Eastern Shore – Baltimore Magazine https://www.baltimoremagazine.com The Best of Baltimore Since 1907 Mon, 16 Jun 2025 17:07:01 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/cropped-favicon-32x32.png Eastern Shore – Baltimore Magazine https://www.baltimoremagazine.com 32 32 Cape Charles is a Best-Kept-Secret Beach Getaway on the Eastern Shore of Virginia https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/travel/cape-charles-eastern-shore-virginia-travel-guide/ Wed, 22 Mar 2023 23:34:24 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?post_type=article&p=138784
Public art on Bay Avenue, which faces the Chesapeake in Cape Charles. —Unsplash/Kedar Gadg

On the southeasternmost edge of the Chesapeake Bay, it feels like a world away from Baltimore as salty water laps gently on a quiet public beach. Along sand-swept Bay Avenue, the dormers and eaves of 100-year-old Victorian and Colonial Revival homes peer above a stretch of short, grassy dunes. And, across an entirely walkable six-block historic downtown, crepe myrtle, sycamore, and pecan trees offer color, shade, and a sense of calm. Even in late summer, there are no crowds.

But despite the vastly different pace, it only took four hours to drive out of the city, over the Bay Bridge, head south—way south—and then arrive at Cape Charles, Virginia, a tiny slice of solitude worth discovering, with such hidden-gem status near the mouth of the nation’s largest estuary that we’re hesitant to possibly spoil the secret.

Finding it is easy enough, and you’re already halfway there when heading toward Ocean City. But on the well-traveled Salisbury route, travel south on Route 13 instead of staying east on 50. Following a mostly country thoroughfare, you’ll cross from the Eastern Shore of Maryland into the wilds of the Eastern Shore of Virginia, a rural sliver of the Old Dominion State so small that it’s not even included on some maps. Maybe that’s because the tail of the Delmarva Peninsula is a cartographer’s anomaly, made up of two Virginia counties on a stretch of land otherwise dominated by Maryland and Delaware.

Eventually, after stopping at the occasional traffic light, you’ll reach a nondescript exit for your destination. A little while later, past the farmland, the water tower painted like a lighthouse, and the lone brewery, you’ll behold an old main drag that runs west toward the town’s historic district. Charming brick storefronts line the north side, while the remnants of a once-bustling railroad and maritime industry, well-used through the first half of the 20th century, run the other.

The town’s population today is only 1,178, so if you’re looking for raucous nightlife, tourist attractions, and a major hospital within 50 miles, look elsewhere. But if you’re seeking an escape to an easy-to-get-to, out-of-the-way Chesapeake beach town that offers water almost as salty as places like Ocean City, Rehoboth, and Dewey—without the traffic—Cape Charles is a perfect place to spend some time.

Once upon a time, starting in the late 1880s, a railroad line from New York City terminated in Cape Charles, making the town one of the busiest and largest economic hubs on all of the Eastern Shore. To get to mainland Virginia or parts south, summering Northerners would travel by train to Northampton County, which grew with the travel volume.

By 1907, a steamship made two round trips daily from Cape Charles across the mouth of the Chesapeake to Norfolk and the railroad employed about 2,000 people in town. Those were the days, and they lasted several decades. Then, in 1951, the ferry route moved—only a few miles south to Kiptopeke (where today there’s also a beach at a state park)—far enough that the railroad terminus moved, too, and Cape Charles soon became like the other forgotten towns on Route 66 out west. Doubly so when the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel, which allowed access to and from southern Delmarva by car, opened in 1964.

After that, Cape Charles grew quieter and quieter, drab even, with little to no investment in the ensuing years. In the 1990s alone, the full-time population fell by 19 percent. Scars of the decline, like an abandoned building on an otherwise occupied stretch of homes, remain. While downtown Cape Charles was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1991, the only way we found it for the trip that inspired this story was through a whimsical online search for affordable bayside accommodations. Fortunately, Cape Charles is on Google Maps.

Turns out, with East Coast vacation destinations at a premium, the beach town, located almost as far south as you can get on the Chesapeake (thus the enjoyable saltwater influence from the Atlantic while still on the bay), has been enjoying a comeback of sorts. In the two years leading up to the COVID pandemic, it added 22 new businesses downtown. Small as the population is, it’s 17 percent greater than it was in 2010, and there’s been a major increase in seasonal and weekend residents.

Mostly, Cape Charles has attracted a new generation of Virginian beach-seekers looking for a place to relax, be it young people looking for a getaway or those in or near retirement. Roughly half of its population is over 60, and a third of the homes in town have been built since 2000, most on or near the gated and award-winning Bay Creek Resort and Golf Club. Last year, Southern Living dubbed it the “best little beach town in Virginia.”

In the warmer months, the population swells by two or three times. (That’s still to only about 3,000.) It’s quaint, yet there’s just enough to satisfy an eager curiosity. You could go by yourself or on a day trip with a friend or partner, but the town is also family-friendly, with cute shops like Moonrise Jewelry, Table & Tonic gift shop, Buskey Cider on the Bay, and Brown Dog Ice Cream on Mason Avenue—the town’s main street—which runs into the Cape Charles Beachfront.

Shopping local on Mason Avenue. —Courtesy of Moonrise Jewelry
The Eastern Shore outpost of Buskey Cider. —Courtesy of Buskey Cider on the Bay
Table & Tonic, another local boutique. —Courtesy of Table & Tonic

The beach certainly isn’t the size of ones you’ll find on the ocean, but it’s big enough to spread out, given the relatively small number of fellow visitors, at least during the late August week that we visited. The calm water is also great for children or swimmers who don’t want to deal with crashing waves. In the morning, parking a car mere feet from the sand on Bay Avenue was a breeze. Kids ran up and down the pavement. Adults dragged out chairs and other gear.

Simple, easy beach access is why you might go to Cape Charles, but without knowing much about the place beforehand, we chose an Airbnb guesthouse on a farm a short jaunt outside town. Our kind hosts harvested oysters from the creek bordering their property and tended to their animals. We took afternoon naps in a hammock overlooking a dock and weighed whether to kayak by high-tide times. We’d stay there again, but there are other options.

Cape Charles is mostly a collection of modest single-family homes, about 750 in the historic downtown, largely built between 1885 and 1920. At its start, the town was organized in a small grid of 40-by-140- foot lots by Pennsylvania Congressman William Scott, who bought about 2,500 acres of three plantations from the heirs of former Virginia Governor Littleton Tazewell as part of a plan to extend the Pennsylvania Railroad another 65 miles from Pocomoke, Maryland. That meant a railway from Manhattan would end in the new town. During the ensuing boom years, a few hundred homes were built, and even a mini Central Park remains.

Today, next to a coffee shop, you’ll find the Hotel Cape Charles, a century-old building (much closer to the water than our Airbnb farmhouse) that’s almost always been a hotel and has been reimagined today as boutique lodging. For a long while, Cape Charles flourished, as people simply had to pass through it to go up or down the Eastern Shore, and the area had northern leanings well below the Mason-Dixon Line in the post-Civil War era.

According to the late author Kirk Mariner in Off 13—an Eastern Shore of Virginia guidebook—Cape Charles had “the first Roman Catholic and the only Jewish congregations ever assembled on the Virginia Shore.” And the most famous resident of the 1890s was a Baptist preacher who lived in town but commuted weekly by train to his congregation in New York. Reminders and relics of the deeper past remain. Along the rock-and-dirt driveway to our guesthouse was the grave of another earlier Baptist preacher, Elijah Baker, who is credited with founding 18 Delmarva churches and, in 1778, before the Revolutionary War afforded Americans religious freedom, was jailed for giving sermons during the Church of England’s reign. The water closest to where he is buried near Lower Northampton Baptist Church is called Old Plantation Creek.

In downtown Cape Charles, you could easily spend a day or two on the beach, walking to and from a rental house or the hotel with no need for a car.  Some people drive golf carts around, which is part of the charm. So are themed vacation homes adorned with signs and special paint jobs, like “Liberty on the Bay,” “Key Lime,” and “Beach Gate.” But to get around any further to places outside the historic district, you’ll likely want a vehicle.

A few such places to consider: On the other side of the railroad tracks adjacent to Mason Avenue is Shanty, where you can enjoy local oysters and watch the sunset from the deck next to the Cape Charles harbor. A little farther north, The Oyster Farm Seafood Eatery is a spacious, family-friendly restaurant with a casual vibe where oyster shells litter the beach nearby. Take a memorable Cape Cod-esque photo on a pair of towering lifeguard chairs overlooking the bay. Townhomes and new commercial development seemed to be going up in this area. Cape Charles Brewing Company also features local beers with outdoor games and picnic tables available. If you can get access (since it’s a private club), golfers will love Bay Creek, home to 27 holes designed by golf legends Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus, regularly ranked among the top courses in Virginia with scenic views of the bay and fine amenities.

Cape Charles is also only about an hour-and-a-half’s drive from Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge, where the wild ponies roam, making it a nice jumping-off point for a visit. We stopped there and took a guided boat tour on our way back home. See also Chatham Vineyards for local wine in Machipongo, the Onancock Market for farm-fresh produce, and the Blue Crab Bay Co. store for spiced Virginia peanuts in Melfa.

Grapes growing at nearby Chatham Vineyards. —Courtesy of Chatham Vineyards/Sarah Harris Photography
The wild ponies of Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge. —Shutterstock

Make no mistake, Cape Charles isn’t the place to find fast-paced action. As Southern Living described, “The whole place seems to tuck in for the night not long after the sun goes down.” But, given the right intentions and expectations, the extra hour or so it might take than to get to the Atlantic beaches or other bayside towns is justified. Especially if you’re looking for a quiet and affordable trip, or just want to experience someplace new that feels farther away than it is.

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]]> The Great Divide: How The Bay Bridge Changed Maryland Forever https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/businessdevelopment/how-the-chesapeake-bay-bridge-changed-maryland-forever/ Tue, 05 Jul 2022 15:46:20 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?post_type=article&p=121663
The Great Divide: Seventy years ago, one stretch of metal and concrete changed Maryland forever.

Seventy years ago, one stretch of metal and concrete changed Maryland forever.

By Lydia Woolever

Photography by Jay Fleming, Timothy Hyman, and Mike Morgan

Business & Development
Seventy years ago, one stretch of metal and concrete changed Maryland forever.

By Lydia Woolever

Photography by Jay Fleming, Timothy Hyman, and Mike Morgan

July 2022


Every summer when she was a little girl,

Lynne Outerbridge’s parents would pack up the car and pile her in with her two sisters, bathing suits and beach towels in tow, before heading south, out of Dundalk, away from the asphalt heat of Baltimore, then onwards east, toward the cool breeze of the Atlantic Ocean.

“We’d go to Ocean City, and with that, you knew, hey, we’re going to the Bay Bridge,” says Outerbridge, 65, her eyes lighting up behind thin glasses. “You were going to be in traffic, but you’d sit out there and eat snacks and play games—that was part of the experience, you know? It was fun. And when you got to the top, you saw all the boats, all the fishermen, and thought, ‘Oh, isn’t it pretty . . .’”

Years later, while working at the Department of Motor Vehicles, Outerbridge came across an open toll collector position for that very location—about 30 miles from her home in Baltimore County, just north of downtown Annapolis, on the heel of Sandy Point State Park, at the western edge of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. She was hired in 1986, working her way up to shift supervisor and manager before retiring last April, seeing many evolutions of that iconic crossing, from the removal of the westbound tolls to the addition of E-ZPass and the traffic that came with it.

“When I was little, I thought, that looks like it would be an easy job—sit there and take money all day?” Outerbridge remembers. But that was before she descended the stairs into the tunnel that snaked beneath Route 50, climbed up through a tollbooth door, and saw the volume of vehicles, first during the prime-time commute, then more still, during the height of Maryland and Delaware beach season.

“That first summer weekend really shook me, when you looked up and saw it—headlights—as far as the eye can see,” she says. “But you got used to it.”

In fact, Outerbridge preferred the busy shifts. Regulars would bring her coffee, and when traffic stalled, she’d chat with the passersby. “Everyone had a story,” she says, not forgetting the grief she sometimes received from gridlocked travelers. During downtime, she’d read books, and on occasion, play ball in the center plaza with her colleagues until, inevitably, the cars returned.

“The collectors would yell, ‘Here they come!’ and I’d say, ‘Okay, go get it!’” she says. “We raced each other to see who could move the most vehicles.” Her record was 500 an hour.

Even on days off, she would find herself there. “My husband and I used to go across all the time for vacation, to the beach, for Bike Week—we still do every year,” says Outerbridge, who recently moved to Pennsylvania. “From up there, you can really see everything. To this day, we get to the top and I say, ‘Hey, that’s my bridge.’”

Opening photo and video by Jay Fleming
Vintage postcard of the first span, connecting both shores of Maryland.
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here is the Francis Scott Key, and the Hanover Street, and the Hatem Memorial, but as far as any Marylander is concerned, the William Preston Lane Jr. Memorial Bay Bridge—located between Annapolis in Anne Arundel County and Stevensville in Queen Anne’s—is the Maryland bridge.

Halfway down the state, two silver ribbons of steel and concrete seem to defy gravity as they float for more than four miles across the waters of the wide and majestic Chesapeake Bay, riding high—200 feet above seafaring ships and sailboats, alongside seagulls and osprey, between foggy sunrises and against dazzling sunsets—before sloping softly into the eastern and western shores, which, from up there, seem to welcome its arrival.

It is the stuff of postcards and license plates, having evolved into a quintessential symbol—a 20th-century architectural feat heralded as the great connector of the Old Line State.

The truth is, most people either love the bridge or hate it. For some of the 27 million cars that cross each year, it is the gateway to vacationland, through which sandy strands and vinegar-splashed buckets of boardwalk French fries await, no matter the traffic. For others, it’s a parking lot of taillights, or a towering deathtrap too terrifying to travel. And it's a division only likely to increase in the days ahead, as the ninth smallest and fifth densest state continues to grow, and its officials discuss what might become of this soaring infrastructure that so sparks our emotions.

But now, as it was when the first cars drove across it 70 years ago this month, as it will be with whatever iteration comes next, those iconic spans—in fact two bridges—remain an undeniable threshold. Between an otherwise disconnected state. Between economies, industries, and communities along the Chesapeake watershed. Between the past and the future. A precipice that has, for better or worse, forever altered the fate of Maryland.

The original eastbound span, built in 1952. COURTESY OF MARYLAND DEPARTMENT OF TRANSPORTATION
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ong before the Bay Bridge, the body of water that it was built to cross served as the region’s primary bond and barrier. By sheer geography, the Chesapeake Bay divided the horseshoe-like landscape, with its limb-like western and eastern shores separated by the nation’s largest estuary. On either side of those brackish tides, distinct worlds developed based on a variety of factors, such as proximity to trade and access to natural resources, and with them came wholly unique cultures, ideologies, and even dialects.

Executives discuss early bridge plans. Photography by Timothy Hyman

To the west, urban areas like Baltimore City and Annapolis became epicenters of industry, transportation, and politics—part of the metropolitan corridor near the eventual capital of Washington, D.C. To the east, the nine Maryland counties of the Delmarva Peninsula, surrounded on all sides by a labyrinth of tributaries and ocean, remained resolutely rural, rooted in maritime and agricultural traditions, at times even threatening secession into neighboring Delaware and Virginia. “The bay has always isolated us,” says Pete Lesher, chief curator of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michaels, “but at the same time, the bay has always connected us.”

Before roads and rails, the bay was the region’s interstate highway, “a natural artery that helped us get from here to there,” says Lesher, moving people and products between its two shores. During the Colonial era, towns were situated near waterfront ports that were lifelines to the outside world, and vessels, from schooners to skipjacks, commonly swapped the seafood and produce of the east with the manufactured goods of the west.

But after the Civil War, the Chesapeake Bay became an obstacle. Suddenly train and automobile transportation better connected the Eastern Shore to rival cities like Wilmington, Philadelphia, and New York via the northern peninsula, while Baltimore hoped to keep that valuable commerce in state.

Vintage Bay Bridge postcard, c. 1955.

The first Bay Bridge discussions date back to the 1880s, but it wasn’t until 1927 that Baltimore businessmen were authorized to raise funds for construction of a crossing between Miller Island in Baltimore County and Tolchester in Kent. Those efforts were squandered by the stock market crash of ‘29, while a second attempt, mired in arguments over the location, was put on hold by World War II.

In the meantime, steamboats rose to the occasion, with ferries tempting passengers to “save 100 miles” instead of driving up and around the headwaters of the Chesapeake, and entire towns were built as rural retreats for urban clientele. The Sandy Point-Matapeake line would become the precursor for the present-day Bay Bridge, operating at one of the narrowest distances across the estuary, with notorious queues of sunburnt beachgoers waiting to head west on Sundays. At the on-ramp of the eastbound lane, you can still see remnants of the old terminal, deteriorated by weather and time, an artifact of another era.

“From the viewpoint of the average citizen, the Chesapeake Bay Bridge project has had a checkered career,” wrote The Sun in 1936. “Is there hope or isn’t there of a bridge ever materializing?”

Nothing more than “castles in the air,” surmised H.L. Mencken, created by “the artful hand of realtors.”

But after World War II, skeptics would finally be convinced, when in 1949, Governor William Preston Lane Jr. broke ground on what was then the largest public works project in the state’s history.

The massive undertaking was overseen by the J.E. Greiner Company of Baltimore, which would also engineer other local landmarks like the Baltimore Harbor Tunnel and Baltimore-Washington Parkway. Plans called for construction of what was then the third longest bridge in the world and the longest continuous steel structure over water. Rumors quickly spread that it would be too light to be safe, surely to be washed out by the wind and ice of Chesapeake winters.

“The bay has always isolated us, but at the same time, the bay has always connected us.”

The 'Louise' ferry between Baltimore and Tolchester in Kent County, where a mini Ocean City sprung up in 1877.

But engineers deemed the two-lane design, featuring some 60,000 tons of steel and 118,000 cubic yards of concrete (allegedly mixed with Baltimore City water for its purity), structurally sound. Sections were built by the Bethlehem Steel Company, then towed down the bay on tugboat barges to floating cranes that would lift them into position.

The bridge was actually a series of bridges, consisting of beam, girder, truss, cantilever, and suspension spans, designed to handle 3,000 cars an hour with 354-foot towers and 1,500 tons of suspension cables resting on a foundation of 57 concrete piers and 4,130 steel pilings pounded some 200 feet into the bay bottom. At the water’s surface, boats bound for the Port of Baltimore were provided 186 by 1,600 feet to navigate the shipping channel, a factor that necessitated the bridge’s elegant 90-degree curve.

“I’d never seen anything like it,” says Timothy Hyman, 84, who started his 66-year career as staff photographer for the Maryland State Highway Administration at age 12, documenting the construction of both spans. “I walked that bridge from one end to the other, many times, before there were even roads, using land, sea, and air to get my shots. . . . I was one of the many unsung people who worked on the bridge, then got out of the way.”

In the end, the bridge took three and a half years and more than six million man-hours to complete, carried out by more than 2,000 laborers from both shores, some of whom lived in a floating hotel at a nearby pier during construction. It cost $45 million, with a commemorative issue of this magazine hailing it “one of the greatest structures ever built.”

“It is a vital link in a fast-growing network of superhighways serving an ever-increasing volume of private automobile, bus, and truck traffic along the Atlantic seaboard, Maine to Florida,” wrote The Sun the weekend before its opening—one that is “expected to have a profound impact on the economy of the state, and in particular on that of the nine Eastern Shore counties.”

“I walked that bridge from one end to the other...using land, sea, and air to get my shots.”

The setting of concrete support piers. Photography by TIMOTHY HYMAN
Timothy Hyman in his home holding his photographs and camera from the construction of the first Bay Bridge. Photography by MIKE MORGAN
Prepping the foundation for road. Photography by TIMOTHY HYMAN

On the hot summer morning of July 30, 1952, an estimated 10,000 people crowded Sandy Point to watch as then-Governor Theodore McKeldin, wearing a light suit and striped tie, cut a silk ribbon and freed the way for traffic on the brand-new Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Red, white, and blue buntings hung from the tollbooth plaza while a police-led motorcade made its way up the span. At the top, cars pulled over for passengers to look down, take pictures, and throw pennies into the bay.

“It is more than just a great, new bridge, modern in type and highly useful in purpose,” said McKeldin that day. “It is a symbol of America. It is industrial progress.”

The first cars cross the bay following opening ceremonies on July 30, 1952. AP Images

In the first 72 hours, nearly 30,000 vehicles crossed the bridge in an average six minutes at 40 miles per hour for a toll price of $1.40. Long lines backed up on both sides with motorists eager to get a look at the new crossing, while several cars ran out of gas, got flat tires, and even burst into flames. Others drove slowly, taking in the view for some 20 miles in either direction. In fact, it was supposedly up there that executives of the National Bohemian beer company invented the state’s “Land of Pleasant Living” nickname. On the other side, state police declared that the Eastern Shore “had never seen more traffic.”

July 1952 cover of Baltimore magazine. BALTIMORE CITY ARCHIVES, BRG29-10-46

That record, of course, would soon be broken. For years, countless advertisements tied to the new bridge ran in The Sun papers, promoting real estate, recreation, and relaxation from Kent Island to Ocean City. Among those Eastern Shore communities was a mix of excitement and apprehension.

“What the ferries did to some extent but what the bridge does with an exclamation point is strengthen those ties to Baltimore,” says Lesher, also a Talbot County councilman. “The steamboats are on borrowed time, the railroads are struggling, and the highways are what’s going to connect us, making it so much easier to travel back and forth. And of course, the more lanes you add, and the more traffic that can cross, the stronger those bonds become.”

By the mid-1960s, new debate had already begun about a second parallel span, with traffic reports stating the first would reach its maximum capacity by the summer of 1967 when Sunday traffic headed west from the ocean. Critics claimed that the State Roads Commission was not considering the whole picture and accused then-Governor J. Millard Tawes of porkbarreling to seal the votes to build.

The public voted down the addition in 1966, but it was approved a year later via an emergency bill by the General Assembly under new Governor Spiro Agnew. Mired in mounting costs, delays, and controversy, the second span nonetheless managed to open with three lanes just north of the first on June 28, 1973, costing $148 million and funded by revenue bonds to be paid back by toll dollars, like the first.

(Just months later, in an ironic twist, Agnew, now Richard Nixon’s vice president, would be forced to resign following a criminal investigation into kickbacks to his associates, including the State Roads chairman and a Greiner Company affiliate with whom he purchased 107 acres of land near the bridge.)

the dual-span bridge today. Photography by JAY FLEMING

By this time, Ocean City was in the midst of a major transformation into Maryland’s Jersey Shore. Once a sleepy resort town and fishing village in Worcester County, the 10-mile barrier island had only grown by 259 year-round residents after the first bridge, but following the second it more than quadrupled, to 6,900 residents today.

And were it not for Mother Nature there might have been two such towns in the same vicinity. Plans for “Ocean Beach,” a 15- mile resort community dreamed up by Western Shore investors along a “Baltimore Boulevard,” were permanently washed out by a winter storm and, in 1965, Congress established that same land as the Assateague Island National Seashore.

The Atlantic seaside was an especially meaningful destination for another governor, William Donald Schaefer, who had grown tired of sitting in traffic on the way to his summer trailer in Ocean City. In 1987, he announced his seminal “Reach the Beach” initiative, which would add express lanes to the Bay Bridge, widen Route 50, and establish a travel hotline.

Though considered a success, not everyone was a fan of Schaefer’s big ideas. “Spending all that taxpayer money on U.S. 50 and calling it a ‘Reach the Beach’ program is equivalent to widening the Jones Falls Expressway under a ‘Get to Pennsylvania Faster’ sign,” wrote The Sun’s Peter Jensen in 1991. “Most hardcore Shoremen would like to blow up the Bay Bridges and let the fool chicken-neckers swim.”

Not that Schaefer always loved them back. “How’s that shithouse of an Eastern Shore?” he was once overheard asking a local delegate, leading a band of angry residents to bring a parade of wooden outhouses and bags of manure to the State House.

Secretary Harry Hughes takes the first Bay Bridge toll. Courtesy of MDTA
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hether they liked it or not, the Eastern Shore would experience a watershed moment with the Bay Bridge, as projected by The New York Times in 1952: “It is expected to bring the Eastern Shore and the Western Shores of the state...into closer unity of thought and habit, and to work other important social and economic changes—all in time, of course,” particularly in counties along the beach corridor.

The crossings opened the floodgates for tourism and recreation, expanded markets for its pride-and-joy produce and seafood, increased populations with newfound commuter access to more job opportunities on the Western Shore, and with it, diversified mindsets in a region reluctant to give up Jim Crow. Since 1970, Queen Anne’s County grew from 18,500 to 50,163 residents, whereas just south, Talbot County jumped 19,428 to 37,626 since 1950, even as empty beaches now stand where forgotten ferry-era resorts like Tolchester and Claiborne once prospered.

Before he moved to Queen Anne’s full-time in 2000, resident Jay Falstad had been traveling across the Bay Bridge since 1976, watching mom-and-pop restaurants like Holly’s in Grasonville give way to Royal Farms gas stations and the old Kent Narrows drawbridge get buried beneath an overpass.

“Route 50 used to be a country highway, but it’s not one any longer,” says Falstad, director of the Queen Anne’s Conservation Association, established in 1969 to protect the county’s natural resources and rural character, notably through legal challenges to the Four Seasons retirement condominiums in Chester, which might be the largest subdivision in the Chesapeake Bay’s Critical Areas. “Our biggest fear is not just what a new crossing would do to Queen Anne’s County, but the entire Delmarva Peninsula.”

BEFORE THE FIRST BAY BRIDGE, Map of steamboat lines, c. 1926. COURTESY OF THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS

Falstad first got involved with the Bay Bridge in 2016, when Governor Larry Hogan announced a two-tier, multi-year National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) study, which sought to identify the best site for a new bay crossing from 14 potential locations up and down the estuary, in order to address the current and projected traffic. According to the Tier 1 study, in 2017, the bridge carried about 68,600 vehicles per day with three hours of congestion on non-summer weekdays, and 118,600 vehicles with 19 hours of congestion on summer weekends. By 2040, the state projects those an increase to seven and 22 hours, respectively.

Two years into the process, Hogan let his preference be known, disheartening some Anne Arundel and Queen Anne’s residents already beleaguered by the bridge and relieving other communities who had been scrambling to protect their shorelines: “There is only one option I will ever accept: adding a third span to our existing Bay Bridge,” he tweeted in 2019.

Community activist Jay Falstad at the Terrapin Nature Park in Queen Anne’s County on the Eastern Shore. Photography by MIKE MORGAN

And this April, he got his wish, when the Maryland Transportation Authority (MDTA) and Federal Highway Administration officially chose that 22-mile Corridor 7—just west of the Severn River Bridge in Parole to the U.S. 301-Route 50 split in Queenstown—said to likely be the cheapest, least environmentally impactful, and most congestion-relieving of all the potential routes.

No one will know exactly what that crossing will look like until the end of the multi-year Tier 2 study, which has yet to begin. A third span, a whole new replacement bridge, or even a bridge-tunnel have all been thrown around, estimated to cost up to $13.1 billion, in 2020 dollars. In Tier 1, a high-speed rail line was eliminated as an alternative, deemed too expensive for further review—though the estimated cost is unknown—while rejuvenated ferry and bus service were found unlikely to adequately reduce congestion as stand-alone options.

