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Morris Martick on Park Ave. downtown in Sept. 2010, photographed by Baltimore blogger David R. Crews. The eccentric's memorial at the Charles Theatre Sunday afternoon drew a crowd of more than 300 participants.

MEMORIAL SERVICE DRAWS 300
FOR ECCENTRIC RESTAURATEUR
 
By Anthony C. Hayes
 
As tens of thousands of Ravens football fans cheered the city’s team at chilly M&T Bank Stadium Sunday afternoon, a smaller but no less enthusiastic crowd of about 300 friends, former employees and family members huddled in the warmth of the Charles Theatre to remember a local legend known for his bouillabaisse, country pâté and profiteroles (cream puffs).

Some traveled from as far away as Texas and California to remember the eccentric Morris Martick, the Mad Maven of Mulberry St. who died of lung cancer in mid- December at age 88 and who, in four decades of running the unique restaurant at 214 W. Mulberry St. which bore his family name, moved from keeper of the ladle to beloved Baltimore legend.

Angela Devoti worked for Martick as a waitress and bartender in the restaurant’s later years. (It closed in 2008.) She recalled both a warm friendship with the octogenarian as well as a tempestuous tenure in his employ.

“Morris would argue about anything,” she said. “You had to realize that was part of his nature and learn to find a way to hold your ground while arguing back.”

Devoti said she would often transport Martick to other venues around town, bars or restaurants where her artist friends worked. When asked if Martick had a particular favorite, Devoti replied, “He just liked going out and seeing other places and meeting new people.”

It was clear from her words of affection that Martick had his own particular charm. When asked what made him attractive, Devoti replied, “He was ageless and hilarious!”

CONFRONTATIONAL YET COMFORTING

Alex Martick recalled his brother as being confrontational yet comforting. He said Morris once placated a regular customer who had initially refused her meal. A few minutes of personal attention was all the woman really wanted.

“The thing that makes a place unique is the person, or rather the people who own it,” he said. But brother Alex was quick to add: “If Morris was alive today, he wouldn’t be here [at this memorial]. He’d be home watching the Ravens game.”

Jimmy Rouse, son of the famous developer — who worked for more than eight years at Martick’s Resturant Français before opening his own place, Louie’s Bookstore Café, five blocks away on Charles Street — remembered how it was that he came to work for the enigmatic Martick.

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Charles Theatre marquee heralds Martick memorial service which took place Sunday afternoon during the Ravens game. (VoB Photo/Anthony C. Hayes)

Rouse told how an agitated fellow came into a bar, grousing about Martick and how he had just quit his job after “throwing a bottle of wine at the owner.” Rouse rightly surmised, “That means there’s a job opening” at Martick’s; and he was working for Morris that very same night.

There were other tales too, like the one of an employee named Churchill Davenport who Martick fired at least once a week. With each dismissal, Davenport would shrug off the sacking, noting, “You can’t fire me, I need this job,” after which he would immediately be rehired.

Poet and author Barbara DeCesare, another eulogist who once labored under Morris’s sometimes besotted, watchful eye, offered Martick’s answer to the question, “What makes the Mongolian Beef (on the menu) Mongolian?”

“I do,” replied Martick, thus ending the culinary inquisition.

An early malfunction with a digital slide show presentation of Martick’s life only added to the mirthful nature of the memorial. The third slide in the series froze with a picture of Martick — sticking his tongue out at his adoring audience.

Larry Martick, the sole surviving nephew of the cantankerous cook, summed up his uncle’s well honed customer service philosophy:

‘NEVER ASK A CUSTOMER’

“Morris said, ‘Never ask a customer if everything is all right. That’s an open-ended question and can elicit any number of complaints. Just ask, ‘Can I get you anything?’”

It was never easy getting anything from Morris Martick, he and others noted. But when one did, the reward was well worth the wait.

Former Baltimore Sun reporter and writer Rafael Alvarez (of “The Wire” fame) summed up the feeling of many at this celebration of Morris Martick’s life:

“When someone like Morris dies, it’s not just the end of a life but the end of an era. Another part of what makes Baltimore unique has been lost.”

A reception after the memorial featuring Martick’s favorite foods followed at the Metro Gallery, across the street from the Charles in the Station North Arts and Entertainment District.
 
mypoetrypage@yahoo.com (Tony Hayes’ email)
 
Check out Voice of Baltimore‘s Carroll County correspondent Kevin Dayhoff’s compendium on Morris Martick  (click here) ^[3]

See also David R. Crews’ blog entry about a September 2010 encounter between Rafael Alvarez and Martick near his former restaurant  (click here). ^[4] Photos and video included on the blog.
 

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Martick's Restaurant Français at 214 W. Mulberry St., corner of Tyson St., has been boarded up since it closed in 2008. Its owner was eulogized Sunday at the Charles Theatre. (VoB Photo/Anthony C. Hayes)