1627 Aliceanna Street, is a rare eighteenth century wooden house, built in 1797 and once home to "The Academy" run by schoolmaster Nicholas Leeke. Leeke's daughter, Mary, married a young sea captain, Henry Dashiell, who was a privateer in the War of 1812 and lived in a mansion at Aliceanna Street and Broadway. The Preservation Society of Fells Point and Federal Hill was deeded this and other historic properties by the Dashiell sisters, great-great granddaughters of Nicholas Leeke, when the City of Baltimore issued a "rehab or raze" order on the properties in 2006.
Thankfully, after three years of blood, sweat, tears, and many volunteer hours, the once-derelict wooden house at 1627 Aliceanna Street is rehabilitated and now reoccupied as a family home.
Built around 1800, 1706 Lancaster Street was home to Thomas Kemp, a 24-year-old shipbuilder from St. Michaels on Maryland鈥檚 Eastern Shore, from 1803 to 1805 on the eve of the War of 1812. During the war, many regarded Kemp as the most skilled builder of privateer schooners. The Rossie, Comet, and Chasseur schooners seized an astounding 80 prizes鈥Rossie under Joshua Barney鈥檚 command, the other two under the celebrated Captain Tom Boyle. Like other shipbuilders, Kemp also repaired, altered, and outfitted vessels, sometimes investing in the ships that came out of his yard. Kemp鈥檚 Fountain Street shipyard, several blocks to the north, also produced two sloops of war for the U.S. Navy鈥Ontario and Erie. His payroll during construction in 1813 reached $1,000 a week, which was quite a sum considering that even skilled workmen earned only $3 a day.
If some sea captains downplayed their financial success, others put it on display for all to see. In 1810, Alexander Thompson acquired the grand four-bay-wide house at 1729 Aliceanna (built c. 1780). Now altered, it was then 2陆 stories tall. During the war, Thompson invested in, and commanded, the letter of marque schooners Inca and Midas. In August 1814, however, he overstepped his bounds. Seeking to avenge the British burning of Washington, DC, Thompson goes ashore in the Bahamas. His crew burns homes and desecrates the grave of a prominent British planter鈥檚 wife. President Madison responds to British complaints by revoking the vessel鈥檚 commission and ordering Thompson to pay damages.
Farther east on Aliceanna, across Wolfe, three more imposing houses speak to Fell鈥檚 Point鈥檚 ties to the sea. 1906 Aliceanna (built c. 1800) belonged to Captain William Furlong, who later built 1902 and 1904 Aliceanna (c. 1807). Original owner of the Comet, Furlong took command of letter of marque schooner Bordeaux Packet in February 1813. He also served as a member of Stiles鈥 First Marine Artillery. Ship carpenter Benjamin Tims lived next door in the long-since demolished home at 1908 Aliceanna. He served in a militia company organized by Ann Street resident Luke Kiersted. And, next to Tims, is another sea captain, Clother Allen.
Broadway Market, the first city market in Baltimore, was located near the Fells Point docks in order to take advantage of all the goods arriving regularly from the Eastern Shore and elsewhere. Like all public markets, it served as a major gathering place for shoppers, which meant a number of hotels, taverns, and other businesses filled the surrounding area.
As time passed, the events of history shaped life at the market. During the War of 1812, the British focused on the city due to the privateers out of Baltimore that had been harassing their ships. They also would blockade the transport of food and goods moving through the harbor. This caused periodic food shortages, compounded by the fact that farmers stopped coming to market out of fear of losing their horses to defense efforts.
After the war, as more and more locally enslaved people were being 鈥渟old south鈥 and slave markets grew, the market began to see auctions of people. An auctioneer would be attracted to markets because it was easy to draw a crowd of people that would add to the excitement of a sale. At least one auctioneer, Nicholas Strike, held court-ordered auctions here to sell enslaved people. This type of auction could be held anywhere, like courthouse steps, jails, or auction houses, but a market area always guaranteed a crowd.
During the War of 1812, Fell Street ran down a narrow stretch of land, with valuable water on both sides. William Price, who owned a shipyard at the east end of Thames, lived on Fell Street at 912 (built by 1802) and owned 903 to 907 (built 1779 -1781). One of the city's largest slaveholders with 25 enslaved workers, Price also employed 100 men at his shipyard. He built a dozen letter of marque schooners (more than any other ship builder in Baltimore) and also invests in three cruises. In 1814, Price's tenants at 903-907 Fell Street included Peter Weary, a wood measurer, and widow Sarah Day. Price鈥檚 son and partner, John, lives at 913 Fell (built ca.1790). In the spring of 1813, Price helped to move 56 heavy cannon from his warehouse to Fort McHenry and nearby batteries. Salvaged from a French warship, the 10,000-pound cannon are loaned to Baltimore by the French Consul鈥攖hey later played a crucial role in the fort's defense. Another Fell Street resident who played a role in the War of 1812 is George Stiles who became General Sam Smith鈥檚 most trusted aide. Stiles owned substantial property in Fell's Point, including 910 Fell (built ca. 1810). A skilled sea captain, Stiles was a risk taker who acquired four letter of marque schooners. His Nonesuch received the nation鈥檚 first commission in 1812. The much admired Stiles, whom Niles鈥 Weekly Register called the savior of Baltimore was later elected mayor in 1816. Farther down, at 931 Fell (built ca.1790), was the home of Elizabeth Steele, widow of shipbuilder John Steele, a carefully restored example of the fine townhouses that once dominated this street.
O'Connor's, a package store and restaurant, has been located since the early 1920s in the heart of Greektown at the corner of Eastern Avenue and Oldham Street. In the 1940s, this unassuming, two-story, brick building played a significant role in the city labor movement of the New Deal era.
O'Connor's, a package store and restaurant, has been located since the early 1920s in the heart of Greektown at the corner of Eastern Avenue and Oldham Street. In the 1940s, this unassuming, two-story, brick building played a significant role in the city labor movement of the New Deal era. Baltimore steel workers fought to unionize between 1940 and 1942 and turned O鈥機onnor鈥檚 into the meeting spot where they could discuss the progress of organizing efforts. Similar meetings took place at the Finnish Hall in nearby Highlandtown at Ponca and Foster Streets. The Steel Workers Organizing Committee (SWOC) moved their headquarters into the second floor of O鈥機onnor鈥檚 and, in 1943, the committee became the United Steelworkers of America, a CIO union. Ellen Pinter was part of the Finnish community of Highlandtown, and her father worked at the steel mill in Sparrow鈥檚 Point. She saw firsthand the effects of underemployment on the steelworkers and their families during the Great Depression. Some only received work for one to two days a week. Many families ran up debts at the grocery store or fell behind on rent. Some families took in boarders to try to make ends meet. Ellen took a job for $18 week working for the steel workers鈥 union SWOC around 1937 in the office on top of O鈥機onnor鈥檚. In a 1980 interview with the Baltimore Neighborhood Heritage Project, Ellen recollected:
"The quarters were small but the activity was small. I can vividly remember when the miners came to Baltimore and started the big organization drive of the CIO. The men were pouring into that hall with their pockets just bulging with dollar bills as they were signing up men into the union. There was such a tremendous upsurge of interest in the union. Of course, the mills were full of foreign-born people who knew the value of unions because they had come from European countries where they had been a little more politically astute. And Finns were aware of unionization and more progressive thought鈥 Oh I can remember the Italians, the Finns, the Czechs, the Americans, they were organizing left and right then, in Bethlehem Steel Company."Pinter also notes African American participation in the organizing activity鈥擣innish activists welcomed African Americans at the Finnish Hall during the early days of organizing activity, even though Highlandtown remained a segregated white neighborhood. Racial antagonisms, however, were not absent in the social activities of the union. For instance, Pinter remembers being at a union picnic; a black man asked her to dance and she accepted, only to have a white man cut in and demand to know how she could dare dance with a black man. O鈥機onnor鈥檚 still remains in operation today.