The latter two, in addition to other alternatives, such as variable toll rates for peak hours or high-occupancy vehicle lanes, could be considered in some combination in Tier 2, though likely still in conjunction with new construction. In the meantime, some improvements have been made, from the removal of Outerbridge’s beloved toll plaza for an all-electronic model, and this fall’s replacement of rudimentary orange barrels with automated gates for contraflow—aka that two-way traffic.

“This has been a very highly seen project for the region and, as you can imagine, we received the gamut of public comments,” says Heather Lowe, MDTA project manager for the NEPA study. “But we heard loud and clear that the congestion at the Bay Bridge now is a problem.”

Environmentalists and community activists don’t disagree.

“The traffic congestion is a problem and it needs a solution, not in 2040, but now,” says Steve Kline, president of the Eastern Shore Land Conservancy and Centreville Town Council, whose grandfather was a Sparrows Point iron worker on the first span. “However, we do not believe that a new Bay Bridge solves this problem any more durably than the previous bridge. A two-lane bridge was not sufficient for very long. A five-lane bridge has proven to not be sufficient for very long. If we add more lanes, how long will that be sufficient? Maybe it can make traffic at the bridge half as bad—for 10 years. But then it’s going to be right back to where it is now, and people will be sitting here having this same debate.”

Kline is referencing the economic concept of “induced demand,” which has found that the initial benefits of congestion relief fade within a decade, simply drawing in more cars and filling the new capacity. (See: The Baltimore Beltway.)

“If you build it, they will come,” says Erik Fisher, land-use planner for the Chesapeake Bay Foundation, who hopes the state will work to offset a new crossing’s environmental impacts, to be studied in Tier 2, such as habitat loss and water pollution in a region at the forefront of climate change. “We know more roads bring more cars. We need to think more broadly about how to get people where they want and need to go without forever expanding the pavement. We’re not building an interstate all the way to Ocean City.”

Which brings us to the great paradox: How do you alleviate traffic—including the GPS-stymied sideroads that block emergency vehicles and hinder homeowners from leaving their houses on summer weekends—without increasing development pressure in a place sought out for its rural nature?

The answer is unclear, and fingers get pointed over who created the problem in the first place.

“The bridge is not the problem—development’s the problem,” says Secretary of Transportation Jim Ports, who spend summers driving to the beach from Baltimore City. “I mean, Ocean City becomes the second largest city in the state during the summer. . . . The expansion of Queen Anne’s County, of Anne Arundel County, of other shore counties, as well as Ocean City, is what created the overcapacity problem. . . . And they’re continuing to expand now while they know it’s a problem. It’s not going to stop, whether we build a bridge or not,” emphasizing that land-use planning takes place “on the local level.”

A vintage postcard between circa 1930 and circa 1945.

“Land use should begin at the local level, but when the state makes the decision to invest billions of dollars into a transportation system to an area, they’re making a decision for the local folks,” counters Anne Arundel County Executive Steuart Pittman. “They’re putting additional development pressure on the localities by doing so, and they know that.”

Still, there are mixed messages from these small towns, who on the one hand want to keep their pastoral charm, and whose local governments on the other make decisions that put that very character at risk. In Queen Anne’s, where more than 70 percent of the workforce commutes out of county, land use for commercial real estate, high-density housing, and transportation has increased by 24, 30, and 696 percent, respectively, since 1973—when the second span was built—taking 21,000 acres of farmland with it. And in 2020, the Talbot County Council (minus Lesher) gave the greenlight to the controversial Lakeside development that would bring 2,501 homes to Trappe, population 1,228. And then there’s Ocean City.

“The question that nobody’s asking, except for maybe a couple Wicomico County commissioners, is can the beaches, which are already crowded, already having an incredibly difficult time finding staff, accommodate or handle induced demand?” poses ESLC’s Kline, who calls the traffic a “16-week-a- year problem.” “How much more can we love these beach communities before it perhaps becomes a problem of loving them too much?”

Ninety-seven percent of buildable land has been developed in Ocean City, which includes more than 10,000 hotel rooms. And updates to West Ocean City’s sewer and water service could prime the former suburb for further spillover.

“I think there’s still room to grow here,” says Ocean City Mayor Rick Meehan, a Coldwell Banker real estate agent, estimating that the majority of his town’s now eight million annual visitors come from the Bay Bridge, though others also undoubtedly arrive via the expanded Route 1 in Delaware. “I think the pleasurable culture of the Eastern Shore is affected today by the current capacity issues. . . . [A new bridge] will be certainly more beneficial than it will be detrimental.”

Meehan has signed on to a coalition of officials from 12 of Maryland’s 23 counties, some of whom have specifically asked for a replacement bridge featuring a minimum of eight lanes, larger than the six-lane Brooklyn Bridge and San Francisco Golden Gate.

“Will there be more traffic? There always will be more traffic,” says the group’s founder and Queen Anne’s commissioner-at-large Jim Moran, who owns a concrete company in Crofton. “Going from five lanes to eight lanes with shoulders for safety reasons will allow that traffic to flow,” adding that the number does indeed factor in future growth.

The exact scale of a prospective future crossing will be decided sooner than originally thought, as this June, Governor Hogan announced that he would be fully funding the $28-million Tier 2 NEPA study. “People have kicked the can down the road for literally decades . . . no one ever took the steps to say, how are we going to fix this, and that’s just what we’ve decided to do,” says Hogan. “This really has to do with the health of the entire state.”

A vintage postcard between circa 1930 and circa 1945.

Hogan, who is nearing the end of his final term, has made the bridge corridor a top priority of his administration, paving the way to the beach through Route 404 expansion, Salisbury bypass upgrades, and funding for the congested Ocean City Expressway. For the record, his Annapolis-based real estate company, currently owned by a non-blind trust and run by his brother, Timothy, also has multiple development projects in Anne Arundel County and on the Eastern Shore, among other locations.

“You have to ask yourself: With so many unanswered questions, why the rush?” says QACA’s Falstad, who hopes that the state will exhaust its transportation management strategies and non-car alternative options before constructing a multi-billion-dollar crossing. “There are other projects in Maryland that I’m sure Larry Hogan can put his name on. This doesn’t need to be one of them.”

The NEPA study’s final results will come down to the consideration of Maryland’s next governor, but in the meantime, Secretary Ports says managing the bridge, now and in the future, boils down to sheer volume. These days, 91 percent of commuting adults use a personal vehicle, and car ownership, increasingly electric or self-driving or not, continues to outpace people. The affordable $2.50 base toll—compared to the $5 Delaware Memorial or the $14 Bay Bridge-Tunnel in Virginia—likely doesn’t hurt, either.

“It’s a difficult task and you get a lot of criticism, but at the end of the day, we could do nothing, and it would really back up,” he says. “As I’ve told people on both sides of the shore: If you can tell me how to put eight gallons of water into a five-gallon bucket, I’m all ears. That’s the traffic problem that we have on the bridge—there’s just too many cars trying to go at the same time for two or three lanes of traffic. Period.”

“Our biggest fear is not just what a new crossing would do to Queen Anne's county but the entire Delmarva Peninsula.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY JAY FLEMING

All the while, amid the clamor, the 70- and 49-year-old bridges stand quietly above the Chesapeake. This Memorial Day weekend, sailboats passed between the spans below and watermen loitered around the piers while a projected 330,000 cars drove across the top.

A stone’s throw from the old ferry pier sits a brick MDTA building just south of Sandy Point, and inside, the office of Bay Bridge administrator Richard Jaramillo faces that incessant flow of traffic.

From this vantage point, Jaramillo conducts the round-the-clock orchestra that is keeping both bridges as safe and operational as possible. He coordinates with some 100 colleagues—from police and emergency response departments to maintenance and construction teams to the 24/7 operations command center—who together oversee everything from clearing debris to cleaning up accidents to inspecting the superstructure from top to bottom. At all hours, they assess weather and wind conditions, control navigational lights for ships and airplanes, and monitor more than 14 video surveillance cameras.

“It’s a juggling act that goes on constantly, every day, by the minute,” says Jaramillo, who sometimes gets stuck in the backups himself while commuting from Kent Island, “just like everyone else—we all share the pain.”

It’s a polarizing position, he knows, being at the helm of this bridge, even recalling one woman he dated before her father found out his job title: “We’re not seeing each other any longer.”

Despite his intimate knowledge, Jaramillo has no official preference for its future, though he regularly attends meetings for the Bay Bridge Reconstruction Advisory Group between state officials and community members, certain to be involved in whatever comes next.

“Richard is just here to make sure the traffic gets through safely and efficiently,” he says with a broad smile. “You deal me the cards and I’ll figure out how to make it work.”

For now, both spans are in fine condition, as they should be until 2065, says Jaramillo, who even once climbed the suspension cables all the way to the tippy-top.

“It was an experience, everything was moving, and it’s supposed to,” he says. From way up there, “it gives you a whole different level of respect and appreciation—for the people who built it, who designed it, who work on it today.”

People like photographer Timothy Hyman, who stood there more than 70 years ago, before that bridge had become the bridge.

“When I tell people what I did, they don’t believe me, then I show them the pictures,” says Hyman, sitting amongst them. “I walked with my camera, and there I was...”

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]]> Berlin, Maryland, Might Just Be The Coolest Small Town in America https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/travel/berlin-maryland-eastern-shore-travel-guide/ Mon, 16 May 2022 16:56:55 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?post_type=article&p=120032
hopping the Main Street in downtown Berlin. —Courtesy of Alyssa Maloof

When the dogwood trees begin to bloom, and the blue crabs start their migration up the Chesapeake Bay, it’s time to head east, out of the city and onward to the Eastern Shore, then further, toward the ocean—stopping just short of those salty Atlantic waves. Take our word for it: Come May, there are few better fresh-air respites in the state of Maryland than the tiny town of Berlin.

Only a 10-mile drive from the Ocean City boardwalk, this hidden gem is a destination all its own, where visitors can revel in the slow pace, Main Street charm, and easy access to our favorite strand—the Assateague Island National Seashore—without the typical hordes or hub-bub of the beach.

We love it for its leafy, treelined streets, well-preserved Victorian architecture, and laid-back seaside vibes, thanks in part to a handful of young people who live here for its proximity to solid surfing. There’s also a vibrant seasonal farmers’ market, a coterie of cute shops, and an all-new museum dedicated to mermaids, making it worthwhile for a dreamy daytrip or entire weekend.

Whether you’re headed downy ocean, or just need a bucolic getaway, hop right off Route 50 and get to know Berlin, which everyone from Oprah to Esquire has named one of the best small towns in America. We can’t help but agree.

→ BLAST FROM THE PAST
Like many towns on the Eastern Shore, Berlin has a complicated history. Before European settlers colonized this region, what is now the town’s Main Street served as part of the migratory path for Native American tribes who traveled to Assateague to fish, hunt, and live during the warm-weather months.

By 1677, it would be gobbled up by the 300-acre Burley Plantation, where eventually the two-word name of a Colonial tavern, the Burleigh Inn, would be slurred together to create the town’s new name, as legend has it. By the 1790s, a village had formed with a livery stable and coach stop, though it wouldn’t be officially incorporated until 1868, after the end of the Civil War. Around this time, Berlin grew into a center of Shore commerce and a popular stop for tourists, located on a main road to Philadelphia and boasting more hotels than its neighboring Ocean City—then still just a quiet fishing town until a rail line connected it to the mainland in 1881.

 

. . . EVENTUALLY THE TWO-WORD NAME OF A COLONIAL TAVERN, THE BURLEIGH INN, WOULD BE SLURRED TOGETHER TO CREATE THE TOWN’S NEW NAME . . .

 

Not long after, three devastating fires leveled much of downtown Berlin, where its resurgent Victorian architecture remains meticulously maintained. Other styles abound as well, such as Georgian, Federal, and both Greek and Gothic Revival, garnering the town a National Register Historic District designation, with some 47 structures spanning two centuries of construction on its list of Historic Places. History buffs should plan to stay at the antique-chic Atlantic Hotel circa 1895, located in the heart of downtown with rooms and suites that harken back to its 19th-century heyday, such as four-poster wooden beds, vin- tage wallpaper, velvet chairs, and marble-top dressing tables.

Alternately, The Inn Berlin bed-and- breakfast offers a touch more modern amenities and Town & Country aesthetics. Located in a Victorian former farmhouse, circa 1898, it boasts organic cotton linens, claw-foot tubs, and flatscreen smart TVs, with fantastically fashionable pops of color and patterns throughout.

→ EPICUREAN ALLURE
When we think of food on the Eastern Shore, we tend to envision brown-paper crab feasts and pastoral farm stands peddling peak sweet corn and summer tomatoes. But Berlin has become a bit of a gourmet hot spot here, for those who know where to look.

It can probably be said that the Burley Oak Brewing Company put this whistle-stop—population 4,600—on the map when it opened its brewery in 2011. Started as a homebrewing hobby by Essex native Bryan Brushmiller, the tasting room has grown into a craft-beer mecca for suds lovers across the Mid-Atlantic, deemed some of the best beer in the state of Maryland for its outside-the-box brews made with local grains. You might have heard of its fan-favorite Sorry Chicky, a cheek-puckering sour in a neon-colored can. Grab a growler to go or stay for a flight in their outdoor biergarten.

But Burley isn’t the only booze game in town. Launched at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, The Buzz Meadery uses local honey, fruit, and even vegetables to handcraft high-quality meads and ciders with refreshingly dry finishes and a naturally gluten-free recipe, quickly becoming a local staple. These new-kids-on-the-block are nothing if not innovators. As last summer, they also opened the successful Berlin Commons, a community greenspace with pop-up markets throughout the year, where their products are sold.

At this point, don’t worry—there are some awesome options for soaking up your sips as well. Our first stop is always Gilbert’s Provisions, a hip charcuterie shop hawking artisan meats and cheeses, housemade pickles and fermented foods, and, if you’re lucky, a daily lunch special. Sometimes owner Toby Gilbert closes on short notice due to stellar surfing conditions at the nearby beaches, but when he’s around, expect elevated street fare like duck confit tacos and peach-braised pulled pork sandwiches. Just don’t leave without taking something home from the fridge: We recommend the fresh kimchi, weekly fish dip, and fermented garlic ranch dressing.

Down the street, the chef-owned Blacksmith offers gastropub dinner options for heftier fare, with an emphasis on local sourcing, wide-ranging culinary inspirations, and a full vegetarian and vegan menu. This time of year, order the soft-shell crabs, hauled in by local watermen, any way they make ’em.

A 10-minute drive will also take you to the locals-only best-kept-secret: Braddah Barney’s. Located in a West Ocean City strip mall, this hole-in-the-wall hangout touts perhaps the best Asian fusion this side of the Chesapeake, exuding the same easygoing, beach-bum ambience of Berlin, even with every seat in the house taken. Expect a short wait, but the chicken katsu sandwich is well worth it, with a juicy fried thigh, tangy bread-and-butter pickles, shredded lettuce, and spicy mayo on a locally made brioche bun. Their poke bowls are also a must, featuring fresh-daily, number-one-grade tuna with scallions and avocado. Picky eaters in the family? A kids menu features cheeseburgers we’d gladly eat.

If you’re craving a sweet-tooth fix, the Chez LoLo Pâtisserie would make Julia Child proud with its made-to-order French classics, from buttery croissants and decadent pain au chocolat to heavenly kouig-amann, available by pre-order for Saturday pick-up.

—Courtesy of Honeywater/Natalie Blanton
—Courtesy of Masterpiece Flower Farm/Crystal Fields

→ FUN AND GAMES
If there is one event to plan your visit around, it’s the weekly Berlin Farmers Market. From May through September, the lively Sunday morning ritual is a highlight of this convivial community, which includes a growing group of sustainably minded farmers and makers. It draws locals and tourists alike for its vetted vendors who fill the downtown streets with some of the Shore’s best products. Scoop a small-batch bottle of St. Michaels-distilled Lyon Rum. Savor a scratch-made slice from Mandala Pies of Vienna. Snag Certified Naturally Grown veggies from Splendid Earth Farm, out of Berlin, then stash away a hand-poured soy candle from Honey Water, which just opened its own adorable shop just down the street.

Want to keep the farm theme going? Just outside of town, take a tiny detour on your way home to purchase Worcester County-grown bouquets at Masterpiece Flower Farm, a woman-owned operation with a daily market stand featuring fabulous fresh-cut blooms.

Meanwhile, two new attractions beck- on visitors back to town. Open since last March, the all-new Mermaid Museum bottles the essence of its quaint and quirky Berlin: pint-sized, water-loving, and wonderfully whimsical. An interactive treasure trove of artifacts, oddities, and folklore, it’s an ode to those mythical half-human, half-fish creatures that have mesmerized us since childhood—and as a species, for eons. Learn about their ancient history and take a selfie in the Splash-esque bathtub.

For more theatrics, head around the corner to The Globe, the newly renovated gastro-theater from the folks at Burley Oak. Come for the barbecue and three unique bar concepts: the indoor pub-like main bar, the outside tiki cocktail patio, and the upstairs old-fashioned “library.” But truly, you’re here for the music, with a steady lineup of live concerts that bring the historic theater hall, circa 1917, back to its original glory. Expect up-and-coming national acts, as well as Maryland and Mid-Atlantic favorites, such as Annapolis’ indie-folk Pressing Strings and Baltimore’s bluegrass The Dirty Grass Players.

In true small-town fashion, Berlin also hosts a handful of annual Americana traditions to partake in. Be sure to plan a trip to coincide with the beloved Bathtub Race, now in its 32nd year, happening on June 10. Think of it like Hampden’s Toilet Bowl Races, with an evening parade followed by a different kind of porcelain flying down Main Street for the coveted Rubber Duck Cup. On August 6, the Peach Festival turns the town all afuzz, with thousands of visitors arriving for fresh peaches, peach preserves, peach ice cream, pie-eating contests, pie-baking contests, and all the businesses in on the fun with fruit- themed offerings throughout the day.

After bopping around downtown, from vinyl stores (Sound Storm Records) and indie bookshops (The Greyhound) to clothing boutiques (Fathom & Co.) and children’s toy emporiums (World of Toys), soak up the early days of spring by ambling around the picturesque neighborhoods and ogling their impressive magnolia, sycamore, and tulip poplar trees. After all, this is where 1999’s Runaway Bride was filmed, with Richard Gere and Julia Roberts.

 

AFTER ALL, THIS IS WHERE 1999’S RUNAWAY BRIDE WAS FILMED, WITH RICHARD GERE AND JULIA ROBERTS.

 

Soon enough, there will also be a new mural or statue of note to take in downtown, dedicated to another celebrity—this time a local one. Born in 1851, Berlin’s most famous son, Reverend Charles Albert Tindley, would go on to become one of the founding fathers of gospel music, credited with composing the iconic Civil Rights anthem “We Shall Overcome.” Approved this past August, the artwork’s exact medium and location are still in the planning stages.

—Courtesy of The Globe
—Courtesy of Fathom/Hunter Smith

→ TO THE BEACH
While there’s plenty of allure to Berlin being a salt-breeze getaway without the beach hassle during the off-season—aka before Memorial Day and after Labor Day, though those lines have blurred a bit thanks to COVID—there’s no reason to not take a quick jaunt and dip your toes in the Atlantic Ocean.

Of course, Baltimore knows Ocean City, and Berlin is directly due southwest of the love-it-or-hate-it resort town, which, during its summer peak, becomes the second largest city in the state of Maryland. Following Route 50 across Assawoman Bay, it’s a straight shot to the beginning of the boardwalk, where you can stock up on Fisher’s Popcorn and Dolle’s saltwater taffy, sate your sodium intake at Thrasher’s French Fries, and try your hand at the Skee-Ball lanes and claw machines of Fun City Arcade.

For our druthers, we head slightly southwest to Assateague, also located just 20 minutes from Berlin. A pedestrian-friendly bridge brings you to this magical barrier island, whose white sand dunes and seaside wildflowers feel like a world away from the Land of Pleasant Living.

Home to both an oceanfront state park and National Parks Service-run seashore, its protected terrain is perfect for biking, beachcombing, surfing, and spotting the island’s wild horses, which are said to have first arrived in the region after a Spanish shipwreck in the 1600s. Beware, they’ve been known to bite and break into coolers. But still, while you’re all the way out there, we suggest that you bring your camping gear. Should reservations be available, this is one of the state’s best places to sleep under the stars.

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]]> Cambridge Museum Carries on Legacy of Harriet Tubman https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/historypolitics/cambridge-museum-carries-on-legacy-of-harriet-tubman/ Tue, 22 Feb 2022 16:48:04 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?post_type=article&p=117057
—Photography by Mike Morgan

Eighty miles from Baltimore, the tidewater town of Cambridge on the Eastern Shore looks much like it has for the past 200 years. With many downtown buildings dating back to the 19th century, little has changed for the Dorchester County seat since 1943, when William Jarmon was born here—or 1822, the birth year of the woman to whom he’s dedicated his later-life’s work.

“Harriet Tubman would have walked these streets,” says Jarmon, director of the Harriet Tubman Museum and Educational Center, a small, volunteer-run establishment on Race Street in operation since 1992, considered one of the oldest community organizations dedicated to her memory. “With the Choptank River, and the ships that were coming in during that time, [our] courthouse was already there—she would have had knowledge of our streets as they were carved out today.”

America’s most famous abolitionist next to Frederick Douglass (who also grew up on the Eastern Shore before moving to Baltimore), Tubman was born into slavery just a few miles from the museum, around the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge. A short drive takes you to the butter-yellow Bucktown General Store, where, as an adolescent, she took a near-fatal blow to the head, which some say gave her divine visions. Further down the road, a single historic marker overlooks the pine-encompassed farmland near where she spent her early years before becoming a Civil War spy and suffragist.

These are two of the sites visited by the tours of Tubman’s namesake museum—not to be mistaken for its newer, bigger counterpart, the nearby National Park Service’s Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad Visitor Center—and just some of many local landmarks associated with the Underground Railroad conductor who, after escaping slavery herself, returned to Maryland 13 times to free more than 70 friends and family. This year marks the bicentennial of her birth.

“We can actually take you where it all happened—you can touch it, you can feel it,” says Jarmon, who has been involved with the Harriet Tubman Museum and Educational Center since 2010. “We can take you to the creek where she would catch muskrat, go crabbing, and go fishing. We can take you to the place where she grew up…There’s a history here. And once you get involved in it, you just get absorbed.”

 

“We can actually take you where it all happened—you can touch it, you can feel it.”

 

Back in Cambridge, the cheery, wooden building, built in the late 1800s, beckons visitors inside for history exhibits, a short film, and artifacts from the days of slavery. Open on Thursday through Saturday mornings with free admission, it will also host a jazz concert commemorating the bicentennial in March.

Outside, the museum’s claim to fame is a colorful mural that has been emblazoned on the side of the building since 2019. Painted by local artist Michael Rosato, it has garnered attention from the likes of The Washington Post and CNN, including one viral photograph of a young girl touching Tubman’s outstretched hand.

As part of the Federal Highway Administration-affliated Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad Byway, the museum itself has attracted visitors from around the country and world. But Jarmon finds it especially important for Marylanders to know about her roots here.

“People from South America know about her, they know about her in Europe…Even in Africa,” he says. “No matter what the school systems teach us, and no matter what our nation may teach us, the local people here need to know that they are a part of history…Until I can’t do it, I will be here, making sure that the legacy of Harriet Tubman continues.”

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]]> Playland https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/historypolitics/ocean-city-maryland-beach-history-despite-century-of-changes-family-fun-remains/ Wed, 21 Jul 2021 14:00:38 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?post_type=article&p=108956
Maryland: America in Miniature

By Rafael Alvarez

Photography by Christopher Myers
July 2021

Travel & Outdoors

Playland

Ocean City has changed dramatically over the past century, but it’s always been about family and fun.

By Rafael Alvarez
Photography by Christopher Myers

June 2021


HEN THE TEENAGED Earl Shores worked at Ocean City’s long-gone Playland Amusement Park on 65th street in the summer of 1980, he often pulled duty in the “crow’s nest” high atop a classic carnival ride called the Rotor. Invented in Germany a few years after the end of World War II, the Rotor was nothing more than a huge metal barrel. It spun with such centrifugal force—rotating 33 times a minute—that thrill-seekers were pinned to the sides before the bottom of the barrel, literally, fell out. “If the park had a throne, that was it,” says Shores, now 62, adding his tippy-top seat, appropriately, resembled a small metal lifeguard chair. Below the clouds and above the screams, Shores’ job was to keep an eye out if anyone got sick, or, from time to time, hurt. “When someone barfed,” he says, “you shut the ride down for a while to clean it.”

Vintage New Atlantic Hotel postcard.

The stand afforded Shores a view of the fabled barrier spit—a very crowded, mere 4.4 square miles—as good or better than any Cessna pilot hauling an advertising banner above the surf: STEAMED CRABS! ALL YOU CAN EAT!

The vista encapsulated the entire history of the seaside, known as “The Ladies’ Resort to the Ocean” before the Town of Ocean City was officially incorporated in 1880—from the famous Atlantic Hotel to the south (its 1875 opening marked the beginning of a serious tourist trade) to the surfing beaches and condominium towers near the Delaware line. When Playland opened in 1965, on 65th Street, in what was then the boondocks, Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon were doing “The Frug” in Beach Blanket Bingo. At that time, young people in Ocean City liked to head “way up north” beyond 95th street to sing along to guitars at bonfires. There was nothing there but sand dunes and Bobby Baker’s Carousel hotel at 118th street until the massive 1970s building explosion, courtesy of the Bay Bridge expansion of ’73. By the time Playland closed in 1980 to make room for Ocean City’s 15-acre Public Works Department headquarters, the once-sleepy resort and fishing community had been fully overhauled. Through four decades from 1930-1970, the town’s year-round population grew by only 547 new residents. From 1970, it increased more than five-fold to more than 8,000 residents—while exploding each summer into the state’s second-largest city with more than 300,000-plus visitors every weekend.

Earl Shores worked at Playland in 1980 and penned a memoir of his Ocean City days.

In the decades since the Playland site was converted into Ocean City’s Public Works Department, hundreds, if not thousands, of places to eat and drink, spend the night, and buy beach towels have sprung up, closed, and sprung up again. (When contractors, laborers, and engineers arrived to begin the renovation from silly to serious at Playland, they were greeted by a large, smiling clown atop the entrance.) If nothing else, today’s municipal army of trash trucks alone prove that Ocean City long ago transformed itself from town to city—one that stretches from Inlet Park at its southern end to Fenwick Island at its Delaware border.

“It was a twilight panorama,” says Shores of his summer evenings working at Playland during Ocean City’s boomtown days. “[Each night] the ocean visible on the horizon; its deep blue not far from the color of the sky as the amusement park lights were about to come on.”

