While nothing remains to indicate what once transpired here, we pinpoint this location to memorialize the victims of enslavement in America.
Hope Hall Slatter, after working in the slave trade in Georgia for a number of years, moved to Baltimore in 1835 and started building up a business of selling enslaved workers to the Southern market. At this time, cotton was vital to the nation’s economy. It was just a few years before he gained enough capital to open his own slave jail at 224 W. Pratt Street in 1838. His house was located at one end of the property, while at the other end there was a two-story brick building to house the enslaved. The yard was about 40’ x 75’, containing some benches, a water nozzle, wash tubs, clothes lines, a brick fireplace, and, of course, an auction block. In addition to housing people to be sold, the jail was used as a kind of rooming house with bars on the windows. Slave traders or enslavers would stay at a hotel or inn while travelling, but they would keep their captives at a jail, such as this, overnight for a fee of 25 cents. Slatter was one of the leading traders in the area, having sold over two thousand people in less than 14 years of trading in Baltimore.
One of his last transactions, before selling his business to Bernard Campbell, was the purchase of about thirty of the seventy+ people who attempted to escape from Washington, D.C., on the schooner Pearl. Slatter and Moore managed to acquire the slaves in order to sell them in Baltimore. A number of traders then sold most of the escapees south. Two of the escapees, however, were sold north due to the intervention of their father, Paul Edmondson, who was a free man. He managed to contact abolitionists in NY, who raised the money to buy two of his children, Emily and Mary. They were sent to NY, where they attended school and were cared for by Harriet Beecher Stowe and Rev. Henry W. Beecher.
Bernard Moore Campbell and his brother Lewis purchased the jail in 1848, when Slatter moved to Alabama. The brothers previously had a modest operation located on Conway Street. Here they expanded considerably, partially owing to the use of the Slatter name.
Between the start of the Civil War in 1861 and the emancipation of slaves in the District of Columbia in 1862, more and more local enslavers began using the slave jails to keep potential runaways. By this time, housing the enslaved became the prime source of income for local slave traders. As the Campbell jail was filled with people, tensions mounted to the point of insurrection. Police were called as fighting erupted May 31, 1862. The inmates did manage to fight courageously with whatever they could get their hands on, but it wasn’t long before they were subdued. In any case, they did make their mark. Some days later, Campbell was scheduled to testify in D.C. concerning compensation for people being freed in the District of Columbia. When he appeared before the committee, it was noted that he had a welt across his forehead and a swollen, black eye.
It was a year later that slave jails were finally closed in Baltimore on July 24, 1863, shortly after the Battle of Gettysburg. It was then that Union troops marched up to the Slatter/Campbell jail and Colonel William Birney presented to the gatekeeper special order #202, “an action by the government giving him the authority to free the slaves held in the traders’ pens throughout the city.” The colonel and his men found 26 men, 1 boy, 29 women, and 3 infants held in the jail. Sixteen of the men had been shackled together. After they were all set free, the men enlisted in the United States Colored Troops. A large crowd of family, friends, and well-wishers greeted the prisoners as they left the jail.
While nothing remains to indicate what once transpired here, we pinpoint this location to memorialize the victims of enslavement in America.
Before trading under his own name, Jonathan Means Wilson was associated with a few other slave traders. During the early 1840s, he worked as an agent for Hope Slatter, then switched to Joseph Donovan in the later 1840s. By 1849, he started his own business on Camden Street a few doors from Light Street. Initially, he was associated here with G.H. Duke, a partnership that lasted until 1856. His new partner was his son-in-law, Moses Hindes. The operation closed at the outbreak of the Civil War.
While nothing remains to indicate what once transpired here, we pinpoint this location to memorialize the victims of enslavement in America.
Austin Woolfolk was one of the first major slave traders in Baltimore, beginning as a 19-year-old in 1816. He was instrumental in turning the trade into a business. Like most traders at that time, he started with informal transactions in taverns and hotels. Once he acquired enough people to sell South, he would march them chained together over a thousand miles to Georgia, where his uncle would sell them to local planters. Eventually, he expanded his operation with saturation advertising in newspapers and by distributing handbills throughout the region searching for people to buy. He also employed a network of agents who would scour the region for prospective “stock.” Finally, he built a residence and slave jail at Pratt & Cove Streets (near present day Martin Luther King Boulevard). By setting up his business at a fixed location, he gave his trade an air of respectability. The idea of creating a jail/pen for the purpose of collecting and holding people for sale was a new concept at the time. This idea and his business model were emulated by the largest firm of human traffickers in the country, Franklin & Armfield. Woolfolk continued his operation until retiring a very wealthy man in 1842. Joseph Donovan purchased this location and operated there from 1843 until 1846, when he moved to 13 Camden Street near the harbor.
Once his business was established, Woolfolk was able to ship the enslaved from Fells Point and the Inner Harbor to New Orleans and other southern ports, where they were sold to their new owners. It wasn’t long before those being “sold South” became aware of the hell those two words represented, beginning immediately when their families were broken apart. Knowing what awaited them was more than some could bear. One young woman took her child’s life and then her own in the spring of 1826 while in Woolfolk’s pen. In 1821, a man slit his own throat at the wharf after learning that he had been sold to a trader.
