Hello. Did you know there has been a long-simmering, occasionally violent turf war going on between rival ice cream truck drivers in Manhattan? I did not. I had just been quietly bumbling along, mostly minding my own business, totally unaware that New York’s ice cream truck drivers were out there living out the plot of an HBO prestige drama. And I would have continued on like that forever, probably, if the New York Times hadn’t stepped in and published a story titled “A Renegade Muscles In On Mister Softee’s Turf.” But they did, and I read it, and now it is all I can think about.
The gist of the story follows: A rival ice cream truck company called New York Ice Cream, which is staffed by former employees of Mr. Softee, has run Mr. Softee out of Manhattan, and the fight over the territory is getting ugly. But before we get too far ahead of ourselves, though, let’s set the scene.
Bad blood has run through the New York ice cream trade for decades. In 1969, a Mister Softee driver was kidnapped by rivals who blew up his truck. In 2004, a cone-selling couple in their 60s were ambushed by competitors who beat them into critical condition with a wrench. In a 2010 brawl caught on video, two drivers near Columbus Circle exchanged punches before one man pushed the other’s face into a planter.
So, two things:
- You really must read this story. I’m giving you the basics here, but the whole thing is quite remarkable. Read it.
- This is somehow not the first story we’ve seen about turf wars among ice cream truck drivers turning violent. There was also one a few years ago that involved a company called “Mr. Ding-a-Ling” and a rival shouting “I own this town!” into the telephone. The world is filled with magic.
But the best part of the story, by a lot, is the quotes from the people involved. A sampling:
“From 34th to 60th Street, river to river, that’s ours,” he said on a recent afternoon, moments after handing a chocolate cone to a delighted-looking little boy. The vendor would not allow his name to be published for fear of losing his job.
“You will never see a Mister Softee truck in Midtown,” he continued. “If you do, there will be problems, and you won’t see him there very long.”
Okay, here’s what I need you to do: Go back and read those quotes again, but this time do it in James Gandolfini’s voice. Give it the full Tony Soprano. I was very much not joking about this being the plot of an HBO drama.
Mr. Conway said Mister Softee had not sought legal remedy for the bullying. “It’s just the way it is,” he said. “Life on the street.”
The important thing to remember here is that he’s talking about ice cream. I really don’t want you to forget about that. Because you might have read the quote “It’s just the way it is. Life on the street,” and started thinking again about the thing in that first blockquote about the truck blowing up and gotten lost for a second. But you need to stay focused. This is a bloodfeud over ice cream. That’s the best part.
Actually, no. This is the best part.
“Let me tell you about this business,” Adam Vega, a thickly muscled, heavily tattooed Mister Softee man who works the upper reaches of the Upper East Side and East Harlem, said on Wednesday. “Every truck has a bat inside.”
Have a great summer, everybody!