Mural on the side of Fun City, Third Street and Boardwalk.

he Baltimore Sun published classified ads extolling Ocean City in the early 1910s as “The finest bathing beach in the world. No dangerous undertow. Boating and fishing on the Sinepuxent Bay are unequaled.” It was a different time and place. Since 1881, when a railroad line was completed across Sinepuxent to the shore, bringing rail passengers directly to town, Ocean City had been a destination, but a quiet, more isolated escape. Mother Nature herself would transform the barrier island in August 1933 with a hurricane that blasted open a 50-foot crevasse known as the Inlet—allowing boats to pass easily from the bay into the Atlantic and viceversa. Known simply as “the storm” and later the Great Hurricane of 1933—the National Weather Service did not begin naming hurricanes until 1950—the three-day surge is credited with launching the modern era of the resort. For years, Ocean City citizens had been asking the federal government to fund the creation of an inlet connecting the isolated Sinepuxent Bay with the ocean. The storm essentially did the work for free.

Earl Shores on the beach with his family in front of the Ocean City pier, 1964.

“Before the storm there was no way to get from the bay to the ocean, and there was no commercial harbor or bayside marinas,” says Bunk Mann, who interviewed two dozen people with first-hand experience of the storm for his 2014 book, Vanishing Ocean City. “It also ended the pound fishing industry [the practice of catching large quantities of fish in massive nets]—now you could sail out to deep water—and railroad days. The train bridge was washed out and never rebuilt.” Like Shores, who penned a memoir of his Ocean City days, Playland, Mann sells his books at the Life-Saving Station Museum at the Inlet.

Mann is a former Ocean City beach umbrella and “surf mat” vendor. In the mid-1960s, he worked a rental stand on 10th Street in front of the George Washington Hotel, which was razed in 1990 and replaced by the Americana Hotel. In 1966, he traded the glamour—low pay, but lots of smiles—of life as a beach boy for a job as a busboy at English’s Chicken. Established on 15th Street during the Kennedy Administration, it was known for its sweet potato biscuits before it closed in 2014.

Ticket for Ocean Playland.

With the demise of itinerant fishermen and their wooden shacks along Baltimore Avenue, came the end, according to legend, of brothels as well, Mann said. “The widening of the beaches downtown were also an effect [of the hurricane],” Mann adds. “When the big rock jetties were built to keep the Inlet open it caused sand to wash up on the downtown beach, which made it more attractive. Before that, high tides would wash over the boardwalk.”

The creation of the Inlet also gave birth to the White Marlin Open, the famous billfish tournament now in its 48th year, promoted as the biggest in the world and the source of Ocean City’s official nickname today: The White Marlin Capital of the World.

The Great Hurricane of 1933 and opening of the Inlet would later serve as well as a kind of protective moat between the rising commercialization of Ocean City and the fishing camps of Assateague, which became a National Seashore in 1965. “If not for the Inlet,” Mann says, “Ocean City would have developed southward and the Assateague parks would not exist—just a continuation of hotels, bars, and T-shirt shops.” Before the storm created the Inlet, the fabled Assateague ponies were known to wander into downtown Ocean City looking for food. Echoing a Beach Boys hit from 1966, Mann says that if Congress had not preserved the shore to the south, “God only knows what would have happened to Assateague’s wild ponies!”

Top: Vintage image of Playland at dusk. Bottom: Two recent shots of the Ocean City board at dusk.

cean City evolved slowly at first after the hurricane of 1933 and then all at once. There was even a modest population decline in the 1950s, which was attributed to permanent residents moving to the mainland, either selling or renting their high-value island property. But for Earl Shores, the Ocean City of his youth—he was first taken there as a baby before the dawn of JFK’s New Frontier—was always a magical place. He grew up, and still lives, outside of Philadelphia, which, he said, made him an “outlier” among friends who vacationed on the Jersey Shore.

For reasons unknown, Shores says, his paternal great-grandparents began traveling to Ocean City in the 1920s. Later, when they drove, it was before the original span of the Bay Bridge was built in 1952, necessitating long road trips south through Delaware.

Earl Shores’ great-grandmother and Annie Bunting in the back of the Ocracoke Cottages on Dorchester Street, early 1950s.

Shores’ great-grandparents were Henry Clay Ewing, a railroad detective, and Mary Ellen Ewing, who outlived her husband by some 30 years before passing away in 1972 at age 97. She vacationed on the Maryland shore right to the end.

“Visits to Ocean City were always a family affair,” says Shores, recalling memories shared by generations—a game of Skee-Ball, fingers sticky with the caramel of Fisher’s Popcorn, established in 1937, a first leap into the surf. “My great-grandmother, my grandmother, my aunt and uncle, from the 1930s all through the ’80s, we stayed at Annie Bunting’s place on Dorchester Street,” he says. “My great-grandmother and her would spend the evening hours talking on the porch. One of my most cherished memories of Ocean City is Mrs. Bunting’s distinctive voice and the stories she used to tell.”

The inn that Annie Spencer Bunting established at 205 Dorchester Street was called the Ocracoke Cottages, after her previous home in the Outer Banks. She arrived in Ocean City in 1917, age 20, and remained until she passed in 1993.

Upon first landing on the Shore some dozen years before the great storm, Annie Bunting had worked as a maid at the Mervue, a Boardwalk hotel between Third and Fourth streets, razed in 1970, and renamed the Seaview. Around 1919, on a lot she bought for $150 according to the Bunting family, Annie built a two story, cedar-shake Cape Cod guest house with her husband, Levin Bunting.

“It took a beating from Hurricane Sandy in 2012 and then again in 2014. It’s an empty lot,” Shores says of the old Ocracoke. “I was totally unprepared for how hard that empty space was going to hit me. I cried.”

Ralph Sapia, a Baltimore attorney today, similarly grew up going to Ocean City, spending half of each year at the beach helping his parents, James and Betty Sapia, at their various eateries. His brother Vince currently operates Da Vinci’s by the Sea on the Boardwalk at 15th Street. When they were kids, the family venture was the House of Pasta on Philadelphia Avenue, now the site of a Burger King. “The only place we could get squid for our calamari,” remembers Ralph, “was Paul’s Bait and Tackle on Talbot Avenue.” Now a parking lot, Paul’s is gone, but it’s been replaced by Skip’s Bait and Tackle, which sits adjacent to its old Talbot Street location.

Sportland and Fun City owner Jerry Greenspan.

One of young Ralph’s best Boardwalk buddies was Jerry Greenspan, whose father, Harold, a Holocaust survivor, bought his first store on the Boardwalk in 1958. It was a department store that sold men’s and women’s clothing. “We lived behind the store with my parents, my mother’s parents, me and my sisters, and our dog, Caesar,” says Greenspan, best known for the still-popular Boardwalk arcades once owned by his father, Harold—Sportland and Fun City. “That’s the way it was.” And what once graced the Fun City address? The Maryland Inn, an elegant hotel with an Eastern Shore menu and white glove table service on the Boardwalk at Caroline Street. The Greenspans bought it in 1973, built the arcade where the screened-in porch once was, and tore the building down in 1979.

Greenspan’s earliest Ocean City memory is the “Ash Wednesday” storm of 1962, a nor’easter considered more devastating than the 1933 hurricane. Planks of the Boardwalk were seen floating down Baltimore Avenue, which resembled a river.

“Our store sold Styrofoam surfboards,” Greenspan recalls. “And my sister and I used them to paddle up and down the aisles.”

On the boardwalk: Dumser’s Ice Cream; T-shirt shop.

irst as a kid and later as the former Ocean City correspondent for The Baltimore Sun, I’ve witnessed several of the town’s incarnations. When I was a kid in the 1960s, mine was one of a half-dozen families—relatives and my father’s tugboat and crabbing buddies—who vacationed together each summer in Ocean City. We stayed at the Hitch Apartments on St. Louis Avenue at Fifth Street. The rooms had adjoining doors that, when open, allowed a kid to run the length of the building. Long removed from the founding family, the building is now the Hitch Condominiums.

Former Sun reporter Rafael Alvarez (left) with brother Danny on the beach, 1965.

I remember how much fun it was to jump waves with my mother, who wore a bathing cap to keep water out of her ears. Not all indelible beach memories, however, are made on the beach.

I marveled as a kid as my father swiftly cleaned, fileted, and panfried dozens of Atlantic “puffer fish” caught with his best buddy, Jerome Lukowski. I also played catch in the Orioles’ World Series year of 1969 with Jerome’s son Gregory, now a retired Chesapeake Bay pilot, in the parking lot of the Hitch Apartments. We pretended we were Brooks Robinson and Paul Blair before the whole gang went to Pappy’s Beef & Beer. And I made psychedelic “spin art” on the Boardwalk—not far from a hippie shop selling posters of Frank Zappa on the toilet—by squeezing paint out of plastic bottles onto a spinning rectangle of cardboard and, after the teenager working the kiosk handed it to me in a paper frame, blowing on it to dry.

Years later, my first break as a rookie reporter in 1983 for The Baltimore Sun came when features editor Gil Watson sent me to cover Ocean City for the summer. Flush and fat in those days, the paper put my young family up in a bayside townhouse on 94th Street while I kept an office closer to the action at the Tarry-A-While Guest House on Dorchester Street and the Boardwalk.

Ocean City—a 19th-century fishing village transformed into one of the most successful beach resorts on the East Coast—was far from one of The Sun’s sought-after foreign bureaus in London and Paris, but I treated it like one. I wrote about born-again Christian surfers, a man who caught lobsters miles out at sea, and Herman “Shorty” Foster, a blind banjo player who strolled the Boardwalk with his German Shepherd guide dog, and scores of others. “They say I get around too well for a blind man,” Shorty once told me. “I can’t even see the sun shine.” On a whim, I calculated—as near as possible—how much booze was consumed over the course of the summer back in the ’80s. Consumption of beer alone was estimated at 2 million gallons. Said a drug and alcohol counselor in 1984, my second posting at the beach, “People come down here to party, not to get help.”

Stuffed toys outside an Ocean City souvenir shop.

That said, after 41 years, beer will no longer wash down plates of shrimp imperial at BJ’s On the Water, 75th Street and Bayside. Owners Billy and Maddy Carder have retired and sold the property to a restaurant group.

The landmark is being redeveloped and, like so much else in Ocean City—nearing its 150th anniversary, marked by the 1875 opening of the Atlantic Hotel—the tide comes in and the tide goes out, erasing what once was. Long gone are old-time attractions like the Jester’s Fun House just off the Boardwalk at Worcester Street, featuring a hag named Laffing Sal, a robotic rag doll now on display at the Life-Saving Museum. The spooky attraction was torn down in 1972 and replaced by the Sportland arcade.

Back in ’83 and ’84, I wore out the soles of Converse high-tops chasing stories up and down the Boardwalk and made follow-up phone calls from a push-button phone on the second floor of the Tarry-A-While. Constructed in 1897, the wooden, pitched roof, two-and-a-half-story structure with the wide porch is one of the few 19th-century buildings left. One of the first guest houses to advertise individual rooms with running water, it was purchased by the Cropper family in 1901 and remained with the Croppers for five generations.

“Bert Cropper was my Dad’s champion when we first came down here, he poured the cement for our stores,” Jerry Greenspan says of George Bertrand Cropper, a civil engineer, builder, and lifelong Ocean City resident who grew up “when the roads were sand and seashell.” Mr. Cropper died in 2005 at age 96.

At least two babies were born at the Tarry-A-While in the 1920s. It is not known how many were conceived there. In 2004, it was slated for demolition. That year, however, Paul and Kathy Davis, who’d owned the guest house for about 25 years, sold it to Bo Ruggiero, who donated the building to the town. Before ground was broken on the Belmont Tower project on its former site, the Tarry-A-While was moved 350 feet from 8 Dorchester to 108 Dorchester and renovated. The town now leases the first floor to the Ocean City Development Corporation, with rooms on the upper floors rented to lifeguards.

“We try to preserve as much of what is historical as possible,” says Glenn Irwin, executive director of the OCDC. Irwin noted that while Ocean City codified design standards in 2002 for buildings from the Inlet to Third Street, “old” Ocean City is not a certified historic district. “Only two buildings in Ocean City are listed on the National Register of Historic Places,” he says. “St. Paul’s by the Sea Protestant Episcopal Church at Baltimore Avenue and Third Street, and the Captain Robert S. Craig Cottage at 706 St. Louis Avenue. Captain Craig developed and for many years led the beach patrol.”

St. Paul’s by the Sea Protestant Episcopal Church at Baltimore Avenue and Third Street is one of the only two buildings in Ocean City listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

The oldest building still standing in Ocean City is likely St. Mary’s Star of the Sea Catholic Church at 208 South Baltimore Avenue.

Asked what was the most recent heartbreaking demolition, Irwin said “the Taylor House”—a Queen Anne-style Victorian built as a hotel in 1905. Owner Larry Payne had a notion of restoring the building, and Irwin said his office discussed several options to keep the grande dame from coming down, but structural defects made it too costly. It is now a vacant lot. “A shame,” Irwin says. “We lose these older buildings to new construction or demolition by neglect.”

The best teardown and rebuild I know about occurred long ago on the West Ocean City fishing docks. It started with the towing away of the broken-down delivery truck that had been home to a man named Watterson “Mack” Miller. At the time, Mack was an all-around, whatever-needs-to-be-done employee of the Castle in the Sand, owned by Adam Showell Sr., descendent of an old resort family that has been on the Shore since receiving a British land grant in the late 17th century. In its place, a one-room wooden cottage was built for Mack by his many friends.

A police source during one of my summer reporting sojourns tipped me off to the 80-year-old Mack’s Olympian swims several miles out to sea and back, and that made for my first story about the one-time heir to the Louisville Courier-Journal fortune, who had drank and caroused away a fortune during the Roaring ’20s. I soon began visiting him in his shack, from which he walked back and forth to work each day. His lasting advice, still fresh (and finally understood) 35 years after his death in 1986: “I wouldn’t roll the dice with my blessings if I were you.”

Mack’s ashes were tossed from a clam boat into the Atlantic Ocean—the only reason the Town of Ocean City exists—where he swam for decades.

“I’d like to die while I’m swimming,” he once said, “so the fish and crabs can be my undertakers.”

Source

]]> America in Miniature https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/travel/america-in-miniature-75-places-to-road-trip-in-maryland/ Mon, 07 Jun 2021 17:07:57 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?post_type=article&p=107107
Maryland: America in Miniature

From the sands of Worcester to the mountains of Garrett, the retro Maryland slogan remains truer than ever!

By Ron Cassie

Illustrations by Ryan Duggan
June 2021

Travel & Outdoors

From the sands of Worcester to the mountains of Garrett, the retro Maryland slogan remains truer than ever!

By Ron Cassie
Illustrations by Ryan Duggan

June 2021


At Maryland’s narrowest point, it’s less than a two-mile walk from the West Virginia border through the small town of Hancock to the Pennsylvania border. Wedged between the Mason-Dixon line to the North and the Potomac River to the South, it is said to be the smallest straight-shot state border-to-border distance in the country. With 1,500 residents tucked in just 2.75 square miles, Hancock has always offered plenty of reasons to visit. The Chesapeake & Ohio Canal towpath—the well trafficked 184.5-mile national park—cuts through the town. The verdant 28-mile Western Maryland Rail Trail also runs between Hancock and nearby Fort Frederick, which held British and German prisoners during the American Revolutionary War and held off Confederate raiders on Christmas Day 1861. And Hancock’s Woodmont Lodge—situated now on a natural resource area open to hikers, mountain bikers, birders, and equestrians—once served as a favorite hunting destination for presidents.

A vintage Maryland travel postcard

As far as notable residents, General Douglas MacArthur’s chief of staff during World War II, Richard Sutherland, hailed from Hancock. So did former Congressman Charles Rowland and former big-leaguer Ike Powers.

More local history: William Dorsey Swann, who endured childhood slavery and became a gay liberation activist and America’s first self-described drag queen was born here. (A surely not-to-be-missed biography, House of Swann: Where Slaves Became Queens, is in the works.) Today, Hancock is home to a popular bicycle shop/bunk house for C&O Canal bike campers and the Blue Goose Fruit Market & Bakery, one of the most remarkable gourmet pie makers in the state.

Hancock is to Maryland as Maryland is to America—chock full of history, outdoor adventure, and a little bit of everything in between—in other words, the kind of stuff day trips and weekend getaways are made of.

W e all know Maryland is not a large state. With roughly 12,400 square miles, nearly a quarter of which is water, we check in at number 42 out of the 50 states in terms of size. Fittingly, it was the first fulltime editor of National Geographic, Gilbert Grosvenor, who dubbed Maryland “America in Miniature.” Grosvenor, naturally, was touting our varied topography. From the sandy shores of Ocean City and Assateague Island and the marshes of the country’s largest estuary, the Chesapeake Bay, to the farms of Frederick County and the Allegheny Mountains, nearly every kind of terrain can be found in Maryland.

A throwback state pennant. A motel postcard from U.S. Route 40. Courtesy of Maryland Pennant. Photography by Kristoffer Tripplaar Photography

In between, you’ll find the sunflower fields, rolling hills, and horse country of northern Baltimore County; the incredibly diverse neighborhoods, museums, and history of our great port City—and more quirky fun stuff in the Greater Washington suburbs than you might expect.

The legendary Grosvenor, a key supporter of the effort to create a National Park Service, may have been the first to coin Maryland “America in Miniature,” but it was former reporter, public relations professional, and civic activist Paul Welsh who gets credit for turning the phrase into a state slogan in 1939.

By the summer of the 1940, the Maryland Publicity Commission was authorizing the production of 20,000 tourism booklets—complete with illustrations and road maps—with the new nickname in hopes of drumming up interest in the state’s vacation attractions. Later that year, the same commission issued a series of 25 stamps with the slogan, along with more illustrations of Maryland’s natural beauty, history, and sporting opportunities.

Main Street, Belair vintage postcard.

The following February, state officials took thousands of America in Miniature-themed pamphlets and built an exhibition around the theme at the annual National Sportsman’s Show in New York City, further cementing Maryland’s new nickname. Naysayers might have noted the state doesn’t have freshwater lakes (they’re all man-made), snow-capped peaks, or Spanish moss. But the professional New York model hired by the Maryland Publicity Commission to host their booth told a reporter she was so impressed by the glories of the state that she intended to spend her summer vacation in Maryland.

At one point in 1965, two Washington businessmen pitched the idea of building a $20,000,000 America in Miniature theme park—literally 2,500 replicas of U.S. and Maryland landmarks—on a 100-acre site off I-70 in Gaithersburg.

That it was the peripatetic Welsh who proved the key player in the making of the Maryland slogan remains fitting. His life’s story spans the entire state. Born in Cumberland, he grew up in Baltimore, attended the University of Maryland, and then the University of Maryland School of Law. He worked at various times for institutions such as The Baltimore Sun, the Orioles, and McCormick & Co. Active in a wide range of community affairs, he served as president of the Wine and Food Society of Baltimore and chaired a committee for the preservation of Babe Ruth’s birthplace. He enjoyed debating about where one could get the best oysters in the city, and his Maryland clam chowder recipe won a 1967 contest and was subsequently included in the New York Times Heritage Cookbook.

A 1949 copy of the state's “America in Miniature” booklet; retro Ocean City boardwalk postcard.

In 2017, the Maryland Chapter of the Public Relations Society of America named its annual award after Welsh, who passed away in 1991. A coincidence perhaps, the America in Miniature catchphrase receded from public usage shortly thereafter. When Robert Ehrlich and Martin O’Malley served in Annapolis, Maryland road signs read, “Enjoy Your Visit.” In 2015, Gov. Larry Hogan replaced those with the even less poetic, “We’re Open for Business.”

That said, the lost slogan remains as true as ever, and Marylanders’ pride in their state’s rich beauty remains intact, as our ongoing obsession with the state flag demonstrates.

There’s another cultural phenomenon that outsiders don’t understand but binds Marylanders together, and that’s the Maryland accent, of course. Paradoxically, it’s an expression of both our diversity and proximity to one another. It is different on the Eastern Shore than in Baltimore, and different still in Carroll County. Yet, no matter where a Marylander may travel in the state, they always know a newcomer or tourist from a native—even in Hancock, where different states knock at their front and back doors.

“We can tell right off what state people live in around here,” a Hancock woman named Virginia Stanley told an out-of-state, big-city newspaper years ago. “By their accents. People living in Hancock have a Maryland accent.” Pennsylvanians have a Pennsylvania accent, she noted. “The West Virginians have their own peculiar way of speaking.”

Below, we highlight more than 75 places to visit in Maryland. Some are destinations worth a weekend, while some may merit a week, and others are the kind of unique roadside attractions that are the stuff of spontaneous daytrips. Enjoy the return of travel this summer.

With its deep and historical roots, Maryland’s eastern shore retains a rural charm and pristine beauty unlike almost any other place in the country.

ASSATEAGUE ISLAND

NATIONAL SEASHORE

One of the last big Mid-Atlantic barrier islands largely untouched by development, Assateague Island is a truly unique escape. Ironically, when a brutal Ash Wednesday storm in 1962 destroyed a real estate project, it provided an “unexpected opportunity,” as the National Park Service puts it, for the Department of the Interior to acquire the remaining unprotected portion of Assateague. They set it aside as a national seashore. Today, it’s best known for its wild horses, pristine beaches, and 142-foot-tall lighthouse on its southern end near the coast of Virginia’s Eastern Shore. Large populations of birds inhabit the 37-mile island, including the American oystercatcher, great blue heron, and snowy egret, plus seagulls and brown pelicans.

About the horses. According to the NPS, Assateague’s “wild” horses are, in truth, feral horses— meaning they descended from domestic horses and have reverted to an undomesticated state. Local folklore has it, the NPS explains, that the original horses were survivors of a shipwreck off the coast of Virginia. More likely, but not quite as good of a yarn, the horses were brought to the island by late 17th-century mainlanders.

Go for: the camping and swimming.

Don’t miss: the nearly century- old annual “Pony Swim” from Assateague Island to Chincoteague Island each July.

Maryland - America in Miniature

BLACKWATER NATIONAL WILDLIFE REFUGE

Established as a sanctuary in 1933 for waterfowl along the critical Atlantic Flyway migration route, Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge has been called one of the “Last Great Places” by The Nature Conservancy. The Dorchester County treasure consists of more than 30,000 acres of brackish tidal marshes, open fields, and mixed evergreen and deciduous forest. The visitor-friendly refuge is also home to one of the largest breeding populations of American bald eagles on the East Coast, this side of Florida. In June, ospreys hatch—by September, they will begin migrating to Central and South America— and eaglets learn how to fly and forage. In July, local goslings take to the air, and by August, the numbers of wading birds increase.

Notable: The refuge is fed by the 25.8-mile saltwater Blackwater River and Little Blackwater River tributary. The name “blackwater” derives from the slow-moving, tea-colored channels, which become darkened as the water drains through marshy peat soil.

Go for: the birding and bicycling.

Don’t miss: the 25-mile, multipurpose path around the refuge, where there’s a good chance of spotting great blue herons.

LOCAL TREASURES

Chesapeake Bay Balloon Festival

Bridge Branch Rd., Cordova

The biggest hot air balloon festival in Maryland, the Chesapeake Bay Balloon Festival is held every summer at Triple Creek Winery in Talbot County. The three-day event, held over the last weekend in July, features more than a dozen hot air balloons, live music, and crafts, art, and food vendors—and shade tents. HOT AIR BALLOON: CSA IMAGES

OCEAN CITY

Each summer, Maryland’s quintessential Atlantic resort—population 7,000—expands into the second largest city in the state, teeming with some 325,000 vacationers on the weekends. Roughly two-thirds of the annual eight-million visitors are from out of state, arriving from Pennsylvania, Virginia, and Washington, D.C., for the beach, boardwalk, amusement parks, deep-sea fishing, 17 area golf courses, and, now, a casino. For the adventurous, Ocean City offers everything from surfing lessons to skateboarding— the Ocean Bowl Skate Park has attracted the national Dew Tour several times—to the world’s largest billfish tournament, the White Marlin Open.

Back story: With the construction of the Wicomico & Pocomoke Railroad in the late 1860s, investors began laying out the streets, with the town officially named Ocean City in 1875 when the first major hotel opened.

Go for: water sports, seafood, and boardwalk fries.

Don’t miss: the Ocean City Life-Saving Station Museum. Housed in an 1891-built former U.S. Coast Guard building, it captures Maryland’s seaside history like none other.

SMITH ISLAND

For centuries, Marylanders on the Eastern Shore have battled erosion and rising sea levels caused by the slow subsidence of the land along the Chesapeake Bay. But with climate change driving more powerful storms and melting glaciers, the issue has taken on an existential threat for Smith Islanders. The population, which once peaked at 800, is below 200 today, and the island is projected to erode completely by 2100. Which is to say, don’t miss the opportunity to visit this genuine throwback to a slower time and place. The last of Maryland’s inhabited bay islands is not accessible by car, and it’s a 45-minute passenger ferry from Crisfield. The main modes of transportation on the island are golf carts, bicycles, boats, and walking.

What’s in a name? British explorer John Smith mapped this island, but it takes its name from Henry Smith, of Jamestown, Virginia, who was granted 1,000 acres of the island in 1679.

Go for: Smith Island Cake and soft crab sandwiches from Drum Point Market.

Don’t miss: The Martin National Wildlife Refuge on the northern half of Smith Island.

Maryland - America in Miniature
Maryland - America in Miniature
ACADEMY ART MUSEUM

106 South St., Easton

Founded in 1958, the permanent collection includes works on paper by the likes of Goya, Cezanne, Chagall, Picasso, Diebenkorn, Motherwell, and Rauschenberg.

ANNIE OAKLEY HOUSE

28 Bellevue Ave., Cambridge

This private home was built in 1913 for the famed sharpshooter of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show after Oakley and her husband retired. The bungalow is notable for its roof, which was designed so she could step out from the upstairs windows to shoot game off the Choptank River.

BEN CARDIN C&D CANAL TRAIL

Lock & Bank Streets, Chesapeake City

This 17-mile, multipurpose path stretches to Delaware City on the shores of the Delaware River.

OLD TRINITY CHURCH

1716 Taylors Island Rd., Woolford

Built around 1675, the historic red brick church is one of the oldest church buildings in continuous use in the U.S.

HARRIET TUBMAN UNDERGROUND RAILROAD NATIONAL HISTORICAL PARK

4068 Golden Hill Rd., Church Creek

Walk the landscape that helped shape the Maryland freedom fighter’s life and tour the 16,000-square-foot Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad Visitor Center, which houses a museum dedicated to her life.

OXFORD-BELLEVUE FERRY

27456 Oxford Rd., Oxford

In 1683, Talbot County authorized the historic ferry operations, said to be the oldest privately owned ferry service still in operation in the U.S.

Maryland - America in Miniature
THE MERMAID MUSEUM

4 Jefferson St., Berlin

The new museum hosts a curated collection of mermaid art, myths, and “artifacts,” including scales, hair, nails, and a timeline of mermaid sightings dating back to the 1800s. MERMAID: CSA IMAGES

FREDERICK DOUGLASS STATUE, TALBOT COUNTY COURTHOUSE

11 N. Washington St., Easton

The abolitionist’s acclaimed autobiography begins: “I was born in Tuckahoe, near Hillsborough, and about twelve miles from Easton, in Talbot County, Maryland.”