From "Baltimore's Own Version of 'Amistad:' Slave Revolt" by Ralph Clayton (Full article can be found ) On one night, April 20, 1826, 31 enslaved people, bound with chains, began their fateful journey down to the wharf at the foot of Fell's Point. There, they were placed in small boats and rowed out to the schooner Decatur, at anchor a short distance offshore. Several hours later, the captain, Walter Galloway ordered the anchor pulled and the sails set for the journey down the Chesapeake. There was a common practice of allowing small parties of slaves above deck. Five days out to sea, the captain made his way above deck for inspection. During the tour he noticed a great deal of mud on the anchor stocks and took a seat astride the rail to scrape it away. Suddenly, from beyond his field of vision, two enslaved people, Thomas Harrod and Manuel Wilson, rushed toward him, seized his legs, and threw him overboard. After subduing the other crewmen, the newly freed people attempted to make the remaining crewman steer the ship, but they had killed the only two people who knew how to man the schooner. The vessel floated at sea for five days before being apprehended by a whaling ship. In an amazing turn of events, 13 captives escaped. The others were re-captured and sold away. One enslaved man, William Bowser, was put on trial for the murders of Galloway and the other seaman. After his capture, he was returned to New York City to await trial. According to the New York Christian Enquirer, Austin Woolfolk attended the trial (an account he was to later deny). During the trial, William Bowser stood and looked directly at Woolfolk. He proceeded to tell the trader that he forgave him for all the injuries he had brought upon him and that he hoped to meet him in heaven. On December 15, 1826, Bowser was executed. Back in Baltimore, Benjamin Lundy, editor of the abolitionist newspaper The Genius of Universal Emancipation, wrote a scathing report, attacking the character of Woolfolk. Calling him a "monster in human shape" for his conduct during the trial of Bowser, Lundy completed the column by stating, “Hereafter, let no man speak of the humanity of Woolfolk." Woolfolk was incensed and he went looking for Lundy. According to Lundy he was heading toward the post office to mail some letters when Woolfolk found him. An argument ensued, during which Woolfolk, the much stronger of the two men, knocked Lundy to the ground. Although Lundy offered no resistance he was savagely choked and beaten by Woolfolk. Only the quick actions of several bystanders saved Lundy's life.
The following month Woolfolk's trial on charges of attempted murder took place in Baltimore. During the trial he denied having been present at the trial of Bowser and brought several witnesses into the court in his defense. Nevertheless the jury found Woolfolk guilty. When Woolfolk rose to hear the sentence that Judge Brice had decided upon, many in the court were stunned to learn that it was to be a fine in the amount of only one dollar. After the trial, Austin Woolfolk continued as one of the leading traders in the history of slavery, profiting by tens of thousands of dollars* a year well into the 1830's.* Hundreds of thousands of dollars in today's currency
Augusta T. Chissell was one of the most influential activists in the women’s suffrage movement in Maryland. She lived in the red painted row house at the corner of Druid Hill Ave and McMechen St. Through her tireless participation in important civil rights organizations, she was able to give women of color a voice in the movement. Born in Baltimore in 1880, Augusta Theodosia Lewis briefly worked making hats for friends before she married Dr. Robert Garland Chissell in the 1910s. Robert Chissell was a prominent physician and an executive committee member for the Maryland Medical, Dental, and Pharmaceutical Association. By 1917, the Chissells had moved into the house at 1534 Druid Hill Ave. At that point, Augusta was already heavily involved in advocating for civil rights for African Americans. She was one of the founding members of the Baltimore branch of the NAACP, and was its first vice-president in 1912. Beyond this already impressive achievement, she also established herself as one of the most important African American activists in the women’s suffrage movement. White women’s suffrage activists often excluded the voices and interests of women of color. This led many African American women to form their own suffrage organizations. One of these organizations was the Progressive (or sometimes Colored) Women’s Suffrage Club (PWSC), which Chissell’s friend, Estelle Young, founded in 1915. The PWSC stressed the importance of women of all races being given the right to vote. Yet another group was the DuBois Circle, which was (and still is) a group of prominent women of color from Baltimore and Washington D.C. that met to discuss arts such as literature and music. More importantly, it was involved in supporting suffrage and other rights for women of all backgrounds. It did this mainly through academically supporting community youth, especially through scholarships. Chissell’s next door neighbor, Margaret Hawkins (1532 Druid Hill Ave), was the Circle’s first president when it was founded in 1906. Chissell served in important roles in both of these groups. She was an officer in the PWSC, as well as a member of the Dubois Circle’s Executive Committee from 1921 to 1935, and its Executive Secretary from 1930 to 1940. She also dedicated her time to serving with the Women’s Cooperative Civic League, which organized grassroots efforts to bring about change by spreading awareness about a variety of issues affecting Baltimore. They did this mainly by handing out pamphlets and organizing committee fundraisers to get Baltimoreans interested and involved in supporting their cause. They also organized a flower mart in West Baltimore. Chissell served as the chair of the Flower Mart committee in the 1930s, as well as of the indoor flower show committee. She was a networker and a prominent member in her community. Because of this, she had connections with many other important African American women’s rights activists. She would even invite Hawkins, Young, and other activists to her house for meetings and organizing events. Once the 19th Amendment was adopted into the Constitution in 1920 securing a woman’s right to vote, Chissell continued to be an advocate for other fundamental women’s issues. For instance, she wrote a weekly column in the Afro-American called “A Primer for Women Voters.” The column focused on giving advice and answering questions about voting for women of color. She was also involved with the Women’s Auxiliary of the Baltimore Urban League, serving as its president in 1936. During Chissell’s time as president, the Women’s Auxiliary focused heavily on getting white women involved with combating racial inequity. Her involvement with many different activist groups led the Afro-American to describe her as a “go-getter” in 1931. Augusta Chissell passed away on May 14th, 1973 around the age of 92. Her devotion to social justice and humanitarianism never wavered throughout her long life. Up until her death, she continued to be an important part of the NAACP and the DuBois Circle. Because of the sheer influence and scope of her work, Chissell was inducted into the Maryland Women’s Hall of Fame in March 2019. Later that year, the Maryland Women’s Heritage Center dedicated a historical marker to both Chissell and her neighbor, Margaret Hawkins. The marker was placed in the front yard of 1534 Druid Hill Ave, Chissell’s home for much of her nearly 60 years of activism. 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.
