CLEVELAND, Ohio--When the Polish freighter Mamry steamed in to Cleveland Harbor early Wednesday, its captain and crew had been on the water 11 straight days. They left high seas in the North Atlantic for round-the-clock shifts through the locks of the Saint Lawrence Seaway.

Now a city of shiny glass buildings and stately towers--plus restaurants and dance clubs--rose enticingly close. Jim Clark made sure the sailors knew they were welcome.

Wearing a bright orange vest that lets him move about the Port of Cleveland, Clark climbed a steep gangplank and followed an escort to the captain's quarters, where he delivered news of free Wi-Fi, postcards and directions, available at his office a short walk away.

And that stadium looming to port? American football would be played there on Sunday, he said.

"Cleveland Browns?" Capt. Sylvester Kacrzarksi asked in thickly accented English. "Maybe there is time enough this time."

That encounter, a version of which unfolds every few days during the shipping season, ranks among the little known but much appreciated protocols on the lakefront.

Clark, 65, is president of the Cleveland Seamen's Service, an institution about as familiar to visiting seafarers as a Lake Erie lighthouse.

The all-volunteer group greets foreign ships and their sailors and helps them to make the most of their port-of-call. The service turned 50 years old this month, making it one of the oldest private seamen services on the continent--and one of only two still holding out a lamp on the Great Lakes.

Its relevancy was quickly validated by younger members of the Mamry crew, who followed Clark across the docks to the Seamen's Service office--a modest, box-like building with a crow's nest at the edge of the port, in the shadow of FirstEnergy Stadium.

They wanted to talk to wives and children and girlfriends via the Internet. They wanted directions to a "disco club." They wanted the bus to Walmart.

"Some of us are interested in American football," said Marek Paszcuk, the first mate in a crew of 20. "How much the tickets?"

Clark grimaced.

"You know," he brightened, "we have a baseball team playing, too."

On the waterfront

At its birth in 1964, the Seamen's Service sheperded a larger flock. Foreign ships called upon Cleveland more frequently in the early days of the Seaway, sending their sailors into the city for several days, sometimes a week at a time.

Accustomed to bigger ocean ports, the sailors often struggled do find someone who spoke their language or cooked their food. Claire MacMurray Howard, a popular columnist for The Plain Dealer, noticed that many never ventured beyond the dim taverns of the Flats.

She founded the Cleveland Seamen's Service to connect the sailors to the city, modeling it after seamen services found in ocean ports around the world.

According to historical accounts, the city embraced her concept. MacMurray Howard mustered a force of 300 volunteers, men and women who guided captains and crew to ethnic markets, soccer games, bowling alleys and cultural dances.

Veteran members say she was passionate about her goal of making Cleveland renowned as the "friendliest port in the world."

The challenge has changed but the quest remains much the same.

Time enough to feel welcomed

Today, larger ships arrive with smaller crews for shorter stays. The port sees two to three ocean ships a week from May to December. They unload quickly, with their own cranes, and are often gone in a day or two.

Still, that's time enough to dash to the store, Skype home, enjoy a good meal and even catch a ball game. That's time enough to feel welcomed.

"We are the face of Cleveland to the international visitors," said Rita Clark, a volunteer for 17 years. "We want to welcome them to our city."

The Cleveland Seamen's Service counts 21 active members, including Jim and Rita Clark of Brecksville. Most are retirees but the ranks also include young professionals and downtown office workers.

The group would love to add some speakers of Polish, Ukrainian and Tagalog, the language of the Philippines. That would linguistically cover most of the sailors sailing in on the Seaway, Clark said.

But when phrasebooks fail, English and pantomime are often enough. Many of the ships return year after year and the crews become familiar.

Maggie Wendel had the duty when a sailor she knew visited the office to talk with his family via the Internet. He had Wendel say hello to his daughter.

"The most important thing for the sailors is their families," said Wendel, a retired Euclid social worker. "Then comes the sightseeing and the shopping."

She joined the service 45 years ago, hoping to reconnect with her German roots among German ships. As the longest-serving member, she has plenty of stories of sailors and their misadventures.

Those tales shine more vividly these days, as the group marks a half-century on the waterfront with celebrations like a birthday party Saturday at Pier W in Lakewood.

Reminiscing at the Seamen's Service office last week, Gisela Luck recalled the Burmese sailors who sought to defect one day in the 1990s.

"They walked in here, seven of them," she recalled. "Only one of them spoke English."

She said they were upset not with their dictatorial government but with the ship's food; that, and lousy working conditions.

Luck called the port authority, which alerted an immigration agent, who arrived with a burly stevedore. She said she'll never forget how the pair convinced the Burmese sailors to jump ship in Montreal instead.

"Now, it's totally different," she said. "You go on a ship, the kitchen is spic and span. They serve fabulous food."

The happier sailors tend to have less time to explore the city. But if a window of opportunity opens, the Seamen's Service is ready to guide or to give a ride.

When he boarded the Mamry, Clark had in his hand a sheet listing information handy to sailors on leave; like where to find a hair cut, wire money or buy electronics. He could offer discount admission to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and game times.

A window opened wider. The Mamry had no sooner begun unloading its steel coils from Holland than the rains began, forcing the captain to close the massive hatches that cover the hold.

His mobile phone gave a shrill ring. It was the shipping agent with a weather report. It would likely rain steady for a few days, forcing the ship to stay in port through the weekend.

Capt. Kacrzarksi turned to Clark.

"American football," he asked, "How much are the tickets?"