TRANSPENINSULAR MIDPOINT MARKER

Maryland Route 54, Delmar

Both Lord Baltimore and William Penn believed parts of today’s Delmarva Peninsula was bequeathed to them. This marker connotes the southernmost point of the Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Delaware border that Mason and Dixon surveyed to settle the dispute.

Maryland - America in Miniature
TURKEY POINT LIGHTHOUSE

Elk Neck State Park, North East

The 35-foot tower, first lit in 1833, stands atop 100- foot bluffs, and is known for the large number of women who once served as lightkeepers. Fannie Salter was the last woman lightkeeper in the U.S. when automation forced her into retirement in 1947. Chesapeake City photo (left) courtesy of Jon Bilous/Shutterstock

The national capital counties aren’t just suburbs. They offer an endless array of art, history, and recreation destinations—and quirky attractions.

C&O CANAL TOWPATH

Sometimes referred to as the “Grand Old Ditch,” the C&O Canal began as a transportation route for products from the West. The first stone was laid in Washington, D.C., on July 4, 1828, the same day as the launch of the B&O Railroad in Baltimore. The 184.5-mile canal reached Cumberland in 1850. For a long time, the canal carried Western Maryland and West Virginia coal, as well as limestone, wood, lumber, agricultural products, and flour. In operation for nearly a century, the C&O Canal was a lifeline for Potomac River towns and communities. Today, the crushed stone towpath situated between the canal and river endures as a recreational path for discovering Maryland’s historical and natural treasures from Montgomery County to Frederick, Washington, and Allegany counties. In 1954, Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas organized an eight-day hike up the towpath to help save the canal from being converted to an automobile parkway. In 1971, the canal became a National Historic Park.

Go long: The canal’s towpath connects directly with the Great Allegheny Passage Trail in Cumberland, creating a continuous 334.5-mile trail from the Nation’s Capital to Pittsburgh.

Go for: bicycling, kayaking, and camping.

Don’t miss: the 4.7-mile Billy Goat Trail between the canal and Potomac River in Montgomery County.

Maryland - America in Miniature

CUNNINGHAM FALLS STATE PARK

Nestled on picturesque Catoctin Mountain in Frederick County, Cunningham Falls State Park is home to a 78-foot cascading waterfall, the largest in the state, and a manmade lake spanning more than 40 acres. Prior to the arrival of Europeans, Native Americans used the Catoctin Mountain area for hunting and fishing, as well as mining it for rhyolite, a volcanic rock, to make sharp projectile points. The state park is divided into two separate and unique areas. The William Houck Area includes the falls, the lake area, the most popular hiking trails, and a camping area. You can also swim at the lake’s beach and rent boats at the dock during the summer months. The highlight of the Manor Area is the historic Catoctin Iron Furnace, constructed in 1774 by four local brothers.

Wide ranging: Catoctin Mountain forms the easternmost ridge of the Blue Ridge Mountains, which themselves are part of the Appalachian range.

Go for: hiking, swimming, and camping.

Don’t miss: Chubby’s Barbeque in nearby Emmitsburg, one of the great roadside BBQ restaurants anywhere.

LOCAL TREASURES

Glen Echo Park

MacArthur Blvd., Glen Echo

For decades, Glen Echo, a half-dozen miles northwest of Georgetown, was a popular amusement park. Part of the National Park Service since 1971, today it’s known for its Art Deco architecture, historic Spanish ballroom, and antique carousel and serves as a visual and performing arts center that oversees art, music, dance, and theater programs.

GREENBELT HISTORIC DISTRICT

Once hailed as a utopian alternative to the increasingly overcrowded American cities of the 1930s, the Prince George’s suburb was one of three planned communities designed by FDR’s federal government during the Great Depression. Today, 86 years after its construction began, the historic Greenbelt district maintains its small town vibe with its cozy parks, family playgrounds, schools, old-timey movie theater, cooperative grocery store, and the cooperatively owned New Deal Café, one of the best local live music venues for the past two decades.

Test of time: The Greenbelt Historic District is the best preserved of the three Depression-era built “greenbelt” towns—Greenhills, Ohio, and Greendale, Wisconsin, are the other two—holding onto much of its green space despite the subsequent real estate and highway developments. It was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1997.

Go for: walking, historical architecture and cultural artifacts.

Don’t miss: the original Art Deco-style Roosevelt Center, which remains the hub of the historic area.

SUGARLOAF MOUNTAIN

The peak of this low mountain in northern Montgomery County is just 800 feet, but it’s considerably higher than the surrounding farmland, and Union and Confederate troops took turns posting lookouts here. This is what Christoph von Graffenried, the Swiss 1st Baron of Bernberg, wrote after visiting the mountain in 1712: “From there we went further back upon a mountain of the highest in those parts, called Sugar Loaf, for it has the form of a loaf of sugar. We took with us Martin Chartier, a surveyor we also had with us, and there came with us several Indians. From the mountain we viewed an exceedingly broad extent of country, a part of Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Carolina, used the compass, [and] made us a map.”

Food and supplies: The Dickerson Market in nearby Dickerson is the closest general store for breakfast and lunch.

Go for: hiking, birding, and wildlife.

Don’t miss: historic Strong Mansion and formal gardens.

Maryland - America in Miniature
Maryland - America in Miniature
F.SCOTT AND ZELDA FITZGERALD’S GRAVESITE

520 Veirs Mills Rd., Rockville

This is the somewhat obscure second grave of the acclaimed writer (1896-1940, Fitzgerald died in his lover’s apartment) and wife Zelda (1900-1948, she died in a fire). In 1975, the Baltimore Catholic Diocese finally allowed the remains to be reinterred from a nearby cemetery. Chiseled into Fitzgerald’s tombstone is the last sentence of The Great Gatsby: “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

NATIONAL SHRINE GROTTO OF OUR LADY OF LOURDES

16330 Grotto Rd., Emmitsburg

The oldest known replica of the famous French shrine in the U.S., including devotional gardens, is located at Mount St. Mary’s University.

HAND & OWL TREE CARVING

Northeast branch of Anacostia Tributary Trail, College Park

Part of a natural arts program on the Prince George’s County trail network, the massive, surrealist wood carving was created by local artist Joe Stebbing and his chainsaw.

JIM HENSON STATUE AND MEMORIAL GARDEN, ARBORETUM AND BOTANICAL GARDEN

University of Maryland, College Park

This 450-pound bronze statue features Kermit the Frog perched on a red granite bench with Muppets creator and Maryland alum Jim Henson.

LAUREL DINOSAUR PARK

13100 Mid-Atlantic Blvd., Laurel

In 1858, African Americans toiling in open-pit iron mines were the first to discover dinosaur fossils in Maryland.

NATIONAL MUSEUM OF CIVIL WAR MEDICINE

48 E. Patrick St., Frederick

The museum’s three-story, 19th-century brick building was home to a furniture maker/undertaker during the Civil War.

Maryland - America in Miniature
NASA GODDARD ROCKET GARDEN

9432 Greenbelt Rd., Lanham

Featuring decommissioned rockets outside of the NASA facility, the garden here includes many types of real rockets, mock-ups, and flight hardware. ROCKET: CSA IMAGES

NATIONAL MUSEUM OF CIVIL WAR MEDICINE

48 E. Patrick St., Frederick

The museum’s three-story, 19th-century brick building was home to a furniture maker/undertaker during the Civil War.

THE PEACE PARK

18400 River Rd., Poolesville

The heart of the 65-acre park of walking trails and meditation gardens is a golden Buddhist stupa, a 35-foot sacred structure representing enlightenment.

USDA RAMMED EARTH HOUSE

6532 75th St., Cabin John

Harry Humphrey, chief plant pathologist with the U.S. Department of Agriculture, built the house as a pilot for the USDA.

VANADU ART HOUSE

3810 Nicholson St., Hyattsville

A retired Hirshhorn Museum art conservator, A. Clarke Bedford began filling his time making art cars before turning his home into a giant mash-up of the Industrial Revolution and Victorian age on this otherwise quiet street in the suburbs of D.C.

Home to one of the first permanent British settlements, Southern Maryland offers a unique maritime heritage and rich outdoor opportunities.

CALVERT CLIFFS STATE PARK

Formed more than 15 million years ago, the massive and renowned cliffs, for which Calvert Cliffs State Park was named, dominate roughly 24 miles of Chesapeake Bay shoreline in Calvert County. At the time, the whole area was covered by shallow sea. Today, the slowly eroding cliffs reveal the remains of more than 600 prehistoric species, including sharks, sea turtles, whales, rays, crocodiles, and giant seabirds called pelagornithids that were the size of small airplanes. The 1,079-acres of preserved land within Calvert Cliffs State Park has 13 miles preserved for foot trails, including one hike that reaches the Chesapeake Bay, as well as a service road for cyclists and equestrians. The park also features a sandy beach, recycled tire playground, fishing, and marshland.

Shark-infested waters: Actually digging into the cliffs in search of the famous fossil shark teeth found here is illegal, possibly dangerous, and completely unnecessary. You simply need to comb the beach for fossils that wash ashore—sieves and shovels are allowed.

Go for: fossil hunting, hiking, and swimming.

Don’t miss: the Calvert Marine Museum, which hosts exhibits, displays, and aquariums that focus on local maritime history, estuarine biology, and paleontology, and nearby Drum Point Lighthouse.

Maryland - America in Miniature

POINT LOOKOUT STATE PARK

The southern tip of St. Mary’s County is home to gorgeous Chesapeake Bay views and an incredible amount of Maryland and American history. The peninsula here was formed by the confluence of the Bay and the Potomac River and first witnessed by Europeans when Captain John Smith explored it in 1612. Later, British ships raided the Southern Maryland peninsula during the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812. Point Lookout State Park itself was once an early resort for the well-to-do and then a Union prisoner- of-war camp for captured Confederate soldiers.

Peaceful paddle: In terms of outdoor recreation, there are three paddling trails at the state park—Point Lookout Creek, Lake Conoy, and a route along the edge of the Chesapeake Bay. Canoe rentals are available from the park store on a first-come basis. The park boasts a nature center, fishing pier, beach, and the Point Lookout Lighthouse as well.

Go for: paddling, fishing, camping, and history.

Don’t miss: The Civil War Museum and still-remaining earth works of a Civil War fortification on the Potomac River shore near Cornfield Harbor.

LOCAL TREASURES

Ghost Fleet of Mallows Bay

Wilson Landing Rd., Nanjemoy

Declared a National Marine Sanctuary nearly two years ago, Mallows Bay is home to what has been described as the “largest shipwreck fleet in the Western Hemisphere.” Mallows Bay Park is the primary access point to the somewhat spooky ship sanctuary and surrounding marine habitat. Local amenities include a boat ramp, soft launch for kayaks—guided tours are available—a walking trail, and interpretive signs.

ST. MARY’S CITY

The first expedition from England to the planned Maryland colony, undertaken by Cecil Calvert, the 2nd Baron Baltimore, consisted of two ships—the Ark and Dove—with roughly 150 settlers, Jesuit missionaries, and indentured servants aboard. They arrived in what is now St. Mary’s County in 1634 and made permanent settlement upon a bluff overlooking the St. Mary’s River. The land had been home to the Piscataway people, who allowed the British settlement, and initially the settlers and Native Americans coincided peacefully. For the next six decades, St. Mary’s City served as the capital of the new colony.

Living history: Since 1969, St. Mary’s has been recognized as a National Historic Landmark. The city’s landmarks and living history museum commemorate North America’s fourth permanent English settlement.

Go for: the history, farmers’ market, and Chesapeake Bay.

Don’t miss: The Maryland Dove, the full-size replica of the early 17th-century expedition ship to the then-colony, which was constructed for the state’s 350th anniversary in the mid-1970s.

SOLOMONS ISLAND

Inhabited since colonial time, Solomons Island gets its name from Isaac Solomon, a 19th-century Baltimore businessman who established a cannery here after the Civil War. His house still stands on the entrance to the island. Shipyards eventually developed to support the island’s watermen and fishing fleet. Schooners and sloops were constructed here, as well as the more famous bugeyes, forerunners of Maryland’s iconic skipjacks. The deep harbor has remained a hub for watermen and boaters ever since.

Art for art’s sake: The Annmarie Sculpture Garden & Arts Center in Solomons is an award-winning arts nonprofit and features a Smithsonian-affiliated, forested sculpture garden. The sculpture garden and one-quarter-mile walking path hosts permanent works and pieces on loan from the Smithsonian Institution and the National Gallery of Art.

Go for: hiking, birding, and kayaking.

Don’t miss: “On Watch,” Antonio Tobias Mendez’s sculpture commemorating the World War II U.S. Naval Amphibious Training Base.

Maryland - America in Miniature
Maryland - America in Miniature
CAPTAIN AVERY MUSEUM

1418 E. West Shady Side Rd., Shady Side

The southern Anne Arundel County museum features three centuries of Chesapeake Bay history. The quiet town, beaches, and restaurants in Shady Side are worth a trip.

THE COMMEMORATIVE TO ENSLAVED PEOPLES OF SOUTHERN MARYLAND

47777 Mattapany Rd., Lexington

The haunting “ghost frame” architecture of a replica slave quarters offers visitors a place for reflection on the nature of slavery and linkages to today’s society.

Maryland - America in Miniature
DRAYDEN AFRICAN-AMERICAN SCHOOLHOUSE

18287 Cherryfield Rd., Drayden

The one-room schoolhouse, one of the best preserved African-American schoolhouses in the country, was built around 1890 and remained in use until 1944. COURTESY OF ST. MARY'S COUNTY MUSEUM DIVISION

Maryland - America in Miniature
MARYLAND INTERNATIONAL RACEWAY

27861 Budds Creek Rd., Mechanicsville

This drag strip in St. Mary’s County has a capacity of 12,500 fans and hosts weekend races of all stripes, as well as car and truck shows. RACE CAR: CSA Images

FORT FOOTE RODMAN GUNS

Fort Washington

The 15-inch diameter, Civil War-era cannons weigh in at nearly 50,000 pounds, and required 300 to 400 Union soldiers to move them up from the nearby river bluff to the fort. The balls fired by the massive guns weighed more than 500 pounds.

PATUXENT RESEARCH REFUGE

10901 Scarlet Tanager Loop, Laurel

The National Wildlife Visitor Center here is the largest center for environmental science operated by the U.S. Department of the Interior.

SOUTHERN MARYLAND BLUE CRABS

11765 St. Linus Dr., Waldorf

Minor league baseball is one of the summer’s great pastimes, and the independent Blue Crabs play in the Atlantic League of Professional Baseball.

ST. CLEMENT’S ISLAND

St. Mary’s County

Uninhabited St. Clement’s Island State Park features a 40-foot stone cross commemorating the beginnings of religious freedom in the country. It also is home to a reconstruction of the historic Blackistone Island lighthouse, which was a target of a Confederate raid.

SURRATT HOUSE MUSEUM

9118 Brandywine Rd., Clinton

The farmhouse for the family of John and Mary Surratt, the 1852-built home, now museum, was one of the dramatic settings in the conspiracy behind John Wilkes Booth’s assassination of President Lincoln.

UNITED STATES COLORED TROOPS MEMORIAL MONUMENT

21550 Willows Rd., Lexington

Dedicated to African-American Union troops of St. Mary’s County, the monument specifically honors Sgt. James Harris and Pvt. William Barnes, who were each awarded the Medal of Honor. More than 600 U.S. Black troops, including freemen and slaves, from St. Mary’s joined the fight against the Confederacy.

Rediscover Baltimore’s Own History, World-class Museums, And Trails—not To Mention A Diverse Visual Arts And Music Scene That’s Second To None.

PATAPSCO VALLEY STATE PARK

The beautiful valley that surrounds the 39-mile Patapsco River was once a major mill hub, and part of the original western route created by the B&O Railroad when it was constructed in 1829. In fact, several of the old railroad bridges survive, including the arched, stone Thomas Viaduct, the largest railroad bridge in the U.S. when it was built, and the Patterson Viaduct, whose ruins remain in the park. Maryland’s first state park extends across 32 miles of the river and spans over 16,000 acres in total, including eight recreational areas and 70 miles of maintained trails. Patapsco Valley State Park is also known as one of the top mountain biking destinations on the East Coast, in particular the McKeldin and Avalon areas, with dozens of trails for riders of all abilities.

How it got started: In 1907, Catonsville’s John Glenn planted the seeds for the state park when he donated 43 acres to the Maryland Board of Forestry. In the 1930s, it became a state park and the Civilian Conservation Corps, one of FDR’s New Deal initiatives, built campgrounds, cabins, and pavilions.

Go for: hiking, mountain biking, camping, and swimming holes.

Don’t miss: the park’s two swinging bridges that cross over the Patapsco River.

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ANNAPOLIS

Sometimes we forget that one of the best small towns in America is just a 35-minute drive from Baltimore. Or, if you are up for a more vigorous trek, a 13-mile bicycle ride from Glen Burnie via the popular Baltimore & Annapolis Trail. The historic City Dock area lies at the foot of Annapolis’ Main Street, which slopes down from St. Anne’s Episcopal Church. It was founded in 1692 and is one of the original 30 Anglican parishes established in the Maryland province. At the head of City Dock sits a small park with the Kunta Kinte-Alex Haley Memorial, which commemorates the arrival point of the Roots author’s African ancestor.

Step back in time: The array of seemingly endless historical sites within walking distance of downtown Annapolis includes the entire Colonial Annapolis Historic District, Maryland State House, U.S. Naval Academy, and St. John’s College, which opened in 1789.

Go for: sailing, shops, seafood, and art galleries.

Don’t miss: the Banneker-Douglass Museum, located in the Mt. Moriah African Methodist Episcopal Church and dedicated to preserving the state’s African- American heritage.

LOCAL TREASURES

“America’s Sailing Capital”

Annapolis

Annapolis bills itself as “America’s Sailing Capital” and why not? The city has hosted the U.S. Sailboat Show, scheduled again for October, for the past five decades. Even more fun are Annapolis’ Wednesday Night Sailboat races, a long-time summer tradition, which can be watched from many places, including over cocktails.

GUNPOWDER FALLS STATE PARK

A diverse topographical corridor, Gunpowder Falls State Park stretches from Harford County to the shores of the Chesapeake Bay in Eastern Baltimore County. Established in 1959 to protect the Gunpowder River, as well as the Big and Little Gunpowder Falls, the park’s 18,000 acres range from rugged, hilly slopes to tidal marshes. It features more than 120 miles of trails, including the nearly 20-mile Torrey C. Brown Rail Trail (official name for the Northern Central Railroad walking and bicycle trail)—a local gem. The park also includes Prettyboy Reservoir, the Jerusalem Mill Village, Hammerman Area swimming beach, and Dundee Creek Marina.

What’s in a name? No one is sure, but the best guess is that it’s related to the saltpeter—a gunpowder ingredient—found along the rivers’ banks.

Go for: hiking, fishing, and horseback riding.

Don’t miss: cozy Loch Raven Fishing Center, which rents boats for fishing or paddling.

SUSQUEHANNA STATE PARK

Captain John Smith, who explored the Susquehanna River in 1608, wrote [of it]: “Heaven and earth seemed never to have agreed better to frame a place for man’s commodious and delightful habitation.” The river is named for the Susquehannock tribe, whom Smith met on his travels. For thousands of years, Native Americans thrived around the river, building farms and communities, and to this day, their petroglyph carvings survive in the river’s rocks. Situated along the Susquehanna Valley, amid its thick forest and often rocky terrain, the park offers hiking trails with river views and some excellent mountain biking opportunities.

Bring a camera: the picnic area around the Conowingo Dam offers one of the most popular places anywhere to photograph bald eagles and their high-speed fishing dives. October through February is the best time to go, but bald eagles do nest here year-round.

Go for: hiking, birding, and fishing.

Don’t miss: the restored Rock Run Historic Area.

Maryland - America in Miniature
Maryland - America in Miniature
BABE RUTH BIRTHPLACE MUSEUM

216 Emory St., Baltimore

Three blocks west of Camden Yards, the Bambino’s birthplace and childhood home tells the story of the rags-toriches life of America’s first superstar. It’s a must for any fan of the National Pastime. BASEBALL PLAYER: CSA IMAGES

BILLIE HOLIDAY HOME

217 Durham St., Baltimore

Known as “Lady Day Way,” the Upper Fells Point block where Holiday lived pays homage to the iconic jazz singer with colorful murals and works of art.

CLARK’S ELIOAK FARM

10500 Clarksville Pike, Ellicott City

The family-friendly farm and petting zoo is home to beloved recovered attractions from Route 40’s famed Enchanted Forest.

DIVINE’S GRAVESITE

701 York Rd., Towson

Peaceful Prospect Hill Cemetery is the resting place of Harris Glenn Milstead, John Waters’ collaborator and the film star also known as Divine.

ELIJAH BOND’S OUIJA BOARD GRAVE

1501 Greenmount Ave., Baltimore

Green Mount Cemetery is renowned for the prominent Baltimoreans interred here, including Elijah Bonds, who patented the Ouija board—a stone replica serves as his headstone.

KING AND QUEEN’S SEAT

3318 Rocks Chrome Hill Rd., Jarrettsville

The big attractions at Rocks State Park are Kilgore Falls and the spectacular King and Queen Seat rock formation, once the site of Native American ceremonial gatherings.

LADEW TOPIARY GARDENS

3535 Jarrettsville Pike, Monkton

Described as one of the “10 incredible topiary gardens around the world” by Architectural Digest, the 22 acres of award-winning gardens are just 30 minutes north of Baltimore.

NATIONAL GREAT BLACKS IN WAX MUSEUM

1601 E. North Ave., Baltimore

The one-of-a-kind museum is dedicated to the study and preservation of Black history.

HUBERT V. SIMMONS MUSEUM OF NEGRO LEAGUES BASEBALL

10302 Grand Central Ave., Owings Mills

Hosted inside the Owings Mills branch of the Baltimore County Public Library, the museum celebrates Negro League baseball and specifically, the great history of Baltimore’s Black Sox and Elite Giants.

UNION MILLS HOMESTEAD AND GRIST MILL

3311 Littlestown Pike, Westminster

A rural cultural and Civil War history landmark with a blacksmith shop and functioning grist mill, this year Union Mills celebrates its 50th annual Corn Roast Festival in August.

WHETHER HIKING, BIKING, CAMPING, OR WHITEWATER RAFTING, WESTERN MARYLAND’S LAKES AND MOUNTAINS ARE MADE FOR WANDERERS AND ADVENTURE SEEKERS ALIKE.

DEEP CREEK LAKE

The largest inland body of water in the state is, in fact, manmade, the result of a 1920s hydroelectric project on Garrett County’s Deep Creek. The Pennsylvania Electric Company created Deep Creek Lake by constructing a dam out of earth and rocks that stretched across a tributary of the Youghiogheny River. The state of Maryland officially purchased the lake two decades ago. Today, Deep Creek Lake State Park—a mountain resort tucked in the Alleghenies and a long way from the heat and humidity of Baltimore summers—provides access to the lake, which covers 3,900 acres and nearly 70 miles of shoreline, including two swimming beaches. The state park is also home to 20 miles of hiking and biking trails. The area hosts a variety of aquatic life and fish—from largemouth bass to northern pike and rainbow trout.

Adventurous: Try the guided whitewater rafting and kayaking while in Western Maryland for the kind of exhilarating fun that will make you think you’re in Colorado. And check Wisp ski resort for summer climbing courses, archery, mountain biking, and disc golf.

Go for: boating, swimming, and whitewater rafting.

Don’t miss: the nearby old-growth forests of Swallow Falls State Park, which hosted Henry Ford, Thomas Edison, and Harvey Firestone, who camped there together in 1921.

Maryland - America in Miniature

APPALACHIAN TRAIL

The Appalachian Mountains stretch from Georgia to Canada and through Maryland, offering some of the most scenic vistas in the state. Encompassing 41 manageable miles from the West Virginia line to the Pennsylvania border, the Maryland section of the Appalachian Trail includes the gentlest terrain on America’s iconic hiking trail. It also cuts through Boonsboro’s Washington Monument State Park—home to the first U.S. monument to our first president— and Gathland State Park, which includes the National War Correspondents Memorial Arch, the first war correspondents monument in the United States. There are lots of places to access the trail, at Pen Mar Park, for example, on the PA line, and along the C&O Canal Towpath near the Potomac River.

Formative years: The Appalachian peaks were created some 270 million years ago when the ancestral continents of North America and Africa collided, thrusting masses of rocks that had been on the ocean floor upward and west—to what is today the eastern United States.

Go for: hiking and camping.

Don’t miss: the Appalachian Trail Conservancy in nearby Harpers Ferry.

LOCAL TREASURES

Delfest

Allegany County Fairgrounds, Cumberland

Fourteen years ago, York, Pennsylvania-born bluegrass pioneer Del McCoury brought his band and some friends together to do some playing in the heart of the Maryland mountains. Today, the annual multiday DelFest—music and camping set against a stunning Appalachian backdrop in Cumberland— is a must for bluegrass fans.

GREAT ALLEGHENY PASSAGE

From its start in Cumberland, the Great Allegheny Passage heads through Frostburg to the Mason- Dixon line and the Eastern Continental Divide. There is historical drama along the way, too, including the Cumberland Bone Cave—an archeological site containing bones of saber-toothed cats and other extinct species—and the 914-foot Brush Tunnel. You might also catch a glimpse of the working steam railroad that still operates between Cumberland and Frostburg. Ultimately, the Great Allegheny Passage, completed in 2013, runs 150 miles to Pittsburgh. The route follows former rail beds and traverses alongside rivers and streams amid landmarks from the French and Indian Wars and the Midwestern expansion.

Hall of Famer: The GAP was the first rail-trail in the country to be inducted into Rails-to-Trails Conservancy’s Hall of Fame.

Go for: bicycling, camping, and scenic views.

Don’t miss: the Allegany Museum, whose exhibits center on the region’s prehistoric life, local folk art, and Cumberland’s industrial history. A Crossroads of America exhibition, which will trace the history of human movement through the area, is in the works.

ROCKY GAP STATE PARK

This Allegany County state park originated in large part from a donation of land by Edward Habeeb, a local florist and turn-of-the-century Lebanese immigrant. His donation, along with those of some 40 other local landowners, led to the construction of a dam built by the Army Corps of Engineers in 1970 and the formation of the 243-acre Lake Habeeb. Officially opened in 1974, the day-use area of the 3,000-plus acre state park is situated on the former Clover Hill dairy farm. The Rocky Gap Casino Resort here is privately owned and operated.

Blue is the warmest color: Rocky Gap Run, which winds its way through a mile-long gorge of cliffs and dense hemlock forest, feeds Lake Habeeb, which is known for having the bluest water in the state. Evitts Mountain, named for one of the first European settlers in the area, overlooks the lake.

Go for: Mountain biking, hiking, and boating.

Can’t miss: The Rocky Gap State Park Aviary.

Maryland - America in Miniature
Maryland - America in Miniature
ANTIETAM NATIONAL BATTLEFIELD

5831 Dunker Church Rd., Sharpsburg

Seventy-two miles west of Baltimore is the site of the 12-hour Battle of Antietam, where some 23,000 Union and Confederate soldiers were killed, wounded, or lost on September 17, 1862. The epic Civil War bloodbath ended Gen. Robert E. Lee’s first foray into the North and prompted President Lincoln to pen his preliminary Emancipation Proclamation.

