The weeks-old meat and cheese hanging from the greased pole in the Italian Market has been cut down

Dan Cosgrove, a driver with Sunbelt Rentals, navigated his crane through the Italian Market traffic Thursday morning, grinding to a halt at the famous greased pole.

Squinting into the sun, and rechecking his notes, he stared curiously at the reason he’d been called to South Philly: the melting cheese and rotting meat at the top of the pole that had dangled high above the market for weeks.

“Interesting,” he said.

It had been nearly a month since the market’s storied festival, where teams of climbers scale the lard-covered pole, grab the meats and cheeses tied to the top, and hurl them to cheering crowds. Usually, at the end of the festival, market staff rely on a rented crane to remove a few last provolones and soppressata.

This year, organizers somehow overlooked that crucial final step.

The Italian Market Visitor Center, which produces the festival, quickly realized and took responsibility for the mistake. But it had found the rigmarole of getting another crane back to the street challenging amid the daily needs of the historic market, said festival director Michele Gambino. So for 26 days, the aging prizes twirled in the sticky heat, about 30 feet above the sidewalk.

“Finally,” sighed Jibri Lee, the piazza porter, who has been worried for weeks that unsuspecting customers would be hit with melting cheese or dripping meat. “Or heaven forbid, both,” he said.

On Thursday, the beeping of the crane interrupted a quiet market morning. With the visitors’ center not yet open, the job of retrieving the forgotten goodies fell to Tommy Amorim, a cheese specialist at Di Bruno Bros., which donates the meat and cheese for the greased pole contest each year.

“The ball has been passed long enough, and here I am holding it,” he said, climbing aboard the lift. Even for a cheesemonger, this was a first.

He pulled out a pocket knife, then, assessing the job, asked Lee for a pair of sewing shears. Then he ascended in the lift.

After four weeks of living in the shadow of these increasingly disgusting Italian delectables, snipping down the stranded prizes was done in minutes. Still, like with any passing oddity in our city, the operation drew a small crowd — curious passersby who made sure to preserve the moment on their phone cameras.

They included Anthony Maldarelli, 31, who had missed the competition last month, but now could say he glimpsed the prizes, and Pat Duffy, a retired chef who visits the market each morning and had been concerned only for the welfare of the neighborhood birds who might peck at the meats and grow ill.

There was also Dominic and Michelle Ciconte, visiting from North Carolina. Dominic, 65, originally from South Jersey, won the greased pole climbing competition with friends in 1978. He seemed ready to get back up, recalling how a friend had looped his belt around the top of the pole to claim the prizes.

“We split the cash prizes and threw down all the meat and cheese to the other people,” he said.

Amorim stepped off the lift, having rescued the prizes at last. He held them triumphantly above the crowd. They had shriveled in size, having sweated in the weeks-long heat.

“They’re going right in the garbage,” he said.