The sound of the jackhammers ripping apart the plaster partitions in the Medical Arts Building reminded me of past dental appointments. I spent many a session in a lowered chair there, my eyes fixed upon the landmarks of the Mount Vernon neighborhood while my open mouth revealed cavities and troubling wisdom teeth.
After years of being largely vacant, Medical Arts, eight stories circa 1925, located at Cathedral and Read streets, is being converted into apartments. Work began a few weeks ago; some construction workers I spoke with talked in terms of a dozen apartments per floor.
It's an exaggeration to say that I spent nearly every school holiday in this building - it only seems like it. In its day, it housed physicians and dentists, as well as a blood testing lab.
The Medical Arts Building had its own doorman, a chap who wore a long blue coat, trimmed in gold braid and with gold embroidery. Many patients arrived and departed by taxicab. There were always a few Yellows, Veterans and Suns lined up along the Read Street side. It was always kept antiseptically clean - and a maintenance man was forever polishing the brass door fittings.
Each physician's name was lettered on the frosted door panels. There was little informality here - this was the era when you did not wear jeans and a sweat shirt to a medical appointment.
To satisfy my curiosity, I walked into the building's present-day construction office, now located in the old Medical Arts Pharmacy. There are a few surviving reminders of this classy drug store: the ceramic tiled floor, the 1920s filigreed mirrors, the dark wood paneling of the luncheonette booths.
I can see Dr. Provenza and his extensive collection of pharmacological antiques - curious ceramic jars and beakers. Missing are the penny scale, telephone booths, a classic marble soda fountain (it went to the Museum of Industry) and the milk shakes and ice cream cones.
The Medical Arts Building was a busy place. The elevator operators earned their wages; as a child, I was fascinated by the elevator indicator arrows that told which floor the cars called upon. There was no excuse for late appointments here. A large clock in the lobby supplied Postal Telegraph time. You could hear the hands click over the metallic sound of the whirling elevator cables.
The first corridors had a few retail shops, but these were not the boutiques of nearby old Charles Street. The goods sold here were prosthetic devices, surgical corset sets and support hose.
I'll await how the apartments look. The place is filled with windows that overlook the 19th-century rooftops, chimneys, spires and skylights of old Mount Vernon.
There was a Friday nearly 30 years ago when a huge fire erupted, full fury, in the old City College building at Howard and Centre streets. I trudged home late that night from covering it - and the string of secondary blazes it touched off in the Mount Vernon neighborhood. The next morning I discussed it with my mother, who informed me she had been a close witness. How, I inquired - the streets were sealed off. You see, she said, I had a dental appointment. The dental chair and the adjacent Medical Arts window was her fire-watching perch.
jacques.kelly@baltsun.com