My Days at Greenmarket
How New York City's Greenmarket Went Stale
In 1979, when I was 8, my parents sent me to sell vegetables at roadside stands near our 60-acre farm in Loudoun County, Va. I sold corn and tomatoes, zucchini and pumpkins. The coins went in a Danish cookie tin and the bills in an apron my mother made. We struggled to earn a living, and that winter my parents took odd jobs.
The next summer the first farmers market in the area opened, in the parking lot of the county courthouse. Swarms of people pounced on our beets and Swiss chard. Since then my parents have earned a living from "producer only" farmers markets, where all the food is local and you are allowed to sell only what you have grown.
Running our stand, I learned that, in the face of global industrial agriculture, there is enormous demand for fresh, healthful food produced by small local farms. Others seem to agree. According to the Department of Agriculture, the number of farmers markets in the United States rose 79 percent from 1994 to 2002, to 3,100.
Demand for local foods is global. Working in Britain in the 1990's, I was homesick for local foods and started London's first producer-only farmers markets. Today, British farmers at the 10 year-round markets sell fresh milk, cream and butter; handmade cheese; wild fish, fowl and game; grass-fed meat, poultry and eggs; farm-pressed wine and juice; heirloom apples and carrots; and homemade preserves - all of it local. Last year, farmers sold $6.8 million in local foods.
Once the markets were up and running, I felt homesick once again - this time for American local foods. So I returned to Washington, where I started a nonprofit farmers market, the first on public parkland in the capital.
Farmers markets - and all they represent - are dear to my heart. It was exciting, then, when the fabled Greenmarket - the largest network of farmers markets in the country - hired me last July as director of its 42 markets on 30 sites in New York City. (Greenmarket is run by the Council on the Environment, a private, nonprofit organization housed in the mayor's office.)
Unfortunately, not six months into the job, I was fired. And although this story is about food, it's not about sour grapes. It's about the growing demand for local apples, butter, beef and other fine foods - a demand that is not being met by Greenmarket.
For many years, Greenmarket, which opened on East 59th Street in 1976, set the standard for American farmers markets. And in many ways, it is still one of the best. But in the last 10 years, Greenmarket had lost its way. Compared to farmers markets in Cleveland, Madison, Wis., New Orleans, San Francisco and elsewhere, Greenmarket was shopworn. Farmers smoked, food sat on the ground, items were not clearly priced and sales staff were often ignorant about the food they were selling. Some rules seemed perverse: Greenmarket prohibits farmers from describing farming methods on price signs (like "hormone free"), ostensibly to protect consumers from mendacious claims.
Greenmarket was failing in its mission "to support local farms and preserve farmland" in other ways. It was surprising to find that Greenmarket allowed supermarket blueberries in pies and Washington State black raspberries in jam. The cabbage in sauerkraut hailed from Canada, and there was no telling where cider came from because most farmers were not required to get their own fruit back from the press. Many baked goods sold at Greenmarket were produced by large commercial operations using frozen mixes and hydrogenated vegetable oils.
Market management was far from meritocratic. Favored farmers got the best spaces. Some farmers broke the rules with impunity - while others who did the same thing were fined, subjected to repeated farm inspections, or banished to less desirable markets.
When I arrived at Greenmarket, I hoped to address these problems. With the help of the young, hard-working staff, we began to clean up the markets, make the assignments fair and enforce the producer-only rule. I proposed that we provide electricity to help farmers sell meat, fish, and dairy products in chilled display cases instead of on melting ice on hot summer days - a common service to farmers and customers at the London markets. To encourage business, I suggested that we publicize the chefs who bought Greenmarket foods and farmers who sold to them, and give farmers a pamphlet with marketing tips.
We also tried to recruit new farmers and find new foods like grass-fed dairy, meat and eggs. With some markets offering only apples and sugary baked goods in the winter, adding new local foods was essential. In London, we recruited 130 producers in less than five years. After 28 years, Greenmarket had only 170 producers. Instead of finding new farmers, Greenmarket simply gave spaces at new markets to the same farmers. Farmers in the Hudson Valley and around the region told me they had given up trying to get into Greenmarket. They thought it was all sewn up.
Sadly, old habits die hard. These and other reforms were rejected. Bakers and jam makers fought my proposal to require local fruits in pies and jam. Hudson Valley apple farmers, oddly, were not in favor of requiring bakers to use local apples. And powerful farmers continued to elbow out the competition. Last Thanksgiving, for example, I discovered that the turkey farmer who had sold at Union Square on Wednesdays for years was disinvited by the person who makes market assignments on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving - the biggest food shopping day of the year, when an estimated 65,000 people walked through the market. The usual Saturday turkey farmer, a man with more clout, dropped in to grab the Thanksgiving trade.
In December I was fired. I never understood why. My boss even said the Council on the Environment shared my vision for a vibrant Greenmarket. Perhaps I was guilty of too much enthusiasm. If so, Greenmarket needed it.
I am lucky to live near three Greenmarkets, and I still buy my local foods there. But I also still believe that if Greenmarket is to survive, it must change. Back in 1976, Greenmarket was the only game in town. Chefs and food lovers flocked to buy novelties like mesclun, wild mushrooms, heirloom tomatoes and organic eggs.
New Yorkers have more choices now, and Greenmarket farmers complain of new competition and shrinking sales. (Unlike many farmers markets, Greenmarket does not track farm income.) With the appearance - if not the reality - of small-farm values, national chains like Whole Foods are poised to dominate the market. The next Whole Foods in New York is scheduled to open on Union Square - just next door to the flagship Greenmarket.
What is to be done? Adrian Benepe, the parks commissioner and Greenmarket's biggest landlord, should demand more of Greenmarket for its use of public space. When the department renegotiated Greenmarket's license last year, the city did not call for other bids, because, as a parks official told me during the negotiations, when I was still Greenmarket director, "Greenmarket is different." But city rules say that sole-source procurement - when the city hands a contract to a single bidder - can be used only when there is no other option. And there are plenty of other farmers market organizers in the city. (Note to readers: I'm not one of them.)
Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg should add his voice, too, calling for proposals from authentic, producer-only farmers markets to bring local foods - not Canadian cabbage - to public spaces all over New York. Let Greenmarket stay where it is - and let other markets bloom on city property, too.
In London and Washington, where I still manage markets, we face competition every day. Other market managers vie with us for farmers and neighborhood sites. Because farmers and consumers have a choice, we work hard to serve them. For too long, Greenmarket has been a monopoly. Unfortunately, it behaves like one.
Right now, local farms are bursting with asparagus, watercress and rhubarb. The best cream and butter come from cows grazed on spring's emerald grass. Farmers want to sell these foods, and New Yorkers want to buy them. A New York institution, once great, is failing them. Perhaps it is time Greenmarket itself had some competition.
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