Christmas 1950 at Sinai Hospital

This is a guest blog written by Rev. Troy Lynn Pritt, who was a Presbyterian minister for 60 years and a Tennessee Army National Guard veteran. A former resident of Baltimore, Maryland, Rev. Pritt, with his wife, Lorraine, would move to Arkansas, where he continued his ministry until his death last July at the age of 80. Before his passing, he asked his nephew, Troy Pritt, a LifeBridge Health employee, to share his heartwarming account of his stay at Sinai Hospital around Christmas when he was a young boy:

In December 1950, I was 12 years old. My family was living in a low-rent housing project in Baltimore. Like many men in the project, my father was laid off from work from December to February.

One cold, snowy Saturday, I stood outside the Acme super market all day, hauling people's groceries to their homes in my wagon. The next day I was sick with a sore throat and fever. When I didn't get better after several days, my mother called Doctor Moses.

After a couple visits, the doctor told my parents that he was sure that I had rheumatic fever and I would have to go to a hospital. There was no money or health insurance, but Doctor Moses arranged for me to be admitted to the charity ward for children at Sinai Hospital. There were at least 20 beds in one large room. I had an unusual case, so every day a doctor would come in with about ten young doctors, maybe interns. He would be teaching them as he examined me. Electrocardiograms were new. A nurse brought one in and hooked me up to it every day; it spit out a ribbon of paper which the doctor would show his students the next day.

Christmas was approaching. When the nurses were gone, the children would talk among themselves and ask, "Why isn't there a Christmas tree?" or "How will Santa find us since we aren't at home?" One boy was a loud-mouth know it all. "You dummies," he said, "there ain't gonna be no Santa around here. This is a Jewish hospital. Most of the doctors and nurses are Jews. They don't believe in Jesus or Santa Claus or any of that stuff."

I was scheduled to be discharged on Dec. 24, but they told my parents to wait until about 3 p.m. to pick me up. After lunch, the nurses took us all into a large conference room next to our ward. The large tables and chairs had been replaced with child-sized tables and chairs. The children in semi-private rooms on that floor were also brought in to join us. There was a giant Christmas tree. We were served ice cream and cookies. One of the doctors stood up and made some jokes while we were eating, then sat down to a piano and began leading us in Christmas songs and carols. After that, a doctor read the Christmas story from Matthew. We sang a carol and then a nurse read the Christmas story from Luke. We sang another carol and then a doctor read "Twas the Night Before Christmas." Just as he finished, in came Santa Claus, dragging a huge bag followed by a half dozen elves who were also dragging large bags.

Every child in that room received three Christmas gifts. They were more expensive than any of us would even dream of asking for or receiving at Christmas. I think I received an erector set, a large set of Lincoln logs and a heavy wool sweater. All the girls received really nice dolls. To this day, I can't think of that Christmas party without choking up.