In the autumn of 1980, cycling through Europe I made many friends at various youth hostels. Mike Quinn from Atlantic City, New Jersey, was a special friend, older to me by some years, guiding me with words of wisdom to the right spots. Before we parted company, he invited me to visit his home and I promised to do so.

Nearly 30 years later, I finally kept my promise, arriving at New York’s Port Authority terminal and boarding a bus to Atlantic City.

In a few minutes we crossed over into New Jersey State, and an hour later passed Tom’s River Township before arriving another hour later at the first casino hotel in Atlantic City. I was told I could return to New York with the same ticket in the next few days; the casinos sponsor the return fare, as gamblers visiting Atlantic City might end up with nothing in their pockets to pay for their return home.

Exiting the bus terminal, I noticed a police officer checking the IDs of people. The terminal manager, James Pellerin, assured me that Sergeant Johnston’s tough exterior hid a giving heart — he regularly visited charities for the homeless to donate warm clothes.

I walked up to him, introduced myself and enquired after his philanthropic activities. He simply shrugged it off and pointed to the ‘boardwalk’ — a wooden walkway installed to check sand erosion from the sea. “You are from Madras, you would not know of the freezing winter chill that the homeless have to endure sleeping on the roads and below the boardwalk. Now, if you want to see real care for the underprivileged, visit the Presbyterian Church opposite the Taj Mahal Casino, and witness the amazing Jean Webster at her kitchen,” he said. As I left, the whirr of helicopter blades was in the air; the heli-ambulance landed on the terrace of the Atlantic City Medical Centre opposite, rushing a patient to emergency care.

At 8 a.m., going past the lovely wall paintings near the Post Office, depicting life in the growing city in the 1900s, I arrived at a crossroads, with the Presbyterian Church towering ahead of me. A stone inscription read “1856, established by Pastors Charles & Diana”. Jean Webster’s kitchen and dining was housed inside.

A queue of haggard and ill-dressed men and women moved slowly into the open hall, where 600 chairs and tables were neatly arranged. When I asked for Jean Webster, I was taken to the rear service entrance where an elderly woman of slight build was helping carry the food boxes sent by the hotel opposite. “Please hang on, I am engaged now,” she said, extending her hand in a warm, firm grip. “I am Sister Jean Webster. And these are my friends Abdul Malik and Al Kareem, who help me with my work, feeding over 600 guests every day.” Gesturing towards the people seated at the tables, she said, “It is disrespectful to ask them to stand in line with plates in hand, so we serve our guests at the tables.” Leading me into the kitchen, she introduced Debbie Thomas, her assistant of over 15 years, the cook David, and “Tax” Gerald Robinson, who is in charge of the dish-washing area.

A volunteer, Carlo, was loading the serving dishes with a breakfast menu that had been worth waiting for — steaming hot eggs and sausage, delicious pastry, apple juice and coffee, while his colleague, Francisco, took them out to be served. The morning sun brilliantly lit up a stained glass window depicting a humbling Jesus visual. The big-built Abdul Malik and Al Kareem served the guests with gentle care. Malik is a mechanic and a chauffeur for the Atlantic City Limousines Co; he and Kareem served at the centre on their off-days.

I asked Sister Jean how it all started and, in the midst of lifting and arranging tables, she recounted her amazing story.

Back in September 1980, just as Jean Webster was establishing herself as New Jersey’s first black female chef, she once noticed a tramp going through a roadside bin for leftover food. Handing over some cash for a decent meal, she invited him home, promising a good supper from a super-chef.

“That night I spoke to God and asked for guidance to serve the poor,” she reminisced. The man returned the next day with his friends. The number grew over the years, and Jean was in danger of being evicted from her house for the perceived nuisance her generosity created in her middle-class neighbourhood.

Poor health forced her to quit her job at the casino kitchen, but her service for the poor and needy continued with greater vigour. It was then that the Presbyterian Mission offered their church space for her kitchen and dining service. The celebrity chef soon came to be known as ‘Sister Jean Webster’ to everybody.

Holding her hand on her heart, she said that the occasional pain in her chest reminded her to take it easy, but she didn’t have heart enough for that. “I am like a mother to my guests, for the homeless, this is like their mother’s home,” said the 75-year-old Good Samaritan, before hurrying back into the kitchen to check on the supplies for the steadily growing number of guests. Pointing to the other workers, she credited her work to such “friends” and the philanthropic hotels that supply meals every day.

It was past noon and breakfast was long gone. The guests, however, were still at the table — some in prayer, others in slumber — waiting for lunch. David and Carlo were busy with the mouth-watering fare — baked chicken, hamburger, green beans, mashed potato and gravy. Noticing that Kareem and Malik had slowed down, Sister Jean thumped them on the back, exclaiming, “Faster, you dummies”, as she ran to set the tables right for the guests.

The statistics were mind-boggling; Sister Jean’s kitchen had been serving over 300,000 meals each year. In due time, she came to be known as the “Mother Teresa of Atlantic City”.

As I walked past the Taj Mahal Casino, a stone tablet at the crossroads recorded her service of herculean proportions — Atlantic City inducting her into its County Hall of Fame; conferring on her the prestigious Russ Berie, Stockton College Referee of the Humanitarian and American Institute of Public Services’ Jefferson awards.

Touching the lives of a million “guests”, Sister Jean inspired many more to emulate her service.

(Sister Jean Webster passed away in Jan 2011, two days after her 76th birthday.)

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