SoI’m sitting at Lenny’s Deli, in the little strip mall at Reisterstown andMcDonogh roads, where the corned beef is running nicely and an old high schoolteacher, Bob Moskowitz, is saying farewell to Baltimore.
And,never to be minimized, to decentdelicatessen.
He’s moving to Florida. Many who attended Baltimore City College over the better part of two post-war decades, or later took courses at the old Baltimore Junior College, or went to the Talmudical Academy, will remember Moskowitz as a terrific English teacher.
Heunderstood the problems of reluctant students as well as the triumphs of thebrightest kids, and brought sensitivity and insight as he dealt with each.
Buthe’s 87 now, and his wife, Vicki, says she’s had enough of Baltimore’s rawwinters. As they prepared to head South the other day, here was Moskowitzinhaling his surroundings at Lenny’s and getting a kind of Last Supper of thekind of corned beef he fears he will no longer find.
“Ihave cousins who live where you’re going,” I tell him. “They say it’s tough tofind good deli in their part of Florida.”
“Iknow, I know, don’t remind me,” he says mournfully. At this moment, I’m notsure if Moskowitz’s eyes are twinkling because his natural instinct winks atall human folly — or if they’re weeping at the thought of misspent meals tocome.
“Wewere down there a few months back,” he says, “when we were looking for a placeto live. And we went to a deli there, and I ordered a corned beef sandwich.”
Here, his voice takes on a different tone. It says: Can you believe we live in a world of such culinary cretins? Can you believe such crimes against nature can so routinely be committed in any society that dares call itself civilized?
“Andthe guy behind the counter,” says Moskowitz, “starts to put my corned beef ontowhite bread with mayonnaise. Do you believe this? And I said to him, veryslowly, ‘Don’t you understand? Every time you do this … somewhere in America …a Jew dies!’”
Hebursts into laughter as he says this, and so do I. It’s one of the joys of mylife to reside in a city where I grew up and stay in touch with a few formerteachers such as Moskowitz, and get to know them as human beings and not merelyas authority figures from my youth.
Alongthe way, former schoolmates and I have touched base with such old City Collegeteachers as Jerry Levin, Harold Levin, Joe Brune, Bob Patzwall, George Young andJerry Phipps.
Back then, I never even knew teachers had first names.
Anyway,Moskowitz now leaves this land of civilized corned beef on rye with mustard.He’s originally from Brooklyn, N.Y. After military service, on his way home, hestopped here to see a friend, got set up on a blind date and wound up stayingfor the next 60 years.
He leaves town as another Baltimore fixture — the Preakness Stakes — threatens to do the same. To Moskowitz, a passionate horse player, this matters. For years, you could find him at Pimlico, studying a Racing Form as if it were his haftorah.
Once,he recalled, he and another English teacher, the late Jerry Levin, went toPimlico one afternoon, Charles Town that evening and a track in Philadelphiathe next afternoon.
Andlost every race.
“Twenty-sevenraces,” Moskowitz laughed, “and not a win until the eighth race of the day inPhilly. I think I won $4. And I’m on my way to cash it in, and the P.A. systemannounces my horse has been pulled for some violation.
“Ilaid down on a bench — literally laid down — and I started screaming. Andthere’s Jerry, standing over me with a RacingForm in his hand, quietly asking, ‘Who do you like in the next race?’”
Hopesprings eternal. I hope the next generation of kids has a few teachers like BobMoskowitz — and gets to know them as friends as well.
A former Baltimore Sun columnist and WJZ-TV commentator, Michael Olesker is the author of six books. His most recent, “Front Stoops in the Fifties: Baltimore Legends Come of Age,” was reissued in paperback by the Johns Hopkins University Press.
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