CRYSTAL GROTTOES CAVERNS

19821 Shepherdstown Pike, Boonsboro

The only “show cave” in Maryland, these Washington County caverns were discovered in 1920 and opened to the public two years later. Good news: The passages are generally high, if narrow. Also: bring a jacket for the 30-35 minute tour, the temperature remains in the 50s all year round.

CRANSVILLE SWAMP PRESERVE

Lake Ford Rd., Garrett County

The unique swamp—one of the coolest and wettest places in the state—is similar in landscape to the habitat in northern Canada’s bo-real forests due to its “frost pocket.” There are five trails here, including a quartermile boardwalk.

EMMANUEL EPISCOPAL CHURCH

16 Washington St., Cumberland

The tunnels under the 1850-built Emmanuel Parish Church were the last Underground Railway stop in slave territory for African Americans headed north past the Mason-Dixon line.

FORT FREDERICK STATE PARK

11100 Fort Frederick Rd., Big Pool

The large, restored stone Fort Frederick served as an active frontier fortification during the French and Indian War and prisoner-of-war camp during the American Revolutionary War.

Maryland - America in Miniature
LEFTY GROVE MEMORIAL PARK

2 Union St., Lonaconing

The statue and mini baseball diamond here honor the Hall of Fame pitcher from Western Maryland.

LOVER’S LEAP

Wills Mountain, Cumberland

According to lore, a white hunter and the daughter of a Native American chief jumped to their deaths after her father refused to approve their marriage.

Maryland - America in Miniature
HOYE-CREST SUMMIT

Backbone Mountain, Garrett County

Maryland’s highest point is named for Capt. Charles E. Hoye, founder of the Garrett County Historical Society, and at an elevation of 3,360 feet is a remarkable, accessible hike from Route 219.

PAW PAW TUNNEL

Oldtown

One of the most notable landmarks on the C&O Canal Towpath, the Paw Paw Tunnel—named after the Maryland fruit—has a colorful history, including fistfights between boatsmen who sometimes refused to yield the right-of-way. It’s also said to be haunted.

WASHINGTON COUNTY MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS

401 Museum Dr., Hagerstown

Situated in City Park, this is one of the most remarkable and comprehensive smalltown art museums in the country. By itself, it’s worth a trip to Washington County from Baltimore.

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]]> Turning Tides https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/historypolitics/eastern-shore-begins-to-reckon-with-difficult-history-racism-slavery/ Tue, 16 Feb 2021 05:00:56 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?post_type=article&p=103882

After decades of silence, the Eastern Shore begins to reckon with its difficult history.

By Lydia Woolever

Photography by Greg Kahn

History & Politics

Turning Tides

After decades of silence, the Eastern Shore begins to reckon with its difficult history.

By Lydia Woolever
Photography by Greg Kahn



Talbot County Courthouse, circa 1920s. Courtesy of Talbot Historical Society.

AN ORDINARY WEEKEND in downtown Easton, the brick sidewalks are mostly empty, save for the occasional local out for a stroll or a handful of tourists taking in the iconic Colonial architecture of Maryland’s Eastern Shore. With only 16,000 residents, it’s the second-biggest town on the peninsula, a quaint yet popular stopover for folks from Baltimore and Washington, D.C., on their way to Ocean City.

But on a Saturday afternoon this past August, a commotion could easily be heard from several blocks away as some hundred people gathered at the Talbot County Courthouse. Wearing masks and holding signs, their voices carried as they answered a call of “Whose courthouse?” with a unified “Our courthouse!” from a grassy lawn in front of the looming government building, built in 1794.

Talbot County Courthouse, circa 1920s. Courtesy of Talbot Historical Society.

Four days earlier, the Talbot County Council had convened inside the South Wing, sitting along a dark wooden bench separated by plexiglass dividers beneath the official seal of “Tempus Praeteritum Et Futurum,” or “Times, Past and Future,” as they voted on an issue that had grown increasingly urgent as months wore on. Earlier in the summer, after a thousand protestors rallied outside on Washington Street following the police killing of George Floyd, calls for Black Lives Matter quickly dovetailed with a demand to remove the “Talbot Boys.”

The Talbot Boys statue in December 2020.

In front of the courthouse’s grand entrance, the bronze statue, erected in 1916, depicts a young Confederate soldier carrying a Confederate battle flag atop a granite base that bears the names of 96 local Confederate soldiers and the inscription “1861-1865 C.S.A.,” or Confederate States of America.

“George Floyd’s death tugged at the conscience of this country, and people began to connect it to Confederate monuments and the messages that they send,” says Richard Potter, an Easton native and head of the local NAACP, who as a boy was mesmerized by the childlike soldier, sensing he must have done something special to receive such a significant perch, only years later becoming rattled by its history. “The courthouse is meant to be a place where we can go and get a fair and just trial. And yet to get inside, Black people have to walk past a monument that says you belong in bondage.”

Of course, this was not the first time that Easton residents had called for the statue’s removal. In 2015, Potter made the request after a white supremacist murdered nine people at the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina. Following a closed-door vote that violated Maryland’s open meetings law, the council unanimously chose to keep the statue where it stood. In 2017, calls came again after a white nationalist rally left one protestor dead in Charlottesville, Virginia. And again in 2020, when some 700 letters, including one from this writer, flooded the inboxes of the county councilmembers, as similar monuments came down all across the United States.

Protest at the Talbot County Courthouse, Easton, 8/15/2020

It was these events, and further conversations with community members, that inspired Council President Corey Pack to propose the removal of the Talbot Boys last summer, even after voting to keep it in 2015, at the time reasoning that it was a piece of history. “A man who fails to change his mind will never change the world that’s around him,” said Pack—the council’s first and only Black member—as the conversation grew contentious leading up to the vote that August evening.

Other council members—Chuck Callahan, Frank Divilio, and Laura Price—expressed opposition to the resolution, pointing to the COVID-19 pandemic, limited public input, and even the inability of the deceased Confederate honorees to be present. Price, in a previous meeting, also resisted the adoption of a diversity statement. “We have a lot of other problems here—I don’t think that this is one of them,” she said, referring to county government, though for many, speaking directly to the larger failure of the town, state, and country to reckon with its racial past and present.

In the end, the council voted 3-2 to keep the Talbot Boys—believed to be the last Confederate monument, outside battlefields and cemeteries, on public property in Maryland.

“The removal of this monument would not change the history of this county,” said councilmember Pete Lesher that evening. The local historian co-sponsored the resolution for removal, despite being a descendent of men listed on the statue’s base. “But the number who have expressed their feelings on this matter have made it clear that this is indeed a powerful symbol, and our actions on it tonight, I’m afraid, sadly speak of who we are now as a county, and the extent to which we have not yet changed.”

Within a matter of minutes, a protest emerged outside of the council’s windows, with demonstrators chanting, “Take it down,” “Vote them out,” and “Black Lives Matter,” causing the meeting to end early.

Council members Corey Pack, left, and Pete Lesher, right, inside the Easton courthouse.
Frederick Douglass, circa 1855. Courtesy of THS.

A DECADE AGO, a different monument sparked debate in Easton—an increasingly sophisticated center of art and dining on the Eastern Shore. In 2011, a bronze statue of Frederick Douglass, arguably the region’s most famous son, was also erected on the courthouse lawn, but only after seven years of infighting, including objections from local veterans, and the margin of a single council vote, only under the condition that it not exceed the size of other statues, aka the Talbot Boys.

The famed abolitionist was long seen as a sort of balance to the Confederate soldier, whose cause sought to uphold slavery, as detailed in the C.S.A.’s founding documents. But today, the Douglass statue tells a broader story—his raised fist and defiant stance serving as a potent reminder of the horrors and hardships overcome by Black people in this town, and across the Eastern Shore.

Douglass was born into slavery around 1818, just 12 miles from where his monument now stands, becoming one of hundreds of enslaved African Americans on Wye Plantation, the largest of its kind on the Shore. “It was in this dull, flat, and unthrifty district . . . surrounded by a white population of the lowest order . . . and among slaves, who seemed to ask, ‘Oh! What’s the use?’ every time they lifted a hoe, that I . . . was born, and spent the first years of my childhood,” wrote Douglass in his memoir, My Bondage and My Freedom.

Corn crib at the Wye House plantation in Talbot County. Courtesy of THS.

In many ways, it can be said that the African-American experience began in this place, this region—on the Chesapeake Bay—when the first captured Africans arrived in Jamestown, Virginia, in 1619. But it wasn’t until changes in the trans-Atlantic slave trade and the expansion of tobacco plantations by the early 1700s that slavery took full root in Maryland. Tens of thousands of men, women, and children of African descent were brought by boat to tidewater ports that speckled these shorelines, tangling race and economics in a brutal web for centuries, particularly on the Eastern Shore—a 110-mile stretch of low-lying hinterlands separated from the rest of the state by the continent’s largest estuary.

By the time of Douglass’ birth, declining tobacco prices and overworked soil caused local farmers to shift to less labor-intensive grains, with many choosing to save money by hiring seasonal workers over supporting enslaved people year-round. Coinciding with a growing abolitionist movement that flourished in towns like Easton thanks to congregations of Quakers and Methodists, some slaves were released from bondage. But thousands of others were doomed to be sold from the Chesapeake to the booming cotton plantations of the Deep South as part of the Second Middle Passage, sometimes referred to as slavery’s Trail of Tears.

The Wye House plantation, circa 1892. Courtesy of THS.

On the Eastern Shore, these changes created a unique scenario, where the remaining enslaved people—some 35,000 in 1820—lived alongside some of the state’s largest populations of free Black people, and where some of the oldest African-American communities still stand today.

By its very nature, says Patrick Nugent, deputy director of the the Starr Center for the Study of the American Experience at Washington College in Chestertown, the Eastern Shore is in the middle of nowhere, but also in the middle of everywhere, close to urban centers like Baltimore, D.C., and Philadelphia, and yet isolated, geographically—with slavery in many ways at its historical center. For that, he says, to this day, “It is a crossroads of American politics, environments, and cultures that has led to a really complex history.”

In many ways, it can be said that the African-American experience began on the Chesapeake Bay, when the first captured africans arrived in Jamestown in 1619.
Loblolly pines in the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge in Dorchester County.

AND THAT INTERSECTION reached its apex leading up to the Civil War. Maryland’s below-the-Mason-Dixon-Line, border-state identity led to stark divisions of sentiments and sympathies, notably in rural communities like the Eastern Shore, where the economy relied on a racial caste system, with the local state legislature even considering secession in 1861. Ultimately, Talbot County sent more than 300 soldiers to the Union Army, but even after the Emancipation Proclamation, life changed slowly here, if much at all. Postwar “Black codes” and eventually Jim Crow laws kept wealth, resources, and power largely in the hands of white landowners, influencing housing, education, and employment for decades to come. Into the 20th century, African Americans often worked as low-wage farmhands and laborers in seafood-packing houses. Then Shore towns were hit hard by the Great Depression, still isolated from the rest of the state until the first Bay Bridge span in 1952, with that economic plight causing many to move away to industrialized cities throughout the Great Migration. Next generations would never return.

Women picking crabs and an oyster tonger. Courtesy of THS.

“I grew up in a middle-class environment, but I saw what other Blacks less fortunate than I had to deal with every day,” said Gloria Richardson of her life there in the 1930s and 40s during an interview with The Washington Post last December. A photograph of the young civil rights leader—pushing aside a National Guard bayonet during a 1963 demonstration over equal access for Black residents in Cambridge—remains an indelible image from that period. “Even today, until everyone is on the same plane, then the fight continues. This fight is still the same fight as before.”

Today, Dorchester County has a population of 32,000, more than 26 percent of whom are Black. But only 500 of the 2,800 businesses are minority-owned, and Black people are nearly twice as likely to be unemployed or living in poverty compared to their white counterparts. Those numbers are comparable, or worse, across the rest of the Eastern Shore, where school systems feature few teachers or principals of color, if any. Even after the Brown v. Board of Education decision in 1954, some counties did not integrate until 1969—the last in Maryland.

“We are concerned for our children,” says Adrian Holmes, founder of the Alpha Genesis Community Development Corporation in Cambridge, who is currently working to incorporate more diverse programming into the county’s public-school system. “We are not addressing this community with respect to its history. And so the ones who can find their way leave, and the ones who remain continue to struggle. We have to find more support for them, not just giving them money or housing, but addressing that systemic legacy.”

Politics also remain predominantly white—Somerset County elected its first Black politician in 2010—as does the judicial system, with courthouse ornaments like the Talbot Boys less symbolizing justice than serving as an icon of the old guard.

But 30 miles south of Cambridge in Salisbury, one historical marker dedicated to a Confederate general, considered a war criminal by historians, was removed last summer after more than 50 years. It had originally been installed in 1965—the same year that the Ku Klux Klan reemerged in Maryland after more than four decades, in Cecil County no less—on the site of a former historically Black neighborhood, which had been razed to make room for highways. In the 1980s, it was moved to the Wicomico County Courthouse, where slaves were once held, and a white mob lynched 18-year-old Garfield King in 1898, then Matthew Williams in 1931. In 2020, the metal plaque came down quietly with a final call from county executive Bob Culver, who succumbed to cancer a month later.

At least 40 of the more than 4,000 Black Americans lynched during the Jim Crow era were murdered in Maryland, with 11 on the Eastern Shore—a disproportionate share per capita. The state’s last recorded lynching took place in Princess Anne in 1933, when George Armwood’s gruesome killing was witnessed by as many as 2,000 white spectators, in part on the courthouse grounds, within sight of the region’s only historically Black college. Several lynchings took place in this most public square, as did one attempted lynching of Isaiah Fountain in 1920 at the courthouse jail in Easton, where he was ultimately hung. In each case, no suspects were ever found guilty.

STATE TROOPERS MEET AN ANGRY CROWD IN SALISBURY WHILE ATTEMPTING TO ARREST SUSPECTS IN THE 1933 LYNCHING OF GEORGE ARMWOOD. SEGREGATED SALISBURY CIRCA 1930S. COURTESY OF LIBRARY OF CONGRESS AND NABB RESEARCH CENTER, SALISBURY UNIVERSITY, RESPECTIVELY.

It was during this time, in the early 1900s, that the Talbot Boys statue was erected— half a century after the Civil War, amidst the box-office success of D.W. Griffith’s The Birth of a Nation, the revival of the Ku Klux Klan, and the violent rise of Jim Crow. Like these lynchings, its placement on the courthouse lawn—the epicenter of these small communities—was by no coincidence.

“None of these towns bears in its public space tangible evidence that it has acknowledged and come to terms with its racially violent history,” wrote Sherrilyn Ifill, president of the NAACP Legal Defense and Education Fund, in her book, On the Courthouse Lawn, in 2007. “The assumption of most whites is that this history is dead, unimportant, and irrelevant to the modern reality of life on the Eastern Shore. But in fact a town’s reputation as a racially violent one often lives on in the lore shared among Blacks.”

Tidal marsh in Blackwater.

ON THE EASTERN SHORE, the scales of history and heritage have long been tipped in the white direction, from the weathered complexion of the bay’s beloved watermen to its reputation as a verdant vacationland rooted in abundant agriculture, rarely with reference to the Black contribution to either. In fact, many outsiders (known as “come heres”) and residents (known as “from heres”) alike still don’t know that this region was once home to two Tuskegee Airmen, or a Buffalo Soldier, or the second president of Liberia.

But Clara Small, a retired Salisbury University history professor and Ph.D., is hoping to change that. “Blacks have never done anything in this country, and definitely not on the Eastern Shore,” a white student once told her. She went home that night and wrote 32 pages. Her third volume of Compass Points, a collection of African-American biographies from across the peninsula, is near release.

“I’ve always said that if you drop a compass here, and expand it 60 to 90 degrees, you’ll find homesites of the most important African Americans, not just on Delmarva, but in the state, in the nation, and sometimes internationally,” says Small, 74. “The Eastern Shore is one of the richest areas in this country in terms of African-American history. As a historian, I must footnote everything. My goal is to get the information out, so hopefully it gets passed on.”

A carte de visite of Tubman seated, circa mid-1800s.

During the days of slavery, the region’s sheer geography established a sense of isolation for African Americans—bookended by the bay and Atlantic Ocean, carved with a labyrinth of tributaries—but also channels of information. While traveling along the Chesapeake, visiting Black sailors helped spread news, as well as stories of freedom. And after one failed attempt landed him in the Easton jail, Frederick Douglass eventually fled north via train from Baltimore’s President Street Station—then hired out as a ship’s caulker—while disguised as one of these very seafarers.

On land, another important network connected them as well, including several key stops in Dorchester County, where the long, flat roads fall into inky black marsh, and the Eastern Shore’s most famous daughter was born around 1822. Today, numerous relics of Harriet Tubman appear between dying stands of loblolly pine along the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge, from her likely birth site to her place of employment at the Bucktown General Store, plus other locations said to have been involved in the Underground Railroad, all now part of a 223-mile federal byway in her honor. Tubman famously returned to the Shore at least 13 times after her own escape to free more than 70 friends and family members. And these days, community members in nearby Cambridge plan to memorialize those heroic efforts by erecting her statue at the local courthouse—one block from the “Black Lives Matter” mural recently painted on Race Street, which was once the town’s unofficial dividing line.

The peninsula’s geography, bookended by the bay and atlantic ocean, established a sense of isolation for african americans, but also channels of information.
Bucktown General Store, where Harriet Tubman worked in Dorchester County.

Small was initially drawn to the Eastern Shore by a fascination with Tubman and Douglass, and her work has only become more relevant in recent years. The North Carolina native sees the racist mindsets of her former students persisting in towns like Salisbury, if not on the rise since the 2016 presidential election. She compares the Shore to Southern states like Mississippi, though the latter did willingly remove the Confederate symbol from its state flag last year. And yet it is not uncommon to still see that emblem here, flying outside of backwoods homes or brandished across the belt buckles and bumper stickers of certain white residents.

In this summer’s protests over the Talbot Boys, some young men protectively encircled the statue’s base, with one carrying just the red-and-white portion of the Maryland state flag—a symbol of the Confederacy. It wasn’t that many years ago, either, when in 1987, the Ku Klux Klan rallied on that same courthouse lawn in Easton, showing support for Tilghman Island residents who burned a cross into the yard of the town’s only Black family. Today, there are whispers of local Proud Boys.

“People might think it’s a thing of the past, but it still informs the present,” says Small. “The only place I’ve ever been called the N-word to my face is on the Eastern Shore—two times. I said preface it with ‘doctor.’”

Meanwhile, Salisbury’s Lynching Memorial Task Force is also working closely with city government to bring the region’s dark past into the light. This month, the group will install a plaque at the courthouse for the local victims, also honoring an unidentified Black man, whose burned body was discovered the morning after white residents dragged the deceased Matthew Williams behind a car through the streets of Black neighborhoods. And similar initiatives are underway all across the Shore and state via the Maryland Lynching Truth and Reconciliation Commission, established by the General Assembly in 2019.

“It took years to convince our local Black community to have this conversation because the wounds were still fresh,” says task force co-chair Amber Green, also noting that many lifelong residents had never even heard of the lynchings, which were largely ignored by the local press. (Damning coverage in national media, including the Baltimore Sun, inspired newspaper boycotts that cut off outside views well into the 1970s.) “There was a lot of hesitancy,” she continues. “There are still living relatives of Matthew Williams, and of the man who he was accused of murdering. But we continued to push the message that domestic terrorism has a direct result in our country’s, and county’s, disparities. A lot of people just assume that the past is the past, get over it. But all of it is connected.”

As the founder of the nonprofit Fenix Youth Project, Green helped lead the four-year effort to remove the town’s Confederate marker last summer, and is now spearheading a racial justice essay contest for local students. Following George Floyd’s death, she was also part of numerous marches that filled the streets of Salisbury. Within weeks, Broad Street, chosen for its proximity to the courthouse, was renamed Black Lives Matter Boulevard.

“We are in 2021, and we have been talking about the same issues since the 1930s, the 1960s,” says Green, 30, who nonetheless sees a course correction coming. “I don’t hope for change, I expect it.”

View through the trees of a mural painted on the side of the Harriet Tubman Museum in Cambridge.

ON THE SURFACE, at least, the prospect of change seems especially apparent in Chestertown, where in 1882, Gordon Wallace’s great-great grandfather was one of the men who founded Sumner Hall, a veteran’s post for Black Union soldiers. More than 400 Black Kent Countians fought for the Union, as documented in a granite monument downtown, much like the founders of Unionville, located on the way to the Wye Plantation in Easton, who are laid to rest in the cemetery behind St. Stephens A.M.E. Church.

Marker declaring Unionville a “historic African-American community settled by ex-slaves and free Blacks.”

Wallace now works at Sumner Hall, which reopened as a museum and education space in 2014 after decades of disrepair, and through relationships made there, he helped design two street murals in support of racial justice this summer, just around the corner on the town’s main thoroughfare.

“At the time, murals were popping up in other states, and I thought it was pretty cool that we were going down that path,” says Wallace, 23. “It was a good way of starting the conversation. Everyone can interpret art on their own time. Though I was a little surprised by the initial pushback.”

He’s referring to the three-hour meeting in August, where members of Chestertown’s majority-white council were hesitant to adopt the murals— one in the heart of the historic downtown to read “Black Lives Matter,” and a second, four blocks north in the Black neighborhood of Uptown, stating “We Can’t Breathe.”

Cemetery behind St. Stephens A.M.E. Church in Unionville.

The mayor cited concerns such as potential legal exposure, long-term maintenance, and the possibility of vandalism. (Threats did roll in from a Facebook group called the Kent Island Patriots in nearby Queen Anne’s County. “I’ve got some big fat tires I’ve been waiting to burn off,” said one member.) Meanwhile, some residents felt the effort was little more than white guilt from the town’s many liberal retirees. But in the end, after a slew of public comments, both were unanimously approved, adding the tagline “Chestertown Unites Against Racism” to each.

Where the downtown mural is now painted, High Street follows leafy brick sidewalks past Georgian- style homes with historic bronze plaques before ending at the Chester River, a bustling slave port until as late as 1770. Over the next nearly two centuries, like elsewhere on the Shore, the legacy of slavery would take on new forms, like segregated restaurants, theaters, schools, and hospitals, with Blacks and whites still living in separate silos across the county today.

At the same time, these African-American communities became sources of great pride, with a vibrant Black business district downtown on Cannon Street through the first half of the 20th century. Here, a Black entrepreneur sold square-foot lots to his neighbors, ultimately affording them the right to vote. Meanwhile, in Uptown, a Black school was named after Henry Highland Garnet, an internationally known abolitionist born into slavery in Kent County, while Charlie Graves’ Uptown Club became a destination on the “Chitlin’ Circuit,” drawing acts such as James Brown and Ray Charles.

Much of the old African-American neighborhoods have succumbed to gentrification or been replaced by affordable housing, but the Bethel A.M.E. and Janes United Methodist churches, past which Freedom Riders marched in 1962, are still anchors, with roots to the 1800s.

“This is a place where, in the face of all of this systemic oppression, African-American communities were able to build churches, businesses, schools—and those legacies still exist to this day,” says Nugent of Washington College, where he is also director of Chesapeake Heartland, an African-American humanities project in collaboration with the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture. “One is hard-pressed to find that type of deep-rooted legacy, dating back to the 1600s, elsewhere across the United States.”

A grassroots-style initiative, Chesapeake Heartland is working to document local Black life here, centering the often untold stories of African-American resilience, achievement, and excellence over the adversity. The program’s recently acquired “humanities truck” will serve as a mobile museum at events around the Shore, while their digital archive, launching this month, will feature a collage of oral histories and archival materials.

“African-American history on the Eastern Shore has been channeled through a few singular heroes, but that larger, complex, more nuanced story has not been fully recognized,” says Nugent. “Douglass and Tubman were geniuses, but they were also members of communities, and their success in so many ways came out of the other men and women who grew those networks, which brings out a notion that’s much more interesting. Not just that these two incredible people rose, but the shoulders of giants that they stood on.”

Images from the Chesapeake Heartland digital archive.
Courtesy of Chesapeake Heartland.

In September, Chestertown released a 16-month anti-racism plan that includes an apology for slavery, the establishment of an equity advisory committee, and offical support for existing community efforts. Those include Sumner Hall’s Legacy Day celebration of African-American culture, the Black Union of Kent County’s Juneteenth festival, which launched last year around the town fountain, and the James Taylor Lynching Remembrance Coalition, which seeks to memorialize a 23-year-old Black man lynched by a white mob near the Kent County Courthouse in 1892.

“When everything happened [last] summer, my uncle was telling me about the civil rights movement,” says Wallace. “It made me look back for comparisons between what happened then and what’s happening now. And in a Malcolm X speech, he mentioned Gloria Richardson. He said it would be these small communities, these rural areas, that would step up and make change when they say, ‘we’re here.’ Knowing everything that happened on the Eastern Shore makes this different. That is what makes this real.”

Notably, the police department has also revised its “use-of-force” policy to include a duty to intervene. The Eastern Shore has not escaped the plague of police-related deaths of Black people in modern-day America.

In 2018, 19-year-old Anton Black, who was born in Chestertown, was killed under the weight of three law enforcement officers outside of his mother’s home in nearby Caroline County. This past December, Black’s family filed a federal lawsuit alleging excessive force by officers and ensuing efforts to cover up those actions by public officials, as it would take an entire year for the cop, Thomas Webster IV, to lose his certification, only after it was revealed that he failed to disclose dozens of use-of-force reports from his previous post in Delaware. And this year, after failing to advance last session due to COVID-19, lawmakers also plan to reintroduce Anton’s Law, which would require more transparency and accountability from Maryland police departments.

Black’s death, brutally captured on body-camera footage and so similar to that of George Floyd’s, is what sparked Wanda Boyer, a Chestertown native, to lead the effort to install those local murals, along with fellow town activists Arlene Lee and Maria Wood. “Being so close to home, the illusion was over, it was time for us to do something,” says Boyer, 57, who grew up in the Uptown neighborhood. “From the beginning, I knew that even if the murals didn’t get passed, they would at least start some conversations. But it’s also about bringing action . . . I am cautiously keeping hope alive. All we’ve had is hope.”

“He said it would be these small communities, these rural areas, that would step up and make change when they say, ‘we’re here.’”
Mural painting in Chestertown. Courtesy of Shore Studios.

“BACKWARDS” HAS LONG BEEN a term used to describe this landscape of backroads and backwaters—in many ways, justly so, as many of these small towns still feel stuck in something closer to the middle of the 20th century than 21 years into the 21st. On the Eastern Shore, past remains prologue, and decades of silence leave old wounds unhealed.

“No racial reconciliation process can succeed without providing [the] opportunity for truth-telling,” wrote Ifill in On the Courthouse Lawn. “But merely providing victims and their descendants the opportunity to tell their stories is not enough. The stories must be heard. It is in the telling and hearing of formerly silenced stories that communities can recreate themselves.”

In the weeks following the Talbot Boys vote, a group of concerned citizens formed in Easton to hold regular rallies on the courthouse lawn during the county council’s Tuesday night meetings. Its members sought financial pledges from community members to fund the statue’s removal—they’ve raised at least $40,000 thus far—as well as a site for its relocation, though the local cemeteries and historical society are not interested.

