John Kornbluh

I first encountered Findlay Market about 1974, shortly after a renovation of the market house and adjacent community facilities had been completed. It was the time of the grape boycott in support of the United Farmworkers Union, which was led by Cesar Chavez. I had joined the volunteer efforts to publicize the boycott and on Saturday mornings I would go to Findlay Market to hand out leaflets. There I encountered a very busy scene of shoppers and merchants. I would station myself in front of the Gaudio Brothers produce stand, where the “little old ladies” who worked at the stand would get angry at me. They’d shake their fists and they would yell at me to stop bothering their customers. But, I don’t recall any negative reactions from the shoppers. After an hour or so of handing out leaflets, I would go into the market house and gather my lunch. I’d get some salami and cheese from Wilson Spies and I’d buy a loaf of French bread from another vendor and some fruit from Catanzaro. And then I’d sit outside, in the market square and dig into my perfect lunch.

To me, this experience captures so many of the aspects of the Market: its wide-open character, its honesty and directness, the social, political and economic activity and, of course, the great food that is available there.

I became a regular shopper at the Market in the early 1980s. We had two young kids at the time, who didn’t like going to the Market – back then, there wasn’t as much for them at the Market and they preferred watching cartoons on TV. I was working the night shift and would get off from work at 7 am in the morning. On Saturdays, I went straight from work to the Market. At 7:30, the Market was not fully open yet. Many of the stands were just getting set up for the day. Merchants were going about their business, stacking goods on the counter, placing trays of product in the display cases, drinking coffee, eating donuts and chatting with each other and the few early shoppers. The atmosphere was calm and relaxed with an edge of anticipation for the coming busy day. I’d approach a stand and ask if they were open yet. They usually weren’t, but that didn’t stop them from getting me the meat, or cheese, or fish, or produce I wanted to purchase. At that time of day, being served by someone making an exception – they weren’t open yet, but, no matter, we can take care of you – was like a special treat. It was the Market at its best – intimate, personable and present.

One day in the late 1990s I noticed an obituary in the Cincinnati Enquirer. It was for a woman who lived in Westwood. It briefly described her and her life and her family and it included the comment that she loved shopping regularly at Findlay Market. I was struck by this. Shopping is usually thought of as a chore that just needs to be done. No obituaries mention shopping at a big grocery store as a favorite thing the recently deceased would do. But shopping at the Market is much more than a necessary chore. It is a lively, social, meaningful activity. Shopping at the Market is about more than buying bread – it is also about enjoying the roses, meeting our friends and neighbors and being part of a community.