Founded in 1911, the Pemco International Corporation site on Eastern Avenue is a reminder of the enduring environmental legacy of Baltimore鈥檚 industrial businesses. First known as the Porcelain Enamel Manufacturing Corporation, the company produced porcelain and enamel coating for kitchen and bathroom appliances and tiles; perhaps most notably, Pemco supplied the orange roofing tiles for Howard Johnson hotels and restaurants. Karl Turk, Sr., a German immigrant who founded the company, became a leader in the porcelain industry after inventing a process for coating iron in porcelain. Turk was also the first to add color to porcelain coatings. In 1926, Pemco won acclaim at the Gas Association Conference for a new a line of kitchen stoves in various colors.
The company continued to grow in the years following WWII. According to a Baltimore Sun article from 1958, 鈥淭he plant has a battery of eight continuous smelters operating 24 hours a day, several days a week to provide porcelain enamels for appliance makers producing ranges, refrigerators, washing machines, bathroom and kitchen fixtures.鈥 The $750,000 Pemco research lab on Eastern Avenue opened in 1962 and was the first business in the city to have its own heliport.
By the next decade, however, the company ran into problems with environmental issues. In 1979, city officials demanded that the company clean the lead contamination on the complex on Eastern Avenue. The following year Pemco鈥檚 owner, Mobay Chemical Corp. had to pay a $10,000 fine for 鈥渆xcessive fluoride emissions.鈥 Currently, the site is in the process of undergoing redevelopment plans. Purchased by local investment group MCB Real Estate, the company has plans to develop the site as a mixed-use facility similar to Canton Crossing.
Two aging union halls on Dundalk Avenue help the story of Baltimore鈥檚 steel industry. In 1942, steel workers had won their right to unionize and established the United Steel Workers鈥 of America. When the two-story tan brick building at the corner of Dundalk Avenue and Gusryan Street was built in 1952, it served as the headquarters for USW locals 2609 and 2610. As both groups grew in size, however, local 2610 split off and constructed a modern new building next door. According to Gay Flynn, a steelworker who lived in Highlandtown and worked at Sparrow鈥檚 Point, many workers recognized the need for a union:
鈥淎 lot of people were afraid to go to the higher-ups and that, to me, is what brought the unions. They have somebody that they can go to and call that鈥檚 on their side. They always used to feel that they had nobody to talk to. We used to have a company union and a lot of people looked at that as being just that, a company union. Everybody thought that that union was for the company.鈥Once the USW started, some, like Flynn, joined to protect their jobs, whereas others saw the union as a necessary way to protect the gains that workers had made in the labor movement. , a 34-year veteran of Sparrow鈥檚 Point, former shop steward and member of the alternate grievance committee, views the USW, and other unions, this way:
鈥淲ell what I feel is, thank God for unions in America. Because it made me realize that nothing was given freely, everything was born out of struggle. A lot of people today take for [granted] that fact that you get paid vacations. That was something born out of the labor movement鈥攖hat you get paid if you off sick, that you have workers compensation laws, that you have employer provided health insurance, that you have many safeguards in place, all that were met with resistance when lobbied for that we have in place today that a lot of people think that they are etched into the fabric.鈥
Tucked away in the southeastern corner of Baltimore County, and separated from the rest of Sparrow鈥檚 Point by a creek, Turner Station is where many African American workers at Bethlehem Steel and nearby factories lived with their families from the 1800s up through the present. New housing was constructed around World War I in Dundalk for white factory workers, but it excluded black workers. Partially as a result, African Americans focused on building their own community. According to local historian and cosmetologist , Turner Station takes its name from Joshua Turner who first purchased the property in the 1800s:
鈥淚t started with a man named Joshua Turner who had purchased this land back in the 1800s and he had purchased it for guano, which is pigeon droppings, and this was [what] fertilized land... There was a lot of farmland near so the fertilizer was to be used for the different orchard farms. I understand there were apple farms and different vegetable farms not too far from here. So Joshua Turner, as I understand, from the records that we had read, had set up a station for the employees that were employed at Sparrows Point and thus this is how the name came about, Turner Station after Joshua Turner.鈥While Bethlehem Steel built housing for white workers in Dundalk after WWI, they made no investments in housing for black workers in Turner Station. Instead, residents built their own homes and businesses, growing a community outside the oversight of company officials. Beginning around 1920, development started in the neighborhoods of Steelton Park and Carnegie. Turner Station soon became one of the largest African American communities in Baltimore County. The town reached a peak around WWII when wartime workers at Bethlehem Steel moved to the area. According to local historian Louis Diggs, credit for the self-sufficient community鈥檚 development belongs largely to Mr. Anthony Thomas (1857-1931) and Dr. Joseph Thomas (1885-1963), Anthony Thomas鈥 son.
Bethlehem Steel owned and operated Sparrow鈥檚 Point as a company town near the expansive mill complex from the 1890s through the early 1970s. In 1916, however, Bethlehem Steel departed from the model of company-owned housing when it commissioned the construction of Dundalk. Initially, the company erected five hundred gray stucco and slate roofed homes on tree-lined streets between Dundalk Avenue and Sollers Point Road. In the center of the community stood a shopping center surrounded by a park.
Bethlehem Steel, which had recently purchased the mills and shipyards at Sparrows Point, faced an increased demand for ships as the United States mobilized for the first World War. The need for shipyard workers and the labor force at the plant grew. In Dundalk, workers could purchase their own homes through payroll deductions, enabling lower-tier managers, foremen, and top-tier skilled workers to become homeowners. Originally, Bethlehem Steel sought to replicate Roland Park, an upscale neighborhood in northern Baltimore; but the demands of wartime prompted the company to rely on the United States Navy to undertake the construction. Expediency was key so the Navy opted to build duplexes which could be built much faster than the planned single-family homes.