Fredrick Douglass statue in Easton.

During the winter months, they circulated bright yellow yard signs that read “Move Talbot’s Confederate Monument” in capital letters (which were quickly countered by pro-statue placards declaring “Preserve Talbot History”), and began efforts to engage political leaders on state and national levels. A separate, community-led Racial Equity Task Force of Talbot County also plans to release a report on inequities across a variety of local sectors.

As of early January, the Talbot Boys statue still stands, with the council members who voted to keep the Confederate monument suggesting that the issue be pushed to an unlikely ballot measure in 2022. Both Corey Pack and Pete Lesher feel that the decision should ultimately be left to them as elected officials, and hold out hope for a change of heart among their colleagues, who did not return requests for comment.

“Those statues cannot speak words, but they do speak volumes,” says Pack. “If the elected body ever reaches a point that it can say, ‘This statue no longer represents what we believe in as citizens of this county,’ it still doesn’t remove the stain. You never remove that history. But what a strong symbol to the community, that we are moving collectively in the right direction, in an area where so much history has taken place. That’s a great American story to be told.”

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]]> Cake Boss https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/fooddrink/smith-island-baking-cake-carries-on-multilayered-source-maryland-pride/ Wed, 14 Oct 2020 15:57:32 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?post_type=article&p=98614

CROSS THE BAY BRIDGE onto the Eastern Shore, and you’ll likely see signs for Smith Island cake at nearly every seafood shack and produce stand that dots the string of tiny towns on the 115-mile drive down to the tip of the peninsula in Crisfield. Every person has their own riff on the iconic layer cake, but here, in Crisfield, the Smith Island Baking Company is the only bakery that bears the name of the 400-year-old remote fishing village located just over the Tangier Sound, and whose fame over the last 11 years has led to the shipping of cakes across the country.

Prior to the COVID crisis, theirs was the Smith Island cake you could eat at Nordstrom’s café, the Silver Diner, Harris Teeter, McCormick & Schmick’s Seafood & Steaks, and Oriole Park at Camden Yards. And devotees can be found way beyond the bay.

“I’ll never forget, I got a call from a guy in Beverly Hills on a Friday afternoon,” says the baking company’s founder Brian Murphy. “He said, ‘My wife is going to kill me. She wanted a Smith Island cake for her birthday and her birthday is tomorrow.’ By Saturday, he had one of our cakes.” Coincidentally, on that same Friday afternoon, a customer “wanted a Smith Island cake while elk hunting in Idaho,” recalls Murphy. “I sent a cake there, too.”

“We ship to a lot of names you’d recognize,” adds Murphy. “The highest people in government, the most famous athletes and actors you’ve heard of—at the end of the day, they just want a great cake.”

Not bad for a regional specialty that’s long kept a low profile in Eastern Shore church basements but is now widely known beyond the mid-Atlantic. That’s in large part thanks to the bakery, which baked its first cake on Smith Island on June 24, 2009, before relocating to the mainland of Crisfield seven years later. Today, “let them eat cake” is the actual business motto.

FOR CENTURIES, THE CAKES HAVE BEEN A SYMBOL OF CELEBRATION, FELLOWSHIP, AND COMMUNITY.

While working as a commodities trader for Constellation Energy, Murphy enrolled in an M.B.A. program at the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School of Business to further his career. When his department was eliminated, the father of seven knew that he wanted to start his own business. He considered going into textiles or lumber, but on his mother’s birthday on February 8, 2009, he found his true calling. “We were eating a Smith Island cake,” he says. “I grew up on the Eastern Shore but had never had one before.”

The slice of signature Maryland cake—slathered with fudge between every ultra-thin, buttery layer—was a gustatory revelation. And Murphy was surprised to learn that the namesake island, where it’s believed that oystermen’s wives concocted towering treats to fortify their seafaring husbands during the fall oyster harvest, never had its own official bakery to produce the famed cakes deemed the state dessert in 2008.

For centuries, the cakes—whipped up in home kitchens—have stood as a symbol of celebration, fellowship, and community. “After I ate my mother’s cake, I took a ferry to Smith Island and met with Mary Ada Marshall,” says Murphy, “the patroness of Smith Island cakes and the person who spearheaded the idea of making it the state dessert.”

Murphy spoke with Marshall about his idea of opening a bakery on the island, a small, remote speck on the Chesapeake Bay just above the Virginia line with no local government, no traffic lights, no grocery stores, and several churches.

“At the end of our conversation, she prayed for me,” he says, smiling at the memory. “I said to her, ‘You prayed for me,’” he recounts. “And she said, ‘Honey, you can’t live in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay and not pray.’” So, with the blessing of Marshall and her cohort of “cake ladies,” Murphy opened the Smith Island Baking Company, employing a small staff of locals in a place where employment can be hard to find.

 

From top: Stacking the layers; a baker at work; Cookies and Cream Smith Island Cake; icing the layers; the goods get loaded for shipping.

Murphy himself, 43, is an Eastern Shore native, a former soccer player at University of Maryland, and a born businessman. He speaks in slogans, wears a wide smile—and the company baseball cap stitched with the bakery’s logo. He’s also fond of cracking corny jokes and calls himself “a spreadsheet cowboy,” which is an important skill, when it comes to counting cakes or sacks of flour, without a pencil or pad of paper. “Baking is a math problem,” he likes to point out.

Sure, he’s not one of the old country hair-netted ladies one envisions working behind the scenes of this pastoral cake shop—in fact, his executive chef is 26-year-old Garrett Lee—but the Wharton grad can be credited with bringing this iconic cake out of obscurity and sharing its deliciousness far and wide.

“It’s an honor to make these cakes and carry on the tradition,” says Lee, who as an Eastern Shore native, is well aware of the legacy.

“WE MAKE THESE CAKES AS CLOSE TO SMITH ISLAND AS WE CAN WITHOUT GETTING WET.”

In its first month on the island, the bakery made $248.50 in revenue. (“I bought a couple of cakes to pad the numbers,” Murphy says laughing.) “We shipped cakes at ambient temperature through the U.S. Postal Service,” he recalls. But within six months, thanks to a story in The Washington Post, the bakery went from selling a few cakes a week to nearby locales to sending cakes to all 50 states, 2,500 cities, and seven countries.

In 2016, as the business grew, Murphy decided to relocate the bakery to the mainland, a stone’s throw from the city dock of Crisfield. Though the idea to open a bakery on the actual namesake island was a novel one, there were issues, too. The ferry left just once a day for the mainland and power was frequently lost, which meant that ingredients and frozen cakes had to be tossed and Murphy had constant concerns about food safety.

Shipping was often an issue, too. “You can’t run Jiffy Lube if you can’t change the oil,” says Murphy. “Each cake weighs five pounds. We were shipping 5,000 to 7,000 pounds of ingredients a month to the island, and then we’d send the cakes back and they’d get damaged on the ferry or melt in the coolers on the dock.” Ultimately, says Murphy, the business on Smith Island wasn’t sustainable, especially with the threat of constant flooding due to climate change.

“It got to the point where I realized that to grow the company, we had to leave the island,” he says. “But we still make these cakes as close to Smith Island as you can without getting wet.”

 

From top: Bakery facade; Building the layers; slicing the cake; bakery décor; the bakery floor.

Now, at his brick-and-mortar bakery in Crisfield, a timeworn town located in Somerset County just 10 miles from Smith Island by boat (and that bills itself as “The Crab Capital of the World”), Murphy, who commutes most days from his home in Easton, ships some 40,000 cakes a year, while also proudly disseminating the lure and the love of the bakery’s story. “When people hear about a Wharton M.B.A. who started a bakery on a tiny island, they order out of morbid curiosity,” says Murphy. “And then they eat it and go, ‘That’s the best cake I’ve ever had.’”

Although he recently learned that many of the men in his family were bakers, Murphy showed no interest in the art form until he opened his own bakery. Now, he’s incredibly proud of his product. “I don’t know how to make a better cake and the reason I know this is, if I did, we’d be making them,” he says. “If it were any moister, it wouldn’t come out of the pan. If there was any more leavening, it would have holes in it. This is literally the best cake I know how to make.” While most mass-produced baked goods are made by machines from mixes, Murphy’s cake are still made from scratch—and mostly by hand with the help of his staff of 10.

Ironically, Murphy says that when mixes came into favor in the early 1930s, the “ladies of Smith Island” concocted their confections straight from the back of a Betty Crocker box. “They used a box mix with a little doctoring up, and they’re very proud of that,” he says. “But I went to Smith Island and said, ‘You can’t say that this is a historic recipe and then use a box mix.’ I encouraged them to think of how their grandmother’s ‘made it from the stump,’ as they like to say. Their eyes lit up. I said, ‘Let’s take a step back and reinvent the entire platform.’”

“WE ARE THE IMPERFECT CUSTODIANS OF A MARYLAND TREASURE.”

 

Of course, the cake’s history dates back to a time long before there were mixes—or even ovens. “Back in the 1800s, they’d make them from scratch, probably in a skillet over a fire—they didn’t have ovens back then,” says Murphy. “How many layers they made is up for debate. Some say they made layers because it looked beautiful that way, others say it was a contest. They made this fudge frosting that supposedly lasted for months— and that’s the story—but how long does dairy at room temperature last?” Even if the cake’s origin story is an old wives’ tale, he says, “It’s a beautiful romance.”

Because of this variation in recipes, when it came to creating their own recipe, the bakery’s staff suggested having the local women bring in cakes and the employees would judge which was best. “I said, ‘I know I’m no expert on anything but that will be the best way to make these women hate each other forever,’” jokes Murphy. “‘Let’s just start from scratch.’”

 

Over many months, he and his team settled on their own version, as well as new flavors, such as chocolate peanut butter, strawberry banana, and red velvet. “We tweaked the recipe over time,” he says. “At first, we had too many dry ingredients, it was more like a pancake, and it’s become more moist and lighter over time. I can’t add more leavening, because then the cake will pop. If I add less, it won’t rise. If I change my acids and bases, it won’t have the same color,” he goes on, sounding more like a chemist than a baker. And all that perfection comes at a price. The cakes are $60 for a 5-pound one and $45 for a 2-pound one (plus tax and shipping).

Against the backdrop of a white board that keeps track of the time, the production process (today is a light day with 92 mini “picnic” cakes and 68 larger cakes), the goals, and inspirational posters like one that says, “Bake like a champion,” Murphy’s team cranks out cakes from roughly 8:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m., five days a week.

“No one person makes a cake,” Murphy points out. Rather, it’s a multi-faceted assembly line from the bakery floor inside the 13,000-square-foot former grocery store space that was abandoned for years after Hurricane Sandy. Filling 53 dumpsters, Murphy brought it back to life after a year. Today, the spick and span space, with state-of-the-art ovens, gargantuan walk-in freezers, and a labeling/shipping area, is a model of efficiency that makes it possible to ship several thousand cakes a month. While restaurant revenue and catering orders are way down, the bakery has seen a large uptick in online sales during the COVID crisis.

The making of the cake is a fairly simple process that entails mixing massive amounts of batter—a blend of sugar, flour, vanilla, and a pinch of salt, plus eggs and milk and butter (from local dairies)—then piping it into a machine known as The Depositor. The batter gets poured through what looks like a garden hose into a funnel while a baker directs the batter into cake tins. Next, the pancake-thin layers are baked for 13 minutes, then removed from their pans, where a machine plops icing on top. An employee helps spread the icing, while another stacks each layer until there are eight layers and another baker ices the top and sides of three-and-a-half inch cake with the help of a “top and side machine.”

Eventually, the whole creation is loaded into a freezer where it will later be shipped with a label that bears an image of the Maryland state flag. “I think we’ve come up with the optimized cake and it’s taken us 11 years of mea culpas,” says Murphy, who continues to tweak the recipe every year. “We are the imperfect custodians of a Maryland treasure, but despite our imperfections, we want to make it as perfect as we can.”

Murphy disappears through a door in the small storefront and heads back to bake, no doubt dreaming of new ways to spread this slice of Maryland history.

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]]> Harriet Tubman Continues to Inspire Artists https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/artsentertainment/harriet-tubman-continues-to-inspire-artists/ Fri, 07 Jun 2019 11:15:43 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=10150
Marcus Shelby2
Marcus Shelby wrote a Tubman-inspired suite of jazz songs. - Photo by Peter Varshavsky

Harriet Tubman left Dorchester County without a trace, covertly returning again and again to shepherd away slaves, so maybe it’s appropriate that such an underground legend still casts something of a fleeting image in her native region. There are, in fact, no elaborate memorials to Tubman in Dorchester, just a storefront museum in downtown Cambridge, a mural off Route 50 near the Food Lion, and a historic marker outside of town. If you turn off Route 50 onto Bucktown Road and drive the winding two-lane past the Bay Country Trailer Park and the old barrel factory near Indian Bone Road, you’ll come to the marker. Erected at the edge of a field surrounded by forest, it reads, “The ‘Moses of her people,’ Harriet Tubman of the Bucktown District found freedom for herself and some three hundred other slaves whom she led north. In the Civil War she served the Union Army as a nurse, scout and spy.”

It’s simple and dignified, and on a blustery day, two tourists from Western Massachusetts—Jonathan (who declined to give his last name) and his young son, Steven—stand before it. Returning from a trip to Chincoteague, Jonathan wanted to show Steven the birthplace of “a true American hero” and pulled off the highway. “I’m a little disappointed there isn’t more here, more to celebrate her,” he says. “But the landscape is amazing and gives you a sense of what she had to endure. I might get some good material out of it.”

Asked to elaborate, he explains he’s a folk-singer who has long admired Woody Guthrie’s “Harriet Tubman’s Ballad,” a fact confirmed by Steven’s head nod and slight eye roll. “She inspired a lot of people,” says Jonathan, before snapping a few photos with his phone and departing.

Tubman, who passed away 100 years ago, inspired many people, especially creative types. Her role as an artistic muse is an enduring, but often overlooked, aspect of her legacy, and she’s probably inspired more art than any other Marylander.

The amount of Tubman-related art is staggering. It includes paintings by Jacob Lawrence, numerous statues and sculptures, writings by poet Langston Hughes and novelist James McBride, and a wide array of music by jazz titans John Coltrane and Wynton Marsalis, country rockers The Long Ryders, composers Christian Wolff and Nkeiru Okoye, and folk/children’s duo Cathy Fink and Marcy Marxer. Tubman also gets shout-outs in songs by Janelle Monae, Stevie Wonder, Ice Cube, and Rah Digga (the self-described “Harriet Tubman of hip-hop”), and there’s even a Brooklyn-based experimental jazz band named after her.

Michelle Wilkinson, director of collections and exhibitions at the Reginald F. Lewis Museum of Maryland African-American History and Culture, thinks she knows why. “I wonder if Harriet Tubman resonates with so many artists because she was able to manifest her vision of freedom,” says Wilkinson. “Her life is a guiding light to those seeking a way forward.”

“She is a symbol of a way of thinking and a way of being,” says Melvin Gibbs, bassist in Harriet Tubman: the band. “There are so many levels you can grab onto when you’re dealing with who she was—like the fact that she wasn’t a military figure. It’s like your grandmother made you free, and that resonates in a whole different way.”

Jazz musician Marcus Shelby first learned about Tubman when his mother gave him a copy of Sarah Bradford’s book, Harriet Tubman: The Moses of Her People. It made a huge impression on Shelby, who was born in Alaska and raised in California. “Growing up in the 1970s, I didn’t hear many stories with black superheroes,” he says. “She was a black superhero to me.”

Years later, he came across Kate Clifford Larson’s biography of Tubman, Bound for the Promised Land, while browsing at Borders and found it “wildly inspiring.” By that time, he had attended Cal Arts and established himself in the San Francisco jazz scene. He started researching Tubman’s life and, in 2006, made a pilgrimage to Dorchester County, where he took note of “the different land, different earth, and different air. The people have a different rhythm, a slower pace, and that affects how they walk and talk.”

He later learned about Tubman singing spirituals and work songs and connected her to a lineage that includes Bessie Smith, Billie Holiday, and Nina Simone. He then translated those observations into rhythms and melodies and incorporated them into a jazz oratorio he wrote for Tubman. Released as a two-CD set, it’s a sprawling and swinging history lesson infused with gospel, blues, and jazz. Shelby performed it at the San Francisco Jazz Festival, and he’ll perform selections from it in Cambridge on March 10. “It’s all about the pursuit of freedom and being able to express yourself,” he says. “Harriet Tubman represents the best of us.”

Composer James Lee III feels similarly. Lee wrote “Chuphshah! Harriet’s Drive to Canaan,” an orchestral piece performed by the BSO in 2011. The year before, the Morgan State University professor visited Dorchester to “gather impressions” for the piece. He came away with deep appreciation for Tubman’s “steadfast determination,” a sentiment echoed by members of the Tubman band.

“Once you signed on to her mission, there was no turning back,” says Melvin Gibbs. “There’s no Plan B when you’re dealing with Harriet Tubman. You’re either gonna be free, or you’re gonna be free. Those are your options.”

“Her spirit wasn’t broken,” says drummer J.T. Lewis, “and we try to emulate that.”

“It makes you think about the type of person who accomplished all she did,” says guitarist Brandon Ross. “Many of us accept the historical narrative of her life without really connecting to the visceral details, about what was actually involved.”

Mark Priest strives to reflect those details in his paintings, which, for years, have focused on Tubman, slave life, and the Underground Railroad. The Louisville-based artist, who is exhibiting his paintings this month in Denton (which was a stop along the Underground Railroad), says he wanted to show all the “tugging and heaving, hoisting and dragging” and “depict the mental, emotional, and physical” strain experienced by Tubman and others.

Like Shelby and Lee, Priest also made the pilgrimage to Dorchester, where he perused historical documents, heard Tubman stories from locals, and kayaked through marshland. His Tubman series shows her, in addition to leading escaped slaves, working on a timber crew, trapping muskrats, and being struck in the head by an irate overseer. There’s also a piece portraying the frequent “sleeping spells” Tubman suffered as a result of that head injury.

When Priest speaks of Tubman, he sounds, at times, like he could be talking about a dedicated artist, a painter like himself or a musician such as Marcus Shelby. “The life Tubman chose was one of uncertainty,” he says. “Still, she carried on undaunted.”

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]]> Tidewater Tidings https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/travel/make-the-eastern-shore-your-home-for-the-holidays/ Tue, 27 Nov 2018 08:30:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=726

While December often hits Baltimore with slick sidewalks and the occasional heap of sooty snow, winter settles gently over Maryland’s Eastern Shore. Quiet harbors slowly ice in, waves of Canadian geese float in endless Vs over the stubble of empty cornfields. Here, the holidays are spent with family and friends, your wool socks kicked up by the woodstove, and your spoon scraping the dregs from a mug of oyster stew. It’s a place where the year’s bitter end is celebrated by traditions glowing with the patina of time and a connection to community, to the landscape, and to the Chesapeake Bay.

There’s never a better time of year to trade the glare of crowded shopping malls for something more authentic on the other side of the Bay Bridge. Whether it’s a crisp, rosy-cheeked foray to pick the perfect Blue Spruce, the electric glow of a crab basket Christmas tree, or a muskrat diving into the New Year, there’s something sure to spark every seasonal spirit, humbugs and all.

Laytons Chance Winery Img 5507
Courtesy of Layton's Chance Vineyard and Winery

Winter Waterland

In Baltimore, we have our hub caps, but across the Bay, nothing says “Happy holidays!” with a stronger Eastern Shore accent than a Christmas tree made of crab bushel baskets—an iconic piece of Chesapeake culture.

On December 1 at 5 p.m., kick off the seasonal festivities with a sky-high (and frankly spectacular) example that lights up at the beginning of the annual Cambridge Christmas Parade. A Dorchester County tradition for 70 years, it is a truly timeless piece of Chesapeake Americana and small-town nostalgia at its best. Held in the heart of the historic district, it features marching bands playing covers of “Jingle Bell Rock,” local kids throwing candy from sparkling floats, and Santa riding on a fire truck.

On December 1, Rock Hall gets in on the action with the lighting of their very own crab basket tree after Santa’s arrival via fishing charter boat. Welcomed by eager crowds and accompanied by live music courtesy of the local community marching band (including one hand-shaking, baby-hugging mascot crab), Saint Nick makes his way Pied-Piper-style from the public landing to Main Street, where he’ll post up near the tree to take requests from those on his Nice List.

On December 8, Tilghman Island gets in on the action at the Phillips Wharf Environmental Center with the lighting of another unique Eastern Shore Christmas tree—this one made of hundreds of stacked wire crab pots—followed by one of the shore’s several illuminated boat parades. Watch from the shoreline as the island’s floating fleet of classic Chesapeake workboats, including deadrises, skipjacks, and other iconic vessels, shed their work-day dredges for a splashy array of holiday lights that reflect softly on the bay.

Yuletide Tunes

If you think Christmas carols simply mean sweetly corny songs, funny bonnets, and that one tone-deaf singer never quite hitting his or her notes, you’ve never experienced the magic of classic holiday jams given the Postmodern Jukebox treatment.

On December 1, check out Motown & More, A Holiday Celebration at Easton’s venerable Avalon Theatre, where a six-piece ensemble of musicians and vocalists with serious chops redefine the meaning of Christmas slay with smooth covers of old favorites such as “Santa Baby” and “Silent Night.” The vintage hits keep coming on December 7 when the Avalon also hosts the Glenn Miller Orchestra Holiday Show. This iconic 18-member troupe is a time-machine to the era of Bing Crosby crooners and Big Band swing-dance classics, with plenty of throwback holiday favorites mixed in.

For a concert that covers more than just Christmas, check out Chester River Chorale’s December 1 concert up the road in Chestertown for arrangements of Chanukah and Christmas songs in a celebration of both the secular and the sacred.

Dickens Stories By The Fire Copy
Friday night of Dickens weekend brings fire pits, fire dancers and local notables reading holiday Stories by the Fire. - Carolyn Spencer Brown

Party Like Charles

If you do enjoy classic Christmas carols, be sure to visit Chestertown from December 7-9, when the Kent County town embraces its inner Fezziwig during the second annual Dickens of a Christmas Festival.

From top hats to plum pudding, fire dancers to Dickens-inspired street theater, Chestertown goes full Victorian all weekend long. Partake in a “Run Like the Dickens” 5K, participate in family-friendly gingerbread house workshops, tour historic houses, take afternoon teas, and attend a costumed 19th-century ball sure to be packed with bustles and waistcoats. On Saturday evening, High Street transforms into an open-air jubilee featuring live entertainment, microbrews, and convivial, communal fire pits—a perfect way to start the evening before heading to a performance of (what else?) Tiny Tim’s A Christmas Carol at the Garfield Center for the Arts.

Farther south, Berlin also celebrates the holidays with an entire month of Victorian Christmas with a decorated downtown, old-fashioned carriage rides, live music, and late-night shopping.

Piazza Hi Rez
Courtesy of Piazza Italian Market

Shop ’Til You Drop

The Eastern Shore has plenty of festive alternatives to perfunctory online shopping—no coupon codes necessary. Pick up something special IRL (that’s “in real life,” to the non-millennials) at these hometown holiday shopping events infused with local spirit.

On December 2, head to Kennedyville in Kent County for the Rivers to Canal Wineries Holiday Sip & Shop. Hosted by Crow Vineyards from Kent County, as well as Broken Spoke Vineyards and Chateau Bu-De from Cecil County, the vino-fueled fete is a great place to both taste new local wines and pick up a few bottles of your favorites for top-notch stocking stuffers.

If your vibe is more Etsy than Amazon, make way to Talbot County on December 7-9 to check out St. Michaels’ Marketplace and Sweet Shoppe, hosted by the town’s year-round Christmas store, for an old-school holiday bazaar. Browse original paintings, handmade jewelry and toys, one-of-a-kind decorations, and homemade jams and pies, all made by local artisans. Some of the proceeds go to a good cause, so don’t be afraid commit to the Season of Giving by grabbing a few extra collectors’ ornaments.

For more shopping, some favorite local gift stores include Twigs & Teacups in Chestertown, Piazza Italian Market in Easton, Bay Country Antiques in Cambridge, and Gilbert’s Provisions in Berlin.

Web Cawley Family Farm Tree
Courtesy of Amy and Charles Cawley

Deck The Halls

Let’s be honest: nobody wants a sad, dried-out Charlie Brown Christmas tree or a plastic wreath. Channel your inner Clark Griswold on a search for the freshest you-cut-it tree or sweetly scented garlands at some of the shore’s best farms and outdoor festivities.

Throughout December, Blue Heron Tree Farm in Centreville provides all the necessary equipment—from saws to wagons—for wandering through grassy rows of conifers on this 12-acre property in Queen Anne’s County. Pick up fresh greens or a tree stand while warming up with a hot cocoa in the onsite barn before heading back to Baltimore.

For folks tracking farther south, Cawley Family Farm in Denton has plenty of gorgeous spruces, pines, and firs to choose from, including lots of freshly harvested, pre-cut specimens in their barn. This Caroline County farm also offers custom wreaths made to order onsite, so call in advance to pick your perfect trimmings—just don’t forget the oyster shells!

Looking for a more natural approach to holiday greenery? Check out the Holiday Wreath Sale & Open House at Adkins Arboretum on December 1, where handmade decorations crafted from the Arboretum’s forests and gardens are available only once a year. Don’t miss the event’s pop-up art and pottery shop by local artists Irene and Paul Aspell, followed by a walk through the Arboretum’s winter landscapes to the Wildlife Tree, an evergreen decked with birdseed pinecones to sustain local feathered friends through the long winter.

Salisbury Bike Part Y 20171201 214645
Courtesy of Salisbury Bike PartY

Island of Misfit Toys

Sometimes you need a break from all the holiday pomp and circumstance. There’s only so many fruitcakes you can reasonably eat, after all. Break away from the ordinary with a few refreshingly unconventional approaches to the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.

On the evening of December 7, visit Layton’s Chance Vineyard and Winery in Vienna for Ugly Christmas Sweater Karaoke. Undoubtedly, the worse the sweater and the singing, the better the evening, so order a couple glasses of wine and commit to some seriously terrible renditions of “Baby It’s Cold Outside,” all in good (bad) fun.

Meanwhile, on December 14, you can mount up in Salisbury for the Bike Party: Holiday Lights Tour. This monthly cycle social will take a unique two-hour route to check out the Wicomico County town’s best light displays. Riders are encouraged to make their own spectacle by festooning themselves and their wheels in lights, garlands, bows, wrapping paper, ugly sweaters, menorahs, dreidels, and Seinfeld Festivus Poles, undoubtedly leaving a sea of amused onlookers in their wake.

Diving Into 2019

The lower Eastern Shore has long been defined by its abundant marshes, and in celebration, the lowly swamp-loving muskrat has been elevated to darling status in Dorchester and Somerset counties. No surprise, then, that the muskrat makes an appearance during the holiday season—and this time, not on a dinner plate.

