good idea of what comes out of the sea every day to supply the needs of
San Francisco and the surrounding country. These tugs bring in the
catches of dozens of smaller boats manned by fishermen who are toiling
out beyond the heads, and up the two great rivers. From far out around
the Farallones, from up around the Potato Patch with its mournful fog
bell constantly tolling, from down the coast as far as Monterey Bay
where fish are in such abundance that it is said they have to give a
signal when they want to turn around, from up the rivers, come fish to
the man who has grown from the owner of a small sail boat to be the
power who controls prices of all the fish that go to the markets of the
city.

By the time we finished with Paladini's fish we felt ready for breakfast
and took a car down to Davis and Pacific street where we found Bazzuro's
serving breakfast to dozens of market gardeners who had finished their
unloading, and there, while partaking of the fresh fish we had brought
from Fishermen's Wharf, we saw another phase of San Francisco's early
morning life. Here were gardeners who came in the darkness of early
morning to supply hucksters, small traders and a few thrifty people who
knew of the cheapness, and in Columbo market they drove their great
wagons and discharged their day's gathering of vegetables of all kinds.

But a few steps away is the great fruit market of the early morning and
here tons of the finest fruits are distributed to the hundreds of wagons
that crowd the street to such an extent that it takes all the ingenuity
of experienced policemen to keep clearway for traffic. Threading their
way in and out between the wheels and the heels of horses, were men and
women, all looking for bargains in food. Amid a din almost deafening
business was transacted with such celerity that in three hours the
streets were cleared, fruits and vegetables sold and on their way to