Then the police arrived and the marketplace evaporated. The bag vendors scooped up their goods and the DVD sellers tilted back their carts and hurriedly wheeled them down Broadway and along Lispenard Street. Patrolman Vinnie Fiore of the First Precinct's Scooter Task Force sat astride his cycle at Lispenard Street and Broadway as a fellow officer ticketed one of the vendors. "I'm out here every day trying to chase them," Fiore said. "Now it will be quiet for half an hour, but then they'll be back." The officer pointed to a man standing nearby. "See that guy drinking his coffee next to the phone booth? We see each other every day. He's just watching me, waiting for me to leave, then he'll alert the vendors."

But Spinelli was realistic about the eventual impact the raid would have on Canal Street's knockoff business. "There's just too much money to be made," he said. The raid and frequent police visits to the area seemed to leave their mark last month as the sidewalks of Canal Street on either side of Broadway were often transformed-free of the ubiquitous vendors and gaggles of tourists hunting for bargains. What makes the vendors a problem, police say, is not just their sale of illicit goods, which robs the city of tax revenues and takes business away from the legitimate stores and manufacturers. They also create safety hazards, forcing pedestrians to walk in the street, and they turn the crowded sidewalks into havens for pickpockets.

"We're attempting to get them to comply with the laws," he said.

But there is little sympathy for the cops' efforts among the hordes of tourists out to score a $40 "Louis Vuitton" or $15 "Burberry" pocketbook.

"Some people complain to me about the sidewalks being crowded, and they want to know why we can't get rid of the vendors," Fiore said. "But I get many more complaints from women who are trying to buy handbags, who say, 'Why do you have to harass them?'" "I like the wheeling and dealing," said Charleen McCarthy, who was with five girlfriends on a weekend trip from Boston. "We've been in back rooms, back alleys and down every block." All six women held plastic bags with new purchases-three or four handbags each, hats, scarves and jewelry-for themselves and for gifts. Kate, 27, a nurse from Portland, OR, had bought four brown and beige "Vuitton" handbags, the most popular item at the sidewalk bazaar. "Of course they're fake, but I don't care," she said. "They're so much cheaper than in the stores."

Ever ready to stash their goods and make a dash to safety, the handbag vendors keep a constant eye out for the cops as they display their wares on their arms, lay them on the sidewalk or simply pull them from large garbage bags.

Other vendors whip off the covers from their shopping carts and hawk pirated copies of current and yet-to-be-released DVD movies for $5 each.

A single honk of a horn or a shout from a lookout signals that the police are approaching, and the vendors quickly pack up and disperse.

Those who get tickets are supposed to appear before the Environmental Control Board, which says it issues fines of $250 to $500. If they are arrested, they may be detained for up to 40 hours, fined and sentenced to community service. "Relax, she's not going anywhere," a policeman said, reassuring a friend of a woman he had just caught selling handbags. The friend, apparently worried that the seller would be taken away, tried in vain to ask questions in broken English "We're just going to check her I.D., write her a ticket and then she can go," the officer said. Almost all of those who sell on the sidewalks around Canal Street and Broadway are immigrants from the port

city of Wenzhou, and few speak more than a smattering of English.

"If they can speak English, they don't take this job," said a girl whose mother sells handbags at Broadway and Canal Street on weekends. "They work at some other job."

The girl, 18 , who identified herself as Helen, is a student at Seward Park High School. She sometimes gives her mother a hand. "I help look out for cops," Helen said. "I don't want the police to catch my mom."

"It's not an easy job," she said. "They stand for the whole day, carrying the bags, which are heavy. They always have to worry about the police. Now, in the winter, it's cold."

"We don't speak English, we don't speak Cantonese, so it's difficult to get a job in a restaurant or factory, even in Chinatown," a 38-year-old DVD vendor said through an interpreter. She declined to give her name, but said she came to New York from Wenzhou one year ago.

"It's very difficult to sell. The police don't let us work," she said. "If I can stay out here for a few hours selling, maybe I can make money for lunch and dinner."

But the police were cracking down in December, coming by more often and making more arrests, she said. "We didn't make money this month."

"Everybody is scared," she added. "We're scared of the police. We're scared of going to jail." She said she was arrested last year, and sentenced to one day cleaning a Lower East Side park and given a $65 fine.

"We just want to make money to survive," said one watch vendor, an immigrant from Senegal, who declined to give his name.

"We don't want to do this, selling on the street, running from the cops," he said, "but it's very hard to find work. We don't want to rob nobody. And we don't want to go on welfare."

Asked about the charge that the illegal vendors siphon money from the economy, he said, "If people buy a watch from me, what do I do with the money? I buy food, I pay rent, I pay my gas bill, my telephone bill. It all goes back to the economy."