Jake the Legend
Jennings Street Market, The Bronx 1942
His establishment was adjacent to The Family Shoe Store. As far as I was concerned Jake had no address, no building number, just a street name. This cherry-cheeked gnome’s venue with his wife beside him was an 8’ space on the sidewalk in Jennings Street Market. From early in the morning until darkness his white apron could be seen behind five dark, oaken barrels full of pickles, sauerkraut, or pickled tomatoes.
Flurries of shoppers flooded Jennings Street Market. During the Great Depression, everyone in the neighborhood attempted to fill their iceboxes with nutritious food while salvaging their meager family income.
As far as nutritious food, Jake’s pickles were the exception. At this time salt was considered a necessity to enhance the flavor of food. It wasn’t thought of as an evil contributing to high blood pressure. Salt, with its neighbor, pepper were the condiments that held center stage on the dinner table.
He was very generous to children. Often, he lost count of the number of pickles he stuffed into a jar and asked very little in return.
If a customer wanted pickles she had better be prepared to respond to his nod. One day, my mother looked across the street, unaware that she was next.
“Nu,” he asked. “Did you come to your big decision,”
We were a quiet family. Disagreements were settled by talk. No one ever spoke like this to my mother. With this insult, I was drafted to become the messenger for our Sabbath pickles.
While the entrepreneurs were yelling from their fruit and vegetable stands to draw attention to their merchandise, Jake quietly carried out his business, except when he was slicing the air with a biting comment.
Was his merchandise tasty? The answer is the queue of customers from all parts of the Bronx waiting their turn to fill their jars. Even the shochet (ritual slaughterer), in his bloody apron, trying to promote business by carrying his recently butchered chicken along the street had to step into the gutter to avoid the crowd.
Was he through with his transaction when darkness fell? Yes, he covered the barrels, but a small light could be seen in the narrow yard behind them. Jake was their testing to see whether his fresh pickles needed more salt or vinegar.
The gossips, seeing a large, sparkling diamond on his wife’s hand, set rumors in motion. It was said that Jake had loads of money and diamonds which he kept in his apartment because he did not trust the banks.
Eventually, Jake’s wife was no longer beside him. She passed away. Jake returned to his barrels.
Where did Jake go after his day was done? I had no idea, but my student to whom I had given a recipe for making pickles, showed me a story in the Daily News.
On June 10, 1962 two beasts broke into Jake’s apartment on Jennings Street, stuffed a towel down his throat and rummaged through for money and diamonds. There was neither money nor diamonds and Jake the Legend was found dead.
For his stories of the Bronx read: Seabury Place: A Bronx Memoir by Daniel Wolfe danielwolfebooks@aol.com