Almost everything about Dundalk was influenced by its connection to the shipbuilding industry鈥攖he curved streets extending northward from the town center form the shape of a boat. Street names include Flagship and Midship. In just two years, the population of Dundalk reached 2,000; it would grow to 8,000 over the course of the next decade. In 1924, Bethlehem Steel created the Dundalk Company, a corporation to oversee the company鈥檚 real estate. Even as it grew, Dundalk remained a segregated white community and closely tied to the operations on Sparrow鈥檚 Point.
In the 1930s, when the managers at Bethlehem Steel remained staunchly opposed to unionization, labor activists at Sparrow鈥檚 Point faced real challenges. According to Ellen Pinter, men couldn鈥檛 wear union buttons for fear of losing their jobs. During the struggles for unionization in the mills, several of the organizers were foreign-born residents of neighborhoods like Highlandtown in the southeastern section of the city along Eastern Avenue. These activists tried to organize their fellow workers by speaking to them in their native languages in places where ethnic workers would congregate. For these activists, immigrant and native-born, public speaking became the best way to advance their cause. Nathaniel Parks, a retired steelworker and former resident of Sparrow鈥檚 Point, describes one way that activists exercised their right to free speech during the early 1930s:
鈥淭he company never did allow people to come in and talk union at Sparrow鈥檚 Point. It was an island鈥nd it happened that the car pulled up a half a block from this corner鈥nd a lady got out [of the car] and a man got out, and they walked over to this iron [street light] pole, and then she handcuffed him to the pole. And then he started putting in his spiel about union: what its advantages was, what they were trying to do. And then, the police, they were in a quarrel; they didn鈥檛 know what to do. They ran around trying to find a hacksaw or something to get him untied from this pole. And he got his spiel before they got him. And then when they put him in this patrol wagon and carried him on the other side of the bridge, he was still with his head out of the window鈥lasting out just about what the union was in for, what the people was in for. Oh, it was really nice to see what was going to happen the way the company was treating men on the jobs in those days鈥︹During the 1930s and 1940s, a traffic island at the intersection of Eastern Avenue and Lehigh Street became a hotspot for pro-union soapbox speakers. Many of these speakers were women, the daughters and wives of steel workers. Most of the work in the steel mills at this time was restricted to men. Male labor activists, therefore, faced the potential of unemployment and blacklists if they were caught organizing. Women, however, did not face this direct threat and used their voices to rally support for the union. Besides speaking in a public arena, like the traffic median on Eastern Avenue, women also went door-to-door and backyard-to-backyard, preaching to women about the union cause as they went about their housework.
At the corner of Broadway and Eastern Avenue, stands a modest three-story brick building with corbeling below a flat roof supported by heavy brackets and full cornice line. Over the course of the twentieth century, this building was home to three of the most important unions for Baltimore鈥檚 maritime industry: the International Seamen鈥檚 Union, the Seamen鈥檚 Defense Committee, and the National Maritime Union.
During the early 1900s, workers on board shipping vessels faced harsh living conditions. Ship owners could maximize space for cargo by crowding seamen into tiny living spaces. Quarters were more like cowsheds than housing, although, according to one physician鈥檚 report, cattle had it better. When on land, seamen were often forced to stay close to the water in overcrowded boarding houses that were segregated by race. The boarding house owners often supplied food, liquor, and prostitutes at such high rates the seamen often became indebted to them.
The boarding house owners also served as agents, hiring seamen on behalf of the ship owners, so they became 鈥渂oth the seamen鈥檚 debtor and his employer.鈥 Their control over the labor force made them powerful players in regulating wages and working conditions; however, this it was hardly absolute. Ship owners had the ultimate control over their workers. Seamen constituted an ethnically and racially diverse workforce, and ship owners often used ethnic and racial antagonisms to divide workers in the effort to thwart unionization. For example, they would give jobs that were traditionally the purview of a specific ethnicity to members of other groups in order to create social schisms. But the nature of their work introduced seamen to people around the world, and many became more open to different cultures and political ideas as a result.
Seamen established their first labor organization, the International Seamen鈥檚 Union (ISU), in 1895 under the American Federation of Labor; but, this organization was only open to skilled workers, and their exclusivity limited the union鈥檚 strength and weakened strikes. In the 1930s, longshoremen and ship and dock workers formed the Maritime Workers Industrial Union (MWIU), a left-leaning organization that opposed racial discrimination and worked for higher wages, better working conditions, and fair hiring practices.
The ISU, however, viewed the MWIU as a threat and often worked to thwart their efforts during the early years of the Depression. In the mid-1930s, seamen worked to push the ISU to become inclusive and adopt a more militant position. Consequently, the Seamen鈥檚 Defense Committee (SDC) was formed in October 1936 and it adopted the MWIU鈥檚 policy of organizing all workers, regardless of position, race, or nationality. That same year, four hundred ISU members from Baltimore joined an SDC strike in support of workers belonging to the Maritime Federation of the Pacific. Meeting at this hall, they voted to use the strike to advance their own demands for ship owners to hire workers鈥攔egardless of race or nationality鈥攁t the union halls, an eight hour workday, pay for overtime work, and for an end to port work on Saturday afternoons and Sundays. Eight hundred workers showed up for picket duty on the first day.
The strike endured despite outbreaks of violence on both sides, but support began to waver as the weeks dragged on. The SDC decided to put pressure on Washington, for the National Labor Relations Board was in the midst of determining the legitimacy of the ISU鈥檚 contract with ship owners. On January 18, 1937, a massive group of seamen from ports spanning the Atlantic and Gulf coasts marched all day and night in the cold and rain from Baltimore to Washington in what became known as the Midnight March of the Baltimore Brigade. When they reached Washington, they were joined by thousands more demonstrators. Delegates met with every major head of the government, even President Roosevelt. This gave them the 鈥渕oral victory鈥 that the strikers sought and led to the strike鈥檚 conclusion. The strikers voted to return to work on January 25, ending the 87-day strike. The NLRB gave the seamen a favorable ruling, and during the spring of 1937 the National Maritime Union officially formed, with a constitution stipulating the organization of all seamen, 鈥渨ithout regard to race, creed, and color.鈥
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Tochterman鈥檚 ostensibly sells fishing tackle but owners Tony and Dee Tochterman鈥攖he third generation of the Tochterman family to run this Eastern Avenue institution鈥攁re part of a hundred year long history of customer service that few other businesses could match. In the mid-1990s, a customer came into the shop carrying a gift certificate he found in his late father鈥檚 desk鈥攄ating all the way back to 1947. Tony honored it anyway. Tony even recalled sending fishing rods to a customer in Nicaragua (a delivery that had to be carried on horseback for the last few miles of the trip). Tochterman鈥檚 Fishing Tackle got started on February 8, 1916, when Baltimore fishmonger Thomas Tochtermann, brought a load of leftover peeler crabs and spoiled fish from the Fish Market by the harbor to his house at 1925 Eastern Avenue. While the fish wasn鈥檛 good enough to cook for dinner, local fishermen heading to the harbor were happy to buy it for bait. Soon, people passing by on the Eastern Avenue trolley line started stopping by the house regularly to buy bait and home-made crab cakes from Anna Tochtermann, Thomas鈥 wife. Anna managed the shop during the day while Thomas worked at the fish market. The business thrived and Tochtermann鈥檚 son, Thomas, Jr. or Tommy, took over in 1936. Thomas鈥 own son, Tony, started working at the shop in 1958鈥攚hen he was just three and a half years old. In the 1980s, Tony took over and, along with his wife and business partner, Dee Taylor, continues to run the shop today. Tommy hasn鈥檛 left entirely, however. After his father鈥檚 death in 1998, Tony installed a small container of his father鈥檚 ashes near the front of the store in a display case featuring vintage fishing reels and a signed baseball from famed Boston Red Sox player (and Tochterman鈥檚 customer) Ted Williams. Dee and Tony live right across the street from the store which has lured in customers with a classic neon sign of a jumping large-mouth bass since the 1930s. The store sells over seven hundred different reels and is packed full of fishing rods. In addition to聽bunker chum (ground Menhaden fish), chicken necks, and clam snouts, the store's live bait offerings include night crawlers, and the ever-popular bloodworms.
