It is about 13 miles, as the seagull flies, from the slushy center of the Fulton Fish Market on South Street to the dry floor of its future home, the former produce market in Hunt's Point, the Bronx.

		But the distance might as well be measured in light years. Since the market first opened in 1835, the layout and buildings are virtually unchanged, the movement of the workers consistent, the smell familiar. Here, the steel hook, ice bucket and hand-truck remain, tools of the trade, untouched by the advance of time and technology. When the market moves-late this month, according to a spokesman for the city's Economic Development Corporation-it will be to a well-lit and climate-controlled indoor facility in an industrial park. That's the biggest change this market has seen since the "high-low" or forklift came on the scene, taking the heavy lifting off the backs of fish-hauling journeymen. No one knows for sure what will become of the area that is left behind. What is certain is that there will be few vestiges of the market. Only one structure, the city-
owned Tin Building, will remain as reminder of the place where 150 million pounds of fish from around the world changed hands every year. "Everyone feels a lot of nostalgia about the market, the one remnant of the historic district," said Paul Goldstein, district manager of Community Board 1. "It will be missed by many people, but like so many other changes, it opens the door to real opportunity." There are about 700 men who work in the market, some of them second-, third-, even fourth-generation fish mongers. Some say sadly that it will be hard to break their sentimental ties to the place. Most of those interviewed last month had mixed feelings. "It depends on the day," explained Frank Minio, second-generation owner of Smitty's Fillet House. On a cold morning last month, Minio was less than wistful as he worked the phone in his office built over a fish freezer. There was an unopened bottle of red wine pushed deep into the mess of his desk. Much closer at hand, a tapped bottle of cough syrup. "We can romantically talk about the old fish market and all the character of this place and all that, but it just doesn't work anymore," he said. "It's time to move on." He checked off the problems at the current site: -Navigating a tractor-trailer through Lower Manhattan and into the market for deliveries. -Keeping the fish on ice and fighting the perception that the product is less than fresh. -Enduring the long seasons of cold weather that can curl even a young worker's hands into arthritic claws. -Finally, remaining in a neighborhood that no longer welcomes them. There are "a thousand applications" on his desk from Bronx residents looking for work, Minio said, and he will be glad to give jobs to those that he can. He fondly recalled the warm greeting the market received from the Hunts Point neighborhood when it was temporarily located there following the Sept. 11 attacks. The postman introduced himself, neighbors dropped by and a parade of children, some dressed in fish costumes, welcomed them. "Over the years down here there has been a lot of bad press, a lot of allegations," said Minio. "This was the first time someone was saying, 'We're glad you are here.'" Frank Fogliano of Fair Fish remembers his stay in the Bronx differently. "It was a disaster," he said. The building wasn't ready, the market was in the parking lot, his customers stayed away in droves. "We were just standing out there," he said. "I'm here almost 50 years," Fogliano added. "It's not about a commute for me. This is where I belong." A second-generation owner who has been in the market for 47 years, Fogliano pointed to his view of the Brooklyn Bridge, recalled the sunrises he's seen and said he even takes pride in the waist-high water mark that hard rains and floods have stained on the wall of his booth near Peck Slip. "The water was up to here, and the guys kept working," he said. "Nowhere in the world do they work like they do here in the fish market. Nowhere." One of those workers is Edgar "Ziggy" Galarza, a 23-year veteran of Fair Fish who lives in the Bronx but would prefer that his job remain in Lower Manhattan. "You know us guys, were not good with change," he said. More than that, he continued, it "didn't seem right" to pull the market out of its original neighborhood. "This is like New York giving the Statue of Liberty to New Jersey," Galarza said. In 1995, Mayor Rudolph Giuliani took aim at the corruption he said was rampant in the market by introducing a system that required dealers to obtain permits. The process allowed the city to run background and fingerprint checks on merchants, employees and unions at the market. Anyone with mob ties was denied a license and kicked out. It was the beginning of the end for the market. The next year, plans were announced to move it to Hunt's Point. "That mob stuff is all bullshit. You're not going to write about that, are you?" asked Bobby Di Gregrio, casually wiping clean the machete he uses to cut tuna. In the hierarchy of the market, cutting tuna is one of the most prestigious jobs to be had. The subject quickly changed-to how Di Gregrio got his start at the market. "I came out here in 1972," he said. "I remember walking around just amazed, wondering, what the hell is this? What the hell is going on here? It was all so mysterious, somehow. I still walk around and think that sometimes." Down the way, at Blue Ribbon Fish, owner Bobby Weiss said he has had enough of the market's ancient, "mysterious" ways. "This place couldn't be much older, much more antiquated," he said. The 37-year-old, fourth-generation owner was helping one of his workers load a stack of wooden crates onto a rusted hand truck. "It's going to be the state of the art, premiere fish market in the world," he said. "If you are in the fresh fish business, you are going to go to the Fulton Fish Market, whether it's in the Bronx, Jersey or Connecticut." But, for better or worse, Weiss conceded, it will never be the same. "The guys act like wild animals around here. In the summer, sometimes a good-looking woman will walk by and the whole market stops. You got 700 guys just standing around, whistling, and honking their horns. Yeah, the new location will definitely be better for business." There are few women to be found in the market. One of them is a "cigarette girl" named Annie Warren. She comes in every morning, toting newspapers and smokes to sell at a markup to "her guys." She is 75. "I was young and cute when I started," she said. Warren said she plans to still do business at the market when it moves, but will cut back her visits to once or twice a week. "Everybody treats me like a million dollars," she said. "I love them and they love me." And there is Linda Policastri, who owns a coffee truck that she has parked on Fulton Street every morning for 15 years. She will follow her customers to Hunt's Point. But she won't like it. "I hate the Bronx. Hate it. HATE IT! I like it right here, on my little corner," she said. "They're going to put everything inside this tiny building. Okay, it's not tiny, it's a friggin' gigantic building. But I'll be outside of it, away from all this." Jack Putnam, bearded and brusque as a sea captain, gives regular tours of the market for the South Street Seaport Museum. "The place runs on nicotine, caffeine and testosterone," he said. He speaks with reverence about the array of fish species and the quality of the characters to be found there. Holding up a fresh-cut cod fillet, he announced to his group, "If you can cut fish this well, this should be your life's work." Near the end of the hour-long tour, Putnam lamented the neighborhood's loss of the market. "The only real loser in this deal is Lower Manhattan," he said. "In a lot of ways, the market has been more consistent over the years than Wall Street."