In 1913, when Anna C. and Henry A. Schenk purchased a lot from the C. Mueller Building Company on Fait Avenue in what was then Baltimore County’s Highlandtown, they looked forward to having a new home, for themselves and their future children. The Schenks couldn’t have imagined that, 112 years later, family members would continue to live in that very same dwelling, in an area of Baltimore City now known as Brewers Hill.

In July of 1976, Mary Lou Hennigan, née Schenk, purchased the home from her two aunts and an uncle, who had inherited the residence when their mother—Hennigan’s grandmother, Anna—died. (Hennigan’s mother, Mary Matthew, had predeceased her own mother, Anna, so the remaining children became the owners.)

“The C. Mueller Building Company was developing consecutive blocks of two-story brick rowhouses in the area—noted for their Classical Revival style. The building company built high-quality, affordable homes for working-class immigrant communities at that time. Each house had a stylish stained-glass transom above the door and the first-floor window,” reads Hennigan, 76, from paperwork left by her grandparents.

“I grew up here, and my children grew up here,” she says. “It’s just a nice place.”

Hennigan, who has spent nearly all her life in the home, found out about the Baltimore Centennial Homes Program when she was talking with a neighbor.

“We were talking about the age of the houses, and she mentioned the program,” says Hennigan, who raised two sons in the home and still lives there with her husband, John. “I saw that a neighbor up the street from us had a plaque saying their home was a Centennial one, and I just thought it was a neat thing to do.”

After Hennigan interviewed with someone at Baltimore Heritage, which runs the program, and provided the necessary documents, her home was accepted. Members from the organization hung the plaque on the outside of her home in 2018. It reads: Centennial Home. Schenk, Matthew, and Hennigan family. Brewers Hill. Baltimore City since 1913. Designated 2018.

Hennigan couldn’t be prouder. “It makes me feel good. I like the neighborhood,” she says. “I think it was nice that the house stayed in the family, because not many do.”

LITTLE OLD LADIES
According to Johns Hopkins (yes, that’s his real name), the executive director of Baltimore Heritage, the Baltimore Centennial Homes Program started because of good old-fashioned door-knocking.

When Jim Kraft was running for the District 1 city council seat in the early 2000s, he was going door-to-door in neighborhoods such as Brewers Hill, Butchers Hill, Fells Point, Canton, and others in the district. Hopkins says the two would often cross paths.

“After he got elected, he said to me, ‘When I was running, I would go knocking on doors and talk to people. A lot of those who answered were proverbial little old ladies who would tell me that their families had been in their house for 100 years. Is there any way we can say thank-you to them? Their families have been part of the anchors of their neighborhoods for literally a century.’”

Hopkins thought Kraft’s idea sounded cool. But he admits he had no idea whether a program existed nationally that honored families in this way.

The Baltimore Heritage staff began digging and discovered that a number of states have what are called Centennial Farm Programs—they acknowledge farms that have been in the same family for more than 100 years—but they couldn’t find anything equivalent being done in a city.

“We decided to take that concept and apply it to an urban neighborhood. That’s how the Baltimore Centennial Homes Program began,” says Hopkins. “One of Baltimore’s greatest assets is its historic communities. It’s not only the buildings, but really the people. That strong sense of neighborhood connection for generations is something that sets Baltimore apart, and our program is one way to help boost that.”

THE FIRST HONOREE
John Pente of Little Italy was the owner of the first home honored by the program. Along with being a Little Italy fixture, Pente was famous for allowing neighborhood organizers to put a film projector in his third-floor bedroom window, which started the Annual Little Italy Film Festival, held on Friday nights in the summer in the private parking lot of Da Mimmo restaurant.

It was especially fitting that Pente was given the Centennial plaque during his own 100th birthday year—and right before one of the movies.

Although the program now has 18 homes that have been recognized, Pente was special because he is, to date, the only person who actually lived in the honored home for 100 years—barring the time he served in the military. Pente passed away in July 2010.

So far, the home that is known to be owned the longest by the same family is that owned by the Crane and Buccheri families in Hollins Market. The house was purchased by Walter J. and Mary Crane in 1891, so that’s 134 years.

In the past, Baltimore Heritage would install a plaque on the family’s house. During COVID, the price skyrocketed from $200 to $700, which is out of the nonprofit’s price range. Hopkins says they give certificates, and if the family purchases the plaque, they will install it.

“We’d love to have a sponsor so that we can buy them for people again,” says Hopkins wistfully.

GET WITH THE PROGRAM
The rules for the Baltimore Centennial Homes Program are pretty simple. Your house needs to have been owned and lived in continuously for at least 100 years by people within the same family. You don’t get credit for owning the home and renting it to someone else—unless that person is a relative.

