The former St. Vincent鈥檚 Infant Asylum/Carver Hall Apartments buildings was a complex of structures built between 1860 and the 1910s to provide housing and medical services to dependent children and women, along with housing for the nuns who operated the facility. After years of declining use, the Infant Asylum left the facility around 1934 for a new location on Reisterstown Road.
Around 1941, the building was converted to use as Carver Hall Apartments offering a range of rental units to a largely African American group of tenants from the up through 2013. Since the 1970s, the management of the property has posed significant challenges for residents in the building with a major fire in 1978, a lawsuit in 1993 and issues with drug traffic and violence at the building in the 1900s.
In January 2015, the building caught on fire destroying the roof and gutting much of the interior. It now stands vacant. Unfortunately, in February 2018, the building was illegally demolished without a permit.
The Stafford was once an elegant hotel serving the elite of Baltimore and the many high-profile figures visiting the city. The hotel was designed by founding member of the Baltimore AIA chapter Charles E. Cassell and when it opened in 1894, it was the tallest building in Mt. Vernon. The entrance opened up to a highly ornamented hallway tiled with Romanesque designs. According to the Baltimore Sun, the ceilings were relieved with elaborate friezes and bordered with flecks of gold. The hotel also had a specified ladies parlor on the second floor for women traveling alone complete with a writing room and a cafe.
Over time, the Stafford Hotel was visited by dignitaries, movie stars, musicians, and famous writers. It was a favorite hotel of Katharine Hepburn and opera star Rosa Ponselle who would come to the hotel to get fitted by traveling English tailors. The Stafford was also the last place where F. Scott Fitzgerald lived in Baltimore before moving to Hollywood.
Perhaps the most interesting place in the Stafford Hotel was the bar overlooking the statue of Revolutionary War hero John Eager Howard. The bar was known across town as being highly exclusive. Only the most esteemed guests were served drinks and even then they had to woo the bartender. On one particular night on December 26, 1936, F. Scott Fitzgerald got the attention of many of the bar's patrons after racking up a $22.36 tab, a figure that would amount to about $370 today.
The Stafford Hotel fell on hard times after it closed in 1973 and was turned into federally subsidized apartments. By the turn of the twenty-first century it had become a seedy center for prostitution and drugs. Johns Hopkins University acquired the building in 2002 thanks to legislation that made it possible to turn federally subsidized housing into student housing. Now the Stafford Hotel serves as apartments exclusively for Johns Hopkins and Peabody students.
When Samuel Posner moved his successful dry goods business to the corner of Lexington and Howard, architect Charles E. Cassell's gorgeous and ornate white Renaissance Revival building鈥攃omplete with roaring lions and majestic wreaths and fluted columns鈥攎ade a grand addition to the growing row of department store "palaces" on Howard Street in 1899.
The building played a prominent role in Baltimore's turn-of-the-century transition from smaller, specialized retailers to large, purpose-built department stores. Like many department stores across the country, Stewart's strove to provide a wide range of high quality goods to America's rising middle class and lured customers with its open layout, enticing displays, large plate glass windows, and by being, among other things, the first Howard Street store to install air conditioning in 1931.
Though the Stewart's name, etched in block letters at the building's crest, is still visible today, the store's ownership history is a bit less permanent. Within little over a year of the store's opening, The Baltimore Sun reported that Samuel Posner had sold the business to Louis Stewart and the Associated Merchants' Company (AMC), most likely as a result of financial difficulties resulting from high construction costs. Louis Stewart's turn at the helm of store was brief, too: in 1916 Stewart's was absorbed into a new firm, the Associated Dry Goods corporation (ADG), which consolidated several major U.S. retailing chains, including Lord & Taylor and J. McCreery's.
Many Baltimoreans have fond memories of shopping at Stewarts and recall making day-long excursions to the store. Stewart's, according to local columnist, Jacques Kelly, had "...an excellent men's furnishing department 鈥 ties and sweaters" and a wonderful selection of "... china and silver" and "yard good (dressmaking materials)." A high-class store with an elegant interior, Stewart's boasted two restaurants鈥攖he Georgian Tea Room and Cook Works鈥攂oth popular with shoppers, as were the delicious vanilla marshmallow treats sold at the store's candy counter.
Stewart's opened their first suburban outlet on York Road in Towson in 1953 and several other suburban stores shortly thereafter. When the flagship store at Howard and Lexington closed in 1979, Stewart's held a week-long closing sale that brought in thousands of bargain-hungry shoppers. Stewart's was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1999 and in 2007 Catholic Relief Services opened their offices in the first floor of the building.
For more than 85 years, the large sign atop the Stieff Silver Building has spelled out the name of a company once synonymous with Baltimore. The movement of the Stieff Company from downtown to the bucolic neighborhood of Hampden mirrored the changes that Baltimore and many other cities experienced during the twentieth century. The Kirk-Stieff Company was the oldest silversmith firm in the country when the factory closed its doors in 1999, marking the end of a tradition that had flourished in Baltimore since the early nineteenth century. Entrepreneur Charles Clinton Stieff founded the company in 1892 at 110 W. Fayette Street. After several name changes, the Stieff Company became a major player in the silver manufacturing business. In 1894, Stieff opened a showroom at 17 N. Liberty Street near the Howard Street shopping district, which turned Stieff into a familiar name for generations of Baltimoreans. Watch our Five Minute Histories video on this site! Charles C. Stieff鈥檚 son Gideon took over in 1914 around the same time automobiles were changing the pace of city life. A few years later, a trip to Druid Hill Park would forever change the face of Stieff Silver. Gideon and his future wife Claire were enjoying an outing at the park when she pointed out a plot of land that she thought would suit the company鈥檚 plans for a new factory. They were looking at the mill village of Hampden, just across the Jones Falls from the park. Although the city annexed this community in 1888, it still remained relatively isolated well into the twentieth century. This sylvan streetcar suburb attracted the Stieffs, who marketed the new building鈥檚 鈥渙ut-of-the-congested district鈥 location with unlimited parking to appeal to shoppers in the mid-twentieth century. The Stieff Company purchased the land from Mount Vernon Mill in 1922 and broke ground on the project in 1924. Production began at the Hampden location in 1925 and was so successful, the company decided to double the size of the factory in 1929. They might have reconsidered the addition had they been able to predict the Great Depression, but the company managed to hang on during the difficult economic times of the 1930s. A degree of stability was established in 1939 when Stieff signed a contract to reproduce silver for Colonial Williamsburg. During World War II, when the federal government took control of the nation鈥檚 silver supply, the company made surgical equipment and aluminum ice trays to remain solvent. They began working with pewter in the 1950s, which quickly became the majority of their business. Demand for silver and pewter was high in the postwar period when the company opened a retail store on the 200 block of N. Howard Street and, in 1970, built a large addition to the Hampden factory. They purchased S. Kirk and Son, another Baltimore silversmith firm that had been in the business since 1815, and assumed the name Kirk-Stieff in 1979. The company, like many other industries in Baltimore and across the U.S., faced serious challenges in the 1980s and 1990s. The Howard Street showroom closed in 1981, adding yet another vacant storefront to the once bustling commercial center. The Kirk-Stieff Company ceased operations in January 1999. Local developers Struever Bros. Eccles & Rouse bought the building for $1.5 million in 2000. After investing $13.2 million to renovate the interior into office space, several nonprofit groups moved to the Wyman Park Drive location in 2002. Although its occupants have changed, the large electric sign atop the Stieff Silver Building remains an icon for many Baltimoreans.
