So now the pro-Martick's duo comes out in full-force defense of his 'your time has come and gone" restaurant ('More Martick's," The Mail, April 4).
My husband and I went to Martick's for lunch after a Baltimore Symphony Orchestra rehearsal; we remembered the wonderful meal we'd had a few years before.
In the now-creepy dim light, I found my salmon to be completely raw in the middle, and I stopped hubby in midair before he dipped moldy bread into his bouillabaisse.
The waitress told us, 'Oh, we were trying to use up the bread from yesterday."
Martick's wasn't quite as charming as we remembered. We won't return.
The article 'Always Low Blows," written by Russ Smith (Right Field, April 4), might be the first thing I've read in City Paper that has truly infuriated me.
As an ex-Wal-Mart consumer, I can say with confidence that Baltimore would in no way benefit by adding any more Wal-Marts to this market. Smith, you're right: Wal-Mart is constantly under attack, and for good reason. The low prices that consumers enjoy so much come at a very high price.
Wal-Mart has been found guilty of much more than low wages for its employees. Our tax money goes to the federal assistance many employees need due to those low wages. Wal-Mart discourages its employees from joining unions, has violated the Fair Labor Standards Act, and has been fined for damaging the environment. And this is just the tip of the iceberg.
My in-laws live in Garrett County, where the Wal-Mart Supercenter has put every competing business within a 30-mile radius out of business. If residents there are looking for retail work, Wal-Mart is one of the few choices they have. This is why saying 'Those people should just get another job" is incredibly ignorant.
I hope that people will start putting their money where their mouths are and stop shopping at Wal-Mart. It is time to let Wal-Mart know that its business practices are unacceptable.
M. Kendall Ludwig
Santa Dads, Baby!
I had the privilege (or fun) of the acquaintance of Connor Kizer of the Santa Dads ('The Sound and The Furry, Music, April 4). At the time, a couple of years ago, we rode the MTA to Lutherville. We discovered common interests (and I'm an 'old" lady). They said I was a 'nerd" like them. Connor mentioned a band, and he, his friend Mason, and I discussed legends, fairy tales, the occult, fantasy, etc.
My own office is very practical and wouldn't know a legend if it fell over one. It was very refreshing to talk to Connor and Mason and hear about their friends. They are, of course, young enough to be my grandchildren.
I am glad they have something good. I have missed them and did not know where they went. Thanks for a good article. Now I can find their venue.
Storming Vic Basile
Lennie Green is an ass ('Hungry for Money," Mobtown Beat, March 28). It bothers me that two people who should really be on the same side of this very serious issue are trading blows back and forth in the local press. However, the difference between Lennie Green and Vic Basile is that Basile is fighting for a cause he cares about, where Green sounds like he's just trying to cover his ass.
I've been a part of Moveable Feast's Ride for the Feast fundraiser/bike ride for the past three years. I've only spoken to Mr. Basile once or twice in that time, but I have found him to be extremely dedicated and passionate about the work he does with Moveable Feast.
Mr. Green, I grant you that the federal government has put you in a very unenviable position. Deal with it. Publicly bashing someone who is trying to make a difference in our community doesn't help anyone.
Fells Point was our little corner out of time ('Point Break," Cover Story, March 21). I was a 'Pointer" in the '70s to early '80s. It was our Greenwich Village. Folkies, beats, hobos, oddballs, sweethearts, from pub to pub, a great spirit flowed. Jon Johnson, the tambourine man, Turkey Joe, Edie Massey, the Market, the no-name 'Bar" where Peabody students could play chess and argue about who played the best cello passage, to Anne McG's, to Zeppy's, to the Horse, to the Cat's Eye . . . our secret spot that nobody knew about.
I moved to San Francisco in '82, and year by year, as I came back to visit, it got colder and cleaner and more generic. It's become a clean Disney version of Bohemian cool over the years. I don't go there anymore. Like Federal Hill and Canton, Fells Point smells of Generic Nonculture Big Bucks, drunks in cargo shorts and flip phones and backward baseball caps . . . power-trading over ultralight beers and white wine coolers.
I don't go there anymore. To paraphrase an oft-quoted politician: I knew Fells Point, and this is not Fells Point.
All things must pass. All things must pass away.
812 Park Ave.
Baltimore, MD 21201