The bloodworms are a prized bait for sport fishing in the United States and Europe and, among Dee鈥檚 many contributions to the business, is maintaining the shop鈥檚 stock of bloodworms that she orders from diggers in Maine and Canada. Known to customers as the 鈥淲orm Lady,鈥 Dee counts each delivery by hand and washes the thousands of worms in salt-water (shipped in to match the salinity of their native habitat). Her painstaking work is appreciated, as fishing aficionados go out of their way to get their bait and gear at Tochterman鈥檚. This business has always been an integral part of the lives of the family for three generations鈥攁nd touched the lives of countless people heading to the water prepared with the best fishing tackle and advice in Baltimore.
When this article first appeared, Meyer Seed Company was over 100 years old. Unfortunately, the business closed in 2021. The location is to be developed into an apartment/retail space.
Like the countless seeds the Meyer Seed Company has sold over the past hundred years, the story of this long-running legacy business starts with water. Before he held a seed bucket or a watering can, the company鈥檚 founder, John F. Meyer, worked as a sailor, eventually becoming first officer of the schooner Katie J. Irelan. On September 22, 1897, on a voyage carrying scrap iron from Baltimore to Wilmington, North Carolina, a severe storm swamped the ship. Another ship struggling through the storm spotted the Katie J. Irelan in distress and rescued Meyer and his crewmates less than two hours before the 708-ton ship sank into the ocean. Meyer retired from sailing the next year. Later, Meyer fondly recalled the eleven years he spent on the 鈥渁dventurous yet hard life鈥 at sea before he 鈥渄rifted back to Baltimore and decided to stick to dry land.鈥 Meyer started selling seeds for the long-established Bolgiano Seed Company at the northeast corner of Pratt and Light Streets. In September 1910, he partnered with German immigrant G.W. Stisser to form the Meyer-Stisser Seed Company initially located at 32 Light Street. After the end of World War I, Stisser returned to Germany so, in 1921, Meyer bought out his interest in the business. By 1927, the business boasted a proud motto: 鈥淪terling quality, courteous treatment and punctuality.鈥 Meyer鈥檚 assistant, Webster Hurst, Sr., bought out Meyer (but kept the name) in the 1930s. Today, three successive generations of the Hurst family have continued to run the company and devote their lives to selling seeds. Apparently, the seed business is as much about cultivating people as plants. At least two of the current employees have been with the company for over thirty years. Charles Pearre, a former employee, worked for over fifty years selling and developing seeds. In addition, there are even customers who have bought Meyer Seed for multiple generations. Meyer Seed is now located in a nondescript warehouse on Caroline Street between Harbor East and Fells Point. Stepping inside, however, offers a rare sight鈥攈undreds of varieties of seeds displayed in big banks of wooden drawers and long rows of bins used by countless customers over the decades.The company鈥檚 wide variety of seeds for sale has helped Meyer Seed compete with 鈥渂ig box鈥 stores that don鈥檛 offer nearly the same range of options for gardeners. Meyer Seed has been around long enough to see some of their seeds rise and fall in popularity. After the 鈥淟ong John鈥 melon was developed in Anne Arundel, County, Meyer Seed was the first company to start selling the melon鈥檚 seeds in 1930. But, in the decades after World War II, very few farmers or gardeners planted what are now known as 鈥渉eirloom鈥 plant varieties like the Long John melon. Fortunately, in 2004, David Pendergrass of the New Hope Seed Company in Tennessee learned of the long defunct melon and obtained some starter seeds from the USDA. The plants grew and Pendergrass reintroduced the melon to the world in 2007. Whether it鈥檚 seeds for heirloom melons or cutting edge organic gardening seeds, for over one hundred years, Meyer Seed remains at the center of Baltimore鈥檚 seed world.
Founded in 1863 by German immigrants Ludwig Hilgartner and Gottfried Schimpf, Hilgartner Stone has made some of the nation鈥檚 finest stonework for over one hundred and fifty years. Of course, the company has made a unique mark on both Baltimore鈥檚 sculpture and architecture during that time. The company鈥檚 work can be found at the Baltimore Museum of Art, Greenmount Cemetery, Walters Art Museum, Maryland Institute College of Art, the Baltimore War Memorial鈥攁long with other major landmarks. The company鈥檚 most widely used product, however, may also be one of the most humble: the city鈥檚 iconic marble steps. Born in Hessen, Germany in 1832, Ludwig H. Hilgartner immigrated to the United States at age nineteen in 1851. Hilgartner found work as a stone-cutter and, in 1863, worked with stonemason Gottfried Schimpf to form a new stone company, Schimpf and Hilgartner. By 1870, the company maintained an office on Lexington Street in downtown Baltimore and a busy workshop at the southwest corner of Pine and Mulberry Streets. Just a few years later, in 1873, Hilgartner bought out Schimpf. By the next decade, Hilgartner鈥檚 two sons were learning the business as apprentices and eventually joined the firm, changing the name to L. Hilgartner and Sons. During the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Hilgartner鈥檚 thirty horsepower stone-cutting engine turned Baltimore County marble into thousands of steps to supply the city鈥檚 building boom. The company grew over the years to such an extent that by 1910, it opened a branch office in Chicago. Hilgartner even added a marble purchasing agency in Carrara, Italy and a workshop in Los Angeles to feed the demand created by new aqueduct projects and a burgeoning movie business in California. The onset of the Great Depression in the 1930s hit Hilgartner hard. The company was able to survive thanks to business from the Dupont Company, which had plenty of money and did a lot of building, taking advantage of cheaper prices for labor and materials at the time. All the same, the company had to layoff a substantial portion of its workforce and close some of its factories. Hilgartner continued to shrink until 1971 when the firm was sold. Once the largest finisher of slab marble in the U.S., Hilgartner had shrunk to just seven employees. Over the last thirty years, the firm has slowly come back to life. Though much of Hilgartner鈥檚 stone work has been on a grand scale, some of its smallest works are marble door stops. Probably made with scrap marble, they were popular at the turn of the last century. They made a brief resurgence in 1976 when Hilgartner offered them at the Baltimore City Fair, where the company set up a booth to showcase its work. The City Fair, begun in 1970, was held for 21 years as a venue to showcase Baltimore鈥檚 neighborhoods and institutions. The small door stops were so popular that Hilgartner started receiving orders for them to commemorate weddings, births, and other special occasions. The company鈥檚 current owner, Tom Doyle, purchased the firm in 1986 and led the business to grow and take on large projects again. One of Hilgartner鈥檚 recent projects was the conversion the former Maryland Masonic Grand Lodge on Charles Street into 鈥淭he Grand鈥 event venue. When they started on the project, Hilgarten鈥檚 masons were surprised to find a room elaborately decorated with a wide array of marble. A little research revealed that the room began in the early twentieth century as a Hilgartner showroom that promoted the company鈥檚 offerings. Today, the room is back in operation as one of the most extravagantly decorated ladies rooms visitors are likely ever to see. Good fortune has played no small part in keeping Hilgartner Stone alive for over 150 years. If it wasn鈥檛 for a move from downtown to south Baltimore in the early years of the twentieth century, the business would have burned down with the rest of the heart of Baltimore during the 1904 fire. Since it became one of the few stone companies still in business after the fire, it flourished during the rebuilding. In addition to restoring stone in old buildings, such as St. Ignatius Church on Calvert Street, today Hilgartner also does plenty of new construction like a chapel in St. Patrick鈥檚 Cathedral in New York City and a new floor under a dinosaur exhibit at the Smithsonian Natural History Museum. The company left its long-time home on Sharp Street in 1975 to move to 101 W. Cross Street, and, in 2016, moved again to the current location on Severn Street.