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Built in the 1830s, the 600 block of Stirling Street was home to free working people, both African-American and white, living in modest Federal style rowhouses. Some residents worked in the industrial and commercial businesses that grew up around the nearby Jones Falls鈥攕awyers, carters, cigarmakers, and tailors. Nearly 180 years later, these houses appear much as they did to their original inhabitants. By the 1960s, like much of Oldtown, the houses of Stirling Street had fallen into disrepair. As part of an urban renewal project to repurpose the Gay Street commercial corridor into a pedestrian mall, the Baltimore Urban Renewal Agency planned to raze Stirling Street, along with 97% of Oldtown鈥檚 housing. Local preservationists, led by state Senator Julian Lapides and Peale Museum director Wilbur Hunter, launched a campaign to preserve the buildings. Senator Lapides led a bus tour, bringing residents of Stirling Street to see well-preserved historic homes on Baltimore鈥檚 Tyson Street and Seton Hill. Hunter provided research to refute the claim that the rowhouses should be demolished because they were 鈥渟lave鈥檚 quarters鈥 and to prove their historic value. One afternoon in October 1972, over hamburgers at the office of Housing and Community Development Commissioner Robert Embry, Jr., Julian Lapides and his wife persuaded Embry to allow them to find a way to save the houses. Embry agreed, providing Lapides could show there was an economically feasible way to do so. After a consultant with a national reputation in historic preservation offered to buy and develop the entire block, Embry relented. The houses were offered for $1.00 to individuals who agreed to undertake the expense of restoring the houses. This 鈥渦rban homesteading" project was one of the first in the nation. The 24 owners were selected from over 400 applicants, mostly young professionals, both African-American and white and all true urban pioneers. The Old Town Mall project was dedicated in June 1976. Though Old Town Mall has suffered serious decline, Stirling Street, restored around the same time, remains pristine and well kept, a testament to the power of historic preservation. As Senator Lapides wrote in 1974:
鈥淭he Stirling Street narrative contains a valuable lesson for city administrators: people are willing to return to the city and invest in its future when given the opportunity of restoration.鈥
The oldest congregation in Baltimore City founded by Lumbee Indians (presently known as South Broadway Baptist Church) rented this storefront for approximately one year, just prior to moving to 1117 W. Cross Street.
The Strawbridge United Methodist Church has a rich history. First established in 1843 as the Howard Street Station, the church moved to a grand sanctuary on Park Avenue under the leadership of Rev. John F. Goucher in 1881. Unfortunately, over the past several years, the church deferred essential but costly maintenance resulting in a damaged roof and deteriorating interior. The building has been stabilized for now but estimates by the Methodist Church suggest that a substantial rehabilitation is urgently needed. A committee of neighbors from the Mount Royal Improvement Association is currently working to find a permanent solution for the preservation and rehabilitation of the building.
Strawbridge Memorial Methodist Church first began in June 1836, when Maryland's growing Methodist community established a Sunday school in the home of William Coulter at 850 North Howard Street near Richmond Market. In 1839, the community built a small frame building for the school on the opposite side of Howard Street for $1,000 and held a dedication in February 1840. In April 1843, the Howard Street Station formally incorporated as a Methodist Episcopal Church and began making plans for a new building. The congregation bought a lot at Linden (then Garden) and Biddle Streets and laid the cornerstone in a ceremony on September 4, 1845. The church began holding services on the ground floor the following year, completed the auditorium by 1847, and dedicated the building in November 1848.
In 1860, Howard Street Station changed their name to the Strawbridge Methodist Episcopal Church in honor of Robert Strawbridge an Irish evangelist credited with bringing Methodism to America. Born in Ireland, Robert Strawbridge immigrated to Maryland around 1760 and settled on Sam's Creek in what was then Frederick County (now part of Carroll County). Strawbridge established a Methodist Society and built a "Log Meeting House" near his home鈥攁 building later considered one of the first Methodist churches in America. The modest structure (a little less than 25-feet square) was replaced in 1783 but a relic of the building survived in the pulpit of Strawbridge Methodist Episcopal Church, which was made from logs salvaged from the old meeting house.
In 1880, Dr. John F. Goucher arrived at Strawbridge and titled his first sermon "Rise and Build," launching his successful effort to spur the congregation into building a new church. Goucher had previously led the relocation of the Gilmore Street Methodist congregation and helped them to build a new church on Harlem Park, a fast-growing prosperous suburb in West Baltimore.
The congregation accepted a new site at Park Avenue and Wilson Street from member Erastus Mitten and sold their Biddle Street church to an African American congregation. The building was late demolished to make way for State Center. As the new building went up, the community held services in a tent placed on an adjoining lot. Finally, in a special watchnight service on December 31, 1881, the congregation moved into their newly finished chapel.
Goucher's abilities at fundraising enabled the congregation to dedicate the church free of debt in a ceremony with Bishop Matthew Simpson in June 1882. Goucher moved on shortly after to help the Lovely Lane Methodist Church build their iconic St. Paul Street home a few years later.
The Strawbridge Church on Park Avenue added a parsonage on Wilson Street in 1885, which was eventually converted into a Guild House. The church bought a house on Bolton Street south of Wilson Street and later moved the parsonage again to 1719 Park Avenue.
with research support from Baltimore Architecture Foundation
Frederick Law Olmsted pastoral style, seen in Sudbrook Park, created a sense of peace and a place to restore the spirit.
