George Johnson wanted to celebrate his 65th birthday Christmas Day skating in Rash Field, but it was not to be. "They were closed today," he said, walking up North Calvert Street yesterday afternoon.
Sporting a red hat, smoking a pipe and carrying a pair of skates over his shoulder, he said he was going to catch the bus home.
He walked through a virtual ghost town, with few people driving or walking the chilly, windy streets, where normally crowded shops and restaurants were shut.
But hospitals, hotels and other services forged on, staying open with workers -- some willing, some reluctant. Meanwhile, those who didn't have to work looked for something else to do.
Six pedestrians waiting for a light to change at the corner of Conway and Light streets hungered for activity. Two of them, Yelena Gelfen, 31, and her husband, Alex Gelfen, 45, visited the near-deserted Inner Harbor with friends from Russia, then looked for the next stop on their leisurely stroll. "Everything's closed," Mrs. Gelfen said.
The Gelfens, who grew up in Kiev, Ukraine, met and married here. They said being Jewish doesn't halt their Christmas spirit: "As long as there is something to celebrate, we celebrate," Mr. Gelfen said.
Their friends the Yiroslavskiy family -- Alex, 46, a ship-building engineer in Kiev, his wife, Ina, 43, and their children, Yuriy, 21, and Tanya, 12 -- moved from Kiev to Brooklyn, N.Y., a month ago. But since arriving in Baltimore on Christmas Eve for a visit, they say they might make it their permanent home.
"It's nice place, very nice," Mrs. Yiroslavskiy said.
The group thought the Hyatt Regency would have an open restaurant.
In fact, two were open, according to Joe Tyler, 37, a bellman for 12 1/2 years. He ran the hotel's courtesy desk from 8 a.m. to 4:30 p.m., although he didn't feel well.
Nonetheless, the single Mount Vernon man didn't mind working, so co-workers with families could be off. "I always spend Christmas Eve with special friends," he said. "And Christmas Day I usually don't have much to do."
Resplendent in black slacks and a red, gold and black short jacket, he said he normally spends the work day carrying luggage, recommending tourist attractions and showing guests around the hotel.
But he arrived Christmas morning to tranquillity. "Usually, we're busy, so I enjoy this quiet," he said. Tony, 29, who declined to give his last name, doesn't have that option. The Baltimore native spent Christmas Eve sleeping in boxes in a parking lot. On Christmas Day he wore a cardboard sign around his neck that read: "Homeless Man. Need Help Bad. God Bless You." Tony, who described himself as a heroin user, began asking southbound motorists on Light Street for money about noon, to no avail. "They don't want to give me nothing," he said.
An average day yields $10 or $12. "It's slow right now," he said. "I'm just trying to get something to eat. You have anything? Any candy?"
Many people on Baltimore streets yesterday were homeless, sitting on doorsteps and bus stops or standing at highway ramps with signs like Tony's. One man stood at the Interstate 95 on-ramp with a holiday message on his cardboard sign and asked a passer-by for work.
Getting onto that highway, holiday motorists were reminded of people whose duties never end: toll booth attendants. The Maryland Toll Facilities office on I-95 north near Fort McHenry Tunnel was decorated with holiday cards, poinsettias and an artificial Christmas tree with lights.
"Humbug!" a jovial seven-year veteran, Cpl. John Baughman of Dundalk, snorted, his arms crossed over his chest. But working Christmas is not that bad, he said as he listened to carols in the office that overlooked light interstate traffic.
Co-worker Sgt. Catherine Raley is used to holiday work: "I'd like to be home with my family and stuff. But if I got to do it, I got to do it."
Andrea Bowser had to do it, too. She was scheduled to collect tolls from 6 a.m. to 2 p.m.
"How you doing?" she called to a trucker. "Where my present?" she asked. "I know you are going to bring it back later!" The 43-year-old Catonsville woman called out, "Thanks, hon!" as she swiftly collected dollars. "Have a nice holiday!"
Most cars, she said, had Maryland license plates. "I would assume they're going to visit relatives," she said.
Mary Margaret Lang could not be with her relatives until the evening. She was on duty as a registered nurse at Mercy Medical Center, in charge of the ninth floor. Some visitors arrived at the downtown hospital with presents; one woman visited a week-old baby.
Ms. Lang has worked almost every Christmas the last 18 years. "I'm sure we feel the exact same way that you do," she told a reporter. "I can't say it's easy to work on the holiday." Because she is single and doesn't have children she agreed to it, after working a 12-hour shift on Thanksgiving.
The Guilford resident woke at 4:30 a.m., cooked, wrapped gifts, then dressed in a festive green cardigan decorated with holiday pins and wore a red and green bow in her hair. She said she'd finish preparing a dinner -- including turkey, stuffing, cookies and bread -- that she planned to share with her two brothers when her shift ended at 3:30 p.m. Patients at the hospital also were going to get a turkey meal, she said.
Co-worker Sherry Kelley, also a registered nurse, pulled out charts and did other work with less holiday spirit. "It's just another day," she said dryly. "That's Scrooge over there," Ms. Lang said with a laugh, pointing at Ms. Kelley.
Earning extra money kept several Fells Point workers from being Scrooges -- and because the neighborhood was quiet yesterday, their duties were a cinch.
Eighteen-year-old Joe Wilgis stood guard on Thames Street in front of the set of the Baltimore-based NBC show, "Homicide: Life on the Street." His job: "Make sure nobody gets in or out," he said. It was easy to get him to cover the shift from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. because he earned a time-and-a-half salary of $12 an hour. And cold weather on the desolate block was no problem. "I got a whole bunch of clothes on -- pants, sweat pants, two sweaters and this jacket," he said.
Nearby, at Point Grocery in the 1700 block of Aliceanna St., employees Jerry Tucker and Ron Watson sat outside the market, talking, with 5-year-old Max the dog for company.
"People came to get cigarettes, sodas, odds and ends," said Mr. Watson, 19, who estimated that there were five patrons all morning.
He suspected he was making more in salary than the store was in sales. "It's not really worth it to be open, but I'm getting paid, that's all that matters," he said.
Besides, the customers will be back today, when many Baltimore stores and services -- including the skating rink -- come back to life.
And Mr. Johnson, a 30-year labor supervisor who doesn't have a family, had an alternate plan to skating: he would return to his West Baltimore home to watch football on TV.
Which games? "All of them," he said.