STATEN ISLAND, N.Y. — Last week while writing about fish markets, it struck me how much I missed shopping the Fulton Fish Market in its former iteration in lower Manhattan. Those were fabulous food times in New York City — the middle-of-the-night bustle and the grit and the funk. I just loved it.
In my American Grill days, the Fulton Market beckoned for a few reasons. Most importantly, it seemed like a good way to become more educated on the subject of seafood and get better pricing — going to the source and personally selecting the items. I also couldn’t stand that our weekend lobster order from one vendor would come so late in the evening — we were the last stop on the Atlantic City route. Go figure. And the delivery guy repeatedly refused to use the back door which meant he dragged a drippy box through the dining room past the customers. Enough of that, I told my husband.
So in the early 2000s on one wintry Sunday around 11 p.m. I drove to the market for the first time. Wolffish was on the shopping list, an ugly-looking thing for an experiment in making fish stock, and it was the first task in order. Past sparking barrels stuffed with burning palette planks and journeymen walking around with hooks resting on their shoulders, the first fishmonger encountered by happenstance had the product for which I paid cash.
Bobby Tuna" or Robert DiGregorio butchers a big eye tuna at the former Fulton Market. (Staten Island Advance File Photo)
The next stop, coincidentally, was to a purveyor called Beyer-Lightening and a familiar voice called out, “Pam!” The shout came from a fellow Staten Islander named “Bobby Tuna,” whom I knew through family circles.
“How much did you pay for that?” asked the Tuna Man, pointing to the box. Whatever it was, he thought it was too much and asked where it was purchased. He pushed me over to the seller and demanded the money to be paid back. In turn, Bobby Tuna introduced me to more reputable mongers, the majority of them from Staten Island. Then, things became a lot easier — and cheaper — and I wasn’t the odd man out.
Whale swordfish are butchered at the old market, an illustration by Naima Rauam (Courtesy of Naima Rauam)
Well, actually, yes — as one of the very few women who shopped the market at the time, other females who filtered through seriously stood out.
There was Linda who worked a popular food and coffee cart, a business handed down to her by her father. And there was the tenacious 80-something year old Annie, a former “independent vendor” and colorful character whom the collective Fulton Market brotherhood looked after in her old age. And, of course, there was Naima Rauam, an artist from Staten Island who dedicated a life’s work painting scenes of the South Street Seaport, Fulton Fish Market and the New York City waterfront.
Naima soaked up the details of those experiences and — thanks be to COVID — I needed to hear her voice and recollections of those oddly beautiful times. As graphic as are her renderings, her words brought me back to our South Street action, all of which unfolded in rain, snow, fog or sultry summer from midnight to about 5 a.m.
BACK ON SOUTH STREET
Naima shared her recollections in a recent phone call and recounted, “The way the market unfolded — it was out of doors and it was basically in slumber during the day. And the rest of the world kind of swirled around it. But in the evening the rest of the world faded away — and the market started to come to life.”
Boxes of fish and the action of the former Fulton Market in a portrait by Naima Rauam (Courtesy of Naima Rauam)
Naima described the Sunday-through-Thursday-night routine starting around 11 p.m. and said, “Very slowly the tractor trailers would come. They would wait. Then, they were unloaded. The fish were distributed throughout the market with Hi-Los. The workers would come in to prepare the displays. Then, buyers would come in.”
She said, “There was a crescendo of activity that reached its height at around 3 a.m. and then there was this buying frenzy for a couple of hours. About 2,000 people — workers and buyers — all mixed in together there. There would be this intense action and then when the sun came up — the action slowly started to fade away. People trickled away. The fish were packed up and put into the coolers. The cleanup crew would come hose down the streets. And by 11 a.m. all you had was the smell and wet sidewalks and you’d never know that a million pounds of fish came through those streets that night.”
Naima Rauam when the Fulton Fish Market lived in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge. (Courtesy of Naima Rauam)
Naima captured what might be called the “film noir” of the place in her paintings. She was inspired by the light. She savored the view of the East River and Brooklyn Bridge at sunrise.
One day she was overwhelmed by a particular daybreak scene.
“I remember walking along one block where Crown Fish was selling fresh shrimp and they they had their boxes on display. They were positioned in such a manner that the sun, as it came up over the horizon, was almost horizontal. It struck the tails of these fresh shrimp which were piled high on ice in a box and the sun shone through their translucent tails,” said Naima.
Annie at the new Fulton Fish Market in the Bronx where she commuted after it made its move north. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)
She called it “this amazing pink splendor.”
Then in November, 2005, that world ended. The market moved to its current home in the Bronx at Hunts Point. And even though I’ve made the journey many times since — as did Linda, the late Annie, and Naima — it hardly has the personality of yesteryear.
As Naima points out: it is a grim trek through the Bronx. Granted the giant, refrigerated shed in which the operation is housed is a better environment for food handling, although I much prefer shopping on cobblestone streets with a face exposed to the elements. Those Fulton Market days were a rite of passage for some who now can smile when sharing our fond fish tales.
Pamela Silvestri is Advance Food Editor. She can be reached at silvestri@siadvance.com.
Flashback to June 2005: Timmy Donoghue, a salesman for Arrow Fish, is a fellow Staten Islander. (Staten Island Advance/Michael McWeeney)
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