The sinful and the spiritual

In the first part of her recollections of her time as a child and a young woman living next to Strait Street, Giovanna Schembri, granddaughter of Pawlu tal-Morning Star, recalled the fascination that Strada Stretta held for children and what her grandfather meant to her.

Today, in the second part of a four-part series, talking to Geroge Cini she describes some of the other variegated characters that made up the tapestry that was Strait Street.

From the balcony of The Morning Star one could look along Strada Stretta and when the sailors came ashore all you could see was a sea of white caps.

When the frigates arrived, the bars opened their doors at about three in the afternoon and not at 6 p.m. as usual.

Beneath The Morning Star was the Bing Crosby bar. My mother closed The Morning Star about 50 years ago and used to run the Cotton Club instead.

My uncle Ganni owned two chauffeur-driven cars. He used to hire out the Cotton Club for wedding receptions.

Nannu at times took us out for a ride in the countryside because he believed the open air was good for our health so he used to borrow a car from uncle Ganni to take us out.

On Good Friday, people gave up smoking for the day and the men refrained from shaving as a sign of respect to mark the death of Christ.

On the day marking Our Lady of Sorrows, the church of St Dominic would be full of the people who worked in Strait Street going to confession and receiving Holy Communion.

Spiritual exercises were held for those who worked in Strait Street including the women, the waiters and owners in anticipation of Good Friday.

Other spots at Diju Balli - in St Nicholas Street towards il-Fossa - included John Bull, run by Pawlu Dowling, the Bull and Bush, run by his sister Rosina, the Lord Nelson run by Malia Palmier, and the United Service Bar.

Nannu Pawlu loved celebrating the feast of St Dominic and he invited clerics, including the Archbishop, to mark the feast day with a sumptuous meal.

After Pawlu tal-Morning Star passed away, Spiru l-Macikk took over the celebration of the feast of St Dominic but on a smaller scale. Il-Macikk did not run a bar in Strait Street but worked at the Army and Navy Restaurant at the Ferries, in Sliema.

Il-Macikk was a well-liked person. As part of the celebrations, he roasted pork at a bakery in St Nicholas Street and everyone come along to devour the meat after the morning band march was over - and everything was on the house.

Nannu Pawlu was a benefactor of the church and had paid for the gold rod in the hands of the Ecco Homo in St Dominic's church and the gold crown on the head of Our Lady of Sorrows at Ta' l-Erwieh church, also in Valletta.

Nannu Pawlu was generous but was no spendthrift. My mother often called him a miser, nudging him to go and have a coffee at the Premier. But he would reply that he had more than enough coffee at home, which was a store of foodstuffs. He would buy tea by the box and not by the packet or by weight. In those days loose tea was imported in large boxes made of three ply and packed in a silver foil and sold by weight. Which in many ways showed how well off he was.

Nannu Pawlu played the oboe as a hobby.

During the war, as a safety measure, he lowered every valuable item including the dismantled chandeliers of The Morning Star and the alcoholic beverages into the dry well of the Cotton Club - but someone must have got wind of these stored items and spirited them away.

The last two entertainers at The Morning Star where Annie and Terry and one of the numbers in their repertoire went something like hip hip happy day. They lived in Strada San Giuseppe, known as t-triq tal-Francizi.

During the times when American ships used to call at Malta, there was an American who impersonated Al Jolson, colouring his face and hands black.

The Morning Star used to be packed with sailors standing on tables and chairs and the seating that ran along the walls and I remember my mother exclaiming: My goodness, the place will cave in under all this weight.

Neighbouring The Morning Star were coffee shops, one run by Mutumallu and another by a guy known as Beqqu. Another shop selling lace and sweets was run by Censu l-Boy.

There were other shops along Strada San Giuseppe up to Strada Ospedale. The Morning Star stretched up to Strada Ospedale except for two mezzanines.

Under the stage at The Morning Star performing artistes had a cloakroom where they could change between numbers. The stage had an orchestra pit.

On the announcement of air raids during the war, the bars and dance halls had to switch off the lights and close the doors. Nannu Pawlu had put up dark blue and black curtains to block out the light.

There was a black man who used to work as a singer in The Morning Star. He was married to a Spanish woman and they had a daughter called Lina, I believe. Later on, he ran the Bing Crosby bar but years later he left the island.

Strada Fontana by the bastion leading to Fort St Elmo, known as taht is-sur, was known also as fejn halla l-karkura x-xitan literally meaning the spot where the devil left his slipper, signifying an out-of-the-way place.

Children, more often than not, did not really know why women used to go with men. Mothers sold them the lie that they loved to court men; that was whey they went with different ones.

My grandmother used to tell my mum there were times when prostitutes used to wear a white apron to distinguish them and be immediately identifiable to men who went to seek their favours and save them the embarrassment of accosting upright women.

The people of Valletta, especially those living in the neighbourhood, were known for their altruism especially towards those in need.

In the old days, the area close to Fort St Elmo by Spur Street was known as il-forga - the forge. People used to call it the forge because none of the leftovers at the market in Valletta were thrown away but were put aside to be cooked for the needy.

Leftovers of vegetables and meat were collected and brought to il-forga by a couple of handlers known as psatas. The leftovers were cooked over a wood fire in huge cauldrons to feed the poor hailing mainly from it-triq tal-Francizi.

Like other women who could afford it, my mother often used to say "let's prepare an extra couple of plates" of food to give out to women who had many mouths to feed.

To be continued

Any of The Times readers who would like to add to this series by providing photographs and/or reminiscences about Strait Street may contact George Cini at The Times newsroom or at gcini@timesofmalta.com