Death of a Fulton Fish Market Fixture

Wow. Dan Barry: THE fish men see her still, their Annie, in the hide-and-seek shadows of South Street. She's telling her dirty jokes and doing anything for a buck: hustling newspapers, untaxed cigarettes, favors, those pairs of irregular socks she'd buy cheap on Canal. She's submitting to the elements, calling out "Yoo-hoo" to the snow and the rain and her boys.