Spices in the Air, Ball Up Top: Soulard Gym and the Stories That Stuck
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It was 2011.
We’d have gym class at the Soulard Gym, tucked away at 12th and Park. Back then, we hit a few other spots too, some of which might not even stand anymore—disassembled, rebuilt, or simply forgotten. That gym had its own life. I remember it vividly: a full regulation basketball court with the kind of worn floors that spoke to how many kids like us had run, hustled, and fought for a place on in the world. It wasn’t just a court though—there was a theatre stage, often unused, and above, those skyline sky view bleachers for when people came to watch the games. Soulard has this way of mixing grit and charm.
I saw my fair share of bathroom boxing matches and rap cyphers. These were impromptu, raw—kids going at it for respect or just something to do. The sound of sneakers screeching throughout the gym, mixed with the distant chatter of the market a few blocks over, was the soundtrack to a lot of memories.
Funny enough, I tried out for the basketball team that year. First and last time, if I’m honest. For some reason, I couldn’t nail a layup, no matter how many times I tried. It wasn’t that I was bad—well, maybe I was—but it didn’t feel like failure. After class, we’d all head down the humid stairway and grab slushies from the first booth on the right as soon as you walked in. Honorable mention to the gym teachers, never making us feel as less, no matter where we’d end up traveling for gym class.
And then there was the smell. Not the gym—though, those unflushable toilets certainly had their own distinct aroma—but the smell of spices that wafted over from Soulard Market. A mix of herbs, smoked meats, fresh produce—it all came together and lingered in the air, reminding you of where you were.
Soulard Market, one of the oldest farmers’ markets in the country, has been standing since the 1700s. It’s a place where vendors still set up shop, and families from all over come to get a taste of the local fare. The market has this energy, an ever-present hum of life that seems like it’s been there forever. You could go there with five dollars and feel like you left with a feast. And Soulard Gym, with all its memories of games, fights, and triumphs, was part of that world—maybe even an extension of it.
I wonder what the official overseeing the build of that gym back in the day might say now. Could they see the potential of all the kids running through those doors? The memories we made there? There’s something about those kinds of places that don’t just exist in the past—they hold a piece of you long after you’ve left.
Maybe that’s what makes Soulard special—the market, the gym, the unflushable toilets, and the slushies after class. They all blended into something bigger. We never felt less.
[Submitted by, Anonymous, 2024]