On the last night of the month, head down to Princess Anne for perhaps the most tongue-in-cheek New Year’s Eve send-off on the entire Eastern Shore: The Midnight Muskrat Dive, kicking off at 9 p.m. In this wonderfully weird free event, a muskrat dressed for the occasion in a top hat and cape is hoisted to the top of a zip line for the stroke of midnight while the townspeople celebrate the end of 2018 with music, oysters, and Smith Island cake. Then, with great fanfare, “Marshall Muskrat” flies like a rat out of hell over their heads and down the street. Suddenly, it’s 2019—in the most eccentric, Eastern Shore way ever.

See also: Rock Hall’s Rockfish Drop, Easton’s Crab Drop, Cambridge’s Boat Drop, as well as a classic Ball Drop in both Berlin and Salisbury.

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]]> The Shape of Water https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/historypolitics/the-shape-of-water-art-of-chesapeake-boat-building/ Mon, 22 Oct 2018 08:30:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=929

By Lydia Woolever
Photography and Video by Justin Tsucalas
Travel & Outdoors

The Shape of Water

The last vestige of a vanished fleet lives on through the art of Chesapeake boatbuilding.

By Lydia Woolever | Photography and Video by Justin Tsucalas

in early August, Maryland summer has finally settled in and made itself comfortable on the low-lying land of the Eastern Shore. By 9 a.m., it’s nearing 90 degrees, and the humidity hangs as thick as molasses. The flags flutter low. The sailboats barely bob. Even the seagulls soar in slow motion, as if suspended in mid-air.

➤ Shadows cast on the Edna E. Lockwood.

Along the St. Michaels harbor, a slick sheen of sweat glistens on the skin of the boatyard crew at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum. Their hair lies wet at the napes of their necks, and their clothes cling tight across the thick of their backs. Even the widest of straw hats and the lightest of cottons do little to break this spell.

They work in the shade of the Edna E. Lockwood, who sits heavier than the weather—all 52 feet and 34,000 pounds of her, heaving fat and flush on the boatyard railway. She’s the reason they’re here on this blistering morning, as they have been for the past thousand days. She was born here, along these waters, over a century ago—an iconic Chesapeake Bay boat, part of an oft-forgotten fleet from the heyday of this estuary—and when she returns to them later this month, she will be the very last of her kind: a bugeye.

“Saving a boat like Edna is part of the way that we can come to understand our past,” says Pete Lesher, chief curator at the museum. “She is a quintessential Chesapeake boat in every respect, except for one—that she survived.”

By noon’s high tide, the young men guide her down the rails on an iron carriage, their eyes focused, their hands steady, listening to the clink and clank of hulking chains that lower her inch by inch toward the rippling waves of the wide and splendid Miles River. Thunderheads build in the distance, but against the hazy blue sky, her long, graceful lines have never looked more elegant, curving inward and billowing outward, much like the water itself.

There’s a lot resting on her, on the crew, on this moment. But without much ado, the last chains unfurl and it’s all over, having come and gone as quickly as the barely cool breeze. She drifts toward the water—a vision in white—and with little more than a splash, she floats.

➤ Old trees become a new hull; the boat lowers onto the railway.
➤ Michael Gorman.

With a scruffy beard, a few tattoos, and the occasional man bun, Michael Gorman is not your typical shipyard boss. For starters, he’s not a crotchety old man, waxing rhapsodic about the wooden boats of yore. “I don’t think any of us in this yard are the kind of people we see all the time, like, ‘This piece of wood sat in my shop for one full year and then finally told me what it wanted to do,’” quips Gorman. “We are not those people, and no offense to them. There’s just not much stroking of the old hull over here.”

➤ Michael Gorman

Still, this boat, more than three years in the making, has been an undeniable labor of love, and Gorman’s hazel eyes light up when he starts talking about the stories that she could tell. “You can recount a large chunk of the Chesapeake Bay’s history—people’s lives, their families, the waterways, the fisheries, industries like agriculture, timber, textiles, railroads, technology,” he says, “all through this boat and the way it was built.”

Edna was first constructed in 1889, a few miles west of St. Michaels on a spit of tidewater called Tilghman Island. But for Gorman, this all started in 2015 with 18 loblolly pines from a round-the-way forest off a family farm in Machipongo, Virginia. Thanks to their swampy location, these ancient trees had been skipped over for generations while their siblings were logged in yearly swoops. Trees so big—greater than 10 feet in girth and upward of 100 feet tall—that you could wrap your arms around them and your fingertips would never touch. Trees so old—nearing their second century—that they could have been passed by Union soldiers or runaway slaves. Trees so rare that it’s almost a twist of fate they would finally be felled only to remain on this tidal watershed, its tangled tributaries branching out like a labyrinth of roots.

These native trees mattered in order for Gorman and his crew—“the fellas,” as he calls them—to properly save the Edna, a National Historic Landmark. Sure, starting from scratch would have been easier—“if we wanted to turn out a replica bugeye, we could do it pretty darn quick,” says Gorman—but then the original boat would truly vanish. Instead, they carefully trace her lines, and, in turn, the trails of her builder’s ghost.

➤ CLOCKWISE, FROM Top: Clamps wait for work; the fellas paint the new hull; old maps and blueprints in the office; EDNA's plans.

But finding those trees was no easy feat, and after two years of searching, Gorman and his right-hand man, lead shipwright Joe Connor, had nearly given up and gone looking out on the West Coast before stumbling upon that Eastern Shore of Virginia farm owner and his fateful wood.

➤ The pines soak in the St. michaels harbor.

When the time finally came in early 2016, the pines were cut down, stacked on the back of a tractor-trailer, and hauled 150 miles north across state lines into Maryland and onward to St. Michaels. There, they were rolled into a quiet cove off the Miles, where they’d sit for weeks, then months, their rings curing in the brine of the brackish tide.

With the trees in their custody, Gorman and Connor, plus shipwright James DelAguila and apprentices Michael Allen and Spencer Sherwood, could finally get to work. Edna’s topside was in good condition, having been completely restored in the 1970s when she was donated to the museum. Her hull, however, was a different story, having deteriorated to the point of no return.

That fall, the loblollies were heaved out of the water and up onto the railway one by one by crane. Of the 18 trees, nine logs were selected for Edna’s new hull, each designated with a specific position, then draped in sweeping blueprints made using 3D technology from the National Park Service, all in order to recreate the very same timbers first pinned to her nearly 130 years ago.

Over the next few months and into the new year, the crisp, clean air fills with the thuds and whacks of adze and axe—archaic hand tools used to slowly carve the bulky blocks of pine into slight, sloping contours that will rest in the yard like whale bones. “It takes a lot of time,” says Gorman—nearly 40,000 man-hours when it’s all said and done—“but eventually it’s going to begin to take the beautiful shape of a boat.”

➤ clockwise, from top: Ropes idle on the old mast; the boatyard cat; a ladder leads into the hold below; Edna's topside, like shark's teeth; iron chains for hauling; deck work underway; old postcards hang in the office.

This method of boatbuilding is indigenous to the Chesapeake Bay, dating back thousands of years to when Native Americans first settled along these shorelines. Back then, the Eastern Shore was covered in old-growth pines, which were felled by fire and shaped by stone or shell into massive dugout canoes.

When Europeans arrived in the 1600s, they quickly took notice of the traditional craft—the way the boats’ fine ends and shallow hulls were ideally suited to the region’s flat and winding waterways. It wouldn’t be long before they began trading with the tribes, then hiring their builders and learning the techniques themselves. Their metal tools accelerated the building process, and soon enough they were joining multiple logs, adding masts and rigging, and transforming canoes into sailing vessels. Through the 1800s, these boats quickly grew in size before evolving into the largest and last of this lineage—the bugeyes—though few, if any, Native Americans were still around to see them.

➤ Edna in high seas during the mid-20th century. Courtesy of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum

By the middle of the 19th century, bugeyes were like a flock of birds afloat on the Chesapeake Bay, their white gleaming wings appearing in the hundreds between the 1860s and the 1910s. At the core, they were workboats, and the job at hand was the bay’s then-abundant oyster. (The origin of the word “bugeye” has been lost to history, but many fittingly claim that the name hails from the Scottish word “buckie,” for shellfish.)

For centuries, Chesapeake inhabitants had harvested oysters using heavy hand tongs and human strength, but following the Civil War, iron oyster dredges were permitted in Maryland, and bivalves had become so popular that local watermen were in need of a strong and swift new vessel to both meet demand and carry the cumbersome contraption.

These broad and majestic ships were built specifically for the oyster fishery, still featuring the principal design of the log canoe but now made with upward of 11 logs, plus a wide hold for storing cargo and a small bunked cabin for the usual seven-man crew.

From fall through spring, they would leave the docks in the early morning darkness to drop their dredges at the first sign of daylight. Back and forth, they’d run the oyster bars, dragging up their catch and filling the boat’s belly with a battering of wet shells. When the holds were full, sometimes heaping up onto the deck like a mountain of soot-covered snow, they were off to market before beginning again the next dawn.

➤ An unknown bugeye hauling oysters. Courtesy of A. Aubrey Bodine
➤ John B. Harrison. Courtesy of THE CHESAPEAKE BAY MARITIME MUSEUM

Annapolis, Washington, and Baltimore, of course—then the oyster capital of the world—were all common ports for bugeyes. Throughout the winter, they would line the docks and off-load hundreds of bushels to buyers before a quick foray at the local pub. In the summer months, when oysters spawn, they carried produce—tomatoes, peaches, watermelons—plus grain and lumber to the big-city markets and mills. At the time, there were no bay bridges and few trains; the water was the road, and on it, bugeyes were the tractor-trailers.

Edna herself rarely ventured too far from home, mainly dropping her hauls along the Miles and Choptank rivers. She was built only a stone’s throw from both ports by the heralded builder John B. Harrison. At the time, Harrison was only 24 years old and had already built six bugeyes—“slightly intimidating,” says Gorman—and after Edna’s hull first hit the water in October 1889, he would go on to build another 200 boats and become one of the most skilled builders on the Chesapeake. “John B. was curious—the real Herreshoff of this area,” says Connor, referring to the revered Rhode Island naval architect—a sort of Elon Musk of sailing vessels. “To him, it wasn’t a job. It was the only thing in the world that he’d ever think of doing.”

Wooden boats lend themselves to wistfulness—“a disappearing art,” “a dying breed”—but boatbuilders, much like watermen, saw bugeyes as a tool that served a purpose, and their trade as just the tidewater way of life. As it still is today, “function was prized over form,” says Connor. “If the boat was strong and seaworthy, that was the most important thing.”

“You can recount a large chunk of the Chesapeake Bay’s history, all through this boat and the way it was built.”

During Harrison’s lifetime, there were scores of boatyards along the bay, with the most prolific bugeye builders hailing from Talbot, Dorchester, and Somerset counties to the east, as well as Calvert to the west, while Baltimore’s bountiful shipyards primarily produced large, sea-going vessels, such as schooners, and the city’s namesake clippers before that.

Despite their numbers, these were not grand or gilded places. “There was this innate conservatism among Chesapeake builders,” says Lesher, noting that few frills went into a boat’s construction beyond handy resources and scrappy know-how passed down among generations. At the time, large pines were still plentiful along the estuary, with dense stands of loblolly having yet to succumb to the teeth of sawmills. That mighty machinery had not yet arrived on this isolated terrain. Everything, for the time being, was still done entirely by hand.

➤ Joe Connor.

“Chesapeake boatbuilding is definitely a testament to doing a lot with a very little,” says Connor. “It’s a very American concept,” and bugeyes were born out of an era of “great American optimism,” as Lesher puts it—a time of industrial revolution, fresh-laid railroad tracks, westward expansion, and the exploitation of this new nation’s natural resources.

Despite the builders’ modesty, there was a quiet sense of pride that went into a boat’s construction, apparent from the intricate, hand-carved nameboards and gold-leaf embellishments down to the subtle nuances etched into every ship. No two bugeyes were ever exactly alike, each bearing the fingerprints of her individual craftsmen. “If [a boat] was a thing of beauty,” wrote historian Charles Kepner at the time of Edna’s 1970s restoration, “that was because the builder made it so.”

While Harrison gets the credit for constructing the original Edna, at least a half-dozen hands were likely to have played a part in her creation. As Gorman is in charge of the current job, recognition is due to the entire crew, including the later additions of apprentice Zachary Haroth, rigger Sam Hilgartner, and intern William Delano. There are also the countless volunteers who have lent a hand, up to the museum’s board and president, who made the nearly $1-million project possible.

“You can learn things from the archival evidence, but having the real example helps you make discoveries that wouldn’t appear on paper,” says Lesher. “The restoration adds a new layer, and then we’ll add another when we finally take her out for a sail. It gives us a deeper understanding of our past, and this is the last remaining opportunity for us to do so with the bugeyes.”

➤ Clockwise, from top: rusted tools; the fellas take lunch; readying the boat for the railway; Spencer Sherwood at work; organized chaos in the office; the boat shop; the old hull; Edna's plans; the docks.

➤ The crew and the crane operators.

For most of the boatyard crew, this is their first time ever working together, as each shipwright hails from a different city up or down the East Coast. Gorman himself landed here from his native New York after running out of money on a sailboat bound for Mexico, but he and Connor go back to college days, having met while studying at the Landing Boatbuilding School in Maine. “I like to think that I lured him here,” cracks Gorman, though Connor spent his childhood summers the county over, a self-proclaimed “river rat.”

➤ The crew and the crane operators.

The two interact like a classic old married couple, both relishing a good razzing before their first cups of coffee, as well as a round of Old Fashioneds after they clock out. But “it’s a wonderful treat to work with one of your best friends every day,” says Gorman, “and we have assembled a talented, liberal-minded, artist-approach boatyard here over the last four years together.”

“I don’t want to say it in front of them because they’ll all get big heads, but this is an amazing crew of inspired young folk,” says Connor, the oldest of the bunch at a mere 36. “The nature of this work beats you down; your joints ache, your back gives out. But the fellas bring a level of enthusiasm and also real expertise. At the end of the day, boatbuilding takes so many hands and so many hours. It’s definitely a team sport.”

➤ The fellas.

Each builder comes to the shipyard with his own stories and skill sets, and most of them have side hustles. Allen, 28, plays live music, while Sherwood, 24, dabbles in graphic design, and Gorman and Connor build furniture. Haroth, 32, is fixing up an old bus that he’ll eventually drive back to Seattle, while Hilgartner, 27, helped found a free college in Oakland.

Whatever their rank, there’s no attitude—no ego. Even through the most meticulous and mundane tasks, they share a mutual respect and genuine rapport. They literally whistle while they work, sporadically sing out a lone line of some long-lost country tune, and regularly shoot the breeze in the dusty break room, heckling each other and the old barn cat (also named Edna) before the bell tower rings and they’re back at work again.

Even in winter, they make it look easy. Out in the elements, they don knit caps and Carhartts, their beards grow long, and their summer tans stay as the snows blow in and the previous year whisks out. “November 1 through March 31, we’re cranking,” says Gorman, his hair tucked behind thick-rimmed glasses and into a faded trucker hat at the end of 2017. “It keeps you warm, there’s nothing better to do, and whatever the weather, this is the best office. When everyone else is complaining about going to work in the dark and getting home in the dark, we get to live in those eight hours of light.”

there was a quiet sense of pride that went into a boat’s construction, apparent from the intricate, hand-carved nameboards and gold-leaf embellishments down to the subtle nuances etched into every ship.

there was a quiet sense of pride that went into
a boat’s construction, apparent from the intricate,
hand-carved nameboards and gold-leaf embellishments down to the subtle nuances etched into
every ship.

➤ Planked up and ready for faring.

Despite their natural rhythms—the hypnotic hum of hand planers, the endless tap-tap-tap of chisels on wood—Gorman’s crew shows their greatest strengths in the face of the unknown. Boatbuilding is all about problem solving, and while true perfection can be aspired to, it is only found in the infinite number of obstacles overcome along the way. The crew has learned to trust their guts and hone their intuitions, finishing a task and standing back before starting the next one.

When Edna was donated to the museum in 1973, after a stint as a yacht with the Kimberly family of Kimberly-Clark paper fame, she was nearly a century’s worth of choc-a-bloc repair. “In horrible shape,” said the revered Tilghman builder Maynard Lowery, who helped oversee the restoration. The museum quickly moved in and completely rebuilt her topside, but nearly 40 years later, even some of those alterations would either rust out or rot away.

“This whole project has been us figuring out, was this just a fix or the way it was originally done?” says Connor, looking at the old jigsaw-like hull that has been cut away and saved for a future museum exhibit. “As we take the boat apart, how do we put it back together?”

Last fall, as the days grew shorter and the geese appeared overhead, the boatyard moved at a slow and staccato pace. Connor’s wife had a baby, and the rest of the crew took turns taking vacations. They’d spent the last two years tangoing with the schedule, and by this past January, they were coming out hot and catching up quick.

The beginning of 2018 brings blustery, sawdusty days, with the boat now cocooned in a colossal white tent to keep the wind at bay. Edna is marked with measurements—a miscellany of to-do-list minutiae—and for the next several months, the crew will be smoothing out (or “fairing,” in shipwright speak) the sturdy new hull that is now jacked up in the old one’s place. “It’s like sculpture,” says Gorman, who once studied the subject. “Day One was the biggest this boat will ever be. We’re now building by reduction.”

Beneath the pewter sky, each builder is in the zone as a flurry of blond pine shavings fall to the gravel at their feet, building in soft anthill piles, whipping in the air and sticking to their mustaches before blowing out to sea. This is meditative work, and much of it is done in silence, but they do stop to answer questions from museum visitors who stand in awe of Edna or to chew the fat with old-timers who saunter through and poke holes in the progress they’ve made.

After this spring’s final frost, the boat is nearly whole again. Much of the leftover loblolly has been milled into long planks, which are then steamed, bent, and clamped along the boat’s lines, filling the gaps between deck and hull until the final “whiskey plank” is placed and celebrated with a bottle of rye. They’ll continue to fair, sand, caulk, paint, fair, sand, caulk, paint on repeat for “what feels like an eternity,” says Connor, as the first buds bloom and the sun slowly gathers heat.

➤ Clockwise, from top: Rusted tools; THE BOAT's bow; Joe Connor operates a crane; a lone iron chain; hats and "Half Pint"; safety glasses for flying woodchips; edna's gilded name boards; her new centerboard awaits.

Bugeyes like Edna were constructed through the 1910s, but many would sail on for decades, through squalls and stock market crashes, well into the 20th century. She herself changed hands a half-dozen times but steadily plied the mid-shore bars. “If a boat continued to catch oysters, there was enough money to put back into its maintenance,” says Lesher. “The ones that survived did so because they earned their keep.”

But by the end of the 1800s, Chesapeake oysters had already started to become badly overharvested, with some 14 to 20 million bushels hauled up each year in the previous decades. Maryland forests had been ravaged, too, with nearly all of those old-growth timbers now gone, leaving only smaller pines too skinny to build a working bugeye. In 2015, Gorman’s Machipongo stand was a white rhino, but after Edna’s logs were felled, so were the rest of the trees. Connor returned recently: “It was a real Lorax moment for me.”

Those giant sawmills had finally come online as well, and with them the invention of cheap sawn lumber, followed by a new, now-iconic ship. “If you asked a waterman in 1900, ‘What’s a skipjack?’ he might have given you a blank look,” says Lesher, but within a few years, these vessels were the shiny new pickup trucks built to replace the overworked bugeyes—far cheaper to construct and easier to maintain than their log-built predecessor. “Skipjacks might not have been quite as good of an oystering boat,” says Lesher, “but they were good enough.”

➤ William Delano, Michael Allen, and Joe Connor walk the plank; Zachary Haroth works beneath the new hull.

Most bugeyes were eventually worked into the grave, but a number did live on, having been converted into buyboats—the middlemen between watermen and market—though they’d soon all but vanish, too. “We tend to value things as they’re disappearing,” says Lesher, and in the bugeye’s case, that was too little too late. Wooden boat nostalgia didn’t gain traction until the environmental movement of the 1970s, and when she finally stopped oystering in 1967, Edna was the last working bugeye on the Chesapeake Bay. Today, the average Maryland resident has never even heard of these historic boats with their funny name.

Even by the time the museum was founded in ’65, “so many things about the bay were already changing,” says Lesher. “The end of steam service had just taken place. There were no schooners, one bugeye, and one oyster sloop. But there were a lot of skipjacks, and they have been preserved in numbers simply because they survived long enough.”

Now the prolific deadrise workboats speck the bay the way the bugeyes and even the skipjacks once did, roaming the shorelines in search of fat crabs and full oysters. Many are built out of the even cheaper plywood and fiberglass, a design that took hold in the 1990s, but watching them work the water today, still bewitching and so bound to Chesapeake ways, the question remains: When will they become the disappearing ships we need to save?

As with wooden boats, there are nowhere near the number of builders there used to be along the Chesapeake, but they are still out there, “making it, doing it, raising kids on it,” says Gorman. He can think of five such guys off the top of his head, all in his same age bracket, found down the shore in Maryland backwaters and across the bay into pockets of Virginia.

For the ones who do remain, wood has become a niche market, as few builders still consider the medium their bread and butter. The practice endures through small-craft hobbyists and restoration experts, but most have converted to those newer materials to craft workboats from the bottom up.

“To him, it wasn’t a job. It was the only thing in the world that he’d ever think of doing.”

These days, “you don’t really think you’re going to get a job when you start building boats,” says Sherwood, who came straight from school to this project. But wooden ones, whatever the size, are still the reason many get into it, even despite the modest pay. “The greater mission sucks you in—the stewardship of passing things on, the autonomy that comes with it,” says Connor. “In the beginning, we were cowboys, just figuring everything out as we went along.”

Most of the crew won’t easily admit that their trade is an art form, but the feeling is apparent in each furrowed brow and determined gaze. “Boatbuilding is a bit of an abstract,” says Connor. “Everybody has their own style. Everybody has learned from someone else. There are a million ways to skin a cat. But there is always some small version of self-expression every step along the way.”

➤ Afternoon light in the boat's belly; Edna moves in the air, on the railway, then back into the water.

The week before that sweltering summer morning, a crane arrived in St. Michaels and lifted Edna—now whole—into the air like a bold arrow, then back onto the railway. There she sat for a week, coming in and out of the August water, her planks swelling up around her cotton caulking, absorbing so much of the Miles into her porous new hull that she’d nearly double in weight. “She’s going to be a beast, a real Cadillac,” says Connor, “rolling through motorboat chop like it’s nobody’s business.”

Once she’s watertight, Hilgartner will install her rigging. Her old masts will go up, her new sails will flutter out, and she’ll get a final coat of paint—that traditional bright white topside and brick-red bottom—before her big day.

She drifts toward the water—a vision in white—And with little more than a splash, she floats.

When that time comes and she slips back into the harbor during the museum’s annual OysterFest on October 27, there will be much fanfare, just as there was when she was first launched off Tilghman Island this same month in 1889, and then again, from this very spot, in the 1970s. Now, as then, the townspeople will gather at the water’s edge and, with a bottle of champagne broken over her bow, she will be christened with wishes for fair winds and following seas. Flags will wave. People will cheer. Oysters will be shucked and devoured.

Nothing will remain from the original boat besides a 130-year-old silver dollar fastened to the bottom of her mast, which raises an age-old paradox—a matter of identity, debated among great philosophers: After a boat is rebuilt, does it remain the same ship? Though similar in build and steadfast in spirit, will she still be the Edna E. Lockwood? “As the old saying goes, my grandfather’s axe has had two new heads and three new handles,” says Morris Ellison, museum volunteer and mentor for the crew, “but it’s still my grandfather’s axe.”

➤ Edna, circa 1979. Courtesy of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum

Whoever she is—her namesake remains a mystery—Edna will be the queen of the museum’s Floating Fleet, joining a cast of fellow survivors back on the waters from which they came. Each year, she’ll be pulled up on land to receive “a shave and a haircut,” as they call her yearly maintenance, but she won’t be sitting in an exhibition hall, waiting for visitors, gathering dust. She’ll drop her lines from the St. Michaels dock and once again lift her sails along the Chesapeake. Starting with a six-month tour of neighboring ports next summer, she’ll be a working ship—no longer carrying oysters, but now the past, into the future—“a living witness,” as Kepner wrote, “as to how it was, once upon a time.”

Meanwhile, the crew is already on to other projects. Gorman will be crafting a racing log canoe out of those leftover loblolly pines, while Connor will be leading a new group of shipwrights, including many of Edna’s apprentices, in a recreation of the 17th-century Maryland Dove.

No one likes to put a number on it, but as the dreamer to Gorman’s cynic, Connor thinks the boat is going to last for a long, long time. He’s been told that every inch of hull gives a boat about a decade of life, which could mean at least another half-century for Edna. “As painstaking as it was to put her back together,” says Connor, “I’m still looking forward to seeing where she floats on her lines.”

Gorman, though, is going to leave the guessing up to the next guy. “God, I hope this doesn’t have to be done again for a while,” he says with a grin. “One hundred years would be nice.”

➤ Edna heads into the harbor until she’s watertight.

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]]> Old Faithful https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/travel/old-faithful-oxford-bellevue-ferry-celebrates-335th-birthday/ Mon, 09 Apr 2018 08:30:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=1804

By Lydia Woolever
Photography and Video by Justin Tsucalas
Travel & Outdoors

Old Faithful

A beacon of history and nostalgia, the Oxford-Bellevue Ferry celebrates its 335th birthday this year.

By Lydia Woolever | Photography and Video by Justin Tsucalas

here are few signs of life in the tiny town of Oxford on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. There’s one road in, one road out, and one set of stoplights that blinks outside the fire hall full of shiny, yellow engines. “For Sale” signs stick in the manicured lawns of charming old Victorians that all sit sandwiched together along the long and narrow main street. There is no café or gas station, no hospital or school. But at the end of the road, past the old oak trees, brick sidewalks, and white picket fences, a crowd of people wait in line at the edge of the Tred Avon River, where the pavement seems to tumble into the bay. A mix of locals and tourists, most wait in cars, some lean on bicycles, but they’re all here for the one thing that keeps people coming to this cozy corner of Talbot County: the Oxford-Bellevue Ferry.

► The Oxford-Bellevue Ferry crosses the Tred Avon River in Talbot County.
► Tom and Judy Bixler have run the ferry for the past 17 years.

Across the water, toward the hamlet of Bellevue, a small white speck gets larger and larger as it returns to the southern dock. Soon enough, the air fills with the cacophonous sound of churning water and the guttural chug of diesel engines. A Maryland flag flaps in the breeze as the nine-car ferry eases toward its slip, and owner Tom Bixler grabs a line from a nearby piling. With a heavy clank, he lowers a ramp onto the boat’s deck, and with everything in place, lifts a thin metal gate and sends his passengers on their way. Judy, his wife of 44 years, waits up top at the wheel, the radio murmuring in the background, as the next queue of passengers begins to pile in.

“If you had asked me if I was going to be a ferryboat captain when I was a little girl, I would’ve looked at you like you were crazy,” she says with a laugh, her blonde ponytail spilling out of a bubblegum pink baseball cap that matches her turtleneck and sweater. “But we’ve had a lot of fun—as they say, this is our ferry tale.”

As the ferry’s owners and operators for the past 17 years, the Bixlers have not only landed their dream retirement gig, but also a piece of Maryland history. This year, the three-quarter-mile ferry line will turn 335, making it one of the oldest privately owned ferries in the country (the Rocky Hill-Glastonbury ferry in Connecticut is said to be the oldest at 363) and some nine decades older than the United States itself. “Most people can’t even comprehend that,” says Tom. “Before this was even a country, the ferry was here.”

