Vending New York's Future (EDIT 2)

By Harrison Golden

Like clockwork, the sun rises each morning through the waters of the Hudson and above Manhattan’s West Side. From the rotation of bus and car wheels along the streets to the shooting star-like pace of the subways, each level of the city pulsates in the heat of the morning commute. But even with the crowds, the towering buildings, and government tension, there is still room for people like Grant DiMille and Samira Mahboubian.

Before sunrise, the New York street vending duo behind Sweetery NYC loads their trademark blue van with coffee, freshly baked muffins and scones, and sets up camp along Hudson Street, where even the most stressed of workers can stop by. Large windows on each of the vehicle’s sides allow passersby to join together in pausing and glancing at the aromas of the mobile bakery, a modern twist on the centuries-old sweet shop tradition.

“We had no experience with trucks, nor did we know anything about starting up a small business anywhere, let alone a place like Manhattan,” said Mahboubian, co-founder of the bakery. “All we knew were our passions and how we wanted to give that to people. Everything else seemed to follow. Providing that pick me up has really brought people together.”

This year’s Vendy Awards, scheduled to be held September 24^th on Governor’s Island, will not only honor the city’s most popular and acclaimed mobile merchants, but will also include a new category entitled “Most Heroic Vendor” in an attempt to better acknowledge the civic roles of these community leaders. Like many street vendors, DiMille and Mahboubian recognize the ongoing shift in the way consumers view the street vending industry. As sites where humbly sized carts once stood become social hotspots, the city known for its street-centric culture is redefining itself, mixing old with new and strengthening urban communities in the process.

However, despite the rise of these bonds, city vendors are still amidst a battle of their own. Since last year, the New York City Department of Parks & Recreation have been working towards a plan that would reduce the amount of vendors in city parks by 75 percent.

“This is a culture that the government has spent decades suppressing instead of recognizing,” said Sean Basinski, Director of the Street Vendor Project, sponsors of the awards. “As far back as seventy years ago, city officials tried to chase vendors off the street, calling them distractions and disruptions. Although there is still a ways to go, these awards allow people to become more aware of the ways that street vendors keep New York moving.”

The Vendy Awards committee has, in part, created this new heroism award in an effort to acknowledge the contributions of street vendors like Duane Jackson, who, during last May’s attempted Times Square car bombing, spotted a suspiciously smoky Nissan Pathfinder from the corner of his eye and immediately described his observation to nearby authorities on 7^th Avenue. After spending time working with police, the Vietnam War veteran was able to not only identify the presence of the bomb, but to also divert passersby from the scene of the threat. Eventually, police were able to effectively isolate the area and disarm the vehicle following his tip.

“I heard a pop, pop, pop,” Jackson told reporters at a press conference following the scare. “Initially, I thought the car was on fire. I never thought there was propane and gasoline inside.”

Jackson’s mixture of curiosity and calmness provided leadership to those in and around the traffic-heavy tourist attraction. In addition, it exposed the city’s pedestrians to the street savvy roles of vendors.

“Things add up,” Basinski said. “And by simply recognizing what these people do to help their communities, perhaps the government will understand how necessary they are.”

Even in more local ways, street cart operators have gradually gained popularity in communities all around the city. In the Astoria section of Queens, Farez Zeideia has transformed his childhood love for falafel into an award-winning royal tradition. The Falafel King, as his business is called, won two Vendy Awards last year, including “People’s Choice” and the “Vendy Cup.” In addition, it has helped rejuvenate an area struggling with population loss. Due to large amounts of people flocking out of Astoria, threats continue to exist that could potentially affect federal funding, but also congressional representation.

“I grew up here,” said Zeideia, who considers himself the Sam Malone of falafel. By simply watching over a line of his regular customers, ranging from children to great-grandparents, he can point to a familiar face and recollect their usual orders to a near-exact science, from shawarma to chicken and rice.

“My people are here, ones I’ve known for years,” he continued. “And I like to think that this is a way to keep it all together. There’s a lot going on, but the idea of neighbors, of people who can stop by and tell you about the things they enjoy can’t be lost right now.”

Aside from providing his community with acclaimed Middle Eastern cuisine, Zeideia has reinstated a feeling, within the people, of faith and unity, not only in an economic sense, but also in a social and civic manner.

“I pass by him everyday, and I know that among everything else that goes on, I can always rely on his truck, the delicious smells it provides and the personalities on both sides of its windows,” said Momed Rawajan, a twenty-year resident of Astoria. “He gives great moments to this community and we can always count on him.”

Even though many New Yorkers still face the everyday struggles of working, they feel that passing through the artistry, the leadership, and the charisma of street vendors allows them to take a bite out of urban interaction in a way more colorful than ever before.

“It keeps me going,” said Ryan Harkin, an investment banker at a bank near Sweetery NYC, in the process of purchasing his morning muffin and cup of coffee. “Lately, I see myself actually smiling in the morning. It’s so strange. But then I think about the feeling of friendliness and security I get while holding my breakfast, and suddenly it all makes sense.”