In almost every kitchen in Baltimore, and maybe Maryland, there is a tiny yellow, blue, and red tin of Old Bay seasoning. It is an essential part of local cuisine. Yet, most people are unaware of the spice’s dramatic Jewish history. Old Bay was created by Gustav Brunn, a Jewish immigrant who came to the United States after escaping from Nazi Germany. On the night of Nov. 9, 1938, violent mobs across Nazi Germany and Austria burned and looted Jewish homes, businesses, hospitals, and synagogues in what would be known as Kristallnacht, or "The Night of Broken Glass." The Nazis also rounded up 30,000 Jewish men and sent them to concentration camps. Brunn was among those captured and sent to Camp Buchenwald. His family helped secure Brunn’s release by paying 10,000 marks to a lawyer who bailed him out. As soon as he was released, Brunn and his children left for the United States. A spice merchant, Brunn left with very little, but he insisted on taking his hand-crank spice grinder. In 1939, the Brunn family arrived in Baltimore and settled into an apartment at 2317 Eutaw Place. After arriving in America, Brunn wanted to re-enter the spice trade, but he had no capital. Brunn had to secure a loan from Katz American to open his spice business. Katz American was not a bank, it was another spice company. As a fellow Jewish spice merchant, Katz put profit aside to help Brunn start his business. After securing a loan from Katz American, Brunn created the Baltimore Spice Company. The company took up residence on the second floor of 26 Market Place; and, the hand-crank spice grinder began to turn once again. Before Brunn created the Baltimore Spice Company, he had worked at McCormick until he was fired for being Jewish. Brunn’s son said that after McCormick learned Brunn was Jewish, he was promptly fired, and told to “go and see the Jewish charities.” Although Brunn experienced rampant anti-semitism in his lifetime, he continued to persevere. The Baltimore Spice Company began developing a crab seasoning around 1940. Brunn created the famous spice after noticing local crab steamers come to his shop to buy various spices. His shop at 26 Market Place was directly across from the Wholesale Fish Market. The crab steamers would then blend the spices together to season their crabs. Brunn was inspired by the crab steamers to create his own crab seasoning--Old Bay. Brunn added tiny amounts of various spices to his crab seasoning in order to be unique in an overly saturated crab spice market. According to Brunn’s son, “Those minor things he put in there — the most unlikely things, including cinnamon and nutmeg and cloves and all kinds of stuff that had nothing to do with crabs at all — gave a background bouquet that he couldn’t have anticipated. Old Bay, per se, was almost an accident.” In the very beginning, Brunn had trouble selling the spice mixture that would one day become synonymous with Baltimore. However, after giving samples to the local crab steamers, business began to pick up. By this time, the spice still had no name. Brunn named the spice after the Old Bay steamship line, which used to run out of Baltimore. After getting its name, the spice mix’s popularity continued to grow. Major companies, including McCormick, began to sell a similar product in a similar can. The rivalry between the Baltimore Spice Company and McCormick over the rights to Old Bay did not end until five years after the death of Gustav Brunn. In 1990, the company sold the rights to the original Old Bay recipe to McCormick. The spice has continued to be a mainstay in grocery stores in Baltimore and across the entire Mid-Atlantic. In recent years, the spice mix has gained an almost cult-like popularity and has helped spawn the development of things such as: Old Bay apparel, vodka, and beer. The spice is so quintessentially Maryland that a poll by Goucher College found that “opinions toward Old Bay transcend party, age, race, gender, and ideological lines,” said Mileah Kromer, director of the Sara T. Hughes Politics Center at Goucher. “An overwhelming majority of Marylanders view it favorably.” When Gustav Brunn created Old Bay in 1939, he thought he just created a great spice mixture. He did not know he would create a product that would become integral to the cultural fabric of Maryland. 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.
A Newspaper on a Mission—One 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. 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 “colored sympathizers from many lands” who fought on both sides of Spain’s Civil War. He wrote about people who wanted to fight for democracy against fascism. He also wrote about the “Moors” (Muslims from North Africa and Spain) who were used “as canon fodder for Franco.” This was one of the missions of the newspaper after all–to report on the lives of the ordinary “colored” person. Another aspect of the paper’s 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–Matthew 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’s account stated that Williams was “taken quietly” from the hospital and “escorted” 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’s family continue to run an operation with offices in Baltimore and Washington, DC.
Upholstering furniture for homes, hospitals, restaurants, and Hollywood for over a hundred years.
The unassuming space on Harford Road belies the work performed there by its craftspeople. Clifton Upholstering has reupholstered everything from that old couch in the den to 16th century French chairs to period pieces for several locally filmed movies and TV shows, not to mention furnishings for innumerable restaurants and hotels in the area.
Jeremiah Fox began this upholstery business in 1915 a few miles south of its current location, initially working primarily on home furniture. Needless to say, the company has expanded considerably since then. Not many years after starting his business, Mr. Fox began working with Robert M. Baxter,Sr., who had his own carpet and drapery business. Mr. Baxter eventually bought the business and now his son, Bob, is operating it.
As the company grew, they took on more and more intricate work restoring antique furniture, such as a sofa made by a coffin maker in the 1740s. It was signed by the maker as well as at least two of the craftspeople who reupholstered it over the next two centuries. The most recent reupholstering was done by Clifton in the 1990s for the Engineers Club on Mt. Vernon Place. And, yes, it was signed by the employee who worked on it, Harvey Teets.
Working in similar grand, historic homes in Baltimore can become a lesson in local history. For instance, Agora Publishing contracted Clifton to do some work at the Tiffany Mansion across from the Engineers Club. While working there, they learned one of the family members was a Rough Rider with Teddy Roosevelt. Also, as the work progressed, a tapestry was discovered in a 4’ x 15’ shadow box that had been covered over with drywall by a previous owner.
Furniture sometimes comes to them from around the world, such as the aforementioned 16th century French chairs, which were purchased by a consignor for a wealthy client. The ten chairs, which cost $230,000 a piece, now surround a dining room table in Singapore.
Less exotic, but no less interesting, is the work done on several films, most recently for Lady in the Lake. Other work includes the TV crime dramas, Homicide: Life on the Street, and The Wire, as well as several John Waters films, such as Dirty Shame. The latter included work on a special seat for a police car. The front seat had to accommodate a character who liked to wear diapers, which meant someone with a 54” waist. It was upholstered in teddy bear felt with baby blue vinyl.
The “steady” work continues to come in from local families who want a chair or couch reupholstered. Also, larger jobs are provided through their partnership with the Maryland Restaurant Association. Their work can be found all over the city in places as diverse as Ruth's Chris Steak House and Johns Hopkins Hospital.
