livelihoods, likes and dislikes were involved, and the opponents of the market were so influenced by institutional concerns that they consistently lacked imagination or flexibility to understand the economic and social benefits of the market for vendors and customers. Informal sector activities are always difficult to sell to bureaucrats, but today a hard line toward vending as a low status pursuit is fairly certain of community support. As Thurow (In Phillips 1990: 47) wrote, "We're in the midst of a real surge toward inequality, the economic equivalent of tectonic plate movements. Wherever you look, you see rising inequality."
A major intangible effect of the closing of the market is erosion of faith in the democratic process. Supporters found out lack of information hurts -- not being able to make viable decisions because information was withheld from them -- and attending meetings where decisions were made before their input was considered. They became even more convinced of their powerlessness as "little people," in spite of their self reliance and hard work. And even without concrete proof, they had evidence that clout still counts in Chicago. Finally, the question remains whether sprawling athletic fields are the most appropriate use of land by an urban university when there might have been an accommodation for an existing 120 year old neighborhood institution.
Berkow, Ira. (1977). Maxwell Street. New York: Doubleday.
Community Assistance Panel Report (1989). The Future of the Maxwell Street Market. Chicago: Dept. of Planning.
Hicks, Jonathan P. (1994). In Harlem, Vendors try to adapt. New York Times. October 31, 1994, p. A16.
Longworth, R. C. (1993). Maxwell Street in the middle. Chicago Tribune. Nov. 21, 7:1.
Mier, R. (1994). Scrap Daley's Maxwell St. plan and just start over. Crain's Chicago Business. Feb. 21-27, 1994, p. 13.
Morales, A. (1993). Making Money at the Market: The Social and Economic Logic of Informal Markets. (Unpublished dissertation), Sociology Dept., Northwestern U., Evanston, IL.
Ryan, Maureen (1994). In the Works: The Malling of Maxwell Street. Chicago Enterprise. May/June: 38.
Sargent, Greg (1995). Street peddlin' blues. Metropolis. Jan/Feb: 25-30.
Schulz, Edward (1954). A Functional Analysis of Retail Trade in the Maxwell Street Market Area of Chicago (Unpublished thesis). Northwestern University, Evanston, IL.
Thurow, Lester (1990). In Phillips, Kevin. The Politics of Rich and Poor. New York: HarperCollins.
Whiteis, David (1994). The Last Sunday. Chicago Reader. Section 1:9.
Carolyn Eastwood is an adjunct professor of Sociology/Anthropology at Roosevelt University, School of Policy Studies, 430 South Michigan Avenue, Chicago, IL 60605. (312-341-4744). She received her Ph.D. from University of Illinois at Chicago, writing her dissertation on the topic of Chicago street vendor regulation. She has visited and studied markets all around the world and was a volunteer with several organizations trying to save the Maxwell Street Market.