“Look, no free spots at the counter.”
“We can wait,” as they stepped outside to Post Alley. It ran perpendicular to Pike Place, bustling with the activity of the various vendor booths. Each manned by farmers produce, every kind of fresh flowers, artisans selling their home crafted wares, paintings and clothing, and of course the fish mongers to name a few. The Market was one of Kloe’s favorite places in all of Seattle, so alive and exciting with its diversity, definitely the heartbeat of the town.
After all, it gave birth to the very first Starbuck’s coffee shop where they stopped in and each got a tall non-fat latte. Stepping outside they stopped to listen to a scruffy old street musician, one of many buskers performing on the streets of Seattle, singing under the mid-morning sun, his rendition of Billy Joel’s Piano Man on a nylon acoustic guitar obviously with a lot of mileage. His long straight blond hair under a ratty straw cowboy hat was reminiscent of someone from the sixties and his gold capped tooth only added to the persona. The small appreciative crowd applauded his performance and placed some change in the opened guitar case.
“C’mon Kloe, maybe there’s room at the Three Girls now.”
“You guys going to the Three Girls?” asked the musician tuning up for his next song.
“Yeah, but they’re always busy on Saturdays.”
“Why are you going there? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“We don’t really know, looking for some kind of a sign I guess.”
“Oh really, what kind of a sign?” asked the intrigued busker.
“I wish I knew,” Kloe replied, sipping her latte as they turned towards the bakery. They didn’t get more than a few steps away when they heard the singers’ voice call out.
“You know that’s not the original location, don’t you?” as he adjusted the colorful macramé guitar strap over his shoulder. Turning around and heading back towards him Kloe said,
“What?”
“Yeah, where they’re located now in the Sanitary Market wasn’t where they started out in 1912.”
“The Sanitary Market? What are you talking about?” demanded Hudson. The musician shook his head in disbelief.
“You kids today don’t know anything of the Markets history unless it has something to do with a venti mocha no whip.” Kloe asked,
“What are you referring to sir?” Resigned, he shook his head and gave a heavy sigh.
“Okay, when the Market opened up in the early 1900’s farmers would cart their produce down from their inland farms. In order to maintain the cleanliness of the foods they were selling at the booths below, it was decided that horses would not be allowed to travel west of 1st Avenue. Get it? It thus became known as the Sanitary Market.”
“Really?”
“Yup. Now if y’all will excuse me, I’ve got another song to sing.” Kloe and Hudson looked at each other as if a light bulb went off simultaneously above both of their heads. He asked,
“Wait a minute professor, where was the Three Girls Bakery’s first location?” The musician flashed his big golden smile and looked directly into his opened guitar case.
“Now that kind of intel will cost you a buck.” A resigned Hudson threw a dollar bill into the case and watched it mingle with the other change.
“Mucho obligato,” he said nodding his head. “Okay, you know where the flower shop is on the corner of Pike and 1st? That’s it.” And he dove right into his next performance.
“Long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile. . . “ as he gave them a wink.