One day, on her way to her job as chef at the Taj Mahal
Casino, Jean Webster noticed a man going through a trash can. She asked him
what he was looking for.
“I’m hungry,” he said.
“But you are goin’ to get sick.”
“I don’t care, I’m hungry.”
Jean had five dollars in her pocket and took him to the Pizza King. She
told him to come by her house when she got home that night at 11:30 if he was
still hungry. He was sitting on the front step when she got home. His name was
John, an Italian man. He came back the next day with a friend. That was almost
thirteen years ago. Now Jean and her fellow chefs feed hundreds of people a
day. Jean is 63 years old, is five feet tall and has had several heart attacks.
“When I first started, I prayed and asked the Lord, ‘There are so
many hungry, what can I do?’ And the Lord said, ‘Feed them, and
I will provide. And feed their spirits too.’ So I fed them. For the first
seven years the money came out of my own pocket. I would go to the market every
Saturday. My paycheck was $430 at the time. That was before anyone start helpin’
me. I had a choice between goin’ to the doctor and buyin’ my medicine,
or feedin’ the people. I chose to feed the people. When the rent was due,
they would eat beans and spaggetti. Things that would fill them up. God say
He will provide and He did just that. He kept his word. We never ran out of
money or food. Sometime we got pretty low though. . . .Yesterday all I had was
two trays of chicken and two trays of fish. That won’t go no where! A
case of spinach is not puttin’ a dent in nothin’! I had to get into
the freezer for hamburger. My hand was frozen when I finished. Every day is
a struggle. Sometime I get enough food from the Taj Mahal, sometime I don’t.
They do what they can.
“I don’t call my kitchen a soup kitchen. It is a House of Happiness.
They are not homeless people or street people, they are my guests. They are
human beings. My loved ones. That is how I treat ‘em. If you are hungry,
come on in and sit down at my table. The table is set at all times. I don’t
give them paper plates or plastic forks. They eat on a plate with silver and
glasses, bowls, cups. I don’t treat anyone any different . . . . well
. . . . I guess I have two that are my pets. I have Pop. A little white man.
He drink gin. And every time he drink the gin, he beats up on his own self.
The other one is Eugene. He have a nerve condition.
“My dream and my vision is to get as many as I can off the street. You
could be up today; tomorrow you could be standin’ in my line. Most of
these people once were somethin’. They had somethin’. They wasn’t
down. Somewhere along the road, they ran into a problem. But they good people.
When they stand in the line, or in the house, you don’t hear the hollerin’
or the cursin’ or the disrespect. Stop judgin’ them on the basis
of the drug addicts and prostitutes on Pacific Ave. These are not the ones at
my table. Some of them may smell. That’s alright. You get over it. People
push them aside. Call them names. Tramps and whores. These people are not that.
A lot of them on the street don’t want to be out there. They hurt. A lot
of them been let down, someone disappoint or hurt them, so they just don’t
care. You got to take the time to get their confidence and their trust. You
got to listen to their problems. You got to put your arms around ‘em.
Sometimes they cryin’, you be cryin’. They ask me, ‘Sister
Jean can you pray for me?’ And I pray for ‘em. Or, ‘Sister
Jean, I don’t feel good.’ So I pray for a healin’. And give
them medicine or whatever I have. They get vitamins in the mornin’ along
with their breakfast. I give them clean clothes. Sometimes I take their dirty
clothes and wash them. Make sure they have shoes. I love ‘em. And I worry
about ‘em. If one of them is sick, another will come and get me, or tell
me at a meal. I go see about them in an abandoned buildin’, or under the
boardwalk. In the winter I take them some hot tea or hot soup or somethin’.
“Lunch runs into dinner by the time I get done. Sometime someone help
me serve, and sometime I am alone. One girl was comin’ and all the sudden
I don’t see her no more. So I do it myself. Wash the pots. Once the church
kitchen gets finished (the $150,000 kitchen has since been finished)
it will be a lot easier on me. A lot of people be tryin’ to help me. Right
now I can only feed ten at a time. I think that’s why my angina been actin’
up. But when the new kitchen is done, I will feed a hundred and fifty at one
time. I had seven heart attacks and my doctor tell me I can’t work anymore.
I get that little (disability) check once a month. The angina medicine costs
so much. I asked God to give me strength. Sixty years old. I am not one to give
up. If I get a pain, I just start shoutin’, and praise the Lord. My pain
stops. And I forget all about it. He done brought me through.
“Some figured they would turn to drugs to solve their problem. They didn’t
know about the Lord. They findin’ out that drugs are dumb. They’ll
reform. They not on drugs no more. They drink now. The Red Rooster. I say to
them, ‘Leave that Red Rooster alone.’ And they drink cheap beer.
I’m tellin’ you. So sometime I fuss with them. Let them know that
there is a better way. If they turn to God and repent, He will open the doors
for them. A lot of the ones that used to come went to the detox and the alcoholic
place and got themselves together. Got themselves jobs. A lot of them are workin’
in the casino now. Back with their family. Those that are not back with their
family have got a room or somethin’. Where they don’t have to sleep
under the boardwalk or in the abandoned houses and all. When I see them doin’
good – not on drugs anymore, not drinkin’ anymore – when I
see them back with their family, where they join the church, they workin’,
they doin’ good -- that encourage me, motivate me to keep goin’.
“A lot of these people are trained – construction workers, electricians,
plumbers – but if they have a record, they can’t get a job in the
casino. They done their time. They are not on probation or nothin’. I
think it is unfair. And the casinos won’t hire them if they don’t
have a address. So lots of them have used my address to get hired at the Taj
Mahal. Someone in the Taj personnel office said to me, ‘Jean, I know all
those people don’t live at your address.’ I say, ‘You asked
them if they had an address. Yes they have one. They have mine. Don’t
worry about it.’ Some been at the Taj over a year. And that makes me feel
good. I saw a man yesterday who used to be on drugs. When I saw him, I had tears
in my eyes. He say, ‘Sister Jean, I come to let you see me. I am workin’
and I’m doin’ good. I got my wife back. And my kid. And my home.
I am just doin’ good.’ When you see that, it motivates you to keep
goin’. . . .
“Thanksgiving....oh boy! Last Thanksgiving I fed six hundred! They had
turkey. They had the dressing. They had mashed potatoes. They had fresh string-beans.
They had candied sweet-potato. They had baked macaroni and cheese. Corn pudding.
They had ham, roast beef, fried chicken. Hot biscuits. The Taj Mahal brought
me apple pie, cherry pie. Blueberry pie. Lemon meringue pie. I made sweet potato
pie. They had strawberry shortcake. Vanilla cake. Chocolate cake and jello!
That is what they had for Thanksgiving!
“At Christmas, I had a Christmas tree for them. We had over five hundred
for Christmas dinner. Same kind of dinner as Thanksgiving. I had Christmas presents
for all of them. Took me three paychecks, but they had it . . . . The men got
socks and gloves and a pullover cap. The women got stockings and socks and gloves,
and scarf and cap. The boys got little trucks. The little girls got dolls. I
got somethin’ for the babies. I just keep my fingers crossed and depend
on the Lord to help me get them somethin’ for this Christmas. At Easter
they get the little homemade baskets. When they go out they be proud of their
little baskets. They have jelly beans and Easter eggs in there. Candy and all
that jazz. I try to do my best for them.”
A number of churches in New Jersey and nearby Pennsylvania have supported
Jean’s work in various ways, including forming a group called “The
Friends of Jean Webster”, a non-profit organization. They can be reached
through the Atlantic City Presbyterian Mission Council, 9 S Chelsea Avenue,
Atlantic City, NJ, 08401.
