THE LAST POUR - Fort McHenry Tunnel 1985

"The Last Pour" gouache on paper (9" x 12") 1985

  In 1985, during one of my frequent visits on foot to watch the construction workers prepare the highway entrance to the Fort McHenry Tunnel in Baltimore, MD, I met a man named “Reds” House. He worked for  the Arundel  Corporation and might as well have had the title “ambassador to the tunnel’s construction.”  He was thrilled by my enthusiasm for his project. At our first meeting he gave me a ride in his "radio car" and we toured the tunnel before it opened to the public. He took great pleasure in explaining the sophisticated fabrication procedure to me. It's hard to believe that a project like this could be accomplished. During our last encounter I was fortunate enough to witness the very last concrete pour of the entire Fort McHenry tunnel. It would complete the link that connected the east coast from Maine to Florida via Interstate Highway 95. “Reds” is in the painting wearing his  hard hat and supervising the concrete as it “cemented” this historic day. It was good to the last drop.

Bohemian Baltimore Days of Wine and Movies

What an absolute hoot to read Robert Maier's new book about his trials, errors and successes  surrounding underground movie production in Baltimore and beyond. It made me laugh out loud all by myself over and over.  It is an intelligent and forthcoming memoir describing  his unglamorous yet glamorous life making underground movies. "Low Budget Hell: Making Movies with John Waters" begins before 1973 when I met  Robert in the film department at University of Maryland Baltimore County. I was a naive yet ambitious would-be filmmaker like the other the students in our small group. Robert was extremely supportive of us as we were left on our own to figure out how the equipment worked. As the staff member in charge of the film cage, Robert made sure that the valuable cameras and sound recording equipment were checked out properly.  He suggests in his book that our often absent department head  dreamed of being an independent filmmaker more than he cared to teach.

 Most importantly Robert describes his business and friendship with a younger John Waters still riding the crest of the "Pink Flamingos" wave. John was introduced to the film department members via the aforementioned enterprising professor. Waters had a desire to improve his production quality and they figured the students would provide some intern assistance,too. I remember my initial sighting of Waters  entering the door to the editing room/office where he and another student  quietly edited "Female Trouble" on the precious flatbed Steenbeck. And wasn't that Divine recording obscene sound effects for the film's post production in the screening room -- where students otherwise sat on a waterbed for classes?

On Friday nights hordes of us gathered at Bertha's in Fell's Point for cheap wine (about 50 cents a  glass) and hip conversation about French or Italian cinema. The soundtrack was by Miles Davis, Stan Getz or Gato Barbieri. I think the bartender's name was Brown who played piano in various Baltimore nightclubs.  We dreamed of making films and soaked up all the bohemian atmosphere that we could hold. There was a fooseball table that really provided  a place to lean or sit rather than for sporty amusement. The "restroom" was about on par with any gas station men's room of the 1960's only this one had very imaginative and inspiring graffiti. I loved meeting and watching the characters from Waters' movies. Most of them were friendly yet oh so cool. The mood of this era was what had been sorely missing from my suburban childhood and I felt that I finally found the off beat, colorful and artistic atmosphere where unconventional creativity was encouraged.

"Love Letter to Edie"
by Robert Maier.

  Within this bohemian time frame of my life, in 1975 I worked for Bob as a key grip on his movie "Love Letter to Edie." That is a tale to tell on its own sometime. I  will write about it here later perhaps. Working on "Love Letter" is where I acquired a sincere appreciation for Edith Massey. It was not easy at all for her to remember her lines -  often adding curse words that were not in the script. Whether she realized it or not, Edith gave many of us permission to be what we wanted to be without fear of  ridicule. Edith's thrift shop was close to Bertha's and she was open late for the the bar trade on weekends. Bertha's closed at 1 a.m. when we promptly moved down the street to Pop and Sis's bar called Zeppi's (now John Stevens'). The elderly Pop and Sis served 25 cent beers and so we had our nightcap there. Sis once told me that for her vacation, when they closed the bar for a week or two during the summer, all she wanted to do was sit on her front steps of her row house and watch the neighbors. I knew what she meant. As we closed that bar around 2 a.m. sometimes we'd witness a gang fight, a la West Side Story, in the metered parking lot at the foot of Broadway. Occasionally it ended with a boy getting wounded by a switchblade and the girls crying for their boyfriends. That signaled it was time to head home to my roommates and roaches in Bolton Hill. 