It is never dull work. Even the mundane jobs sometimes turn into something of note, like the time they found $3,000 in cash under some couch cushions.
This church is the oldest in the Upper Fells Point Historic District, completed in 1848. Originally dedicated as a “mariner’s church,” it has been home to several community institutions over the past 170+ years.
South Broadway Baptist Church is the present-day name belonging to the oldest congregation established by Lumbee Indians in Baltimore City. The congregation’s first meetings are recorded as having taken place in 1952, but services were held in different Lumbee homes and rented storefronts until 1967, when the congregation purchased its first building at 1117 W. Cross Street, and adopted the name West Cross Street Baptist Church. As the church grew, so did the Indian community’s interest in it. West Cross Street Baptist got permission from the Fells Point Methodist Board of Missions to use the church at 211 S. Broadway for their annual homecomings, due to its capacious size and location on “the reservation.” In 1977, Mayor William Donald Schaefer attended a homecoming celebration and the congregation shared with him their desire to purchase the building at 211 S. Broadway. The City of Baltimore helped to arrange a loan for the down payment and funds to rehabilitate the historic structure. Members of the church organized fundraising efforts to pay back the loan. On June 11, 1978, they lined up at a vacant lot at the corner of N. Ann and E. Baltimore streets for a “victory march” to their new space. A majority Lumbee congregation attends South Broadway Baptist Church to this day.
South Broadway Baptist wasn’t the first Indian institution to occupy 211 S. Broadway. In 1970, the Southeast Community Action Agency (caa) leased 211 S. Broadway on behalf of the American Indian Study Center. The Center used the back entrance of what was still “the Methodist church” at that time. It occupied an office adjoining the sanctuary, an office on the second floor, and held culture class in the fellowship hall, until it acquired its current facility at 113 S. Broadway, in 1972. In partnership with the Baltimore City Board of Education, the Center made a successful application for federal Indian Education funding and Baltimore’s Indian Education Program began in 1973. Its first office was the room on the second floor of 211 S. Broadway that the American Indian Study Center had previously occupied. The office later relocated to a Baltimore City Public School.
In 1975, Earl Brooks (Lumbee) purchased a storefront building at 207 S. Broadway and opened Hokahey Indian Trading Post with his friend, Solomon Maynor (Coharie). The store primarily sold silver and turquoise Indian jewelry purchased in New Mexico. Brooks sold the property in 1977 and it is part of El Salvador Restaurant today.
The original portion of this building was constructed in Greek revival style, in 1843, for a sea captain and his family. The captain and his wife placed it into trust for their daughter, who willed it to the Baltimore Humane Impartial Society to be used as an old folks’ home, but the Society sold the property to an individual instead. It remained a private residence until it was donated to The Little Flower Corporation, in 1920. The neighborhood was predominantly Polish during this time and the house was remodeled and accommodations were furnished for the care of Polish children. The first floor had lounging rooms and a dining room, the second floor was a day nursery and library, and the top floor was converted into dormitories for girls.
The American Indian Study Center acquired the property from The Little Flower in 1972. In its original location, at 211 S. Broadway, the Center offered a library on Indian cultures and social counseling services. It hosted monthly meetings open to anyone interested in “Indian culture.” “Culture class” included workshops on traditional arts, crafts, histories, ways of knowing, and being. With the move to 113 S. Broadway, the Center also opened a restaurant and offered housing for a time. The American Indian Study Center, which changed its name to the Baltimore American Indian Center in 1980, has offered an array of social and cultural programs in the decades since.
In 1999, Maryland State Bond Bill was passed to assist the Center in a capital project to construct the “multipurpose room,” a gymnasium-like addition to the original structure, completed in 2008. In 2004, longtime friend to the Center, Stanley Markowitz, was awarded an Open Society Institute Baltimore fellowship to work with community members to begin envisioning what would become the Baltimore American Indian Center Heritage Museum. Additional federal funding was acquired to rehabilitate the first floor of the original part of the building, to house the new museum. Frieda Minner (Lumbee) was instrumental in the development of the museum and a gift shop, facilitating much of what was truly a community effort. Men of the Center’s Native American Senior Citizens program did the finishing work on the first floor. The Museum officially opened in 2011. In 2018, the Baltimore American Indian Center celebrated 50 years of existence and it is still open today.
The Baltimore American Indian Center purchased the building at 118 S. Broadway in 1983, with assistance from the Religious Society of Friends. The front part of the first floor was a museum and gift shop, and the back room was used for dance class. Rooms on the upper floors served as workshop space and lodging for cultural consultants. The Center sold the property in 2002.
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.
Claudie and Mabel Hunt (Lumbee) purchased the Sinclair service station at 100 S. Broadway, ca. 1967. It had a three-bay garage and six gas pumps. After about a year, the station was converted to BP. The Hunts sold the station when they moved back to North Carolina, ca. 1973. It is the site of a popular 7/11 today.
The commercial property at this location actually spans 1623 – 1633 E. Lombard where there were once 6 individual houses. The current structure was built in the late 1960s and served as a blood bank, ca. 1979 – 1988. The Baltimore American Indian Center acquired the property in 1990. The Center’s Vera Shank Daycare occupied one half of the building and had a playground in the backyard. Once a major source of income for the Indian Center, the daycare was intended to provide employment for Indian mothers and a safe environment for Indian children to learn and grow together. It was named for Vera Shank, a Quaker woman and former colleague of Indian Center co-founder, Elizabeth Locklear (Lumbee). The Native American Senior Citizens program occupied the other half of the building. “The Seniors” were a big support to the Indian Center. They held their own fundraisers, usually involving the sale of traditional foods, which they would also prepare weekly, on the premises, to eat and fellowship for hours on end. They hosted annual holiday parties and sponsored holiday meals for families of the community in need. They took trips to various destinations across the U.S. and worked together on traditional arts and crafts. The Center sold the property in 2017.
The Baltimore American Indian Center opened the Inter-Tribal Restaurant at 17 S. Broadway, during the tenure of Director Barry Richardson (Haliwa Saponi), ca. 1989. Board members of the Indian Center wanted to try another restaurant venture as part of their economic development activities. They felt that the Center had a fair amount of experience selling food due to its work with the concession stands at Orioles baseball games. One could “eat in” or “carry out” at the restaurant, which sold foods like sandwiches, shrimp, chicken, and french fries, and also cigarettes and beer. The Center closed the restaurant after only a couple of years because it was not profitable.