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In 1914, Luigi DiPasquale, Sr., an Italian immigrant to Baltimore, established a small corner store on Claremont Street stocking groceries and household goods for residents in the developing Highlandtown neighborhood. Over a century later, the business has kept up with the changing tastes of local shoppers. Now owned by Joe DiPasquale, the store on Gough Street is now a unique marketplace that draws shoppers from across the region seeking imported and locally produced Italian food. Early on, the DiPasquale family butchered chickens and goats to offer fresh meat and produced household products, such as homemade bleach. Of course, Luigi, also known as Louie Moore, DiPasquale also played an active role in the community鈥攐rganizing a band along with Larry DiMartino at Our Lady of Pompei church (established in 1923). In the 1940s, a growing number of Italian immigrants moved from Little Italy to Highlandtown as commercial development of the downtown area expanded. In the 1980s, the shop鈥檚 current owner, Joe DiPasquale, took an extended trip to Italy, where he travelled the length of the country, fell in love with the country and, most importantly, the traditional foods. Joe鈥檚 wife family had only recently immigrated to the United States in the 1970s and he credits them as an influence. After his close study of authentic Italian cooking, Joe DiPasquale always orders the finest ingredients and foods he can find, whether it is imported or domestic. For example, while the Nutella hazelnut spread is produced in the United States, Joe noticed that the Italian-manufactured version offered a better flavor鈥攕o the store only stocks the imported option. In 1988, DiPasquale鈥檚 expanded in a move from their original location on Claremont Street to the current site on Gough Street one block away. The business installed ovens to bake their own bread. In recent years, DiPasquale鈥檚 prepared foods have been featured on the Food Network鈥檚 鈥淒iner, Dives, and Drive-Ins鈥 and on the Travel Channel鈥檚 鈥淶immern List.鈥 The television fame brought an overwhelming influx of patrons. For weeks, lines of customers looking to buy lasagne and arancini di riso (deep fried balls of rice and meat) stretched out the door.
*As of 2022, Dipasquale's is no longer operating out of this building, but it is still in business in other locations in Baltimore
A family-owned business has been around since 1868, Budeke鈥檚 paint products have been delivered via police car, motorcycle, bicycle, and roller skates, not to mention more conventional commercial trucks. The long-time Broadway location in Fells Point was gutted by fire in September 2018.
Budeke's Paint operated in the same storefront on Broadway from 1870 up until 2018. Unfortunately, in the early morning hours of September 7, 2018 a fire broke out on the first floor and grew into a four-alarm blaze that destroyed the stock, a collection of documents and ephemera, and the building鈥檚 interior. Fortunately, the fire caused no injuries and the business has continued operations at its Timonium location. During Budeke鈥檚 long history, its paint has been used by institutions as diverse as Johns Hopkins Hospital, Bethlehem Steel, McCormick & Co, and the U.S. Coast Guard. Local governments, including Baltimore City and County, have used Budeke鈥檚 products in municipal buildings including City Hall. George H. Budeke was born in 1846 in Hamilton, North Carolina, to a family of German immigrants. He moved to Baltimore in 1859, a year after his father鈥檚 death, and became an errand-boy at a dry goods store before moving on to manage two paint stores. Budeke founded his company in 1868 just three years after the end of the Civil War. The business has stayed in the family through five generations. Upon the death of George H., the business passed to his son, George M. Budeke, in 1909. It then passed to a son-in-law, George Gardner, who took over in 1956. Gardner passed the business on to his own son-in-law, Louis V. Koerber, in 1969. Finally, the current owner, L. Bryan Koerber, took over the business from his own father in 1996. While most customers buy pre-mixed paint today, Budeke's originally sold the essential ingredients separately鈥攖urpentine, white or red lead, and a variety of earthen pigments鈥攖hat contractors used to mix their own paints. Different ratios of the components determined whether painters used the mixture as primer or a top coat. Budeke obtained its stock regionally, including from a number of small pigment grinders who turned raw minerals into various colors out of their shops on Russell Street (near where the Horseshoe Casino now stands). In those days, lead was commonly used as the hiding agent in paint to ensure the pigment covered over the surface that was being painted, but fell out of use due to its toxicity. Lead paint was eventually banned in the United States in the 1970s and replaced with product that uses titanium dioxide instead. The fire at the original location of Budeke鈥檚 destroyed more than a few of old buildings. It also wiped out much of the history of the business. A room on the second floor of its Fells Point shop was a little museum containing artifacts relating to its decades of operation. One noteworthy item on display was a bill from September 10, 1888, for an order by Baltimore鈥檚 health department, which consisted of a long list of items totaling $11.92. The corresponding cancelled check for this order, dated September 17, 1888, was found during renovations of City Hall in the 1970s. The contractor who was charged with disposing of old files reviewed some of what he had and realized the businesses still existed and might want the old paperwork. After presenting the old check to the shop on Broadway, Budeke's staff gave the contractor a gallon of paint for his trouble.