I highly recommend reading "Low Budget Hell." Robert gives an honest and humorous account of just  how low a budget can go. The book is chock full of little gems and secrets. A good example is his description of  Waters' metamorphosis from Prince of Puke to Broadway Musical Darling.  Robert can tell a story and I am so happy that he told this one for now I know I did not imagine some the things I thought I saw during those free-spirited college days. 

For a more information or to purchase visit his web site.  ""Low Budget Hell" is also available  on Amazon.

LOCUST POINT FERRY

"Locust Point Ferry" oil on board (12" x 24")

The waters of Baltimore's inner harbor at one time were teeming with steamboats for work and pleasure. I have spent some recent winter nights reading about this nearly forgotten era of our city. The shipping industry has been around forever it seems but the steamboat era has captured my imagination most of all. Our city's waterfront was jammed with shipbuilders and steamship companies such as Old Bay Line located on Light Street.  Founded as Baltimore Steam Packet Company, the Old Bay line ran dependable steam packets to and from Norfolk, VA. The nearly 100-year-old Merchants and Miners Company had a sturdy building on pier 3 until 1952 when times changed and they were faced with financial woes. The Wilson Line operated cruises from the Pier in Fell's Point. Many remember taking day trips to Tolchester or Betterton on the eastern shore via the Bay Belle owned by this line. I love thinking about this once ultra-efficient way to transport people and products. No cars or trucks on the road meant we had to get ourselves and our work moving by rail or boat. The Locust Point Ferry here in my painting was the property of the Locust Point Ferry Company. They opened for business around 1851 and steamed back and forth between Kerr's Wharf near Fell's Point and Locust Point in south Baltimore. We now have the comparatively dinky water taxis to shuttle us around the harbor but back in the times of steamboats you might ride with a herd of cattle or bales of cotton or hogsheads tobacco. Honestly I like progress but what a thrill it would have been to chug along the malodorous waters of the Patapsco tidal basin powered by a robust steam engine with a mighty walking beam pumping above your head.

VINTAGE OCEAN CITY, MD

 

Using my collection of old hotel, motel and assorted ephemera from Ocean City, MD I created this first of several collages. Many who have seen it get a big chuckle from the old brochures highlighting dirt-cheap room rates. One includes a $3 per day charge for boys and men who stay in the attic dorm at the Royalton Hotel on 11th St. Of course an electric fan is included for the guests staying up there. It's all great fun and endless hours of studying the assortment of authentic, vintage ads. Creating the collages has been  a very satisfying experience. Sharing some of this "stuff" that I have accumulated over the years gives my work an added focus. And it makes it somewhat easier for me to explain my overall  body of work to those who do not have the collector's gene. Get a load out of this brochure from the Majestic Hotel on 7th Street. My cousins stayed here every summer for countless seasons.

Majestic Hotel's 1969 Room Rates

There are floor plans, lists of kitchen accessories, details of room views, and winter home addresses included in my piece.  Here's a good example of the McCabe's rates and they even give you  S & H Green Stamps!

 It's all here at the McCabe - cheap rates, kitchen utensils and a private bath.

