I was a student nurse in downtown Baltimore City, a mile or so away from Little Italy. The nurses' residence was at Rutland Street and Broadway. For 3 years I lived there, without a car. No student had a car. We lived in a building that was attached to the hospital, and we went to work without even going outside. We ate at the hospital cafeteria. We worked hard, 6 eight-hour shifts a week, often on night duty, and attended classes five days. We received no pay. We paid the hospital for training us. Each night the House Mother checked our rooms to make certain we were in bed by 10:30 pm. She came up the elevator, and shined her flashlight into each room, looking for the body in the bed.
One night a week, we were allowed to be out until 12 midnight. If we had a date, he drove to Little Italy. Otherwise we walked. Going to Little Italy to eat was such a treat. I remember many a pasta, salad and veal dish, and how good it was. Head and heels over hospital food. Though today it's a tourist attraction, the Little Italy neighborhood was a community in the 1950's, half restaurants and half Italian families. The owners of the restaurants lived in the neighborhood.
When I entered nurses training at Sinai, I ate in the Kosher Kitchen in the hospital because I'd been raised in a Kosher home. The first 6 months in training, it was easy to get to the Kosher Dining Room. It was open short hours, just half an hour at a specified time, for each meal. Then they shut and locked the door. The Kosher Cook was mainly there for hospitalized patients who followed dietary laws. Staff ate in a small section with 2 or 3 tables. Classes were at specific times, ending at meal hour. But once I went on duty in the hospital, giving bedside care, it was impossible to leave the unit to eat when the Kosher Kitchen was open. And being the only nurse in my class who ate Kosher meant someone had to cover for me. I didn't like to ask. Patient care came first, and there was lots of work to do that took no note of when the Kosher Kitchen was open.
That's when I had to skip meals or eat in the hospital's cafeteria. YUK! In addition to foreign food I'd never seen, it just wasn't good. I remember creamed chipped beef that made everyone sick. I had gone to the corner drug store for a grilled cheese sandwich that day, after I got a look at what was in those large trays and someone told me what it was. Creamed chip beef! I ran out of there to escape the milk/meat combination. That's when I discovered Little Italy. All the people, all the houses, were Italian. Salads were green and pasta was white! How I loved it!
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Zippy Baltimore
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