If you’ve walked through City Hall’s doors in this millennium, you’ve likely received a warm welcome from 90-year-old Sidney Grossman, Baltimore’s official greeter.
Mr. Sid, as he’s affectionately known throughout the building, has greeted six mayors, more than 35 City Council members, and a steady parade of countless other Baltimoreans in nearly two decades of public service. He wishes a nice day to staffers and helps to direct residents, activists, journalists — and once, FBI agents — to their destinations throughout City Hall.
“Since my wife died almost seven years ago, this place is like a family to me,” Grossman said behind his desk on Monday, in between welcoming residents. “It really keeps me alive.”
Serving as City Hall’s official greeter marks the third era of Grossman’s career. He spent three decades as a Baltimore City Public Schools teacher: 22 years as a physical education teacher at Diggs-Johnson Middle School, which is now closed, and eight years as a supplemental physical education teacher.
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“They were nice kids,” Grossman remembered. “They didn’t have much.”
Grossman retired, but barely lasted a day, he said with a laugh. He quickly got a job at a NordicTrack store in Towson, where he helped customers browse treadmills and the first-ever elliptical machines. Helping people develop an interest in fitness was fulfilling, but something nagged at him — the company didn’t care about its customers, he felt.
One day, his brother, who regularly met over coffee with an aide to then-Mayor Martin O’Malley, called him with an offer: City Hall needed a part-time greeter, someone warm and helpful. Was he interested?
Grossman was offered the gig the same day of the interview. He and Michael Peters — his greeter counterpart, known as Mr. Mike — started on the same day as part-time employees. Mr. Mike takes the morning shift, Mr. Sid does afternoons. If one takes a vacation, the other covers for him.
Grossman now lives in an apartment in Mount Washington, and takes the subway to work. Every weekday morning, he walks a half-mile to his entrance station, a half-mile from his exit station to City Hall, and repeats the process in the evening. He credits his longevity to his active commute — plus weightlifting, crunches, additional walking on the treadmill, and “never using the salt shaker.”
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The photo on Grossman’s city ID badge is so faded you can can barely make out his image. But when you’re as recognizable to the people of City Hall as the mayor, that doesn’t matter.
Former Mayor Sheila Dixon called him a breath of fresh air. Councilman Eric Costello called him an exemplary human being. In September, a few days shy of his 90th birthday, City Council President Nick Mosby honored him with a citation for his long-standing service.
“He’s not just a pillar, but a key piece of the foundation of City Hall,” Mosby said.
When then-political aide Brandon Scott entered City Hall to apply for a vacant council position, Grossman said, “‘Well, that’s great!’” the now-mayor remembered. “We had a conversation about where I grew up, where I went to school, and then he’s like, ‘Go up the fourth floor, and good luck!’”
They don’t make people like Mr. Sid anymore, he added.
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Grossman was raised in Northwest Baltimore. He attended Louisa May Alcott School, an elementary school; Garrison Junior High School; and Forest Park high school. He entered the University of Maryland knowing exactly what he wanted to study: physical education. Immediately after graduating, he married his first wife, and began teaching in city schools.
They divorced after seven years and after having a son, David Grossman, a nurse who lives in Frederick. For a five-year or so period in David’s childhood, he attended every Baltimore Colts home game with his father, who had season tickets.
“He is the biggest Baltimore supporter of all time,” David Grossman said of his father. “For him to spend so many years at City Hall has been a great culmination for him.”
Sid Grossman’s grandson recently wed in Montauk, New York, where Sid was the absolute life of the party, his son said: “Everybody loved him. He’s unflappable.”
He remarried to Esther Grossman, with whom he shared 45 years of marriage and a stepdaughter, Lisa Yarmis. He has four grandchildren, who are spread across the country, including in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, where he is spending Thanksgiving this year.
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Grossman is Jewish, and said he hasn’t stepped foot in a synagogue since he was a teenager, save for his grandchildren’s bar and bat mitzvahs. He never prayed until Esther died in 2017, when he began a “daily morning and mourning prayer.” He recites the Eshet Chayil, also known as The Woman Of Valor. The poem is about a wife whose value is “far beyond pearls,” according to one interpretation.
When City Hall closed for the pandemic, Grossman’s job as a greeter went on an indefinite hiatus. He turned up the dial on his lifelong hobby of exercise and read 20 books, mostly nonfiction. His favorites were “Forgotten Sundays,“ a book about the relationship between WBAL-TV’s Gerry Sandusky and his father, the former Colts player John Sandusky, and a book about grief, given to him by his bereavement counselor.
When former Mayor Catherine Pugh saw that Grossman’s usual big smile was “turned upside down” after his wife’s death, “I knew just by looking at him that she was the true love of his life.”
“I pray for many more years of greetings to be bestowed upon our public by such a caring, and devoted citizen of our city,” she said.
Dixon remembered Grossman’s kindness to her, after she returned to City Hall to pick something up, shortly after resigning from office amid a corruption scandal in 2010. “Having Mr. Sid to greet you, instead of only having BPD [Baltimore Police Department] security officers, makes entering the building a wonderful experience,” she said.
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Returning to City Hall after the pandemic felt like coming home, Grossman said. Of all of the mayoral transitions, of all the City Council turnovers, the before and after of the pandemic has been the most significant sea change, he said. Now that more and more people are returning to in-person work, things feel more normal.
Though Grossman is legendary for his kindness and helpfulness, he’s had tough moments on the job. When residents enter City Hall weeping about frighteningly large water bills, Grossman redirects them to the city’s Abel Wolman Municipal Building, wishing he could do more to assist. And when homeless Baltimoreans enter City Hall to seek help, he gives them contact information for the city’s outreach program and nonprofits, knowing they face an enormous challenge.
“When you can’t help somebody, it gets to you,” he said.
Grossman’s pet peeve? When television reporters and producers are late to an event within the building, and rudely ask him for directions.
And over the years, he came to expect attitude from a few elected officials.
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“But I probably shouldn’t say who those were,” Grossman said through a grin.
It’s hard for him to choose a favorite day on the job, since so many days are similar. But if he had to pick, he’ll go with the Ravens’ visit to City Hall after winning the Super Bowl in 2013. Their joy and exuberance was contagious, and Grossman got to catch a glimpse of Joe Flacco.
But he didn’t bother asking for a picture.
“This job makes you immune to celebrity,” he said.
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