Eligible family members to own the home include children, siblings, nephews and nieces, cousins, stepchildren, adopted children, and spouses.

“We think of the word family as a big idea. If you’re family, you’re family,” Hopkins says.

But you also have to prove it. Baltimore Heritage will interview people applying, but the owner also needs to submit documentation that is proof of ownership, including deeds, tax records, copies of sales documents, census data, and other documents that show both ownership as well as dates of ownership.

CONTINUING A LEGACY
On Hollen Road in the Bellona-Gittings neighborhood, the last name Bauer has been well-known for more than 100 years. In 1897, Fred C. Bauer founded the Fred C. Bauer Florist. He purchased a home at 188 Hollen Road in 1911, while he operated his business and raised a family. In 1927, his son and daughter-in-law, William F. and Edyth C. Bauer, took over ownership of the home until 1986, when their granddaughter, Linda, became the owner.

At one point, five of the 10 homes on Hollen Road were owned by members of the Bauer family. Thelma Bauer and her nephew, Frederick Sisson, ran the flower shop until they closed the business when Bauer was 90.

Upon Linda’s death in 2022, she left the home to her niece, Lindsey Bauer, 46, and her wife, Marannie Rawls-Philippe, 43. The couple was so thrilled to keep the tradition going that, in June of 2024, they uprooted their lives and moved to Baltimore from New Haven, Connecticut, where they had been living for 14 years, with their two sons, Lucien, 11, and Etienne, 6. Their home became part of the Baltimore Centennial Homes Program in December of that year.

Bauer first found out about the program through a next-door neighbor, who had heard about it on WYPR. Her dad, William Bauer III, passed away in 2011, two years before her eldest son was born. Although he was raised in Towson, he often came back to the neighborhood to visit his grandparents and other relatives.

“My kids don’t know their grandfather on the Bauer side. So, part of the reason my wife and I decided to move here is because of that legacy. This is where my great-grandparents lived for 60 years of their lives, and it was where my grandfather grew up,” she says. “It pains me that my children didn’t get to know my dad. But at least they can play in the same places where he did as a child growing up.”

And it’s even more than that. “I want my children to know the importance of this home,” says Bauer. “Even though our ancestors are no longer with us, the legacy still lives on.”

Those of us who are city residents tend to regard our relationship with nature as an afterthought. Our interaction with wildlife typically involves securing our trashcan lids to deter rats and the occasional smell of fresh-cut grass feels like nothing short of a revelation.

But, in truth, people living in urban areas are surrounded by nature—whether we realize it or not. And the National Wildlife Federation (NWF) wants to remind city residents there are things they can do to protect biodiversity and watershed health right in their own backyard. For the second year in a row, the national organization is hosting Baltimore Wildlife Week from May 3-11, a chance for community members to come together to increase green space, mitigate nuisance flooding, improve water quality, and beautify neighborhoods.

“We were really inspired by similar events in Los Angeles and Seattle, but this is the only event like this on the East Coast,” says Holly Gallagher, NWF regional education manager. “In Baltimore, specifically, it will be a lot about focusing on pollinators, the Chesapeake Bay watershed and iconic species that people can relate like orioles and oysters.”

The organization has worked with a number of partners over the past eight months to plan the week-long program including the National Aquarium, Waterfront Partnership, Blue Water Baltimore, neighborhood associations, and what may seem like an unlikely partner in Charm City Meadworks—which has really embraced the cause and ran with it.

“We produce a product that relies heavily on clean water, bees, and other pollinators every day,” says Derek Vaughn Brown, marketing coordinator at Charm City Meadworks, which is making a special mead with local ingredients for the occasion. “It’s hard to sit idly by when you make something that relies on nature and so we’ve help take the lead on bringing people together and creating some fun events.”

Those events kick off these weekend in the Meadworks taproom, first with a dance party where urban creature costumes are encouraged and a portion of the proceeds go to Baltimore Wildlife Week. The taproom will also feature a pop-up exhibition curated by local artist Bridget Parlato, a show where scientists will discuss their research and get “gonged” if it gets too wonky, and a Jones Falls Watershed walking tour on Sunday that benefits Blue Water Baltimore and Baltimore Heritage.

“The easiest way to physically show people how close we are to nature is take this two-mile walk from Druid Hill Park down to Round Falls,” Brown says. “The idea is to walk along the river, ask thought-provoking questions, and realize nature is all around us.”

Beyond that, there are a ton of other environmental events throughout the week, including a volunteer cleanup on May 6 at Camden Yards, where NWF created a 10,000-square-foot oriole habitat to try and attract the real birds to the stadium. Plus, community conservation forum will take place at Whitelock Farm in Reservoir Hill, the B’More Wild Fest & GreenScape will take over Middle Branch Park, and the first community-preserved forest in Baltimore City will be celebrated in the Glenham-Belhar neighborhood.