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Faidley鈥檚 is as much about the people as the seafood. Whether gathered around the store鈥檚 raw bar at one of the stand-up tables near the busy line of workers making crab cakes, customers are often feel like they鈥檙e simply sharing a meal with old friends. Faidley鈥檚 started out at Lexington Market in 1886 when John and Flossie Faidley combined their seafood stall with the adjoining business to form Smith & Faidley鈥檚 seafood. John鈥檚 son, Edward took over the business before World War II, and, 1948, John W. Faidley, Jr. joined him and changed the name of the company to John W. Faidley鈥檚 seafood. A major fire at Lexington Market that same year forced the business to move to the Lexington Market garage but Faidley鈥檚 was one of the first establishments to return to the new Lexington Marker in 1952. The idea of selling prepared foods at the stall originated around this time, reportedly after customers smelled a fish sandwich John, Jr. was making for himself鈥攁nd asked if they could buy one. In 1966, the Liquor Board gave Faidley鈥檚 a liquor license making it the first bar in the long history of Lexington Market. John W. Faidley applied for the license after he and his regular customer agreed that 鈥渋t just isn鈥檛 right鈥 to eat crabcakes and steam crabs with no beer to drink. Over the past twenty years, Faidley鈥檚 has won international renown for its crab cakes. The current recipe was created in 1987 by Nancy Faidley Devine, John鈥檚 daughter. That was the same year she resumed working at the 鈥渇amily firm鈥 where her husband Bill Devine had worked since he finished a term of military service in 1964. Not long after, food critics started making their way to Lexington Market and featuring Faidley鈥檚 in national publications including the New York Times, Bon Appetit, Gourmet, and USA Today. Baltimore Magazine gave Faidley鈥檚 the 鈥淏est Crab Cake鈥 award so many times the magazine had to retire the category. Faidley鈥檚 even worked with Old Bay to prepare crab cakes for astronauts on the space shuttle. Unfortunately, NASA officials cancelled their order at the last minute over worries that oil might escape from the crab cake under zero gravity conditions. The future of Faidley鈥檚 Seafood looks just as promising as the past. Damye Devine Hahn, Nancy and Bill鈥檚 daughter, is now an integral part of the business and is keeping up Faidley鈥檚 fresh seafood and out-of-this-world crab cakes.
Like many old family-owned businesses, Lakein鈥檚 Jewelers was started by a newly arrived immigrant, 29-year-old Isadore Lakein, who arrived in the United States from Russia in 1912 with his wife Anna and their son Samuel. A second son, David, was born in 1915. Isadore started his jewelry business the year after arriving in the U.S. when he began selling a variety of goods door-to-door in the Fell's Point neighborhood of Baltimore. Lakein offered customers the option to pay in installments, and would return to collect regular payments. By 1929, he opened a store at 515 S. Broadway. His sons, Samuel and David, joined him in the enterprise. Attention to detail and care for customers is imperative to the success of any small family business and Lakein鈥檚 is no exception. In a 2019 interview, present-day owner Warren Lakein shared how a customer had recently stopped in the shop, now located in Hamilton, to pick up a watch he left for repair鈥攖hree years earlier. Despite the delay, the customer still found the repaired watch waiting and ready for pick up at the counter. The Lakein family applies the same customer-centered approach to the repair of watches of all kinds, whether it is a basic Timex, an expensive Rolex, a rare antique, or a sentimental treasure. The threat of theft is present at all jewelry stores and Lakein鈥檚 has seen some losses. One old wrong was made right several years ago, when a plain manila envelope arrived at the store with no return address. The envelope contained a wedding band and an unsigned note reading: 鈥淚 shoplifted it from your store about forty years ago, and I鈥檓 very sorry for that.鈥 The tradition of layaway and door-to-door service stayed with the family for generations. The business grew to include four locations in Baltimore including shops at 3221 Greenmount Avenue, the corner of Erdman Avenue and Belair Road, and at 5400 Harford Road in Hamilton. Isadore retired to Florida and started another location there before his death in 1962. Warren Lakein, a current owner of Lakein鈥檚 Jewelers of Hamilton and grandson of the founder, grew up behind the Harford Road store in a small stucco house and recalled making house calls with selections of rings for people who requested something special. Lakein's continues to offer layaway accounts for up to eight months. Hundreds, if not thousands, of local Baltimoreans still shop at Lakein鈥檚 to buy special gifts for sweethearts or parents. Payments were made regularly for as little as one dollar per week back in the 1960s and 1970s. For some fortunate shoppers, those friendship and 鈥済oing steady鈥 rings led to engagement and wedding rings鈥攊ncluding some still in use forty or fifty years later. Customers have maintained their loyalty to the store for generations. Some customers own Lakein鈥檚 jewelry from forty to eighty years ago that has been handed down by their parents or grandparents. One customer received his grandmother鈥檚 engagement and wedding rings, which he later gave to his wife. They were purchased at the original store鈥檚 location just a few years after it opened on S. Broadway in 1929. Lakein鈥檚 Jewelers is a remarkable reminder of the opportunities Baltimore offered to European immigrants in the early twentieth century. A hard-working door-to-door salesman from Russia could open a store in Fell's Point and grow the business over time to five locations. Regrettably, it also shows the challenges small businesses have faced in recent decades. Most of the stores have closed, including the original Broadway location, which closed in 2005. Fortunately, due to a loyal clientele and dedicated owners, Lakein鈥檚 Jewelers of Hamilton is still going strong.
Alexander Fruman emigrated to Baltimore from Eastern Europe in 1917 with few possessions. Among them was a handsaw that helped him start a business building wooden windows and doors in 1919, in a shop at the corner of Stiles Street and S. Central Avenue near the Little Italy neighborhood.
According to family legend, when prohibition began the following year, Alexander sold mauls to the Bureau of Prohibition agents, which were used to break down bootleggers鈥 doors who were selling illegal alcohol. Sensing an additional business opportunity, Mr. Fruman also offered his services at this time to these same local bootleggers who needed their doors reinforced with steel plating to ward off the Prohibition agents.
As the business grew, Alexander鈥檚 son Isadore joined the business and more outdoor storage space was needed. Additional property was soon purchased in Little Italy at the corner of Eastern Avenue and Albemarle Street and another parcel was rented in the rear of Pier 6 on Pratt Street 鈥 commonly known today as the site of the Pier 6 Concert Pavilion. In 1960, National Lumber was still growing and moved again to the corner of Elliott Street and S. Linwood Avenue in Canton. This had previously been the location of the P.M. Womble Lumber Co., an industrial supplier of lumber and timbers. In 1969, National Lumber was notified by the City of Baltimore that their property in Canton was in the path of the proposed East-West Expressway, and was likely to be seized through eminent domain, necessitating another move. Even though the expressway was never built, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise for National Lumber as it allowed them to move in 1970 to their current six-acre facility at Pulaski Highway and E. Monument Street in East Baltimore (the former home of the Harry C. Weiskittel Co., manufacturers of the Real Host line of gas ranges).