The Moonlight Restaurant was Greek-owned. It was one of the first restaurants in which many Lumbee Indians arriving from the Jim Crow South could sit down and eat. Much of the planning for what would become South Broadway Baptist Church and the Baltimore American Indian Center took place in The Moonlight. However, the establishment was also known for fights and general discord, sometimes also attributed to the presence of Indians. The building was sold to Baltimore City in 1972. It is a house today.
East Baltimore Church of God began in 1955, under the leadership of a Lumbee woman, Rev. Lounita Hammonds. It was originally known as the “Upper Room” Church because services were held above Gordon Cleaners, located at the corner of Baltimore and Wolfe streets. Sometime after establishing the church, Rev. Hammonds felt called “home,” to North Carolina, to begin another work. In her absence, the church closed, and its members relocated to other area churches. Soon after, “a group of Native Americans had a desire to have a church with which they could identify; thus the current East Baltimore Church of God came into existence.”
It was Rev. Haywood Johnson (Lumbee) who assembled what would grow into the current congregation. In 1961, Rev. Johnson and a small group of parishioners purchased a storefront building that had originally been a restaurant, spanning 1714 – 1716 E. Baltimore Street. The church history cites growth in the congregation as the reason for a move to its next location, 2043 E. Baltimore Street, in 1972. Rev. Johnson and the trustees of the church sold 1714 – 16 to the City and it was razed during Urban Renewal.
In 2003, East Baltimore Church of God moved to its current location, 800 S. Oldham Street. The church is active unto this day and many American Indian people continue to attend. It is pastored by Rev. Robert E. Dodson Jr., who trained under Rev. Redell Hammonds (Lumbee), the son of Rev. Lounita and Hartman Hammonds (Lumbee).
1727 E. Baltimore Street housed a series of ethnic food establishments from the turn of the century through the early 1960s, reflecting greater migration patterns in the neighborhood. In 1917, it was the Shub Bros. Bakery; in 1947, it was the Warsaw Bakery, and around 1959, Hartman Hammonds (Lumbee) rented the storefront and opened Hartman’s BBQ Shop. Mr. Hammonds sold Lumbee-style BBQ with traditional sides like coleslaw, as well as hotdogs and hamburgers. The shop was frequented by construction workers who lived in East Baltimore. Mr. Hammonds made lunches at night and the workers would come pick them up in the morning, then they would come back on Fridays to pay for their lunches for the week. 1725 and 1727 E. Baltimore were eventually merged and converted into a church.
Sid’s Ranch House Tavern occupied a building that had been converted into a movie theater during the first part of the twentieth century. It had been the Teddy Bear Parlor ca. 1908 – 1919, and the Mickey until 1920 or ‘21. Sidney Silverman, a retired boxer turned bartender, opened his tavern in the late 1950s. It became a popular neighborhood hangout for people of different races, and it had a reputation for racial trouble. According to one Lumbee patron, Mr. Silverman “had a habit of every time the Indians would get in fights there, he would bar ‘em from the bar for a while. Wouldn’t let no Indians come in his bar… He’d do it for a while and then he’d open up. I guess he missed our business, and he’d open up and let ‘em back.” Mr. Silverman likely sold the property at 1741 E. Baltimore Street to the City during Urban Renewal and it was razed.
Jesse B. Revels Jr. (Lumbee) and his wife, Lucy May Revels, bought the property at 1819 E. Baltimore Street in 1962 and opened a grocery store. They and their children ran the store until 1968, when they moved to Baltimore County. They sold the property to Baltimore City in 1973 during Urban Renewal.
East Baltimore Church of God, the second oldest congregation established by Lumbee Indians in the City of Baltimore, was in 1955 known as the “Upper Room” Church because services were held above Gordon Cleaners at the corner of Baltimore and Wolfe streets. Sometime prior to 1961, the church ceased to meet at this location. This property was auctioned in 1963.
The Volcano Bar is easily the most infamous Indian bar of Baltimore’s “reservation” era, but it was in existence long before the clientele was mostly Indian. It first appears in a Sun ad as the “Volcano Restaurant” in 1944. In the 1960s through 1972, the Volcano was owned by Greek wwii veteran, Costas “Gus” Themelis, and his wife, Stella Themelis. It became almost exclusively an Indian bar during this time and had a reputation for erupting every weekend. A July 1978 Baltimore Magazine article deemed The Volcano “the meanest bar of all time,” and claims it was “the only local bar that has ever had a patron shot off his bar stool with a bow and arrow.” Mr. Themelis and his wife sold the bar to the City in 1972. It was since razed and housing occupies its former site.
In 1956, the oldest congregation in Baltimore City founded by Lumbee Indians (presently known as South Broadway Baptist Church) rented the storefront at 1918 E. Fairmount Avenue and adopted the name “Fairmount Avenue Missionary Baptist Church” under the ministry of Rev. Geneva Locklear (Lumbee), and her husband, Smitty (also Lumbee). The church remained at 1918 E. Fairmount until 1967. The entire area bounded by E. Fayette, N. Wolfe, E. Baltimore, and N. Washington streets has since been razed and redeveloped.
Vince’s Bar was owned by Vincent Staico. His wife, Matilda, “Ms. Til,” often ran the bar. Former patrons describe it as a quiet neighborhood bar, where there was seldom, if ever, fighting. Vince’s had pool tables and American Indian community members made frequent use of them. Staico sold the building to the City in 1972.
How the National Aquarium came to be in Baltimore is the story of three different aquariums that, over time, became one.
Our story begins in the middle. In the 1970s, Baltimore mayor William Donald Schaefer and his Commissioner of the city Department of Housing and Community Development, Robert C. Embry, visited Boston and became entranced with the city’s waterfront New England Aquarium. Returning home to Baltimore, Schaefer was determined to include an aquarium as part of the forthcoming inner harbor development.
