The hot-dog vendor who was booted from his coveted spots in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art after defaulting on a $642,000 city contract is back in business at a fraction of the price.
Since disabled veterans are permitted to sell wieners at the Met without a city contract, Pasang Sherpa realized he could save a bundle by hiring the hawking wounded instead of honoring his deal with the city, one of his employees told The Post.
Under a 19th-century law, disabled veterans are granted the right to sell merchandise on the streets in areas others cannot.
Leo Morris Jr., 62, who still has shrapnel in his head from Vietnam, told The Post that he is a “rent-a-vet” whom Sherpa pays $100 a day to “stand near the cart” while other employees do all the work.
“It’s a stipend,” said Morris, who doesn’t actually take orders or prepare the food.
“When Sherpa came here, the veterans were cutting into his profits,” Morris said. “He didn’t realize that he could have gotten the same service for less with the use of a veteran — so he solicited my help.”
Sherpa denied skirting the rule and claims he is no longer selling hot dogs.
“That is not true,” he said.
In recent weeks, the area in front of the Met has been overrun with veterans operating food stands.
They claim their dog tags double as hot-dog licenses, but since technically there is only one legal spot in front of the building for disabled veterans, the police have been issuing summonses with relish.
City officials insist the crackdown has nothing to do with the hundreds of thousands of dollars they’ve lost in revenue as a result of the influx of vets.
“The Met generally gets 25,000 visitors a day — that’s the equivalent of 125 percent the capacity of Madison Square Garden coming in and out of one entrance,” Parks Commissioner Adrian Benepe said.
“It’s a safety and egress issue.”
Dan Rossi, 69, an ex-Marine who was the first vet to move in on the territory, says the city is concerned only about reclaiming its lost revenue.
After Sherpa lost his carts, Rossi offered to give him a job.
“I saw him on the steps practically crying, but the very next day, he showed up with a new cart and a rent-a-vet,” Rossi said. “The city is having a heart attack.”