I was excited about doing this story from the bat. When I was younger, and I would go downtown, I would always see these street vendors trying to sell their merchandise to people passing by. I purchased a few items from vendors a while ago, such as some books, so i felt that these vendors would be open to tell me their stories. The first vendor I spoke with was Albert Myers. He was very helpful with giving me information and letting me know all there is to know about street vending. I also wanted to talk to his helper Mike, but he denied to answer any questions. From there, I knew Myers would be the focus of my story. He seemed well known to people on the street and other vendors in the neighborhood. He told me that the vendors usually start around 10-11a.m. I told him I would be out there early to see him set up and continue my story. I knew it would be a early start for me, but it was worth it to get the story I wanted. I went to Hot Dog King and Junior's to get some food (The advantage of reporting in food places is you always have a haven to go to celebrate a good day).
Day 2:
I woke up at 8:30a.m., but actually left my house at 9:30a.m. My breakfast consisted of a Capri-Sun and I was out the door. I was a little tired and it was pretty chilly outside, but I was hopeful that I would be more awake when I got there. I got out the Fulton Street station to see the streets had hardly any people. Because of all the buildings in the Fulton Mall area, the sun hardly reaches the street and it always cool. There were already a few vendors already on the street, mainly selling books.
I reached the spot where Albert is usually located just in time to see Mike and him start to set up their stand. Albert was kind enough to introduce me to some of his vendor friends. He first introduced me to his friend Larry, who vends across the street from Al. When it came to asking him questions, he didn't want to respond. As usual, when it came to asking their information, he became defensive and refused to answer anything. Al later told me that sometimes there are undercover policemen in the area who might want to catch vendor and ask them question about their licenses or stands, so it was just a measure of caution, which I understood.
I only person I spoke to that day was Ray, who was a little skeptical to give out his name or number, but after the questions I asked him weren't prying, he felt a bit comfortable (A tactic I practice when I'm reporting is to put down my pad sometimes and just listen to what they have to say, and even relate to what a person says so they don't feel pressured to talk and it makes the conversation more casual than me just talking to them for a story). One of my angles was to talk to customers who bought from the vendors to ask them why they purchased from them, but everyone refused to talk to me. Defeated, I aimlessly walked the streets, wondering who would want to talk to me or who would be willing to give me any information. Then I looked at my what I was wearing. I had a leather jacket on, over a hoodie, and sneakers on, with a fitted hat.
I remember talking to my mother a while ago about my reporting downtown and some of its disadvantages, such as people refusing to talk to me. She mentioned that if I wanted people to take me seriously (as a journalist) I must look the part. At first, I felt that it didn't matter which way I looked and felt it was just people's trust levels not being high enough. But after not being very successful during the day, I decided to give my mother's advice a try and the next day a bit more profession; a bit more "Clark Kent" if you will.
Day 3:
The day before, it rained, so I figured, based on what Al said, he might not be out that day. I woke up early once again, but this time, I dressed in a shirt and slacks with nice shoes and a overcoat. I found an old cardholder, which I put my school ID in. I really felt like I was going out on a beat and getting a real good story. Tragically, I sacrificed comfort for style, for it was a windy day outside, making it cold outside. I reached Downtown at a good time and got to work. Despite the cold, I talked to a few vendors in the street. I introduced myself by name and stated I was a journalism student from New Paltz, reporting on street vendors in the community. Some people still didn't talk to me, but I felt like they trusted that I was student instead of an undercover cop, seeing I showed them my ID when I introduced myself for proof. I ever went back to Larry, the vendor that refused to talk to me the first time and showed him that I was a student. He believed me, this time, but still didn't want to talk, but I respected him for standing his position.
I talked to a few other vendors and finally had enough people for my story. I went back to Albert and thanked him for all his helpe and promised him a few copies of the Fahari-Libertad as a token of my appreciation. All in all, it was a good day for "Clark Kent." When I was leaving Downtown, there were some cops surrounding a store, talking to some guys standing in the front. I asked an eyewitness what happened and they said someone was shoplifting. I wish there was a phonebooth nearby for me to dawn my cape, but then I realized I was taking my "Clark Kent" persona too far and decided the cops would solve it and went home.
Myers (left) with his stand on Fulton Mall.
A vendor pushing his merchandise down the street.
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