Sudbrook Park is one of only three examples in the country of Frederick Law Olmsted鈥檚 鈥減erfect鈥 suburban community. The other two, Riverside in Chicago and Druid Hills in Atlanta, would make him a pioneer in landscape architecture. Frederick Law Olmsted felt a pull to make suburban communities long before it was in fashion to live in them. He used two styles of creation: pastoral and picturesque. Unlike the pastoral approach, he used a picturesque style to heighten the mysteriousness of the location with a constant play on shadow and light. Sudbrook Park鈥檚 land originally belonged to the McHenry family and passed to J. Howard McHenry by his grandfather. McHenry had a plan for a suburban community on a large portion of his land but with horse and carriage as the only means of transportation at that time, he deferred his dream. His lifetime efforts ensured the construction of a railroad through his lands. He died in 1888 and the Sudbrook Company bought part of his land. Now with rail access, the company then began planning the community he always desired. Early on, McHenry reached out to Olmsted to get some provisional layouts on Sudbrook but he focused heavily on the cost and never finalized the project. The Sudbrook Company followed suit and immediately contacted Olmsted for the design, which they immediately adopted. In 1889, the detailed construction began. Sudbrook鈥檚 main design feature focused on Olmsted鈥檚 use of curvilinear lines. The curved roads endlessly pulled visitors deeper to the heart of the community. His revolutionary methods, however, created a dilemma with laying out the stakes for the roads. No one knew how to lay out curved lines, so Olmsted made a special drawing including the radii and tangents of each curve. Olmsted favored the Sudbrook suburb as a place where the crowded, unsanitary conditions of the city gave way to clean personal and community spaces. He placed emphasis on fences to mark property lines as he blamed the lack of defined personal space as a contributor to the unsanitary practices of the city. He also preferred to have plenty of street and sidewalk space to allow for leisurely strolls or drives through the area. Unfortunately, many of the original sidewalks disappeared when the city widened the street for cars. Beautiful, park-like spaces created a sense of community and provided ample space for neighborhood activities. In the heart of Sudbrook, Olmsted left a large plot for a church or community building as an epicenter for the area. Once construction finished, Olmsted insisted on 16 deed restrictions for Sudbrook homeowners to protect his master plan and the residential character of the neighborhood.* In 1973, after years of growth and decline, the National Register officially recognized Sudbrook Park as a National Historic District. While the historic district did not cover later construction at the edges, it preserved the heart of the community. Later, the Maryland Transit Administration, against strong objections from the community, added a subway through the edge of the community which many feel destroyed the alluring entrance way. In response, the community fostered extensive landscaping to bring the area back to its former glory. Currently, the area participates in the Tree-mendous Maryland program which offers trees for public areas at reasonable prices. Sudbrook leaders have also added the 600 block of Cliveden Road and hope to make more additions in the future.
*Considered the first example of comprehensive land-use requirements in Maryland, the restrictions are as follows:
Who knew that tucked away inside the Mount Pleasant public golf course off Hillen Road sits a remarkably well preserved 150 year-old Methodist chapel?
Taylor's Chapel has its roots to the Taylor family, which is one of the oldest in Maryland, stretching back to the 1600s. As brothers, John Taylor was one of the first commissioners of Baltimore County and Thomas Taylor ("Colonel Taylor" at the time) was a councilor to Lord Baltimore. The chapel was built on a tract Colonel Taylor's land called "The Ridge" where William Penn and Lord Baltimore first met to resolve their dispute over the boundary line between the colonies. The Chapel has its origins in a Quaker meeting house that likely was built by Joseph Taylor in the mid-1700s on his property, called Taylor's Range (then in Baltimore County). Joseph was disowned by the Society of Friends for "speaking evil" of some fellow Quakers and refusing to apologize, and went off and built his own Quaker meeting house a little further away on the corner of his property. The Taylor Family kept this wooden building as a meeting house for a number of generations. Interestingly, the Quaker family allowed Bishop Francis Asbury, a leader in the founding of Methodism in America, to preach there in 1777. The conversion was surely slower that Bishop Asbury would have liked, but about thirty years later, the worshippers at the wooden building did indeed switch from Quakers to Methodists. In 1853, Elijiah Taylor inherited the property and tore down the log meeting house to build the Methodist chapel that stands today. By 1930, however, regular services had ceased and the building sat vacant until the early 1960s, when a group of volunteers from St. John's of Hamilton United Methodist Church began taking care of it. From parent to child over a number of generations, this group still acts as caretakers of this little known jewel, and opens it up for weddings, baptisms and other events. The building was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1983, and still contains the original 1853 frescoes on its walls, among many other original features.
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Designed by well-known local architect Benjamin B. Owens, the "Flour Warehouse" is a unique industrial landmark on the east side of Baltimore's downtown. When contractor S.H. and J.F. Adams erected the building for the Terminal Warehouse Company in 1894, the Northern Central Railroad maintained a line down Guilford Avenue connecting Baltimore's factories and warehouses to far-flung farms and markets across the state and country.
The company expanded in 1912 with an addition built by the Noel Construction Company and, through the 1970s, remained one of the oldest warehouses in continuous use by the same corporation. For several years, the building housed the Baltimore City Archives and the Baltimore City Department of Planning. After a new owner planned to demolish warehouse in 2007, local residents successfully fought to preserve the building for future reuse.
A Newspaper on a Mission鈥擮ne of the oldest African-American newspapers in the country; unique in that it has been in the same family for five generations.
When John H. Murphy, Sr. purchased the Afro-American Newspaper in 1897, the idea of sending a poet to cover a civil war in Spain was probably far from his mind, especially a poet as distinguished as Langston Hughes. His paper, after all, had a humble beginning. The Afro, which recently celebrated its 130th anniversary, was founded in 1892 as a church newsletter. It changed hands a few times before being purchased by Mr. Murphy in 1897. He then took this small church paper and expanded the operation to over 100 employees before his death in 1922. His son, Carl Murphy, followed his father as chairman and expanded the operation even further, increasing the circulation to 235,000 by 1945.听 It was Carl Murphy who made the decision to hire Huges to cover the Spanish Civil War in 1937. Though an unusual choice, it was not a singular one. Mr. Hughes joined a rarified group of literary writers who reported on various conflicts, Stephen Crane and Ernest Hemingway among them. The editor-publisher, Carl Murphy, had commissioned Hughes to report on the experience of 鈥渃olored sympathizers from many lands鈥 who fought on both sides of Spain鈥檚 Civil War. He wrote about people who wanted to fight for democracy against fascism. He also wrote about the 鈥淢oors鈥 (Muslims from North Africa and Spain) who were used 鈥渁s canon fodder for Franco.鈥 This was one of the missions of the newspaper after all鈥搕o report on the lives of the ordinary 鈥渃olored鈥 person.听 Another aspect of the paper鈥檚 mission has been to give fuller accounts of stories that historically the mainstream press has missed. The Afro was one of innumerable newspapers that covered two lynchings on the Eastern Shore of Maryland鈥揗atthew Williams in 1931 and George Armwood in 1933. Their account of the treatment of Williams, for instance, was taken from a light-skinned, African-American who was able to blend into the white crowd and witness the events. This witness reported that Williams was thrown out of the window of a hospital where he was being treated and dragged to the courthouse where he was lynched. Whereas the Baltimore Sun鈥檚 account stated that Williams was 鈥渢aken quietly鈥 from the hospital and 鈥渆scorted鈥 to the courthouse square. The Sun published an editorial in 2018 apologizing for its woeful shortcomings in the reporting of these two lynchings in Maryland. Innovative reporting and filling in the details of the lives of their readers are only two of the legacies of The AFRO. Today the 4th and 5th generations of the founder鈥檚 family continue to run an operation with offices in Baltimore and Washington, DC.
