Monday, Sep. 04, 1978

Boston's Bartholomew Fair

A once grubby market is recycled and packs in the crowds

On the face of Boston's Faneuil Hall is a metal plaque reading:

Here orators in ages past Have mounted their attack Undaunted by the proximity Of sausage on the rack.

While men like Andrew Jackson and Daniel Webster debated the future of the Republic in the hall, merchants in Quincy Market across the square sold sides of beef and sacks of potatoes to the citizens. For nearly a century, Faneuil Hall and its three-block-long annexes--Quincy, North and South Markets--stood at the center of Boston's commercial life.

Today the city government is still there, housed in an imposing modern edifice. So are the markets, in their original buildings--but only after a lengthy, civic tug of war and some shrewd, imaginative thinking about the inner city of Boston. Last week's opening of the North Market marked the completion of the third and final stage of a $30 million, 6.5-acre renovation project. With some 30,000 people visiting the area daily, the market is almost outdrawing Florida's Disney World. Says Terry Rankin, head of the Boston Society of Architects: "The danger was in the downtown area that there wasn't enough life and vitality among the high-rise buildings. The marketplace has solved that problem."

The city is planning a week of inaugural festivities: concerts by the Boston Pops, fashion shows and museum exhibits. These activities will be a bit superfluous, for even on a normal day, the marketplace has the air of a modern Bartholomew Fair. Cabaret tunes from the piano bar commingle with bluegrass songs played by street musicians. The streets between the buildings, once choked with produce trucks, have been closed to traffic. Now pushcart vendors hawk their wares--scrimshaw knives and jewelry, puppets and pottery--while in the North and South Markets, scores of small shops offer highly specialized merchandise. Various stalls comprise an international bazaar of imported delicacies. In Quincy Market, the center hall, shoppers may sample raw oysters, yogurt cups,

Greek pastries. As Benjamin Thompson, the architect who designed the complex, puts it: "The place is centered on the sight and smell of food, the cornerstone of human commerce."

Only a decade ago, the Faneuil Hall area was deserted and even dangerous. When the middle class left for the suburbs, most of the meat and vegetable wholesalers moved to outlying areas, and the market buildings were left virtually empty, plagued by vandalism and fires. During the '60s, the city began slowly to reclaim the area: city hall was completed in 1967, and soon restaurants and luxury condominiums on the nearby wharves began to bring young, career couples back into the city. In the pull-down-and-build-over-again spirit that has led to much urban blight, the city's first impulse was to demolish the old marketplace: the low, 535-ft.-long buildings, occupying 400,000 sq. ft. of prime real estate, seemed to have no place in a revitalized neighborhood.

Pressure from local citizens' groups and architects, however, convinced the Boston Redevelopment Authority that the markets could in fact be recycled--not pristinely restored as museum pieces but refurbished and adapted as living, working sources of tax revenues. The most energetic proponent of restoration, Architect Thompson began negotiating with real estate developers, and in 1974, the city of Boston leased Faneuil Hall Marketplace to the Rouse Co. of Columbia, Md. Only after the planners agreed to stagger the opening of the buildings (Quincy Market opened in August 1976, the South Market in August 1977) did the banks agree to finance the project.

In designing the new markets, Thompson attempted to preserve as much of the Greek revival exteriors as possible. Grimy granite walls were stripped clean, and the red-brick sidings were mended. Glass arcades to house cafes and vendors were erected outside along the buildings to create an easy flow of foot traffic. To sustain the festival atmosphere, Thompson also preferred small, owner-run businesses. Says he: "I went over the idea of the marketplace and asked if there was an economic way to have just one man selling eggs, one selling cheese, another some marvelous wine. We decided if we could get enough people doing it, it would work." The result: 13 restaurants and 137 stores.

A number of local critics complain that the refurbished market is squeezing out local merchants and residents and replacing them with chic boutique-type shops. Others argue that the markets should have been restored accurately to their 19th century appearance. But Thompson's wife and associate, Jane, rejects what she calls "a Williamsburg mentality, where you have people in costumes catering to tourists." She adds: "We wanted the complex to be economically vital. If you get too many tourists coming through, they discourage the residents and then the merchants start selling little trinkets. You can't support a place with that." Most architects like the compromise. Says Architect George Notter: "A sense of the original buildings conies through with dignity and power."

Whatever it may lack in historic authenticity, Faneuil Hall Marketplace makes up for in continuity of purpose. The refurbished marketplace today serves the Boston community much as it did in its past heyday: young city workers gather there for lunch and laughter, and matrons come to buy the fresh produce. There are, of course, some changes: J.L. Dembro, one of the few remaining meat merchants, also sells fruit cups, and one old greengrocer has added a salad bar to his line of fresh vegetables.

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