July 21, 2008 (Monday)
I’m deciding day by day whether to continue writing about the buildings I saw in the photograph taken from the top of the JPMorgan Chase Tower in downtown Houston. Looking at it this morning I’m thinking about some structures that were off camera when the picture was taken.
As a teen ager, I enjoyed going with my stepfather, Joe Heim, on his rounds as he made purchases for the restaurants he owned. One place we occasionally visited was a fish market on Congress Avenue directly across from what is now Minute Maid Park. Everyone knew my stepfather. It was always, “Hello, Joe,” with a big smile and a hearty greeting wherever he went. He usually took the fish with him, so naturally it would be the last stop before heading to the cold storage areas of the restaurants. Looking at the photo of that area today, across the street from the baseball stadium, it appears to be a vacant lot.
Before stopping at the fish market, we would go to the old Farmer’s Market, located at the western end of Texas Avenue at Buffalo Bayou. Every time we went it was the same conversation with each of the sellers. First there was the warm greeting, then, as Joe examined the produce, he would ask, “How much?” Always the answer was, “For you, Joe, it’s..” and then a price was given. Invariably Joe’s response would be, “Too much!” as he walked away. They would always call him back and offer a lower price. Sometimes it took three exits to get the price he expected, but he never paid more than he intended to pay. As a boy, Joe had been one of the sellers, so his friends there knew they were not going to be able to charge a high price, although they always gave it a shot.
Sometimes we would go by the meat lockers (storage coolers) before stopping at the markets. Joe’s family owned several at a corner in that same general area, and the compressors that supplied refrigeration needed attention. We would go back behind the buildings that contained racks of fresh meat, mainly sides of beef, and he would perform maintenance or repairs on the huge compressors. Joe always knew what to do, and his tenants were grateful for his immediate attention.
It was exciting for me, a young boy, to go to these places with my stepfather. He was a kind and loving man. So was my father, as were my grandfathers. I was very fortunate to have male role models who had gentle natures. A man can be strong without being mean and abusive. They taught me that by their example.