At the southwest corner of Chase and St. Paul in November 1912, the Algonquin Building Company completed a modern ten-story apartment house that neatly complements the historic 1903 Belvedere Hotel down the block. Architect William Nolting, of Wyatt & Nolting, evidently liked the building so much he moved in and lived there for nearly twenty years. The Algonquin Building Company was organized by Webb & White, a partnership of George R. Webb, a Baltimore capitalist who helped to consolidate the city's many street railway companies, and Theophilus White, a successful executive in the new telephone industry. The partnership purchased the building lot on Chase Street from General Francis E. Waters, a local lumberman and financier. Designed by architects Wyatt & Nolting and built by J. Henry Smith & Sons Company at a cost of $200,000, the new building was nine stories high with terra cotta details on the first three floors. Each floor contained two "large housekeeping apartments and two bachelor suites." The firm of Wyatt & Nolting began in 1887, a partnership of Baltimore native James B.N. Wyatt and William G. Nolting. The partnership also designed the Walbert apartments just up the street at Charles and Lafayette. Nolting not only designed the Algonquin but became one of its first residents, living in apartment E-8 from 1917 through 1936. After his death in 1940, the Baltimore Sun devoted an editorial to expressing regret for his passing, describing Nolting as "one of the very small group of architects鈥搒mall nationally as well as locally鈥搘ho by main strength lifted American architecture out of the doldrums in which it had rested during the latter part of the nineteenth century and gave it new vitality." In the 1940s, the building converted its apartments to doctors' offices and became known as the Medical Arts Building. In 2015, after several years of vacancy, the building reopened with fifty-six new market-rate apartments. Waldon Studio Architects converted the original luxury apartments into smaller, energy-efficient units with a design that sought to comply with current codes while preserving original historic details.
Up near the top of this handsome Neoclassical brick building at the corner of Fayette and Paca Streets is a stone entablature reading "1801 Baltimore General Dispensary 1911"鈥攁 visible reminder of this building's important past.
Doors opened at the Baltimore General Dispensary on Fayette Street in February 1912 and is the only surviving building designed for Baltimore's oldest charity,
The Baltimore General Dispensary was formed in 1801 on West Lexington Street to provide medical care to Baltimore's poor residents. In its first year, the dispensary saw a little over 200 patients. Before official incorporation in 1808, over 6,000 Baltimore residents had sought help from the charity.
A second dispensary joined the first in 1826 and by the late nineteenth century the charity had established fifteen additional locations many affiliated with local hospitals. While the building is no longer owned by the group, the charitable work of the Baltimore Dispensary continues through a grant-making foundation providing funds to area hospitals for medicine in their outpatient departments.
Considered a model of its kind, this building featured a large dispensary center on the first floor; however, due to the racial segregation enforced in many local institutions at that time, the dispensary was separated for black and white patients. The rooms on the second floor for surgical and medical aid, including physical exams given by doctors, allowed the charity's poor patients a rare measure of privacy.
Walking along Boston Street, people will run into a small store called 鈥淐anton Market.鈥 Acting as both a convenient store and sandwich shop, Canton Market serves up a variety of sandwiches such as their cheese steak sub and their turkey club. Canton Market is not the first locally owned casual dining spot in this location. Before Canton Market, this lot was home to the Blue Top Diner.听
Bill Tangires, former owner of the Blue Top Diner, started his career working for his father鈥檚 business called 鈥淛im鈥檚 Lunch.鈥 Bill Tangires continued to work in the food industry and prepared meals for industrial plants. Afterwards in the mid 1960s, Bill Tangires founded the Blue Top Diner.听 The Blue Top Diner served diner classics from burgers and vegetable-beef soup, to coffee and chocolate meringue pie. The Blue Top Diner was even recommended in a Baltimore Sun Article alongside the famous Double-T Diner.听
The Blue Top Diner served a variety of people until the year it closed, including 鈥渇actory workers, truck drivers, dock hands, business people鈥 and even then Maryland senator Barbara Ann Mikulski. In the late eighties, Bill Tangires sold the diner property to Alan Katz, a restaurant chain owner. A Baltimore Sun article detailing the closing of the Blue Top Diner stated, 鈥淎n avid investor, he [Bill Tangires] hopes to become a stock analyst with a discount brokerage house, perhaps with the First National Bank company.鈥 Although Bill Tangires left the restaurant business to pursue finance, the property of the diner still remains a part of the food business today.
One of the area鈥檚 earliest movie theaters, "The Bridge" opened in May 1915, seating seven hundred patrons and featuring Paramount Pictures films. Under the management of Edmondson Amusement Company president, Louis Schilchter, the Bridge Theater offered more than just movies. Schilchter hosted everything from song and dance shows to a community gathering to honor soldiers returning from WWI. After an explosion in 1930 damaged the side of the building, the theater rebuilt and continued to operate until 1968.
Since 1970, the building has been used as a church and is presently home to the Life Celebration Center.
with research support from
The handsome Victorian on Elkridge鈥檚 Main Street now known as the Brumbaugh House was built around 1870 and began serving as a doctor's office in the nineteenth century. The home鈥檚 most famous resident, Dr. Benjamin Bruce Brumbaugh, started his own sixty-year-long career working and living at the house in 1919. Dr. Brumbaugh served thousands of Elkridge residents over the decades and the house continues to tell his story today. Since 1985, the Elkridge Heritage Society has operated the house as a small museum to share the long history of medical care in their community. Born on Maryland鈥檚 Eastern Shore, Brumbaugh graduated from the University of Maryland Medical School with degrees in both pharmacy and medicine. When the United States entered World War I, Brumbaugh enlisted as a doctor for the U.S. Army. He was stationed at Fort Meade in Anne Arundel County where three infantry divisions trained before deployment to Europe. Brumbaugh tended to many of the 400,000 servicemen who passed through Fort Meade during the war. After his discharge the military at the war鈥檚 end in 1918, a former advisor from the University of Maryland shared the news that Elkridge needed a temporary doctor. The town鈥檚 regular practitioner Dr. Ericson had suffered a stroke and was unable to work. When his predecessor passed away two months later, Dr. Brumbaugh took over the practice permanently. For nearly fifty years, Brumbaugh worked alongside his wife, Miriam Smith, who was herself a doctor鈥檚 daughter up until her death in 1958. Over much of that time, Dr. Brumbaugh charged just $2 for an office visit or 鈥$3 for a house call. Over the years, Dr. Brumbaugh (or Dr. B as many of his patients called him) became something of a local celebrity with an office full of patients from the early morning to late evening. He did not raised his fees until 1969鈥攂ut then it only went up by a dollar. In a 1970 Sun interview, Brumbaugh explained:
鈥淚鈥檇 rather treat them for free of charge than have them think I鈥檓 overcharging. I was never out for the almighty dollar. I work just to keep alive, not for what I can get out of it.鈥That same year, the community recognized his fifty years of service to the Elkridge community. Nearly four hundred neighbors and long-time patients pooled $3,900 in donations to buy the doctor a brand-new Mercury sedan. Howard County even changed the name of a road off Main Street to Brumbaugh Street in his honor. Dr. Brumbaugh served three generations of Elkridge residents and continued working until he was ninety years old. By one resident鈥檚 estimation, he brought 鈥渢housands鈥 of Elkridge babies into the world. Dr. Brumbaugh never kept count but reportedly delivered ten children for one family alone. There are many area residents who still proudly call themselves 鈥淏rumbaugh Babies.鈥 The year after Dr. Brumbaugh鈥檚 death in 1985, the Elkridge Heritage Society and local Rotary Club bought the home to preserve the doctor鈥檚 office and waiting room. A group of volunteer residents helped turn the second floor into an apartment to help pay the mortgage on the new local history museum. Fortunately, their efforts have preserved Doctor B鈥檚 story for residents and visitors to continue to appreciate today.
