Zeitman's Grocery Store
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See that faded sign up there on Fore Street? The one that still says Zeitman's Grocery Store if you squint just right? Most people walk right past it. But not me. I remember when that wasn't just a sign—it was the beating heart of the neighborhood.
Back then, the Old Port didn't have fancy restaurants or tourists carrying lobster rolls. It smelled like the ocean, fish, coffee, and fresh bread. Sailors came and went, longshoremen worked the docks, and if you needed milk, pickles, a loaf of bread, or someone to ask how your mother was feeling, you went to Zeitman's.
The store was run by the Zeitman family, Jewish immigrants who came all the way from Ukraine looking for something simple: safety, opportunity, and a place to build a life. Like so many Jewish families who arrived in Portland in the late 1800s and early 1900s, they started with hard work and hope. They built businesses not just to make a living, but to help build a community.
Now, Bessie Zeitman—oh, she was something. Barely five feet tall, but don't let that fool you. She had enough determination for ten people. She ran the grocery, welcomed boarders upstairs, helped neighbors in need, and became one of the most respected women in Portland's Jewish community. You didn't argue with Bessie... unless you were looking for trouble.
And the store? It stayed open late. You know why? Because islanders catching the last ferry home still needed groceries. Julius and Jack Zeitman would keep the lights on, making sure nobody went home empty-handed. They even lived upstairs, along with Horace the dog and Minnie the cat, who was apparently as much an employee as anyone else.
You see, that's how Portland's Jewish community worked. The grocery stores weren't just places to buy food. They were gathering places. News traveled faster than the newspaper. Someone always knew who had a new baby, who needed help, whose son had gotten into college, or whose grandmother was making too much chicken soup and insisting everyone take some home.
In those days, much of Portland's Jewish life was centered just a few blocks away in the India Street neighborhood. Families walked to synagogue on Shabbat, children hurried between Hebrew school and home, and shopkeepers looked out for one another. Small businesses like Zeitman's helped weave the fabric of Jewish life in Maine.
The grocery finally closed in 1980 after more than six decades of serving the city. Today, the building houses another business, but the faded Zeitman's Grocery Store lettering still watches over Fore Street like an old photograph that refuses to disappear. It's a reminder that while storefronts may change, stories don't.
So next time you're wandering through the Old Port, don't just look at the boutiques and restaurants. Look up. Find that old sign.
Because sometimes the greatest landmarks aren't the ones with plaques. They're the ones that whisper, 'We were here. We built something. And we haven't been forgotten.’
