Cars lined Elmont Drive. The street that plays as home to several college apartment complexes but you won’t find any college parties happening at 11:55 a.m. on a Sunday morning. The owners of these cars are actually attending a Hispanic flea market across the street at the shopping center, El Gran Mercado. Even though it’s a dreary day with grey skies and the occasional, ominous blue-black grackle flying across the sky, the atmosphere is far from gloomy. People walk to the market in droves. Many are families with small children who are running and smiling with pure joy in the way that only small children can manage. Flamenco music filled the air as the people walked through the flea market, taking in the sights of what the vendors had on sale for the day. There was an array of items varying from brightly colored produce to dress shirts to video games and even underwear.
El Gran Mercado was an accident.
“Do you really want to know how it started?” Mahmood Wadiwalla, owner of the marketplace asked. In Nov. 1999, Wadiwalla and a friend decided to go on a drive. They found themselves on East Riverside and soon got lost. “We pulled into this parking lot to make a U-turn,” Wadiwalla said. It was in that parking lot of a shutdown Aquarius theater that he saw the for sale sign. After returning home and sleeping on it, Wadiwalla made the call and within two weeks he was the owner of the property on the corner of South Pleasant Valley and Elmont Drive.
“I didn’t know what I was going to do.” He struggled with getting city approval for the market but was finally able to bring in 22 businesses. “I wanted to bring more people in,” he said. “No one was going to come here for about 20 businesses.” Thus, he decided to bring in the flea market. In order to sell at the flea market, all vendors need are their tax papers, Belkis, Wadiwalla’s secretary, said. “Even if they just want to sell a pencil, the need their tax papers.”
Suddenly, Wadiwalla interjects, “Do you want to take a tour?”
Leaving the convenience store, Amigos, Wadiwalla and Javier, the manager, lead the way towards the entrance of the market. The two story building has a front of glass that was glistening in the warm afternoon sunlight. A chorus of hellos greet Wadiwalla as he walks through the doors. Smiling employees greet their boss happily and ask him how his day is going.
The first stop was the laundromat. White washers and dryers lined the walls of the vast room. A TV on the wall blared the France v USA soccer game as a mother and her child watched, waiting for their laundry to finish. It was the first thing Wadiwalla had put in, he says before answering his phone. Talking quickly into the device, he motions to follow as he leaves and heads upstairs to the management office. He enters a deep red room with a large mahogany desk. White, high backed armchairs sit facing the desk, awaiting visitors to sit on them.
“Put this someplace safe while I’m in Mexico,” he says to his secretary, Belkis, handing her a black carrying case. He turns back apologetically and gestures for another question. There is only one question left to ask. What about the future?
“The city has run 1,600 apartments out to make room for high end condominiums,” Wadiwalla said. “I foresee them putting a Starbucks or a Schlotzsky’s or a mini Barnes and Noble in here. They’re going to make us gringos.” He looks pensive for a moment. “They’re running out this culture.” Belkis and Javier agree wholeheartedly from the doorway. There is a beat to let the revelation settle onto the room.
“I need your help,” Wadiwalla suddenly said. He tells about how he has tried to bring in the students that live in the apartments just across the street. He used to accept Bevo Bucks to draw the college crowd before he stopped because it wasn’t worth keeping as an option. “Do they think we are a bunch of wetbacks?” Wadiwalla jokes before becoming serious again and asking for helping in bringing in younger faces.
“The store downstairs is called Amigos. Amigo means friend. We are friends here.”
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