As you drive up Charles Street through Old Goucher, you might notice some odd details on the facade of the neighborhood Safeway. A carved sentinel eagle keeps watch, and the word 鈥淐ADILLAC鈥 is etched onto a stone arch over the market鈥檚 main entrance.
These curiosities were preserved from what once occupied this site. In the early years of the Great Depression, the Chesapeake Cadillac Company constructed an Art Deco showroom building at 2400 N Charles Street. Art Deco is a design movement popularized in the 1920s, its architecture characterized by elegant, streamlined surfaces and patterns. This uniform style evokes the man-made, and reflects a faith in modern technology and machinery.
The story goes that the showroom鈥檚 site was selected by the famous World War I flying ace Eddie Rickenbacker. Before winning 26 aerial combat duels in Europe and earning a Medal of Honor, Rickenbacker had already established himself in the States as a prodigious racecar driver and automobile designer. When Rickenbacker returned home as a war hero, he had boundless access to entrepreneurial ventures and employment. In the late 鈥20s, as a general manager of sales for General Motors鈥 Cadillac division, Rickenbacker went up in a plane to scout sites that would 鈥渢ap Baltimore鈥檚 affluent neighborhoods.鈥 As he approached the intersection of Charles Street and University Parkway, he said 鈥測ou want to be as close to this area as possible.鈥
Chesapeake Cadillac, which counted Frank Robinson, Glenn L. Martin, Dorothy Lamour, and T. Rowe Price among its clients, remained on Charles Street until 1995. This made it one of the last dealerships in Baltimore to haul out to the suburbs of Baltimore County. This exodus of businesses from the city had begun in the mid-20th century, in response to a strong, new customer base of white families who had moved en masse to the suburbs. The company鈥檚 plans to move to Cockeysville鈥檚 car dealership corridor were in the works before Safeway proposed building there in 1994鈥攊t was known that suburban locations were more lucrative. The company exists today in Cockeysville as Frankel & Chesapeake Cadillac.
When Safeway proposed building a store here in 1994, public opinion was split. Advocates for historical preservation, including Donna Beth Joy Shapiro, vice president of 糖心影视 at the time, argued that a supermarket and its parking lot would break up the traditional streetscape, worsen traffic, and waste architecturally significant buildings. Safeway鈥檚 arrival 鈥減ulled the rug out from under鈥 a local development team鈥檚 plans to bring a supermarket to a location just blocks away.
However, most residents welcomed the idea of a Safeway for its convenience and low prices. At the time Old Goucher did not have a full-service supermarket, and weekly shopping trips at the small, family-owned Crown Market were too expensive for most. The Design Advisory Panel, responsible for maintaining a high standard of architecture and urban design in the city, rejected Safeway鈥檚 first two design proposals鈥攂ut Safeway satisfied the Panel after presenting the design incorporating elements from the showroom, and obtained approval to build soon after. Buildings in the way, including the showroom, were demolished, and the store was completed in 1997. A Sun article from 1998 lauded the project as a community asset, adding, 鈥渋t鈥檚 ironic that many activists fought the store, fearing it would bring new problems.鈥
When Safeway was awarded the building contract, some criticized this piecemeal approach to historical preservation as lazy. The architectural historian Phoebe Stanton argued that 鈥渋f you want to preserve the building, preserve the building. I don鈥檛 approve of this business of breaking dishes up and saving three little chips.鈥 However, decades removed from this heated debate, it is clear that historical preservation鈥攅ven on the smallest scale鈥攑rovides us a window to the past.
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A giant carrot, a house made of cheese, and barnyard chickens were among the attractions that greeted visitors to the Baltimore Zoo鈥檚 new Children鈥檚 Zoo when it opened in Druid Hill Park in 1963. 鈥淢ost children鈥檚 zoos are full of fairy tale stuff, like Humpty-Dumpty, Little Red Riding Hood, and Jack and the Beanstalk,鈥 declared Arthur Watson, the Zoo鈥檚 director. 鈥淭his one will be different. It will emphasize living things and nature.鈥 And it did, along with its share of whimsy. The Children鈥檚 Zoo was a combination petting zoo, storybook land, and barnyard intended to make every child鈥檚 鈥渇irst introduction to animals a pleasant one,鈥 said Watson. Young visitors could board Noah鈥檚 Ark (formerly a Chesapeake Bay fishing boat), climb into a tree house, ride a miniature train pulled by a replica 1863 C.P. Huntington locomotive, visit cows in a Pennsylvania Dutch milking barn, and wander in, out, and around other fantastical structures with animals everywhere. Chickens, ducks, and peacocks roamed freely while rabbits, sheep, goats, and donkeys stood within petting distance. More exotic fauna such as monkeys, parrots, and a baby tapir were also in residence but out of hand鈥檚 reach. Interest in adding a barnyard feature to Druid Hill Park 鈥渢o give city children a view of country life鈥 had been floating around since 1937 when Baltimore City Councilman Jerome Sloman first proposed the idea. It took twenty-six years, and Watson鈥檚 unrelenting advocacy, to turn idea into reality. From the moment he was hired as the Zoo鈥檚 first professional director in 1948, Watson made it his mission to increase attendance. He believed that a children鈥檚 zoo was central to this mission and he eventually secured the necessary approvals and funding for construction. In the meantime, children鈥檚 zoos had become popular all around the country. Watson and his architect, Louis Cuoma, researched similar attractions to help conceptualize their own. Referring to his competition at other major zoos, Watson announced with typical bravado, 鈥淟et them compare our new [children鈥檚 zoo] with those and they鈥檒l find that Baltimore has the best in the country.鈥 The site for the Children鈥檚 Zoo was carefully chosen to avoid tree removal and to be within walking distance of the main zoo. The milking barn was constructed on site but most of the fantastic structures and over-sized animals were created in the big, bright workshop of Adler Display Studios on Penn Street in southwest Baltimore. The zoo-within-a-zoo was enclosed to contain free-roaming children and animals, but also to allow the zoo to charge admission of fifteen cents for each child and twenty-five cents for adults. Watson rightly anticipated that ticket sales would soon cover the $250,000 cost of building the Children鈥檚 Zoo. While seemingly modest, the price of admission for a family could add up at a time when the hourly minimum wage was only $1.25. The rest of the Zoo remained free but the Children鈥檚 Zoo鈥檚 pay-to-play policy sparked debate in the City鈥檚 op-ed pages. Some felt that the policy was exclusionary while others saw a need for the Zoo to generate revenue in order to grow and improve. Curiosity apparently outpaced criticism, with more than twenty-five thousand people visiting the Children鈥檚 Zoo in its first ten days. It would continue to attract the Zoo鈥檚 youngest visitors for just over two decades, until it was replaced in the 1980s by the expansive Maryland Wilderness exhibit, an ambitious new children鈥檚 zoo with a very different look and feel.
