“My” Old Baltimore
There are many reasons why I like roaming cities, especially Baltimore City. I find people-watching to be habit-forming because there is much to learn about one’s self by observing others.
Looking for and looking at buildings is also addictive. It’s a rare treat to locate new structures, which are often a bit too modern for my taste. Then there is the discovery of new art – monuments, effigies, murals, and temporary exhibits one can usually locate while walking through Reservoir Hill, near the Maryland Institute College of Art, or the Inner Harbor's main promenade. Another thrill is stumbling across a plaque on a building that either speaks to the city's past or to an infamous Baltimorean who made a major contribution to our collective spirit, not to mention our progress. (There’s an abundance of these to be found in Bolton Hill and Fells Point.)
What I find most alluring is walking with a friend and talking our old Baltimore. Each generation has their own take on the city. As years past I come to realize my views (good and bad) pale in comparison to those stories I’ve learned from school, history books, museums, and more importantly first-hand accounts from people who traveled this journey before me (neighbors, family, merchants, etc.). Still, my experience is very important and must be passed along to the next generation so that the spirit of our city never dies. I love when I can reflect on the past with friends who know my journey without ever having been there, but in many ways seems like they were.
Thursday was indeed a chilly day, and I was tempted to stay in until late evening when I was scheduled to meet a friend for dinner. The restaurant was only a block away from home, and my resolve to expand my vista was greater, which led me outdoors, layered and with another friend to walk the streets of Baltimore, as only we know how to. (This was not any old friend, but one who is passionate about every nook and cranny of the place we call home. His love affair is deep, and with an education in writing he has tailored his own stories that speak to his love and devotion to our dear city. Thank you friend, for your oral history. I learn so much more about the places that make me smile and bring back warm, comforting memories of yesteryear.)
What prompted our intense dialogue yesterday was the following article: "Read's Drugstore Flap Brings Baltimore Civil Rights History to Life." Sadly, here, we are faced with another possibility of our city’s history being demolished, in an attempt to make way for something larger and more modern. We are too quick to destroy our past, instead of attempting to save and incorporate it into our future (and this part of our past now in question truly must be saved because it’s a testament to the power of a people who overcame great obstacles and hurdles to only thrive).
When I remember old Baltimore I think of my Aunt Becky (my father’s sister and a beautiful woman) bringing me downtown to Charles Street for lunch for the first time. I have fond memories of us walking hand-in-hand and window-shopping. She was never a big part of my life growing up, for reasons I really don’t understand, but that trip with her was magical, and that’s how I always will remember her. She truly was divine, and gave me my first taste of what I would crave later in life – fun, excitement and people.
I recall visiting my Aunt Jan, who lived near Patterson Park, and occasionally spending the night, which often felt like a whole other world. She had an apartment in a large old row home resplendent with thick ornate doors with heavy glass. The moldings and carved banisters were remarkable. I loved sitting outside on those large white marble steps, watching traffic, talking to neighbors, looking at the Pagoda and watching people play in the Park. It was a lovely area back then, however, much has changed and the neighborhood has since lost a lot of its charm, but it’s coming back – slowly... surely.
There were walks with my mother, hand-in-hand, as we leisurely strolled to Woolworth’s on the Avenue (Eastern Avenue), sitting at the counter and sharing a fountain soda (I was 8 years old then). We would do some window-shopping, and she would stop off at the Princess Shop to buy a new dress, and then we would make a beeline to Read’s Drug Store to sit in a booth to enjoy lunch. She always got a hot roast turkey or beef sandwich, and I can remember the waitress asking me, "And what will you have young man?" I felt so adult and would politely respond, "I’ll have what’s she having." On those rare occasions we would stop at Epstein’s and I would get a new shirt or a pair of pants. I can remember those times like they were yesterday. They are, without a doubt, comforting to my soul. There are many other fond memories, but I share these because I can always close my eyes and go right back to that point in time and recall every little nuance as if it were yesterday.
My old Baltimore includes wonderful carnivals hosted at beautiful ornate churches. They aren’t as grand as the ones I’ve seen in Europe. Nevertheless, they come with extraordinary history. We have exceptional museums I still can’t get enough of, and I always make time to visit my favorites every few months. Sadly, too many are closing due to lack of funding. (The Poe House is on the chopping block. What will be next?)
The restaurants that are no more – Eager House, Harvey House, Gampy’s, Marconi’s, Brass Elephant and countless others that have disappeared, I mourn their demise. These were my places to go to before heading to the opera, symphony, or to a play at the Mechanic (never my favorite building, but historic nonetheless), or a private party. I could go on and on, but I digress.
I miss the nightclubs and bars, too – Girard’s, Allegro, Cignal, Port Hole, and the original Central Station and Gallery. We still have the Hippo and Club Charles, but they just aren’t the same anymore (neither are we). What an amazing time I had! Thank you to all who made those days possible.
Downtown has changed so much, and at times it looks and feels like a ghost town. Everything has shifted to Inner Harbor East and elsewhere. I’m sure it will have it’s resurgence, but no matter what I will remember and be thankful for the many good times and extraordinary people who made it all possible. Thank you, Michael, Brian, George and Leo. And to Paul, you gave me life. To Steve, you gave me the world.
