The Brooklyn Bridge is no longer for sale, nor for the sale of souvenirs

A tourist from Lyon, France, named Steven Heng, visited the Brooklyn Bridge on Tuesday, not just to admire its famous pointed arches, steel cable latticework and panoramic views. He also came shopping – before it was too late.

Tuesday was the last day for dozens of souvenir vendors that have sprung up illegally along the sidewalk, turning the bridge into a 6,000-foot-long shopping center across the East River. New city rules designed to ease traffic congestion on the bridge starting Wednesday will ban the sale of this and all of the city’s 789 bridges.

Back in France, Mr Heng, 33, who works in a restaurant, had 20 friends expecting trinkets from his trip; what he had read about the seller clears up and rushed to the bridge. “We’ll buy everything,” he said, holding two ornaments featuring the Empire State Building in a wreath and a mini Statue of Liberty he’d looted, all for just ten dollars. “This is so much cheaper than Times Square.”

Nearly 35,000 people a day cross the sidewalk over the 141-year-old bridge that connects Lower Manhattan to Brooklyn Heights on weekends, according to the New York City Department of Transportation. The wooden plank pedestrian path is approximately 5 meters wide over the river and has been free of bicycle traffic since 2021.

But there are regular bottlenecks; near the shoreline and around the stanchions the walkway can be as narrow as five feet. Combine that limited space with tourists hanging out in front of an array of stuffed sloths with I ♥ NY embroidered on their chests, paintings of Marvel superheroes that recreate the 1932 photo “Lunch Atop a Skyscraper” and a bobblehead of the disgraced Governor of New York Andrew M. Cuomo, the walkway often comes to a complete stop.

After the city excluded bicycles from the boulevard and moved them to a protected lane on the roadway below, the newly cleared space allowed vendors to flourish. Sean O’Brien, a guide with Inside Out Tours, remembered the evasive cyclists and applauded the city’s latest move to send the vendors away. Although they don’t meet anyone, he occasionally loses a customer who gets lost along the way while shopping for souvenirs, he said.

Even licensed vendors will be barred from the bridge under the new rule, although many of those selling tchotchkes are not licensed. (Some estimates put the number of street vendors at more than 20,000, although the city has a limit of only about 6,000 permits, most of them for food vendors.) On the last day Christian Acosta sold hats and King Kong figurines, he feared what would happen to his fellow sellers, especially since so few can obtain licenses to sell legally elsewhere. There are others who will suffer, he said in Spanish: “their families.”

The wares offered on the bridge are a reflection of the city itself. A single table on the Manhattan side featured Greek evil eyes, Mexican maracas, Chinese yin-yang medallions and Middle Eastern hands of Fatima. The vendors chatted with each other in Wolof, Spanish, Russian, Arabic, Chinese and more. Many sellers are undocumented and speak just enough English to negotiate.

“It’s a shame,” said Gary Randle, 45, who works in the renewable energy sector and is visiting from Wales, reacting to the news. “These people are trying to make money. I’m all for it.”

But Mohammed Abbas, 30, disagreed. At his home in Kafr El Dawar, Egypt, just outside Alexandria, the bridges are lined with street vendors. “I’m not for it,” he said – a funny position for him, considering he makes a living selling Yankees caps and bottle openers shaped like the skyline on the bridge.

Dr. Abbas was a dentist in Egypt and he said he didn’t mind the closure; this job was always temporary for him until he could attend dental school in the United States, the first step toward obtaining a U.S. dental license. “And then I can start my dreams,” he said.

Further on the bridge sat Luis Mendoza, 41, one of several people operating 3D photo booths, where visitors can make a short video set to Jay-Z’s ‘Empire State of Mind’. A sign on the bridge railing opposite where Mr. Mendoza plied his trade warned vendors in Spanish that anyone there after 11:59 p.m. that evening would be removed. As of Wednesday, Mr. Mendoza would focus on his second (much less fun) job as a contractor, he said.

“I will really miss being here,” Mr. Mendoza said in Spanish. “I come as a tourist.”

Ana Ley reporting contributed.