By 1990, administrators at University of Maryland, Baltimore County faced a problem. The student body had outgrown the University Center within just a decade of its opening. They considered the solution of building a new activity space to make two campus centers, but students spoke up with a clear demand. In order to continue building the campus community, there could only be one campus center. No space remained on the campus鈥 鈥渁cademic row,鈥 an area of the campus consisting of academic buildings, to build an addition to the existing University Center so the university planned the construction of a brand-new student center called the Commons to open in 2002.
A collaboration between Perry Dean Rogers and Design Collective architectural firms, the Commons was designed to shift the center of campus life from 鈥渁cademic row鈥 to a new, emerging quad facing many of the residence halls to the north and east. The university planned to build the Commons on the foundation of Gym I, one of UMBC鈥檚 original campus buildings, which housed physical education space and the Commuter Cafeteria. After UMBC funded improvements for the Retriever Athletic Center, the amenities of Gym I were no longer needed, allowing the campus to build the Commons in its place.
While there was a consensus among students, faculty, and administrators that UMBC needed the Commons, there was conflict as to how to pay for it. Students and families worried about the increase in fees placed on students in order to finance the space. Business owners in Arbutus and Catonsville worried that the potential retail space in the new building would create competition between local businesses and isolate students from their surrounding communities. Despite these concerns, UMBC pushed ahead and built what President Freeman Hrabowski believed would be a 鈥渦niversity commons for the entire university.鈥
When the Commons opened on the first day of the spring semester in 2002, students appreciated expanded services and amenities previously located at the University Center, such as additional meeting space for all student organizations, a flexible performance space, retail space, and study areas. The innovative design of the Commons鈥攎arked by two larger corridors that intersect at the center and the use of glass walls to light up the space鈥攚on a design award from the Maryland Chapter of the American Institute of Architects. Most importantly, this functional and aesthetically pleasing space is student-centered with a majority of the spaces controlled by students themselves.
Originally built in the face of projected enrollment increases, the Commons remains a bustling center of campus activity. However, as UMBC continues to grow, a larger student space will need to be constructed to meet continuing population increases. A new Student Services and Student Life building is slated to be constructed in the future to address some of the strains currently placed on the Commons.
The Duchess of Windsor, born Bessie Wallis Warfield, moved into the three-story brownstone at 212 East Biddle Street with her mother in 1908. It was the first home they could call their own as they were dependent on the charity of wealthier relatives ever since Wallis鈥檚 father died shortly after her birth 12 years earlier. Little did she know that one of the three bedrooms would be for the man her mother planned to marry, John Freeman Rason. Wallis was crushed. She had envisioned a life of independence with her mother, free from relying on the financial help of others. Wallis threatened to run away, but reluctantly came to terms with her mother's decision.
The marriage was held in the parlor of their home on June 20, 1908. The climax of the wedding came when Wallis, perhaps out of spite, snuck off to the kitchen and dug her hands into the cake in search of the good-luck tokens hidden inside. When her mother and stepfather came into the kitchen and saw the ruined cake, they stood speechless. Suddenly, Mr. Rasin laughed, picked Wallis up, and twirled her in the air. This act of forgiveness touched the young Wallis, and she never gave her stepfather any more trouble.
Unfortunately, John Freeman Rasin died suddenly in 1913. Without the financial security of her stepfather, Wallis and Alice had to move out. They moved to a small apartment building called Earl's Court, at the corner of Preston and St. Paul streets.
Wallis went through two failed marriages before meeting Edward, Prince of Wales in 1931. In 1936, Edward became King Edward VIII of England, but abdicated the throne on December 10 of the same year to marry Wallis. Edward and Wallis were married on June 3, 1937, and remained so until Edward's death in 1972. Wallis died in Paris on April 24, 1986.
In 1937, Wallis' old home at 212 East Biddle Street was turned into a museum, but it was not a commercial success. The biggest hit of the museum was the bathtub. According to the museum's tour guide, Mrs. W.W. Matthews, nine out of ten visitors sat in the house's bathtub for good luck, including a bride and groom who sat in the tub while Mrs. Matthews took their picture.
Edward J. Codd founded the E. J. Codd Company in the 1850s. The E. J. Codd听 Company focused on industrial machinery and aided Baltimore鈥檚 booming shipbuilding industry by assembling boilers, propellers, and engines. At the turn of the century, Baltimore workers went on strike demanding the nine-hour work day. The E. J. Codd strikers proved victorious when in 1899, the company agreed to give workers the nine-hour work day with their former pay. Edward Codd, like other captains of industry in Gilded Age America, was not only a man of business, but a philanthropist. According to a Baltimore Sun article published on Christmas Eve in 1905, Edward Codd gave 460 children of east Baltimore each a nickel on Christmas Eve. In addition to handing out nickels each Christmas Eve, Edward Codd reportedly gave children each a penny every other day of the year. Back in the early twentieth-century, a nickel could buy children a goodly amount of candy and one reporter even reported that children鈥檚 鈥渂right red wheelbarrows鈥 filled with 鈥減ainted candies鈥 dotted the street on Christmas Eve. Needless to say, Edward Codd was well-liked by the children of east Baltimore.听 After World War II, the Codd family sold the company to Ray Kauffman. Kauffman expanded the company to include 鈥淐odd Fabricators and Boiler Co.鈥 and 鈥淏altimore Lead Burning.鈥 Under Kauffman, the E. J. Codd Company served many local Baltimore businesses such as Bethlehem Steel, Allied Chemical, and even the American Visionary Arts Museum located right down the road from the Baltimore Museum of Industry.听听
Today, real estate agents are leasing the once mighty machine shop as office spaces.Formerly located on Boston Street in east Baltimore, Gibbs Preserving Company canned and packaged everything from oysters to jelly to candy to vegetables. The Gibbs Preserving Company exemplified typical working conditions in factories at the turn of the century. Employees worked long hours, doing monotonous tasks, all while earning little pay. and facing safety hazards. In addition, cannery employees worked in hazardous environments. At least two fires broke out at the Gibbs cannery; one fire starting in the labeling room and the other in the jelly department.听听
听A large percentage of cannery employees came from east Baltimore鈥檚 Polish community. Populating most of Fells Point, Polish families looked to canneries for work. Polish women and children worked at canneries alongside men in order to earn increased wages. Workers鈥 wages played a vital role in the debate for the ten-hour work day. Cannery workers in favor of the ten-hour work day argued that canning companies overworked their employees. By contrast, cannery workers against the ten-hour day argued that workers should be allowed to work however many hours it takes to make a liveable wage. Workers against the ten-hour law stated in one Baltimore Sun article, 鈥渢hat restricting the hours of labor would deprive the women of an opportunity to earn a living; that the season was short and must, therefore, yield them the largest possible earnings鈥︹听
While Polish cannery workers lived in Fells Point, the Polish community did not remain in east Baltimore for the entire year, but rather moved according to the seasons. At the end of the Baltimore City canning season in August, the Polish community in east Baltimore temporarily relocated to the Maryland countryside in search of employment from corn and tomato canneries. Working conditions in the country varied, but overall were still undesirable. In one particular camp, workers had to make their own kitchens from wooden planks and cloth; in another camp cannery waste covered the floor of the employee鈥檚 sleeping quarters.听 At the end of the countryside canning season, Polish workers returned to east Baltimore to enjoy a meager one week of rest before leaving for the oyster canneries in the south.