In 1976, Baltimoreans voted to fund the aquarium, and ground was broken in 1978. But construction of the aquarium, with its distinctive glass pavilion and concrete turret lit with neon waves, experienced a series of setbacks, and Mayor William Donald Schaefer promised to take a swim in the new aquarium if it didn’t open on July 1, 1981. It didn’t. And on July 15, as promised, the mayor took the plunge. The Sun reported that before of a crowd of around 300 spectators:
“The Honorable William Donald Schaefer, wearing a turnoff the century bathing costume in place of his dignity, clutched a large rubber duck and stepped into the seal pool, disappearing up to the brim of his straw boater.”
The mayor chatted with three seals and reclined on a rock with a woman dressed as a mermaid. Frank A. Gunther, Jr., the chair of the aquarium board, joined him.
The cost of a ticket to the National Aquarium in Baltimore, as it became known when it opened to the public in August 1981, was $4.50—more than twice it was promised to be (and approximately a tenth of what a youth ticket costs over 40 years later).
About that somewhat confusing name. Although Congress granted the aquarium in Baltimore the right to use the title “National Aquarium,” there was already a “National Aquarium” in Washington, D.C.. Located in the basement of the Department of Commerce Building (later known as the Herbert C. Hoover Building) since the 1930s, this aquarium traced its history to the first national aquarium, founded in Woods Hole, Massachusetts in 1873. The Woods Hole aquarium moved to Washington in 1878 and remained there until 2013, first under the auspices of the federal government, then under the National Aquarium Society, before the National Aquarium in Baltimore took over the management in 2003. When the federal government decided to renovate the Hoover Building in 2013, 1,700 animals were moved to the National Aquarium in Baltimore (now known as the National Aquarium), and the National Aquarium in DC quietly closed its doors.
Today, the National Aquarium is the largest paid tourist attraction in Maryland; over 50 million people have visited since its opening in 1981. The aquarium is home to 20,000 different animals, including sloths, reptiles, and tropical birds. Its tanks hold over 2.2 million gallons of water. Over the decades, the aquarium’s footprint has expanded to include the Pavilion on Pier 4 (1990) and the Australia: Wild Extremes exhibit (2005). In 2024, the National Aquarium Harbor Wetland Project opened with plantings of over 130 shrubs and 39,000 grasses designed to attract and protect wildlife like diamondback terrapins, jellyfish, oysters, blue crabs, and river otters. This project echoes the National Aquarium’s mission to research and conservation and helps give the public a glimpse into what Baltimore looked like two hundred years ago, as well as what it might look like a few years from now.
On March 23, 1868, the S.S. Baltimore arrived in Locust Point, ushering in a wave of future Americans with origins across Europe. Their journeys are remembered in this community through the Baltimore Immigrant Museum and the Baltimore Immigration Memorial.
Between the early 1800s and 1914, nearly two million people arrived in Baltimore via boat. From the time of the Civil War to the onset of World War I, Locust Point was the second largest point of entry for European immigrants after Ellis Island in New York. This was mostly due to location; at Locust Point people could arrive by sea and venture across America by rail, thanks to the country’s first railroad, the B&O.
Germans made up the greatest number of immigrants during that period. Thanks to the North German Lloyd Steamship Company - One Ticket Program, one ticket offered passage on a steamship in Bremen, Germany, across the Atlantic, through customs at Locust Point, and then potentially onto a B&O Railroad car to anywhere the B&O went in America. Baltimore had the fourth largest German immigrant population in the mid-1850s. The three cities with more German immigrants were all end point of the B&O: Milwaukee (the actual endpoint was nearby Chicago), St. Louis, and Cincinnati. Baltimore also became home to significant numbers of immigrants from Lithuania, Poland, and Bohemia.
Some famous Baltimoreans whose relatives immigrated through Locust Point include: Frank Zappa (his father and all grandparents were born in Italy); Cass Elliot of the Mamas and the Papas (all four of her grandparents were Russian-Jewish immigrants); radio personality Ira Glass and composer Phillip Glass (of Latvian-Jewish descent); David Hasselhoff (his great-great-grandmother immigrated from Germany to Baltimore in 1865); Congresswoman Nancy Pelosi (her mother immigrated from Italy); and baseball legend Babe Ruth (his grandparents were born in Germany).
Today’s immigrants to Baltimore hail mostly from Central America and Africa.
The Baltimore Immigration Memorial asks visitors to consider the many individuals who came to the United States looking for opportunity. Designed by local artist Alex Castro, the memorial sits at the edge of Hull Street, overlooking the harbor. It consists of large concrete discs once used to support vats containing Proctor & Gamble products like Tide and Ivory Soap. Concrete balls and cones are interspersed throughout, giving the waterfront park movement.
In 2006, Castro described his vision for the memorial in an article from The Sun: "This is not a museum…It's a place to orient oneself to the many places in Baltimore that speak to immigration history and a place to collect oneself, in a quiet way. It's a place to begin to tell the story of where the ships docked, how people took trains to the Midwest, what the city looked like from the water ..."
“Ultimately, it's a place about aspiration,” he added. "We're all human. That's the one thing we share. We all have aspirations that pull us along."
The sepia-toned Canton railroad transfer bridge rises out of the harbor near the Canton Waterfront Park like an industrial Arc de Triomphe. It is one of three such structures—remnants of an early chapter in Baltimore’s industrial maritime and railroad histories—that remain in the city (the other two transfer bridges are in Locust Point and can only be seen from the water.).
Built sometime in the 1910s for the Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington Railroad (which, in 1902, had merged with the Philadelphia, Wilmington, and Baltimore Railroad), the Canton railroad transfer bridge stands 38 feet high, 53 feet wide, and 14 feet deep. This steel bridge allowed for the transport of railroad cars across the harbor on “carfloats” between Canton, Locust Point, and the Inner Harbor.