“Our big goal is to make these events accessible to different neighborhoods and utilize underused space in the city,” Gallagher says. “We try to focus on issues that are important to people—whether it’s reducing trash, saving money on energy bills, or improving your mental and physical health by having a green space to walk to.”

Gallagher stresses that, while this is a wonderful week to focus on the environment, NWF is working on these initiatives in urban areas all year-round. In fact, last year the organization helped establish Baltimore City as a certified Community Wildlife Habitat, something that may come as a surprise when you choose to only see brick, Formstone, and concrete.

“The more we work with community residents, the more these neighborhoods will change,” Gallagher says. “If kids grow up with that change already instilled in them, there are more likely to have that environmental stewardship as a priority from the start.”

According to U.S. Census data, the average American moves about 11 times in his or her life, a statistic that confirms what many of us know from experience: Thanks to moves necessitated by jobs, schools, and relationships, “home,” is more of an ephemeral concept than a physical place these days. But that’s not true for everyone, including the Baltimoreans on the following pages, each of whom is part of a family that has kept its homestead for 100 years or more. In Baltimore City, such domestic dynasties are recognized via the Baltimore Heritage Centennial Homes Program, which will celebrate 10 families this month with a reception at City Hall. Though there is no corresponding program in Baltimore County, there are certainly many qualifying families, and we talked to one Catonsville woman who lives in the same house her grandfather built in the waning years of the 19th century.

Here’s to those who have stayed.

Constantine Rist wanted his family out of the city. Like many first-generation Americans, the German immigrant sought the American dream, and, in 1905, that meant moving from congested, industrial Baltimore to a newly constructed farmhouse on a dead-end lane in Overlea. Though this portion of Overlea would be annexed by the city in 1919, in 1905 it was still a garden suburb. In the three-bedroom house, Constantine and his wife, Mary, raised four children, plus two grandchildren after their oldest son, George, and his wife, Georgia, died of tuberculosis. In 1940, their second-oldest son, Charles, married Norma Schwarz of nearby Hamilton, a union that would eventually produce five children. In 1955, after the deaths of both Mary and Constantine, Norma and Charles moved into the house. Norma, pictured center, seated, remembers the transition as a smooth one, since they had been living

“The kids go out and play, and, as long as you showed up at 5 o’clock for dinner, nobody really worried too much.”

only about five blocks away in a duplex. “[The duplex had] a small yard, so this was much better for the kids.” says Norma, who, at 94, still reigns as the family matriarch. So while Charles worked—first for a local business called Black & Decker and then for the Baltimore City police department—Norma tended house. The children, including John, now 66, played outside with neighborhood kids. “Times have changed since then,” admits John, pictured left of his mother, standing. “There was a kind of thing where the kids go out and play, and, as long as you showed up at 5 o’clock for dinner, nobody really worried too much about it.”

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No one’s exactly sure when the flat-roofed house perched high above the narrow Waverly street was built. As far as the Smith family is concerned, it has always just been there. In all, seven generations of the clan have lived in it, starting in the 1870s and continuing today with Joshua Smith, on steps in plaid shirt, his wife, Katrina, behind Josh, and their three children Joshua II, Kassidey, and Kristiana, front row, from left. “Everybody lived here, pretty much, at one time or another,” says Joshua’s father, Franklin, who is part of the family’s fifth generation, along with his sisters Arleen, JoAnn, Patsy, and Regina. Franklin, on porch, far left,

“With Memorial Stadium nearby, the Smith family, ‘Never had to watch the game to know what was going on.’”

and his sisters grew up in the house, and they all fondly remember dips in their in-ground swimming pool and the roar of the crowd during O’s games at nearby Memorial Stadium. “We never had to watch the game to know what was going on,” recalls JoAnn, seated on steps in yellow tank top. Franklin inherited the house in the early ’90s from his parents, Pat and Betty, who moved to the county after winning $4.25 million in the Maryland Lottery. “They bought the ticket in Ocean City when they were visiting my sister, Arleen, down there,” relays JoAnn. Joshua bought the house in 2008 and plans to leave it to his kids. The house’s oldest living former inhabitants, Bill and Mary Ellen Coggins, standing and seated at top of the porch steps, lived in the house for a few years after their 1949 wedding before moving across the street and then, eventually, out to Bel Air, where they still reside. Asked if he misses the neighborhood, Bill, who turns 90 this month, offers a simple and sincere, “Oh yeah.”