This location once served as home for the Gay and Lesbian Community Center of Baltimore. In 1977, activists involved with the Baltimore Gay Alliance (BGA), established two years earlier in 1975, decided to split that organization into two separate entities. The BGA remained a political organization, and the GLCCB became a new support services organization. One reason for the change was the need to secure 501(c)3 nonprofit status for the GLCCB. GLCCB initially located at 2133 Maryland Avenue in a small basement suite of rooms. The offices had a room for a men's STD screening clinic, counseling services, and meeting space. Gail Vivino, who was very involved with the BGA, lived in Charles Village at the time, and she opened the basement of her home at 2745 N. Calvert Street to house the GLCCB's switchboard. The house also served as a production space for The Gay Paper, established in 1979.
In 1980, the GLCCB purchased the building at 241 West Chase Street to bring all of the organization鈥檚 activities under a single roof. Much of the fundraising in 1979 and 1980 that put together the down payment for the building was done by Harvey Schwartz, who served as the first paid employee of the organization. Early efforts to renovate the building, which had formerly been a car dealership, then a pinball warehouse, were helped along by donations of labor, materials, and cash. Lambda Rising, an LGBT bookstore owned by Deacon McCubbin, was located on the first floor of the GLCCB from 1986 until 2008.
After more than thirty-four years at 241 West Chase Street, the GLCCB moved to the Waxter Center in February 2014. It occupies a suite of offices on the third floor of the building and still maintains the programs and services it offered at its previous location.
In the middle of East Lexington Street stands a building that sticks out from the rest. Carved into its brick wall is the face of a horned figure looking out over the street. Today, this building houses Fred W. Frank Bail Bonds, but it was once the meeting hall for a chapter of the Grand United Order of Odd Fellows.
The Odd Fellows is a male only, non-religious organization that originated in early 1700s London. The fraternity was formed on the basis of social equality, limiting the power of the Catholic Church over the British government, and advocating for civil liberties. In 1819, Thomas Wildey founded the first Odd Fellows organization in America, the Independent Order of Odd Fellows (IOOF), in Baltimore. However, the group refused to accept any black men who wished to become members or even form separate all-black lodges as part of the IOOF. African American men interested in Odd Fellowship, led by Peter Ogden, instead partnered with the English Grand United Order of Odd Fellows (GUOOF).
The first GUOOF lodge in America was established for the Philomathean Lodge, No. 646 in New York City. Over the following years, the GUOOF became one of the most important all-black mutual aid societies in America. It helped provide its members, and the public in general, with social inclusion and financial aid to cover 鈥渢he costs of burial, sickness, disability, and widowhood.鈥 Along with this, it was also heavily involved in the early civil rights efforts, especially in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Another notable aspect of the GUOOF is their inclusion of women, which is not seen in many similar fraternities. In 1858, the organization founded the Household of Ruth. This was designed to allow women to be involved in the Order鈥檚 practices and public service. Because of the Household of Ruth, both the membership and the public service capabilities of the Order increased.
Relatively little is known about the activities of the Grand Order of Odd Fellows lodge on 214 East Lexington Street. What is known is that, based on the Sanborn Maps of Baltimore, the hall was founded sometime before 1890. There is also mention of them in several articles from the early 1900s by the newspaper The Baltimore Afro-American about the meeting hall and its activities. Among the most important Baltimorean Odd Fellows from the lodge were John H. Murphy Sr., founder of The Baltimore Afro-American; Harry S. Cummings, a lawyer and Baltimore's first black city councilman; and Dr. Edward J. Wheatley, one of the city鈥檚 most prominent physicians at the time. However, by 1929 (and possibly earlier) the local GUOOF chose to move their meeting place elsewhere. Today, the only two active Grand United Order of Odd Fellows lodges in Maryland are Union Friendship Lodge #891 in Temple Hill, which is the oldest active GUOOF lodge in America, and Sandy Spring Lodge #6430. These lodges serve as meeting places for multicultural education, discussion, and understanding within their communities.
The research and writing of this article was funded by two grants: one from the Maryland Heritage Areas Authority and one from the Baltimore National Heritage Area.
For 50 years, the Hampden and Ideal Theaters operated within a few doors of each other in the 900 block of 36th Street in Hampden. Julius Goodman, who ran the Ideal for many years, described the competition: 鈥淲ell, we were friendly competitors. We split the product right down the middle. We had Metro and Warner Bros. and RKO; they were our basic majors. They had Paramount, Fox, and Columbia. And we had two minors, but they were very, very profitable; one was Republic Pictures who and Gene Autry and Roy Rogers and also John Wayne who made one or two pictures a year 鈥 I think the Sands of Iwo Jima was a Republic Picture, if I鈥檓 not mistaken 鈥 and Moongram Pictures with the Bowery Boys. So we split the product.鈥
The original Hampden Theater emerged in 1911 when Charles A. Hicks bought a tin shop for $1,500 and converted it into a theater. Like the Ideal, the Hampden Theater was a 21-day theater which means it would show movies 21 days after opening downtown. In April 1918 a series of patriotic meetings in support of the Third Liberty Loan (bonds sold to cover the expense of World War I) were held in several Baltimore theaters, including the Hampden. In 1926, architect George Schmidt designed a $70,000 updated theater. It was the only theater in Baltimore to feature a Gottfried Organ. The theater continued operating until 1976 when it was sold to local baker Bernard Breighner, who closed it 1978. Breighner converted the building into a mall and opened it in 1981. The mall has since closed and currently the old theatre is a commercial building that hosts a restaurant and yoga studio.
In 2013, the Baltimore Love Project painted its iconic mural on the front of the Hampden Theater.
The Hour Haus formerly served as a cornerstone for Baltimore's Station North Arts & Entertainment District. Inside you found rehearsal rooms for musicians, a recording studio, a large stage and a revolving cast of colorful characters. For over twenty-five years the Hour Haus survived as functioning music and art space. Unfortunately, the Hour Haus closed in July 2015.
The Hour Haus was once the headquarters of the Maryland and Pennsylvania Railroad. The "Ma and Pa" once operated passenger and freight trains on its original line between York and Baltimore, Maryland, from 1901 until the 1950s. The Ma and Pa gained popularity with railroad enthusiasts in the 1930s and 1940s for its antique equipment and curving, picturesque right-of-way through the hills of rural Maryland and Pennsylvania.