After the formation of the Canton Company of Baltimore in 1828, the company purchased 3,000 acres of the O’Donnell estate to build houses, iron works, and railroads. Along the waterfront, the company leased out property for breweries, canneries, shipbuilders, and other industrial concerns. The area that is now the Canton Waterfront Park was leased to the Philadelphia, Wilmington, and Baltimore Railroad as a railyard, a place for trains to unload their goods and take on new cargo. Because Baltimore prohibited locomotives from passing through downtown, trains would stop on the outskirts of the city, where the train cars would be uncoupled and hitched up to horses who would pull the cars through town one at a time. This process was slow and expensive. A quicker solution for transferring train cargo was transporting railcars across the harbor via the railroad transfer bridge.
Harbor tides prevented barges from pulling up directly to the pier because the water levels could change dramatically. The railroad transfer bridge worked akin to a gangplank on a ferry and served as the intermediary between shore and barge. Railroad cars were rolled onto the transfer bridge and then onto a barge fitted with railroad tracks, decoupled, and floated across the harbor to Locust Point where the cargo was unloaded. Oftentimes, the process was reversed, so the rail cars could rejoin their engines.
Although no longer in use, the Canton railroad transfer bridge stands as a testament to innovation in engineering and Baltimore’s industrial heritage.
For Baltimoreans of a certain generation, it’s hard to imagine the harbor without Harborplace. Bolstered by the enthusiastic support of Mayor William Donald Schaefer, the brainchild of urban pioneer, James Rouse brought millions of visitors to downtown Baltimore and inspired imitations around the globe. The Urban Land Institute cited Harborplace as “a model for post-industrial waterfront development around the world.” For a time, “the Inner Harbor” was synonymous with “Harborplace.”
Located within the Chesapeake Bay watershed, the Baltimore Harbor is formed at the mouth of the Patapsco River, which leads to the Chesapeake Bay and then the Atlantic Ocean. The Inner Harbor was never more than 15 feet deep, limiting its use as a seaport to shallow boats plying the Chesapeake Bay; ocean-going vessels preferred the deeper ports of Canton and Fells Point. As part of an effort to make the harbor of Baltimore Town deeper, two brothers, flour merchants Andrew and John Ellicott (Ellicott City is named after them) invented the first dredger in 1783. Also known as the Mud Machine, it removed debris, mud, and sediment from the harbor floor to increase the depth of the water.
Land around harbor was always valuable. The first big development came around 1800, when landowners just north of the harbor started filling in the marshy land just below today’s Water Street to get access to the 18-foot deep port. They built piers and docks and transformed the harbor into a Chesapeake Bay maritime hub with boats arriving daily from the Eastern Shore laden with seafood and produce. On a busy day during oyster season there may have been upwards of 100 boats docked in the harbor.
By the time of the 1904 fire, the area had become dilapidated. The Fire Commission observed: “The warehouses were in even worse condition, any of the docks being nothing more than mudholes and so narrow that no modern vessel even of moderate size could even get beyond the ends.”
After the fire, the city used its power of eminent domain to condemn the land around the harbor, take it away from private owners, and make it publicly owned and publicly managed land. New piers were built, including Piers 4, 5, and 6—probably the first reinforced concrete structures built in seawater in America. The city leased the piers to private companies like United Fruit and Standard Oil. But even then, part of Pier 4—the Public Pier--was reserved for the citizens of Baltimore.
Up until around World War II, the harbor was a hub of maritime activity in and around the Chesapeake Bay. After World War II, new highway construction and the building of the Bay Bridge in 1952 meant less reliance on ships to transport products from the Eastern Shore to Baltimore. In 1960, the large public Marsh Market, just north of the harbor, closed. In 1962, the steamer, The City of Norfolk, made its final run.
The city reacted to these changes by re-envisioning the harbor as a place for industry to a place of recreation. First, in 1963, Mayor Theodore McKeldin expanded the urban renewal zone that had been created in 1958 to guide the expansion of Charles Center to include the Inner Harbor. Subsequently, the majority of the buildings around the harbor were demolished and replaced with surface parking lots, which became magnets for fairs and festivals. Around 10,000 people attended the City Fair to take part in the festivities, as well as take in the spectacle of the harbor. In 1971, The Baltimore Sun observed: “The docks, the boats, the setting itself are the showstoppers more than the food or the booze or the rides.”
City Fair was just the beginning of the movement to bring people to the harbor as a tourist attraction. In 1976, thousands of people came to the Inner Harbor to see over 50 tall ships docked there in celebration of America’s Bicentennial. The Science Center also opened that year. The National Aquarium followed in 1980, and the Six Flags at the Power Plant launched in 1985.
In 1978, the city sponsored a ballot on the referendum of whether to lease out part of the harbor to a private developer to build what would become Harborplace. Fifty-four percent voted yes.
Harborplace opened in 1980. In the first three months, 7 million people visited. In the first year, more people visited the Inner Harbor than went to Disney World. On the opening day of Harborplace, Martin Milspaugh, head of Charles Center-Inner Harbor Management, the urban renewal agency that guided the redevelopment, said: “Harborplace is the missing ingredient of the Inner Harbor. Instead of a series of attractions, we’ll have one massive attraction on the shoreline.”
The Harborplace pavilions on Pratt and Light streets featured local merchants and restaurants and was both popular and profitable in its early years. In surveys done at the time, 20% of the people visiting Harborplace were from outside of Maryland and 80% were Marylanders.
Harborplace spawned many imitations. Over 200 harbors across the world copied Baltimore. Harbourside in Sydney, Australia is almost an exact replica that is also currently under redevelopment.
Despite its success, Harborplace changed hands several times. In 2004, it was bought by Chicago-based General Growth Properties, and in 2012, New York-based Ashkenazy Acquisition Corp bought it. In 2019, Harborplace went into a court-ordered receivership with a manager appointed from New Jersey. And in 2022 Baltimore-based MCB real estate purchased it.
In 2024, another referendum around zoning changes and use restrictions, including removing height restrictions for new buildings, allowing for residential development, and expanding the footprint of how much land the city might lease to private owners, was put before Baltimore voters. The referendum was passed to allow for a potential new development to the harbor.
The story of Harbor Point is the story of innovation, invention, and reinvention. Harbor Point is the former home of Baltimore Chromium Works (now AlliedSignal), a company built around Isaac Tyson’s discovery of a local source for chromium in the early 1800’s. It is also the current home to Constellation Energy, an energy company that also has roots in 19th century Baltimore.