Speaking of private baths - one summer for two weeks, at the age of 12, my girlfriend Charlotte and I had a rented room at the Royalton Hotel. Her parents were on the first floor with an ocean front balcony and lots of privacy from us. We were happily situated on the second floor of the old hotel with twin beds and a sink. The toilet and bath tub were down the hall. It never occurred to us that we needed our own bathroom. We were overjoyed at the independence the modified American plan offered to us. We ate our full breakfast (included in the $50 weekly rate) served in the dining room, swam all day long,  and then consumed a big dinner in the same dining room attended by our young waitress named Judy. At night we judiciously spent our allowances, saved up all winter, on the rides and pinball machines. We checked in with her parents several times per day of course but I don't believe we ever ate a meal with them. After all, by the time Charlotte and I were wandering around OC's honky-tonk, her elegant parents were probably still having apéritifs in their suite. In the days of OC's tightly enforced liquor license laws, the hotel did not serve cocktails.
If you haven't bought or seen this collage in person stop in the Ocean City Lifesaving Museum at the end of the boardwalk. They have (16" x 20") posters of it on display and for sale, too. And check out their fabulous collection of Old Ocean City artifacts and stories.

VACATION BEACH LADIES

"Vacation Beach Ladies" oil on board (12" x 24") 2011

So the summer is officially over after this weekend. But we know there is still plenty of time to enjoy the beach if good weather prevails. When asked what their favorite form of relaxation might be, a large number of people reveal that they fantasize lying on the beach. I like to sit on the beach under an umbrella while reading. And truth be  told I like to eavesdrop on my neighbors from time to time. It has something to do with the way the sea breeze carries sound across the sand. The ground feels so warm and dense as you rest your head on it. The merging din of measured waves, dampened voices and mashed footsteps  are funneled into your ears as if  filtered through a muffler.  The women here in my painting " Vacation Beach Ladies" might be interesting to spy on.  Listening in on strangers while on vacation is a form of entertainment for some of us. While working on this painting I could not resist the addition of a bathing cap on one of the women. I wonder if she doesn't want to hear all the details. But they appear to be  old friends on a summer fling in the days of chaperones and "safe retreat" hotels for women.

MAYFLOWER HOTEL - Ocean City, MD

"Mayflower Hotel" oil on canvas (12" x 18") 2008

This big, friendly, brown-shingled hotel stood on the boardwalk at 12th St. in Ocean City, MD for all the years of my childhood. The cheerful gift shop on the ground floor called the Jo-Mar Driftwood and Gift Shop was a favorite stop during summer vacations. They sold pieced earrings which in the early 1960’s were considered very chic! According to a 1971 Ocean City Chamber of Commerce Guide, one could make a reservation at this “modern resort hotel” by dialing 289-7251 and speaking with Mr. or Mrs. J. T. Hopkins. The hotel also advertised “surf bathing direct from the hotel and bath house,” and “featured delicious southern style dishes” in their dining room. Mentioned here previously, as a teenager I was the  frequent guest of a dear family who spent summers in their cottage just one block west of the hotel. I can still smell the aromatic dinners cooking as we hungrily passed by the hotel’s back alley on our way home in  sandy, wet bathing suits.

If You Don't Own A Cow.....

"Cloverland Milk Truck" oil on board (16 x 20) 2004

Most Baltimoreans of a certain age can sing the Cloverland jingle including the phone number NOrth 9- 2222. This truck is from an earlier era when the bottling plant was on North Monroe street and the phone number was the Lafayette exchange. The building that housed that plant is still standing on that spot in NW Baltimore. You cannot miss it because it has a big milk bottle built right into the side of it.There are other relics of that era in plain sight if you just hunt around a bit for them.

The original Cloverland Dairy bottling plant on N. Monroe Street.

Divco truck painted in the authentic colors of the Cloverland dairy waiting to  be used as a movie prop.

 In polling Baltimoreans I question very few who cannot remember the name of the dairy that delivered milk to their homes. We had Royal Dunloggin Dairy and adored our milkman Mr. Ross. He was the only man besides my father to who my mother wrote notes. Sometimes after supper she would scribble a line or two on stationery and insert it into an empty, rinsed milk-bottle which would then be placed on the side porch. In the wee hours of the morning Mr. Ross would pull up in his Divco truck and hurry toward our house with his metal basket of half-gallon milk bottles. Then he would read the note which instructed him whether to leave us an unscheduled delivery of chocolate milk, orange juice or heavy whipping cream...or as the song says..."no milk today."

"Cloverland Crossing" oil on canvas (20" x 20") 2004