Game Day in Downtown LincolnA feel for Lincoln’s Historic Haymarket on game day through the senses of one of our own. Story by Alan Bartels |
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I DON'T GET TO THE CAPITAL CITY VERY OFTEN, but I know about Lincoln’s game-day traffic. At 6 a.m., I park way out at 8th and J streets and begin walking north. Other than a man hosing off the sidewalk outside of a bar, another hanging posters across the street and a radio crew setting up for a live remote later in the day, I see little activity in the Haymarket.
West of the stadium and north of the post office, near the southern base of the Bereuter Pedestrian Bridge, a small convoy pulls into an otherwise empty 500-stall parking lot. In what seems to be an orchestrated undertaking, the occupants of those three vehicles climb out and go to work. Not the ordinary 9-to-5 grind. No, they are busy preparing for the second most popular sport on game day – tailgating!
Everybody is doing something, and they are working fast. I think to myself, “What’s the rush? The game isn’t until tonight.” One man fills red totes with ice. Another turns out a dozen rolls of green carpet, and Denise Gzehoviak sets up two tables that later will become a massive 10-foot-long Mexican food buffet.
“We’re here by 7 a.m., rain or shine, no matter what time the game is,” Denise says. “And it only takes us about 45 minutes to set all of this up.”
As Denise begins straightening table cloths, Gail List passes by carrying a roaster full of food and adds, “We have a very well-defined routine.”
Gail’s husband, Dean, is busy unloading a nacho machine, microwave and coffee maker, carefully but quickly removing the bungee cords holding each appliance and situating them in their designated places in the customized tailgating trailer. And there are heaters, signs and blankets, too. To make it feel a little more homelike, they even have a coffee table.
The embroidery on Dean’s shirt reads, “No Option Tailgate Est. 2004.” The name references what Dean calls “the unfortunate Callahan era” and how the coach removed the favorite football scheme of Nebraskans from the cherished Big Red playbook.
“He’s gone now, and as always, we’re here for every home game,” he says. “We have to be. There’s no other alternative. No option.”
As the “No Option” crew gets the nacho machine plugged in, the satellite dish calibrated and the Husker flag flying, things are getting busier at the Historic Haymarket.
Two hundred vendors are setting up booths and tents. Musicians are tuning instruments and stretching extension cords. Rose Helgoth and her gang unload a trailer and pickup filled with world-famous St. Libory watermelons. Who knew there were so many varieties – seedless, crimson, two varieties of yellow and the renowned black diamond? “Some people don’t like ’em,” Rose says. “But the black diamonds sure are popular among older people.”
Rose says she’s been selling produce in the Haymarket for 17 years. This farmers’ market, Nebraska’s largest, begins well before football season in May and runs into October. Many of the vendors agree that although more people gather in the Haymarket, sales slip a little on game day. Football fans take the closer parking spots that shoppers would use, and Rose says, “Who wants to carry a watermelon to the game?”
With the technique of a veteran grocery store produce man, 13-year-old Tim Gunyan sprays down a row of zucchini, squash and cucumbers while his mother, Mary Ann, arranges buckets of sunflowers, lilies and other flowery stock. Mary Ann has been coming to the Haymarket from her home in Schuyler to sell produce for 19 of the 25 years that the farmers’ market has been officially organized.
“I’ve been bringing Tim here since he was a baby,” she says. “The other vendors here have watched him grow up.”
Lying in wait nearby, Barbie Sorensen, of Lincoln, surveys the vivid flowers. The Lincoln Haymarket Development Corporation has strict rules – although vendors can set items aside for customers, no sales can take place before 8 a.m. Sorensen arrives here every Saturday at 7:30 a.m. “Early sales – they just won’t do it,” Sorensen says “I find what I want and then just wait.”
In the shadow of Lazlo’s Brewery and Grill, Mick Mir readies his table, setting out more than 500 necklaces and bracelets, as well as a large selection of earrings made from agate, malachite, jade, turquoise, jasper and lapis lazuli. The Pakistani immigrant of Afghan and American descent makes all of his creations at his Omaha home with the help of his wife and daughter. Customers Jane Scheffert, of Lincoln, and Dot Mahlock, of DeWitt, are browsing his wares when a loud whistle sounds.
It’s 8 a.m., and like the opening bell of the New York Stock Exchange, the level of noise picks up as the pace of business accelerates to an almost fever pitch. It’s first-come, first-served. The limited supply, limited duration (the market functions only from 8 a.m. until noon) and special pricing make it truly a buyer’s market. Mir offers Mahlock a deal on a piece she’s lingered over. Undecided, she promises to come back later.