The present-day office on Pulaski Highway features a collection of pictorial memorabilia chronicling the company鈥檚 history-鈥搃ncluding a horseshoe that some employees speculate came from the company鈥檚 first horse, which was purchased from the Baltimore City Fire Department as the city transitioned from horse-drawn to motorized equipment. No one with the fire department at the time thought to inform the horse鈥檚 new owners that he might suddenly bolt at the sound of fire engine bells. As luck would have it, the first time the horse was being used for a delivery a fire engine raced by and he took off after them鈥nd left an order of over 40 doors scattered all over E. Baltimore Street!
While the company鈥檚 initial focus was in doors and windows, National Lumber has diversified over the years and now proudly offers 鈥淓verything for Building.鈥 Their customer base today includes homeowners, contractors, property managers, deck builders, developers, and commercial accounts.
National Lumber鈥檚 longevity has been aided by its membership in the Lumbermen鈥檚 Merchandising Corporation (LMC), an umbrella organization comprised of over 380 independent lumber and building material dealers from throughout the United States. Established in 1935, LMC is built on a cooperative business model that negotiates buying opportunities for its member firms. Membership is by invitation only and includes a rigorous approval process.
Over the years National Lumber has supplied materials to help build a variety of well-known projects that include scaffolding used in construction of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, as well as the platform Pope John Paul II used when he stepped off the train for his 1995 visit to Baltimore鈥檚 Camden Yards.
National Lumber is now in the hands of the fourth and fifth generations of the Fruman family, Arnold and his sons, Kevin and Neal. While they no longer build windows with sash weights and pulleys, they do offer design consultations and almost anything needed for the building of a home--inside and out. As their slogan says, "Everything for Building."
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A.T. Jones & Sons, Inc., costumer for innumerable theatrical performers and party-goers since 1868, succumbed to the effects of the pandemic shutdown.
Imagine a horde of Christmas elves attacking a chorus line of Roman legionaries. Now, if you wish to see this fever-dream in person, take a trip to A.T. Jones & Sons on N. Howard Street. They have a warehouse filled with costumes from any period of history. Alfred Thomas Jones started renting out costumes in 1868. He arrived in Baltimore from North Carolina in the spring of 1861. He was there to collect a $500 prize for a painting he submitted to a contest sponsored by the predecessor of the Maryland Institute College of Art (Maryland Institute for the Promotion of the Mechanic Arts). He was unable to return to N.C., however, after fighting broke out at the start of the Civil War. So, he settled into a new life as a teacher at the art school that awarded his prize. Jones began buying costumes as a hobby in 1868. He purchased Confederate and Union army uniforms as well as parade and masquerade ball costumes. These costumes served Mr. Jones well as he was able to rent them for masquerade balls, a popular form of high society entertainment in the late 19th century. A costume from one season could be altered and rented the next. Perhaps the largest of the masked balls of the late 19th century was the Oriole Pageant, sponsored by the Order of the Oriole. The first of these pageants was held in 1880 to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the settlement of Baltimore. The following year the society outdid itself with a three-day affair that included a parade through the city (illuminated with electric lights), concerts, a parade of boats in the harbor, and, of course, a masked ball. The B&O Railroad added extra cars to accommodate the crowds attending the festivities. All of these events required costumes, some of which were rented out by Mr. A.T. Jones. The costume rental business included supplying local theatre companies. Many of the famous actors of the 19th century depended on the Jones family. Edwin Booth, the most illustrious of a Maryland family of actors, gave Jones some of his own props and costumes, such as a sword used in Hamlet and pound-of-flesh scales from Merchant of Venice. The most loyal and long lasting customer of A.T. Jones & Sons is the Gridiron Club, a journalistic organization in Washington, D.C., made up primarily of news bureau chiefs. It was founded in 1885 and has been renting costumes annually since 1888 for their white-tie banquet that includes satirical skits directed at politicians and journalists. Some of the costumes for this event have been worn by John Glenn, Ronald Reagan, Bill Clinton, and news reporter Bob Schieffer. A.T. Jones began by renting costumes for parades, pageants, and theatrical productions, as well as formal wear to young men who could not afford to purchase them. Through the next century and a half, his descendants and successors have adapted to the times and changing demands. From A.T., the shop went to his son, Walter Jones, Sr., then Walter鈥檚 widow, Lena, then their son, Walter 鈥淭ubby鈥 Jones, Jr. The shop was eventually purchased by a long-time employee, George Goebel. His son Ehrich joined the business and has expanded the market to include opera and theatre companies throughout the United States. The inventory now includes everything from Aida to Elf the Musical. The one costume that is of great demand every year is for Santa Claus. Ever since the first department store version of the fat, jolly, white-bearded old man made its appearance in the 19th century, there has been a run on large red suits with white trim every December. A.T. Jones is always ready to meet the demand from department stores and charitable organizations for Santa costumes.
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While nothing remains to indicate what once transpired here, we pinpoint this location to memorialize the victims of enslavement in America.
Barnum鈥檚 City Hotel, located where the Clarence M. Mitchell, Jr. Courthouse stands today, was a common meeting place for all manner of transactions, such as buying, selling, or trading of products. It was common to see advertisements for the sale or purchase of enslaved people in which interested parties could meet at a specific hotel or tavern. Barnum鈥檚 was a common meeting place. Also, Lewis F. Scott, one of the most prolific dealers in human flesh, operated his General Slave Agency* from the basement level of the hotel for a period in the 1840s.There was also a sale that took place at the City Hotel that resulted in freedom for the person being purchased. The following is from the Baltimore Sunpaper, February 28, 1855. Arthur Burns, the fugitive slave whose trial excited so much attention in Massachusetts about six months ago, was yesterday in this city, and took the cars last evening for Philadelphia, with the intention of proceeding North as far as Massachusetts. It appears that his master did not wish to part with him, but finally agreed to do so, whereupon he was purchased by Mr. McDaniel for $900. The gentleman yesterday reached here, and effected a sale of Burns to Rev. Lloyd A. Grimes, of Massachusetts, for the sum of $1,325. The transaction took place at Barnum鈥檚 Hotel, and was evidenced by Colonel Houston, one of the clerks. Burns excited by considerable attention during the few hours he was here. Upon his arrival North a grand demonstration will be made.聽 * See also entry on General Intelligence Office.
While nothing remains to indicate what once transpired here, we pinpoint this location to memorialize the victims of enslavement in America.
Bernard Moore Campbell and his brother Lewis operated a slave pen at this location, 26 Conway Street, from 1844 to 1848. Like most successful traders of enslaved people at the time, the Campbells relied on agents working the region to supply them with 鈥渋nventory.鈥 One of them, John G. Campbell, worked the area around Port Tobacco in Southern Maryland, where he specialized in acquiring 鈥渟laves for life,鈥 which would be more appealing to buyers in the New Orleans market. The brothers鈥 business at this location on Conway Street was modest, but when they purchased the more infamous Slatter jail at Howard and Pratt Streets, the numbers of people they shipped south increased dramatically.