In the Progressive Age (1890-1920), movie theaters were a new and popular form of entertainment. They were being built all over Baltimore, and Hampden was no different. In 1908, Marion Pearce and Philip Scheck (who already owned six theatres) opened the Ideal Theatre as a nickelodeon. Small and simple theaters, nickelodeons charged a five-cent, or a nickel, admission fee.
In 1920, Baltimore City Delegate George D. Iverson sponsored legislation to repeal the law that required theaters to be closed on Sunday. However, the owners of the Ideal Theater opposed this legislation because they thought opening on Sunday would hurt their Saturday and Monday receipts. In 1922, Julius Goodman bought the theater for $18,000. In 1960, Schwarber Theaters bought the theater from the Goodman family. The last movie shown at the Ideal was PT 109 starring Cliff Robertson as a young John F. Kennedy, Jr. Released in September 1963, it was shown two months before Kennedy鈥檚 assassination.
After the Ideal closed, the building was leased to the Salvation Army. During this time the Stratis family purchased it and rehabbed it. They leased it to Woodward's, an antiques gallery and auction theater, which moved out in March 2014. Currently, the Ideal Theatre is a live music and performing arts venue. Most recently, it hosted the Ministry of Swing, which offered different kinds of dance and movement classes.
Mount Vernon鈥檚 elegant and historic Ivy Hotel has a rich lineage: its roots are as a Gilded Age mansion and its uses have included city offices, a city owned and operated inn, and now a private boutique hotel.
The historic Ivy Hotel got its start in the late nineteenth century when a prominent Baltimore banker named John Gilman commissioned a mansion in Mount Vernon for the princely sum of $40,000. Gilman died before the building's completion in 1889, but his widow lived there for several years before selling it to William and Harriet Painter. William Painter was the head of Crown Cork and Seal company and his invention of the bottle cap made him one of the city鈥檚 leading businessmen.
After the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Painter, the mansion went through several other owners, including Robert Garrett, grandson of the president of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad and the gold medalist in both discus and shot put at the first modern Olympics in Athens in 1896. Mr. Garrett eventually donated the building to the Playground Athletic League, which he chaired, and in 1939 the PAL donated it to Baltimore City for use as offices for the Department of Recreation and Parks. In 1985, Mayor William Donald Schaefer had the city purchase two adjacent rowhouses, undertook a complete historic renovation project, and turned the building into a city owned hotel: the Inn at Government House.
In 2015, the Azola Companies, Ziger/Snead Architects completed a restoration turning the building into a boutique historic hotel, complete with parquet floors, pocket doors, stained glass, and a grand staircase.
In the 1660s, David Jones, a Quaker farmer, selected a location for his farm in the relatively new area of Baltimore County (founded in 1659), just north of what was known as Coles Harbor, and along the banks of a river that he called Pacific Brook. Today, that location is part of Baltimore City; Coles Harbor has become the Inner Harbor; and Pacific Brook we know as the Jones Falls. The settlement that grew up around Jones鈥 farm is the neighborhood now called Jonestown.
The Jones Falls runs 17.9 miles, starting as a stream in northwest Baltimore County, near Garrison. It becomes a small river after reaching Lake Roland and ends in the Baltimore Harbor. It was once considered bucolic. One historical account reported that 鈥渇or many years, it [Pacific Brook] was a source of pride for Baltimore City and the envy of other cities. It was famous then as a fragrant and beautiful stream. At one time, the stream was pure and undefiled, a scene of many baptisms.鈥
Change came rapidly.
By 1711, Jonathan Hanson built a stone mill near the current day Fallsway, where the Baltimore City Impound Lot is located. By 1726, the area was filled with tobacco houses, a store, and many residences. By middle of 1850鈥檚, twelve mills stood on the banks of the Jones Falls, along with soap makers, tanners, and even more residences. All used the waterway to carry away their waste.
By the late 1800鈥檚, the Jones Falls had become a source of public health concern. City leaders considered different ways of solving this problem. B&O Railroad engineer Ross Winans suggested building a series of reservoirs upstream and flushing them out occasionally to clear the Falls of detritus. Another proposal imagined diverting the river over the Back River into what is now Essex and Middle River. The third solution essentially proposed putting the Jones Falls into big pipes and running it under the city. This is what the city of Baltimore decided to do.
In 1915, Mayor Preston kicked off the campaign just north of Penn Station. Henry Barton Jacobs, the head of city鈥檚 public safety commission spoke at the event, announcing theatrically: 鈥淚 have come to bury the Jones Falls, not to praise it.鈥
Diverting the Jones Falls into 7,000 feet of underground tunnels solved some鈥攂ut not all鈥攐f its problems. In 1926, the river caught fire and exploded dramatically because it was full of hazardous materials. Glass shattered in downtown buildings. Manhole covers were propelled through the air. Near the of the entrance to the harbor, a 40-foot wall of noxious flames rushed out of the pipe and down the river.
Today, the buried stream is visible downtown near Jonestown, close to the Port Discovery Children鈥檚 Museum where a small canal-like structure runs parallel to President Street before emptying into the harbor at Aliceanna Street.
At the northeast corner of Charles and Read Streets stands the beautiful Latrobe Apartment House. The name for the building comes from the original Latrobe House, built just after the Civil War and torn down in 1911 to make way for the new apartment building.
When John H.B. Latrobe built his home in Mt. Vernon in the 1860s, development had only recently started to migrate north from the fashionable area around the Washington Monument. John's son鈥 future seven-term Baltimore mayor Ferdinand Latrobe鈥搈oved into the house with his wife Louisa Sherlock Swann, the daughter of Thomas Swann (a former Mayor of Baltimore and Governor of Maryland). Right next door to the Latrobe House was another 1860s mansion built by the family of Clinton L. Riggs, who moved to Baltimore as a young child. After Latrobe's death in 1911, Riggs decided to purchase the home and tear it down, along with his own family home, to build a modern nine-story apartment house.
Architects Glidden & Friz designed the building in an early Italian Renaissance style. According to the Baltimore Sun, it was "fitted with many of the latest conveniences" with "many quarters especially designed for bachelors." Edward Glidden had already made his mark in Mt. Vernon with the Washington Apartments on Mt. Vernon Place and the Rochambeau at Charles and Franklin (demolished in 2006). His partner Clyde Friz was just starting to develop the reputation that within the next few years would make him one of Baltimore's best-known Beaux Arts architects, with buildings like the Standard Oil Building on St. Paul Street (1922), the Scottish Rite Temple (1930), and the Enoch Pratt Free Library (1933).
Like many historic apartment buildings, the Latrobe Building experienced notable changes over the years, first converted to medical offices and then converted partially back to residences in the 1970s. The Latrobe Building underwent an expensive $3.5 million renovation supervised by architects Cochran Stephenson & Donkervoet in the 1980s and now serves as offices to many Baltimore non-profit organizations.