As I strolled down Telegraph Avenue last Sunday on my way to Moffitt Library with my backpack weighing down on me, I was almost jealous of the sidewalk vendors I passed by. They chatted idly with one another in the sun, as my shoulders sagged under the 20-pound economics textbook in my bag.

After I talked to long-time vendor Diana Yoshida though, I realized I was not the only one with this misconception.

“It looks like we’re just sitting around and chatting here to most people, but they don’t understand that we have to make this stuff,” Yoshida said.

This was not just the public impression, said Yoshida, but one most people had when they first decided to become vendors.

“They come and they can’t make it. Then they leave and more people show up,” she said.

Vendors were first attracted to the streets in the 1960s and 1970s because of its revolutionary appeal. Sidewalk salesmen had no bosses, no hours and best of all, no rules.

“When this thing started in the hippie movement, people liked the whole come and go as you please part of it,” Yoshida said. “They didn’t want the man hanging over them.”

Now, almost four decades later, there are still many vendors that like the independence the job offers them.

“This way you don’t have to be responsible over a lot of people,” said a hemp vendor on Telegraph and Durant who goes by the name Twig Shellman. “This here is freedom.”

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