Dear Reader, find yourself in the city and bring a friend or two along to sweeten the journey. Thank you for dinner, Michael. The food and conversation were sublime, just like you. – paerki
Looking for and looking at buildings is also addictive. It’s a rare treat to locate new structures, which are often a bit too modern for my taste. Then there is the discovery of new art – monuments, effigies, murals, and temporary exhibits one can usually locate while walking through Reservoir Hill, near the Maryland Institute College of Art, or the Inner Harbor's main promenade. Another thrill is stumbling across a plaque on a building that either speaks to the city's past or to an infamous Baltimorean who made a major contribution to our collective spirit, not to mention our progress. (There’s an abundance of these to be found in Bolton Hill and Fells Point.)
What I find most alluring is walking with a friend and talking our old Baltimore. Each generation has their own take on the city. As years past I come to realize my views (good and bad) pale in comparison to those stories I’ve learned from school, history books, museums, and more importantly first-hand accounts from people who traveled this journey before me (neighbors, family, merchants, etc.). Still, my experience is very important and must be passed along to the next generation so that the spirit of our city never dies. I love when I can reflect on the past with friends who know my journey without ever having been there, but in many ways seems like they were.
Thursday was indeed a chilly day, and I was tempted to stay in until late evening when I was scheduled to meet a friend for dinner. The restaurant was only a block away from home, and my resolve to expand my vista was greater, which led me outdoors, layered and with another friend to walk the streets of Baltimore, as only we know how to. (This was not any old friend, but one who is passionate about every nook and cranny of the place we call home. His love affair is deep, and with an education in writing he has tailored his own stories that speak to his love and devotion to our dear city. Thank you friend, for your oral history. I learn so much more about the places that make me smile and bring back warm, comforting memories of yesteryear.)
What prompted our intense dialogue yesterday was the following article: "Read's Drugstore Flap Brings Baltimore Civil Rights History to Life." Sadly, here, we are faced with another possibility of our city’s history being demolished, in an attempt to make way for something larger and more modern. We are too quick to destroy our past, instead of attempting to save and incorporate it into our future (and this part of our past now in question truly must be saved because it’s a testament to the power of a people who overcame great obstacles and hurdles to only thrive).
When I remember old Baltimore I think of my Aunt Becky (my father’s sister and a beautiful woman) bringing me downtown to Charles Street for lunch for the first time. I have fond memories of us walking hand-in-hand and window-shopping. She was never a big part of my life growing up, for reasons I really don’t understand, but that trip with her was magical, and that’s how I always will remember her. She truly was divine, and gave me my first taste of what I would crave later in life – fun, excitement and people.
I recall visiting my Aunt Jan, who lived near Patterson Park, and occasionally spending the night, which often felt like a whole other world. She had an apartment in a large old row home resplendent with thick ornate doors with heavy glass. The moldings and carved banisters were remarkable. I loved sitting outside on those large white marble steps, watching traffic, talking to neighbors, looking at the Pagoda and watching people play in the Park. It was a lovely area back then, however, much has changed and the neighborhood has since lost a lot of its charm, but it’s coming back – slowly... surely.
There were walks with my mother, hand-in-hand, as we leisurely strolled to Woolworth’s on the Avenue (Eastern Avenue), sitting at the counter and sharing a fountain soda (I was 8 years old then). We would do some window-shopping, and she would stop off at the Princess Shop to buy a new dress, and then we would make a beeline to Read’s Drug Store to sit in a booth to enjoy lunch. She always got a hot roast turkey or beef sandwich, and I can remember the waitress asking me, "And what will you have young man?" I felt so adult and would politely respond, "I’ll have what’s she having." On those rare occasions we would stop at Epstein’s and I would get a new shirt or a pair of pants. I can remember those times like they were yesterday. They are, without a doubt, comforting to my soul. There are many other fond memories, but I share these because I can always close my eyes and go right back to that point in time and recall every little nuance as if it were yesterday.
My old Baltimore includes wonderful carnivals hosted at beautiful ornate churches. They aren’t as grand as the ones I’ve seen in Europe. Nevertheless, they come with extraordinary history. We have exceptional museums I still can’t get enough of, and I always make time to visit my favorites every few months. Sadly, too many are closing due to lack of funding. (The Poe House is on the chopping block. What will be next?)
The restaurants that are no more – Eager House, Harvey House, Gampy’s, Marconi’s, Brass Elephant and countless others that have disappeared, I mourn their demise. These were my places to go to before heading to the opera, symphony, or to a play at the Mechanic (never my favorite building, but historic nonetheless), or a private party. I could go on and on, but I digress.
I miss the nightclubs and bars, too – Girard’s, Allegro, Cignal, Port Hole, and the original Central Station and Gallery. We still have the Hippo and Club Charles, but they just aren’t the same anymore (neither are we). What an amazing time I had! Thank you to all who made those days possible.
Downtown has changed so much, and at times it looks and feels like a ghost town. Everything has shifted to Inner Harbor East and elsewhere. I’m sure it will have it’s resurgence, but no matter what I will remember and be thankful for the many good times and extraordinary people who made it all possible. Thank you, Michael, Brian, George and Leo. And to Paul, you gave me life. To Steve, you gave me the world.
Dear Reader, find yourself in the city and bring a friend or two along to sweeten the journey. Thank you for dinner, Michael. The food and conversation were sublime, just like you. – paerki
