They face a lot of resistance. According to the “Quality of Life” program initiated by former Mayor Giuliani, street vendors should be expelled from Manhattan. But three years later, they are still there. One reason might be that they have no alternative to survive. Some salesmen love their job, and some would love to do something else. Some earn up to $1,200 a day, but others have to be satisfied with $70, hardly enough to support their families.
Joseph Sadigur, 80, 73rd St. at Amsterdam Avenue
Colored scarfs, caps in all colors—with or without fur—gloves and belts. These are Joseph Sadigur’s goods. He is wearing extra-large sunglasses with yellow lenses. A thick, quilted jacket protects him from the cold. Joseph Sadigur looks at least 10 years younger than he is. Since September 11th, he has a small American flag attached to his booth. “I like to sell on the street and as a veteran of World War II, I am allowed to stand at places and sell at times when it is forbidden to others,” he says. He was called to serve at 20. “I went the whole way until Berlin.” As a Jew, he has no good memories about Germany. He does not want to talk about what he went through. “I’ve avoided so far entering Germany again during my travels,” says the 80-year-old, who sells on the street to increase his pension, but mostly to stay active.
“I don’t want to sit at home all day long and watch TV.” He has started selling 17 years ago: sunglasses in the summer and everything that keeps one’s hands, head and neck warm in the winter. The bookseller next to him is an old friend. “I look after his booth when he has to go somewhere, and he does the same with mine.” Sadigur’s wife happy that he still has something to do. “She tells me every morning: ‘Look, you leave the house.’” He is laughing at the same time and talks to a customer who is interested in a scarf.
Ronald Perry, 53, 52nd Street and Fifth Avenue
Ronald Perry holds a bundle of ten dollar bills in his left hand. “One watch, $10,” he screams to the crowd gathered around his booth. Women with fur coats and students with backpacks, no one wants to miss out on the bargain: $10 for a good fake Geneva watch. Perry is in a wheelchair. He fought in Vietnam, but he lost his leg after an accident two years ago. He has worked on the street ever since. On good days, he and his colleague, who helps him to set up the booth, make $1,200. His bloodshot eyes look tired, his answers are taciturn.
“It is exhausting to sell on the street. The weather is the biggest problem.” However, he has the freedom to work whenever he wants. When he is not at the booth, his colleague is there. “Every watch that you want is ten dollars,” he shouts and the customers press bills in his hand. The last Sunday before Christmas is a good day to get rid of cheap copies of expensive watches on Fifth Avenue. He does not earn nearly as much as he did when he was as a caretaker, but it is enough to support his daughter. “What else shall I do with my disability?” he growls as he collects money.
Babu Mahamet, 35, 50th Street at Broadway
“Mmm, mmm, that smells good,” says a little boy passing Mahamet’s wagon. The boy forces his mother to stop and they buy two packages of nuts for $4. “December is the best time to sell nuts,” explains Mahamet. A driver stops his car and buys two packages, too. Mahamet rented the “Nuts4Nuts” wagon, one of many on the streets of Manhattan, but he works as all other street-salesmen do—independently. He stirs the nuts in two big heated bowls until they caramelize. Then they are packed into little two-dollar-packages and warmed. “It’s hard work, I work twelve to fourteen hours daily,” he said.
Since he came from India 13 years ago “because of the freedom,” he says, he has never done anything other than work on the street. In the summer, Mahamet stands with an ices-wagon and sells soft ices in Manhattan. He earns an average of $90 per day. He sends part of the money to his family in India, to finance his brother’s studies. “At least I am my own boss and no one tells me what I have to do,” he says, not without pride. He sometimes has problems with the police. “They say that this location is illegal, I get a ticket and have to change the place. But they are just doing their jobs, too,” he adds.
Anonymous salesman, about 50 , Canal Street
Along Canal Street every salesman is a street-salesman. They offer goods in small garage-like bays. The goods are mainly Louis Vuitton bags and Gucci watches or bracelets. Mixed in among the legally working salesmen are those who do not have a license either because the waiting list is too long or they would never get one because they immigrated illegally. They offer African or Indian souvenirs, small elephants made from wood, or bowls with scrolled patterns. One, who does not want to give his name, says he has been waiting for a license since 1994. “Anyway, I have to sell on the street because I can’t find another job,” he says. He has to support his wife and two children.
By selling the Indian knick-knacks, he earns between $60-70 a day. Prices are always negotiable with him. He sells a box for what he asks, $10, but he’ll also sell it for $5. His hands are rough and dirty. He is wearing an old greyish woolen pullover. “I really don’t want to sell in the street, it is too little money to support my family.” He does not want to say when he came to America. In Bangladesh, he worked as a luggage carrier at the airport. The American Dream led him to New York. If he could, he would love to emigrate again. “I would like to go to Germany, a lot of my friends emigrated there and they have a better life than I have.”
General information
There are 6,000 licensed street salesmen in New York City. Another 3,000 are waiting to receive their license. The location where one is allowed to sell goods or food is restricted. South of 30th Street and east of Second Avenue, no salesmen are permitted. Dozens of rules regulate the distances the salesmen must stand from a subway station and how much distance there needs to be between a booth and a shop.
“Salesmen on the street cause a lot of security problems,” says Pauline Tool, spokesperson of the department of Consumer Affairs of New York City. That is why the city limits the number of street vendors. Her department issues the licenses. Five percent of all applications are granted per year. Most of the street salesmen are war veterans. They enjoy special treatment: There is no waiting lists for them, and they are allowed to set up their booth where others are forbidden.
