Sometime last week, I got an email from a guy named Al who had stories to tell about Reading Terminal Market. Since this is something of an obsession for me, we made plans to meet up, so that he could share his stories.

I met him around 11 am this morning, in the small public square that is kitty-corner from the Market.  He is something of a professional Philadelphia booster (he works for the city Visitors’ Center, one thing among the many he does with his time) and so presented me with a pocket-sized map of the city, in case I ever needed a visual aid in order to help lost tourists.

Al grew up in Chinatown, just a few blocks from Reading Terminal, and so the Market played a large role in his childhood.  Walking into the building, we headed to the back, towards the area where the Amish merchants have their stalls (they are there Wednesday through Saturday).  He pointed to the long strip of counter that belongs to Beiler’s Bakery and told me that just about every Saturday while he was growing up, they’d come over here in the late afternoon.  They’d stand around and wait, until the magic moment when the Amish women who sold the breads, cakes and pies would announce that everything on the counter could be had for a single dollar.  His mom would then spring into action (with all the others who had been waiting for the bargain), buying up loaves of blueberry bread.

As he described the scene to me, I could almost see the people jostling each other, trying to pick out the best of the end-of-day baked goods and still get what their families needed for the week.