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Though the two-and-a-half-story row home has been in her family since 1891, Jane Buccheri freely admits she was largely indifferent to it until it became hers. “This is a terrible thing to say,” says Jane, a retired Department of Defense worker, “but my sister, who is three-and-a-half years older remembers being in this house as a kid—I don’t.” Jane has lots of memories of the house now, of course, having owned it since 1978, but she’s as surprised as anyone that she ended up with it. “It went through what I call the family chain of command,’” she cracks. The house entered the family in 1891 when her maternal grandfather, Walter O’Crean, bought it. Walter was one of many Irish immigrants in the neighborhood and, like most, he found work with the B&O Railroad for a time before launching his own manufacturing company, specializing in boilers. (Walter Anglicized the family’s surname to Crane early on, though it’s unclear why.) After his first wife died, Walter remarried and, between both marriages, fathered nine children,

“My sister, who is three-and-a-half years older, remembers being in this house as a kid—I don’t.”

the youngest of whom, Elizabeth, was Jane’s mother. Walter died when Elizabeth was only 13, forcing her to quit school and find work at the B&O. She married Sylvester Buccheri in 1939 and together they raised four children in nearby Irvington, and then Glen Burnie. Once Jane’s grandmother’s health began to decline, she came to live with the family in Glen Burnie, leaving the house with renters. After her death in 1958, the house went to Jane’s uncle, then Jane’s aunt, then Jane’s older sister, Marianna. Knowing Jane was looking for a place in the city, Marianna suggested Jane take it, and the rest is family history. Though Jane traveled extensively for her job, she never got the itch to leave Baltimore permanently. “It’s always nice to come home,” she says.

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Brothers Roland and Arthur Moskal have their maternal grandmother, Maggie Williams, to thank for the family home. She purchased the then-new Canton row house in early 1904 for $540, and paid it off within 18 months. There hasn’t been a mortgage on it since. Sometime after 1905, Maggie met Michael Kafer and they had two daughters, the youngest of whom, Doris, would become Arthur’s and Roland’s mother. Because Maggie died when Doris was only 7, Doris’s older sister, Edna, became like a second mother to the young girl, and the sisters remained close, their respective families sharing the home until 1960. In 1946, Doris married Joseph Moskal, a merchant marine from the neighborhood, and they had sons Arthur, right, and Roland, left, in quick succession. To hear Arthur and Roland tell it, growing up in 1950s Canton was exactly like you’d imagine: They played curb ball up the street, made beer runs to the National Bohemian

The Moskals’ grandmother purchased the house in 1904 for $540 and paid it off within 18 months.

brewery for the adults, and called to their neighbors over the back fence. In the ’60s, Roland, in particular, got caught up in the counterculture, playing in a hard-rock band, and, by his own admission, spending much of his time in altered states. Eventually, though, he became a Baltimore City schoolteacher, retiring in 2007. All throughout, he remained in the house, sharing it with his parents until his mother died in 1984, and his father entered a nursing home in 1988. Arthur moved out at 20, in part to escape butting heads with his strong-willed mother. He is retired from banking and now lives at the beach in Delaware. With no close kin left, Roland and Arthur are acutely aware they are the end of the line, but they are sanguine about it. They say they’re not in any hurry to sell, but home values in the gentrifying ’hood are increasingly favorable. Thank goodness for Grandma Maggie.

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Denise Eileen Washington is the third generation to inhabit her family’s cozy cottage on the outskirts of downtown Catonsville. Her grandfather, William Washington, a Kentuckian born just after the Civil War, built the house circa 1897. In it, he and his wife, Mary Jane Muir Washington, raised their nine children, the youngest of whom, Rufus, was Denise’s father. While working as a clerk at the Social Security Administration in Woodlawn, Rufus reconnected with a young secretary he’d known growing up—Arey Jenson of Ellicott City. They soon married and had daughter Denise in 1958. Though an only child, Denise says she never felt

“My uncles and my aunts were here at least once a day. . . . family was always around.”

lonely, partly because she loved to read and could therefore always entertain herself, and partly because the house was always so busy. Only one of her father’s siblings moved out of state, and four of them lived within walking distance. “My uncles and my aunts were here at least once a day. [One of] my aunts lived across the street, so she was in and out. Family was always around,” she says. Her mother’s death from cancer in 1968 was a brutal shock, but was somewhat ameliorated by the live-in presence of her maternal grandmother, who handled all domestic duties. “My grandmother ironed everything that didn’t run away and hide,” Denise says with a fond laugh. “When she died [one week shy of her 98th birthday], I was telling my dad, ‘Well, you can forget about the ironed boxer shorts and pajamas because I don’t do that.’” After high school, Denise began a 27-year career with the FBI, mostly spent redacting Freedom of Information documents. Her father died in 1998 leaving her the sole inhabitant of the house, which she now shares with her rescue dog Simba. “I’m not wedded here, and I would go somewhere else,” she admits, “but I’ve never found any [other] place that I wanted to be.”

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