Baltimore Chromium Works was the brainchild of Isaac Tyson. If you’ve ever painted any walls of your home in red, yellow, or green paint, you have Tyson to thank.
In the early 1800s, Isaac Tyson was a college geology major who came home to Baltimore County on a break from classes when he noticed a rock used to prop open a screen door at a local country store. He recognized it as chromite, a mineral that contains iron and chromium oxides.
Tyson knew that chromium was a key ingredient in paint manufacturing: it is the magic ingredient that allows pigments to stick to paint. During the colonial era, colored paint was expensive and had to be imported from Europe and having green or red walls was a marker of wealth (think of James Madison’s house in Virginia where the walls are a vibrant color known as Miami Green); the interiors of most homes were simply painted white.
Tyson was the first to determine that specific ecosystems correlated to rich chromium veins (Soldiers Delight in western Baltimore County was among local areas Tyson mined for chromium). He set out and walked from Virginia to Vermont buying up farms that had chromium veins, and at one point, controlled 95% of the world’s chromium.
Tyson’s company Baltimore Chromium Works (later Allied Chemical) was headquartered on Harbor Point. The company used this location to refine chromium, a procedure that is dirty and highly toxic. Hexavalent chromium is also a significant carcinogen (it’s the same chemical that Erin Brockovich advocated against). Waste from the refinery was dumped into the harbor, which became significantly polluted.
Harbor Point eventually became a $100 million superfund site. To clean up chromium polluted soil, a giant wall was erected around the site, and an industrial sump pump removed contaminated water 24 hours a day. Post-clean-up, the empty space was used to host Cirque du Soleil and later served as a temporary beach recreation area. Today, the area is dedicated to mixed development, including being home to the headquarters of Constellation Energy, a company whose story goes back two centuries.
Constellation is an energy supplier that provides electricity and natural gas to Baltimore Gas & Electric (BG&E), a local utility that was the first gas utility in the United States. Somewhat improbably, this utility had its origins in an art museum.
In 1816, Rembrandt Peale, son of the famous portraitist Charles Wilson Peale, used gas lighting to illuminate the Peale Museum, his gallery and museum that became the first purpose-built museum in the United States. Gas lighting was not only a novelty; it also allowed Peale to sell tickets in the evening, so people could visit the galleries after sundown. Historical records report that passersby would stand on Holliday Street in front of the Peale Museum marveling at the brightness of the light coming from its windows, which was an unprecedented sight in a world of candles and oil lamps.
Peale was an innovator and an entrepreneur, and by 1817, he had started the Baltimore Gas Company and secured the contract to supply gas streetlights throughout Baltimore, the first city in America, and among the first in the world, to be lit by gas; hence its nickname, “Light City.” Peale manufactured the gas in a shed at the back of the museum. It was supplied to the city in wooden pipes made from hollowed out logs. Two hundred years later, the business Rembrandt Peale founded at his museum continues to provide power to the city.
The ghostly traces of the words “Baltimore and Ohio Railroad” painted on the brick wall give a clue to the former life of the substantial building that anchors the east end of Fell Street. Designed by architect E. Francis Baldwin in 1897 for the B&O Railroad, Henderson’s Wharf was one of the largest and most up-to-date tobacco warehouses of its day. Its subsequent renovation a century later is a fine example of how Baltimore has been a pioneer in reimagining old industrial buildings and transforming them into spaces for contemporary living.
Henderson’s Wharf was originally known as O’Donnell’s Wharf, named after Captain John O’Donnell, the founder of Canton and one of the wealthiest men in the United States at his death in 1805. In 1850, James A. Henderson, a merchant, purchased the property and made it a major steamship hub. By 1865, the Sun hailed the sendoff of the steamship Somerset from the wharf and anticipated the excitement of the community and the profit to be made: “The pioneer of the ocean line of steamships between Liverpool and Baltimore…will doubtless be witnessed by many persons, as it is an event of the greatest moment to all the various mercantile interests of Baltimore. It is understood that a number of merchants of this city have given orders to European agents to have goods sent them direct from Liverpool by the Somerset on her return trip and the gentlemen having charge of the line are also assured that she will return with a full number of steerage passengers. The prospects of the Ocean Line are altogether of an encouraging character.”
By the 1890s, a different kind of journey was available to Baltimoreans as companies like the Sassafras River Company offered steamship day excursions across the bay to destinations like Worton Manor Beach.
B&O announced their proposal to build a warehouse on Henderson’s Wharf in 1894. A Baltimore Sun headline in 1896 announced:
A BIG WAREHOUSE: To Be Erected by the B. and O. Railroad Company for Tobacco Storage HENDERSON'S WHARF THE SITE The Building Will Be the Largest Structure of Its Kind in Baltimore Its Cost Will Be About $200,000 and It Will Have Capacity for 25,000 Hogsheads--In Size It Will Be 250 by 300 Feet and Six Stories High--Important Addition to the City's Terminal Facilities
The warehouse boasted two-and-a-half foot thick walls with more than 30,000 sq feet of floor space divided into four sections, each with its own elevator.
Both the size and the scope of the building were designed to keep the tobacco inspection and storage industry within the state of Maryland, instead of sending Maryland tobacco out-of-state to Virginia, Ohio, and Kentucky to be processed. The B&O cited not only the capacity of their new warehouse as an advantage but praised the location as well. Railroad tracks ran into the building, the better for loading and unloading from trains. Similarly, the harbor location allowed ships carrying tobacco crops from the Eastern Shore or Southern Maryland easy access to the warehouse, and tobacco destined for foreign ports could be loaded on railroad barges to be transported to any part of the harbor to be sent abroad.
The warehouse was used for various purposes until it was abandoned in 1976. In 1984, a fire swept through, causing significant damages. The building underwent a $9.75 million renovation in 1991 that retained some of its original architectural elements including its lovely archways. Since then, Henderson’s Wharf has been used as a variety of residences, including apartments, condominiums, and currently, as a luxury hotel.