Jewish Community Center
341 Cumberland Ave, Portland, ME
Today, people might drive right past it without a second thought. But once upon a time? Oh, that wasn't just a building. That was our second home.
The Jewish Community Center opened there in 1938, when Portland's Jewish community was growing and finding its footing. Many families had come from Russia, Poland, Lithuania, and other parts of Eastern Europe with little more than determination and a Yiddish accent. We worked hard all week, but the JCC... that was where we lived.
You think a community center is just basketball and exercise classes? Ha! Let me tell you. You learned to swim there. You played basketball there. You rehearsed plays, danced at weddings, attended lectures, celebrated holidays, and probably met the person you'd marry there. If someone said, 'I'll meet you at the Center,' nobody asked which one. There was only one.
The children raced through the halls with sticky fingers after Hebrew school. The teenagers thought nobody noticed when they flirted in the lobby. Believe me—we noticed. We just pretended not to.
And the adults? They argued about everything. Politics. Israel. Whose kugel was better. Who was making enough brisket for the fundraiser. Every conversation was loud enough to hear three rooms away. That's how you knew everyone loved each other.
Then came World War II. The JCC became much more than a gathering place. It opened its doors to servicemen through the USO. Jewish boys, Catholic boys, Protestant boys—it didn't matter. Young sailors stationed in Casco Bay came through those doors looking for a warm meal, music, a dance, and a little kindness while they were far from home. Imagine that—a Jewish community center making strangers feel like family in the middle of a war. That's about as Jewish as it gets.
You know who helped make all that happen? Norman Godfrey. Such a young man—only in his twenties when he became the first executive director—but he dreamed big. He believed the Center could bring together every generation, every background, every corner of Portland's Jewish community. And wouldn't you know it? He was right. Under his leadership, the JCC buzzed from morning until night with sports, theater, youth clubs, lectures, volunteer projects, and celebrations.
That building on Cumberland Avenue was also where another dream was born. One day, someone looked around at all those energetic children and said, 'They need a summer camp!' Before long, the Center purchased land on Sebago Lake, and what became Center Day Camp grew out of that very vision. Imagine that—one little building helping create generations of camp memories that are still being made today.
Of course, communities grow. Families moved farther from downtown. Eventually, the JCC moved to a new home, where it continues today as part of the Jewish Community Alliance. But don't think the old building stopped mattering. The bricks still remember every laugh, every dance, every basketball bouncing across the gym floor, every child nervously practicing for a Purim play, and every volunteer who believed that building a Jewish community meant opening your doors a little wider.
So the next time someone tells you history only lives in museums, smile a little. Sometimes history lives in an old gymnasium. Sometimes it lives in the echoes of children running down a hallway. And sometimes, if you listen closely enough, you can almost hear someone calling from the front desk: 'Shalom! Come in! We've been waiting for you.'