Though the pen is long gone, at least one building dating from this era still stands a block away, Old Otterbein Church. One can only imagine what the congregants thought of this neighbor.
While nothing remains to indicate what once transpired here, we pinpoint this location to memorialize the victims of enslavement in America.
Centre Market, aka Marsh Market, was the thriving heart of early Baltimore commerce, primarily due to its proximity to the docks and the cargo arriving regularly. Vendors filled the space along Market Place from Baltimore Street to Pratt Street at the harbor鈥檚 edge, offering everything from produce to livestock. Separate areas were devoted to particular products. For example, the area where Port Discovery is today was the fish market. Just north of that was where horses were sold. This horse market area was also where enslaved people were sold. Auctioneers would often hold court ordered sales here of people who may have been designated as unclaimed runaway slaves.
Due to the large number of shoppers attracted to the market, many other businesses grew up nearby, such as taverns and inns. There were also several estate auctioneers who operated nearby. Just like today, estate auctions included everything from furniture to linens. Prior to the Civil War, however, these auctions often included the sale of people. As the demand for enslaved labor increased in the 19th century, several slave traders also operated in the area west of this market area. They would meet at the nearby hotels and taverns, such as Garland Burnett鈥檚 Tavern, Mrs. Green鈥檚 Tavern (Sign of the Green Tree), and Sinners鈥檚 Hotel on Water Street. Eventually, a few slave jails were operated in the area by James Purvis and John Denning.
A major reconstruction of the market took place in 1851, which included a large, two-story building that took up an entire city block built over the market area. It was initially known as Maryland Institute Hall because it housed the Maryland Institute for the Promotion of the Mechanic Arts, which is now known as Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA). The second floor housed the school classrooms, offices, and classrooms, as well as an assembly hall large enough to accommodate crowds attending two presidential nominating conventions and a speech by Abraham Lincoln. This entire area was destroyed by the Great Baltimore Fire in 1904.
While nothing remains to indicate what once transpired here, we pinpoint this location to memorialize the victims of enslavement in America.
This was one of two locations where John N. Denning operated as a slave trader. He was here at 104 N. Exeter Street in the early 1840s. (Street numbers were changed in 1887, making this 264 N. Exeter today.) He later moved in 1849 to a pen at 18 S. Frederick Street, which he noted was the house "with trees in front." He always made a point in his ads that he was ready to pay "cash for Negroes," often repeating the declaration in each ad.
While nothing remains to indicate what once transpired here, we pinpoint this location to memorialize the victims of enslavement in America.
The General Wayne Inn was one of the many inns, hotels, and taverns, where enslaved workers were purchased or sold. For instance, the following ad was posted August 4, 1817. 鈥10 or 15 Negroes Wanted. From 10 to 25 years of age, for which, if speedy application is made, the most liberal prices will be given. Apply at John Cugles, sign of General Wayne, head of Market Street, to ZACHARIAH SAMUEL.鈥 The buyer was probably looking for people to 鈥渟ell south.鈥
After its incorporation in the late 18th century, the population of Baltimore grew very quickly along with the expansion of the new country. One of the many 鈥渢rades鈥 that grew along with the city was the sale of people. There was a strong market in Baltimore in the early 19th century for enslaved workers, for several reasons. First, local Maryland farmers had shifted from a labor-intensive tobacco crop to the growing of cereal grains, which required less work and contributed to a surplus of slave labor in the area. Secondly, Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin in 1793, which quickly and easily separated cotton fibers from their seeds. The cotton industry then became incredibly profitable, which fueled a desire for more land and forced labor in the South. The third factor was that the importation of people for sale was outlawed in 1808, meaning enslavers could only obtain enslaved workers from within the United States. Therefore, farmers in Maryland began to sell their surplus enslaved labor to enslavers in the South and West.
This domestic slave trading, known as the Second Middle Passage, replaced the international slave trade in 1808 and became a integral to the new nation鈥檚 economy, which depended heavily on the growth of cotton. Historians estimate that about one million enslaved people were sold and moved around the country between 1808 and the abolition of slavery in 1865. About one-third of all marriages between enslaved people were broken up by these forced relocations. About one-fifth of enslaved children were separated from their parents. Needless to say, the trauma of these forced separations was devastating for the people who suffered through them.
While nothing remains to indicate what once transpired here, we pinpoint this location to memorialize the victims of enslavement in America.
Built before 1782, the Indian Queen Hotel was one of the first public houses erected in Baltimore. It saw many notable guests in its day, such as Presidents Washington, Adams, Van Buren, and Jackson. Francis Scott Key also spent a night here after he had witnessed the 鈥渂ombs bursting in air鈥 over Fort McHenry. It was here that he completed the Star-Spangled Banner.
At that time, the proprietor was a notable hotelier, John Gadsby, who had operated several hotels in his lifetime in Washington, DC and Alexandria, VA. While he ran the Indian Queen, Mr. Gadsby owned 36 people who worked there as waiters. This made him the largest holder of enslaved workers in Baltimore City.
While nothing remains to indicate what once transpired here, we pinpoint this location to memorialize the victims of enslavement in America.
Slave trader James Franklin Purvis, followed the custom of the day, which was to use a hotel or tavern as a business address. One of the locations he used for this purpose was Whitman's Eagle Hotel here on West Pratt Street, between Charles and Light Streets. His two other locations where he acquired and/or sold people were 2 S. Calvert Street and on Harford Avenue between Biddle and Preston Streets. He used his Harford Avenue location as his jail, where he kept the people he purchased.
While nothing remains to indicate what once transpired here, we pinpoint this location to memorialize the victims of enslavement in America.
Elijah Sinners鈥檚 Tammany Hall Hotel was one of the many taverns and hotels in the area where people met to carry on a variety of business transactions. Placing advertisements in local newspapers to arrange business meetings in public houses was a common practice in the early 19th century. In addition to the business of commerce, people would also arrange meetings for social purposes. For example, Thomas Wildey began the International Order of Odd Fellows at an arranged meeting in this location.
The most notorious purpose for arranged meetings at hotels and taverns was for the sale of enslaved people. Austin Woolfolk, for instance, used this location to build up his business until he made enough money to open a slave jail at Pratt and Cove Streets (near today鈥檚 MLK Blvd.) Eventually, the slave trading firm of Franklin & Armfield sent an agent to Baltimore, Franklin鈥檚 nephew James Franklin Purvis, to start operations here in 1831. The F&A business would become the largest traders of people in the U.S., modeling Woolfolk鈥檚 techniques--a network of agents, saturation advertising, and jails/pens as a holding area. Purvis became successful enough that he, too, was able to open a jail in Baltimore at Harford & Aisquith Streets.
While nothing remains to indicate what once transpired here, we pinpoint this location to memorialize the victims of enslavement in America.
Like all inns and taverns of the early 19th century, the Three Tuns Tavern was used as a meeting place for social and business transactions, not unlike coffee shops today. Austin Woolfolk used this location in his early days as a slave trader before he built up one of the largest slave trading businesses in the country.