Early accounts are somewhat spotty, but we do know the ferry was founded on November 20, 1683, as a service for “horses and men” between the bustling port of Oxford and what would become the Bellevue community in Royal Oak, just outside of St. Michaels. The first owner was a London merchant by the name of Richard Royston who operated the vessel for 2,500 pounds of tobacco a year. As one of Oxford’s founding fathers, he was a man about town, with a nearby island named in his honor. (Though he would later lose his reputation, being convicted of forgery before grovelling his way out of a public whipping and later dying at sea in the 1690s.)

“We’ve had a lot of fun,” says Judy. “As they say, this is our ferry tale.”

From there on out, the evolution of the ferry and its town would reflect the ebb and flow of their soon-to-be new nation. In its beginnings, Oxford was a nexus for trade, its waters filled with ships bringing goods to and from the colonies. By the American Revolution, it suffered a series of blows as British commerce dried up and wheat replaced tobacco as the new cash crop, but later made a comeback during the post-Civil War oyster boom and with the advent of canning, when seafood and produce packinghouses peppered the banks of the Chesapeake Bay. At one point, in the late 1800s, Oxford even rivaled Ocean City as the premier destination for summer vacation.

All the while, ferry service transferred hands between local innkeepers, even landing under the stewardship of women. Judith Bennett ran the boat through three different husbands in the 1700s and for more than a decade by herself “between spouses.” Throughout its history, at least five other women would run the ferry, some alone and others with partners, like Judy and Tom.

► The ferry in the late 1940s. Courtesy of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum

Different vessels would also come and go, with upgrades and innovations added to each new incarnation. The old wooden sculler of the 1750s, powered by sails and oars, would later be towed alongside a new, coal-fired steam tug in the 1880s, reserved for carrying passengers’ horses, wagons, and, eventually, automobiles. By the 1900s, the tug had “a habit of sinking during the night,” as an old crewman once put it, and was replaced with an improved, gas-fueled version before moving aside for the first self-propelled ferry of the 1930s, built in Oxford, where working boatyards still dot the shoreline today. In the subsequent decades, she grew in size, making extra room as cars became commonplace.

In the mid-1970s, Captain Gib Clark brought a fortuitous new boat down to Oxford from New York, where it had previously run as the Shelter Island ferry. It was on that same Long Island line that Clark had mentored a young Tom Bixler, who started as a deckhand before working his way up to captain. “Gib gave Tom a chance,” says Judy. “The ferry was in his blood.”

Tom and Judy first met in 1971 as lab partners at St. Lawrence University. One day, while sitting on a split-rail fence with Tom’s roommate, the grown men’s weight snapped the wood in half and, in their fall, broke Judy’s leg. “I always say he had to break my leg to catch me,” she jokes, “and the rest was history.” The two married, raised three children, and embarked on many an adventure along the way—moving between suburban New Jersey and upstate New York, driving a motor home across the country, and cruising a sailboat up and down the Atlantic Coast after becoming empty nesters.

► Judy steers the ferry from the wheelhouse.
► Family pictures of the Bixler clan.

But ever since those days on Long Island, Tom had dreamed of retiring to the water with his feet on board a ferry. In a twist of fate, Captain Clark’s daughter, Valerie, had taken over the Oxford-Bellevue operation with her husband, David, and after nearly 30 years as its keepers, they were ready for their own retirement. In 2002, the Bixlers bought the boat—then and now the Talbot, powered by the more efficient diesel fuel and crafted out of the more durable and forgiving steel at the famed Blount Shipyard in Rhode Island—and the couple now lives exactly three miles from its dock. “We just fell in love with this place,” says Judy. “It was our dream. And it keeps us busy. Tom’s just not the kind of guy to sit around and read a book.” “I like to read,” he quips, “just not all of the time.”

Both volunteer around town—Judy for the local tourism office and, up until recently, Tom at the fire hall, with its blinking lights. Their kids visit occasionally, but largely it’s just the two of them, seven days a week, April through November, out there on the water.

With both Bixlers carrying a captain’s license, Judy usually mans the morning shifts while Tom works in the evenings. A group of retirees and students help out as well, tying the lines and collecting fares for as little as five dollars. On days they work together, the couple tosses a coin to see who will run the boat or walk the deck. “Tom lost a flip today, which is why I’m up here,” gibes Judy, “though it is fun to be down there, visiting with all the passengers.” Those guests run the gamut, with locals riding for leisure and tourists hailing from around the world—Europe, Asia, Australia—even including a few celebrities. There are politicians, like part-time residents Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld, and movie stars, including Sarah Jessica Parker, who came to town to film Failure to Launch, and Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson, who shot Wedding Crashers in St. Michaels. “People always say, ‘Oh, don’t you get bored?’” says Judy. “But it’s really never the same.”

► Clockwise, from top: The ferry carries cars in the 1950s; a young boy stands outside the ferry’s fare sign, circa 1950; the ferry outside of what is now the Robert Morris Inn, circa 1930. Courtesy of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum

Even at a maximum speed of five knots (less than six miles per hour, “and that’s movin’,” cracks Tom), running the 45-ton ferry is anything but simple. At 65 feet long and 30 feet wide, it has two steering wheels, two engines, two rudders, and two propellers, allowing it to go forward and backward without ever turning around. “You can’t learn it from reading a book,” says Tom. “It’s like driving a tractor-trailer.”

In the summer, there are also the town’s beloved log canoe races to contend with, and from spring through fall, they tango with the watermen. “You always have to pay attention,” says Judy. “You never know what you’re going to run into,” be it swimmers, boaters, or bad weather. Neither minds the rain, but past storms like Hurricane Isabel have battered their slip, forcing the county and state to swoop in with reinforcements to keep the ferry afloat. Tom takes great pride in keeping the 1980 Talbot spick-and-span himself, with regular upkeep and fresh coats of green, gray, and white paint. Looking at her today, you’d never know she’s nearly 40.

► The ferry route is included on one of the country’s top bike rides.

The Pacific Standard magazine once named the Bixlers’ baby the “most pointless ferry in Maryland,” and sure, as populations have dwindled (Oxford: 617, Bellevue: too few for the census), the ferry no longer acts as a school bus for children or taxicab for commuters between the two towns like it used to. After the last tourists leave for winter, Oxford’s few historic inns and two waterfront beach bars go as silent as a snowfall. But in the warmer months, sailboats bob along the strand, the beach fills with bikinis, leaf-peepers arrive in hoards to take in the region’s renowned foliage, and the ferry is once again packed full of people, cars, and bicycles, as the route has been named one of the top 25 bike rides in the country.

No matter when you ride, for eight short minutes and less than a mile of open water, the ferry exists for a moment of respite. For many, it harkens back to the disappearing “simple life”—a slice of Americana. Time slows down. The seasons change. The town doesn’t.

For a few others, that sentimentality even crosses into romance, with the occasional passenger popping the question or coming onboard to renew their vows.

And after nearly 50 years together, 17 of them as the ferry’s captains, Tom and Judy are still pretty smitten themselves. “This is a splendid place,” says Tom. “We watch the osprey come and go. We’ve watched the eagles come back. And that’s the point of being on the Eastern Shore. You’re not in a hurry. You don’t get anywhere fast. You’re just here to enjoy life.”

In the off-season, he and Judy find time to travel, visit family, and handle the majority of the boat’s maintenance before the next season rolls around, often by Oxford Day, which this year lands on April 28. “The ferry has been here for so long—it is such a landmark,” says Judy. “Everyone wants to keep it going—they feel like it’s their ferry, too. And so we always say we’re not going to let anything happen to it on our watch. We’ve worked really hard to make sure it lasts another 100 years.”

“Plus, I tried retirement,” adds Tom with a knowing grin, his face still tan and his boat shoes creased from a thousand climbs up the ferryboat ladder. “Clearly it didn’t work.”

► The ferry returns to its dock in Oxford and awaits its next batch of travelers.

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]]> Maple Elementary School Marching Band Will Perform at Ravens Game https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/sports/maple-elementary-school-marching-band-will-open-up-ravens-game/ Fri, 22 Dec 2017 12:17:00 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?p=28211

When Ray Washington Jr. was a young boy at Maple Elementary School in Cambridge, he couldn’t have possibly known that 25 years later he’d be directing a drumline of kids at that very same school to open up a Baltimore Ravens game. 

On a rare Saturday, Christmas weekend game tomorrow, Washington will lead nearly 50 fourth- and fifth-graders, known as the Marching Lions, in a performance of “Jingle Bells” around 3 p.m. and then the young students will march with the Ravens Marching Band going into the game and again at halftime.

As a music major at Morgan State University, Washington said he jumped on the opportunity to start the marching band at Maple two years ago. 

“Most schools do a couple performances a year, but I wanted more than that,” Washington says. “So we started building, just started with a drumline, then more instruments, then got uniforms. Now we play almost every day.”

The young percussionists are a welcome addition to tomorrow’s game against the Indianapolis Colts, considering the Ravens will likely play without veteran wide receiver Jeremy Maclin due to a knee injury. But the team should stand a good chance against the “unlucky” 3-11 Colts.

“The Marching Lions are a talented, fun group of students who have a unique energy about them,” said Ravens director of public relations Patrick Gleason in an email. “We’re excited for our fans to experience their performance as part of Saturday’s pre-game and halftime entertainment.”

Washington, himself, is a Ravens fan and said he’s been trying to convey to the kids just how intense an experience it will be to perform before and during the game.

“I remember going to my first game when I was 20 years old and I was shocked at how big the stadium was,” he says. “When the kids see the stadium and all the fans, they’re going to flip out.”

One of the members of the Marching Lions, 11-year-old Tay’Brion Wongus plays the snare drum and says he’s “excited” and “a little bit nervous” for his band’s big debut tomorrow. He says that paying attention to Washington is important. 

“I practice, like, every day,” he says. “We need to listen to Mr. Washington because, if we don’t, we might be off beat with the rest of the band.”

Beyond rhythm, however, Washington says that teaching these kids, some as young as 9, the power of discipline and routine has been incredibly rewarding.

“We pretty much run the practice the same way we ran it at Morgan, so it’s real tough,” he says. “But the whole prep part really makes them see the benefits of hard work and practice. And they see the results, which motivates them even more.”

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]]> Old Vine State https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/fooddrink/maryland-wine-industry-is-coming-of-age/ Tue, 17 Oct 2017 08:30:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=2548

Maryland is known for a lot of things. There’s the proverbial “crab cakes and football.” (Thanks, Wedding Crashers!) Or maybe black-eyed Susans and Chesapeake Bay sunsets come to mind. But wine has never been our state’s claim to fame. And, to some, this has always been a little puzzling. 

With its America-in-miniature status and proliferation of microclimates, Maryland’s geography and topography have always seemed suitable for grape-growing. After all, similar East Coast locations have been able to make a go of it. Just to the north, New York’s Finger Lakes region gets a ton of vino visitors, and our neighbor to the south may soon change its slogan to “Virginia is for wine lovers.” 

Somehow though, despite a history of viticulture that dates back to the earliest European settlers, Maryland’s wine industry has, ahem, withered on the vine.

But with an infusion of new vineyards—and technology spurring innovation at older ones—the time finally seems ripe for the state’s wine industry. Could it be true? Is the state’s wine industry finally coming of age.

“There are some wonderful changes happening,” says Kevin Atticks, executive director of the Maryland Wineries Association. “There are the new ones that have come on the scene that have just stormed the gates and they’re great right from the start. And then you’ve got our older wineries, who are completely retooling because of the new guys.”

A recent Daily Meal story ranking 101 of the best wineries in the country put Old Westminster Winery at No. 87, and a Wine Enthusiast article from this past April said “the Maryland wine industry is ready for prime time.” This is evident in not only the improved quality of the wines (Maryland wines are winning golds and double golds in worldwide competitions), but also the quantity of vineyards (now up to 88 and counting from just 14 in 2003).  

“Central Maryland sits along the Catoctin Mountains and a parallel ridge to the east, where the moderate climate and longer growing seasons favor Bordeaux-style red blends,” wrote Wine Enthusiast’s Dave McIntyre. “The other cluster [of growers] is located along the Chesapeake Bay, where the land is flatter and sandier. . . . Here, high-acid red varieties like Barbera do well.”

As Atticks noted, credit for the sudden fruitfulness goes to a new generation of ambitious winemakers who are rethinking what a winery can be. The old way of thinking was that a vineyard was something you inherited, a place you grew up. Maybe, if you were the enterprising sort, you added a tasting room, booked a few cover bands, and threw a wine festival one weekend during harvest season. Now, new spots throughout the region are setting themselves apart by establishing grower co-ops and recruiting winemakers from California and South Africa, a concept that used to be unfathomable.

“The learning curve is gone now,” Atticks says. “You can hire a winemaker that knows exactly what to do and your first vintage can be phenomenal.”

And like a rising tide, these newbies are lifting up some of the older boats. New generations are taking over at established operations and then traveling around the world to do extensive research or literally digging up their old vines and replanting. The focus has become less on events and more on recruiting club members to enjoy high-quality products.

In addition, wineries and vineyards are embracing new technologies and their agricultural applications in pursuit of the perfect pour. For instance, drones can help winemakers map things like airflow and temperature gradation to find that ideal plot of land.

“We’ve gone beyond scratching the surface, and now we’re getting much more into the details,” Atticks says. “New technology can really help map soil specifically and, 10 years ago, not many people were thinking about that.”

All the effort is paying off.

“We’re starting to see a new level of respect from the trade—from restaurants and retailers who up until now weren’t as interested in having local wine,” Atticks says. “And we have certain producers up to the task. They’re not just trying to make the best wine in Maryland. They’re trying to make the best wine in the world.”

Big Cork Grape Vine
Maryland grapes grow on the vine.

But don’t just take his word for it—get out there and swirl and sip for yourself. While it’s impossible to visit all of the wineries in the state in one afternoon (though we gave it our best college try), we’ve narrowed it down to some standouts, both brand new and tried and true, that are helping to put Maryland wine on the map.

Just 40 miles northwest of Baltimore is Old Westminster Winery (1550 Old Westminster Rd., Westminster, 410-881-4656), which has been making major waves in national publications, as well as with local wine connoisseurs. In 2009, the Baker family decided the best way to preserve their farmland off of Route 27 was to start a vineyard. Two years later they planted 7,600 grape vines, including cabernet franc, syrah, chardonnay, and albariño. Now the winery is producing 30,000 bottles of wine a year—with half of those grapes grown at home and the other half from other vineyards around the state. Careful soil studying and sampling has led to some of the best wines in the state. 

Old Westminster’s mission is to revive old European styles of wine and its Petillant Naturel series, including a crisp syrah rosé blend, is a standout. Though much of OWW’s attention is paid to its 1,500-member wine club, there are also events every weekend at its on-site tasting room with live music and food from local favorites such as Ekiben and Well Crafted Pizza. 

Just down the road is Black Ankle Vineyards (14463 Black Ankle Rd., Mount Airy, 301-829-3338), which has taken advantage of its history and geography—sitting at the foot of the Appalachian Mountains with rocky soil and regular breezes—while innovating every step of the way. Every grape is grown on the farm, where composting and solar energy are priorities. Since 2010, the winery has been holding blind tastings against other syrah varietals from around the world, and the practice has kept it on its game. For proof, sip its Bordeaux-style blend, Crumbling Rock, which is soft and rich with dark fruits.

Nearby is one of the granddaddies of the Maryland wine scene, Linganore Winecellars (13601 Glissans Mill Rd., Mount Airy, 301-831-5889), whose grapes were first planted more than 40 years ago. But Linganore is not simply stuck in the past. Second-generation winemaker Anthony Aellen is always innovating and, most recently, his daughter Melissa traveled the world to study winemaking and got her degree in viticulture and enology from Cornell University. Experience the Aellen family expertise with sips of the double gold-winning Reserve Chambourcin, a medium-bodied red with notes of black cherry, spice, and dark chocolate. 

If you’ve drunk a little too much in the area, make a night of it and spend time in historic Mount Airy. Just outside of the center of town, housed in an 1890s brick schoolhouse, is Brick Ridge Restaurant (6212 Ridge Rd., Mount Airy, 301-829-8191) serving Southern-inspired entrees like shrimp and grits with bacon and smoked tomato compote. Catch a few Z’s at the Victorian Bed and Breakfast (103 N. Main St., Mount Airy, 410-259-1272), a turn-of-the-last-century home with Airbnb services, a wraparound porch, and beautiful landscaping. 

Big Cork Sunset
The sunset at Big Cork.

A little farther west, past Frederick, is Big Cork Vineyards (4236 Main St., Rohrersville, 301-302-8032), a standout in Maryland wine, which opened its tasting room in early 2015 and boasts quite the view of the winery’s 100 acres of vineyards and farmland. 

Big Cork has become well-respected in the industry thanks in large part to winemaker Dave Collins, who perfected his skills in Virginia. Collins has found that the cabernet franc grape is a great match for the cool, well-drained soil of Washington County. 

A bit closer to Baltimore is the popular Boordy Vineyards (12820 Long Green Pike, Hydes, 410-592-5015), which has been making wine on-site for nearly 40 years. But Boordy’s Deford family isn’t a slave to tradition. Over the past decade, they have overhauled their crop, ripping up nearly every root and branch and then replanting.

The move followed consultation with wine experts who advised the family to update their root stock, plant their vines closer together, and provide better temperature and quality controls during fermentation. The results of the nearly $3 million rebuilding project—which also included a new winemaking house with new fermentation tanks—have been revolutionary for Boordy, earning the label a new level of respect from restaurants and retailers. In fact, Boordy’s 2015 Landmark Series Albariño won Best in Show at the 2016 Maryland Governor’s Cup, and its Cabernet Franc Reserve 2014 won double gold at the 2017 San Francisco Wine Competition.

Visit Boordy on Saturdays in the fall for wine tours and live music, and tack on a dinner date at the nearby McFaul’s IronHorse Tavern (2260 Cromwell Bridge Rd., Parkville, 410-828-1625) or an ice cream nightcap at Prigel Family Creamery (4852 Long Green Rd., Glen Arm, 410-510-7488).

Central Maryland isn’t the only place to find great wine. The northeast region is making a name for itself, too. One example is Chateau Bu-De Winery & Vineyard (237 Bohemia Manor Farm Ln., Chesapeake City, 410-885-2500) in Cecil County. Owner Brenda Dedrick transplanted 14,000 grapevines here from Trappe, added 19,000 more, and just opened a massive tasting room. With help from South African-born winemaker Jacques van der Vyver, Bu-De is becoming known for its dry wines like the estate sauvignon blanc with notes of lychee and tropical fruits.

Just down the street, a newcomer on the scene is Broken Spoke Vineyard & Winery (942 Glebe Rd., Earleville, 302-547-6022), which opened this summer and has already earned a double gold in the Maryland Comptroller’s Cup for its vidal blanc.

If you get hungry (or sleepy), seek shelter and sustenance a half an hour south at Crow Farm (12441 Vansants Corner Rd., Kennedyville, 302-304-0551), a third-generation working farm that now provides wine, grass-fed beef, and a farm-stay bed and breakfast. Having recently brought in winemaker Michael Zollo from California, Crow is getting creative with New World varieties, including a sparkling vidal blanc and its 2016 barbera rosé, which won Best in Class at Maryland Governor’s Cup. But perhaps the best part about a night at Crow is that, along with breakfast in the morning, guests can feed farm animals during their stay.

Boordy Barel Room 3
Barrels at Boordy Vineyards.

And while location is key for wine, there are a couple of outliers using innovation and technology to make wine off of the typical trails. Port of Leonardtown Winery (23190 Newtowne Neck Rd., Leonardtown, 301-690-2192) is a grower co-op (purported to be only the second of its kind in the U.S.), which includes 12 vineyards exclusively from Southern Maryland. This is an extreme challenge for winemaker Lauren Zimmerman, who studied in Canada, as she has to work around weather hurdles. But she must be perfecting the science because five of POL’s wines—a port style and four reds—took home awards at this year’s International East Meets West Competition in Santa Rosa, California.

While you’re in Leonardtown, explore the area by visiting Leonardtown Wharf Park (22510 Washington St., Leonardtown 301-475-9791) for kayak rentals. Then fill up at places such as Asian-fusion restaurant Jessie’s Kitchen (22845C Washington St., Leonardtown, 301-997-0888) for ramen and dumplings or The Front Porch (22770 Washington St., Leonardtown, 301-997-1009) for Southern classics like chicken and waffles. Stay the night at the picturesque Olde Breton Inn (21890 Society Hill Rd., Leonardtown, 301-475-2699) with stunning views of St. Clements Bay and the Potomac River.

Right across the bay from Port of Leonardtown is another vintner thinking outside the box—Bordeleau Vineyards & Winery (3155 Noble Farm Rd., Eden, 410-677-3334). Just off of Route 13, its location makes it a good pit stop on the way to the beach, or you can make a weekend of it and drop your bags at The Washington Inn & Tavern (11747 Somerset Ave., Princess Anne, 443-399-3353) in the quaint nearby town of Princess Anne. Stop in at the roadside Beach to Bay Seafood Eatery (12138 Carol Ln., Princess Anne, 410-651-5400) to dine on fried oyster sandwiches, or get a sandwich and fries to-go for a picnic lunch before you head to the winery.

Bordeleau’s Tom Shelton, who has been making wine since 2006, blends reds across different vintages, or years. Some labels have lot numbers, which refer to the total number of wine batches bottled of that variety. That creativity led Bordeleau to become the first Eastern Shore winery to win Maryland Governor’s Cup Best in Show honors back in 2014 with its cabernet sauvignon amarone. One of the few wineries in the U.S. that can be visited by boat, Bordeleau continues to defy all logic and produce award-winning wines from grapes that are grown just eight feet above sea level.

It’s this rule-bending approach that will distinguish Maryland wine in the next several years, Atticks says. While many regions have a “state grape,” this is something that Maryland simply doesn’t plan on doing.

“Let’s not box ourselves in,” he says. “Southern Maryland can grow great things, but it’s not cab sav or chardonnay. I just had a sparkling vignole from Linganore, which would never be a state wine, but it was dreamy. I want to see what we can grow without any limitations.”

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]]> Cake Walk https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/fooddrink/best-crab-cakes-in-baltimore-area/ Mon, 10 Jul 2017 09:00:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=3019

Edited by Jane Marion. Photography by Scott Suchman. Lettering by Tobias Saul.
Written by Lauren Cohen, John Farlow, Jane Marion, Jess Mayhugh,
Amy Mulvihill, Mike Unger, and Lydia Woolever
Food & Drink

Cake Walk

These 25 spots are tops for crab cakes in the Baltimore area.

Edited by Jane Marion. Photography by Scott Suchman. Lettering by Tobias Saul. Written by Lauren Cohen, John Farlow, Jane Marion, Jess Mayhugh, Amy Mulvihill, Mike Unger, and Lydia Woolever

hether cracked over newspaper, fried into fluff, or floating in a bowl of broth, crabmeat is always a delicacy, but never more than when the meat is formed en masse into a classic cake and made from Maryland crab at the height of the season.

Not much is known about who invented the crab cake (it likely was someone from the School of Immediate Gratification, who tired of all that cracking), though the root of the recipe goes back to pre-Colonial times. That said, one of the first-known print recipes appeared in the first half of the 20th century. Explains Alexandra Deutsch, chief curator at the Maryland Historical Society, “In the 1930s, Crosby Gaige [president of the New York Wine & Food Society] provided the recipe for a ‘Maryland Crab Cake,’ a concoction of crabmeat, crackers, mayonnaise, and spices, in his book, New York’s World’s Fair Cookbook.”

Regardless of how you like them, crab cakes are ubiquitous in the Old Line State, as reflected by the diversity of spots we’ve picked on our pages. Whether you’re a crab joint, an Italian restaurant, a Jewish deli, a food market stall, a steakhouse, or even a pizza parlor, it’s practically heresy not to have some version of a cake listed on your menu.

The good news? The Maryland Department of Natural Resources 2017 survey showed a surge in spawning-age crabs to the highest level recorded in its 28-year history. So, however you get your fill, it’s peak swimming season in the Chesapeake Bay—grab a fork and go partake of a cake.



  • FUN FACTS ON OUR STATE SWEETHEART

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BOX HILL PIZZERIA

ABINGDON | 2915 Emmorton Road, Abingdon, 410‑515‑3662

Yes, pizza is in its name, and as you walk past the pizza oven and square brown boxes, then peruse the menu, you’ll have a tough time making a choice: spaghetti with Italian sausage, pepperoni pies, house-made lasagna with meatballs, or broiled crab cakes? It’s not a menu misprint. In addition to moving through mozzarella, Box Hill goes through 2,000 pounds of crabmeat a week, and for good reason—the cakes are colossal and spiced just right. Our suggestion is to order a cheese pizza so that you can use some of the crab from your platter (two cakes, fries, coleslaw, and garlic bread) to crumble over the top.


Ever since Chick & Ruth’s opened in 1965, visitors have remained loyal to its mammoth crab cake.
The retro interior, staff at Chick & Ruth’s Delly, crab balls.

CHICK & RUTH’S DELLY

Annapolis | 165 Main St., Annapolis, 410‑269‑6737

Every weekday morning at 8:30, the bustling sea of politicians, lobbyists, lawyers, longtime regulars, and sailors that crowd into this downtown diner comes to an abrupt halt. Patrons stand, face the American flag, and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. This place takes equal pride in its crab cake. Ever since owner Ted Levitt’s parents, Chick and Ruth, opened the eatery in 1965, Annapolitans and visitors to the capital city have remained loyal to its mammoth crab cake, a half-pound all-lump-meat giant. It’s a unique take, made using egg whites (and Maryland crabmeat, when available) to create filler that’s almost saucy. The result is a casserole-like concoction that is delicious, as is the piping hot, gooey mac and cheese, one of several sides available with the platter ($18.99 for a single cake, two sides, and the standard Chick & Ruth’s bowl of sliced pickles). If possible, leave room for a piece of homemade pie. If you’re too full after your first visit, don’t fret. We have a feeling you’ll be back.

CJ’S CRABHOUSE AND GRILL

Owings Mills | 10117 Reisterstown Road, Owings Mills, 410‑363‑6694

CJ’s Crabhouse is the real deal—an old-school, casual seafood restaurant that has been serving hungry suburbanites from a single-story building on Reisterstown Road since 1976. Crabs take center stage, and preparations range from steamed hard shell to imperial. The cakes—which you can get various ways (sandwich or platter; broiled or fried; backfin or lump; small or large)—have their devotees, and understandably so. A recent order of one 6-ounce lump-meat patty (this is considered the “small plate”) revealed a pleasantly browned mound of Maryland and Louisiana crab, mixed with a modicum of well-seasoned breading. The unremarkable sides of steamed broccoli and mashed potatoes can’t be held against CJ’s. Next time, we’ll follow our heart and stick with the tried and true coleslaw and fries.

THE CORNER STABLE

COCKEYSVILLE | 9942 York Road, Cockeysville, 410‑666‑8722

Since 1972, The Corner Stable has been serving its signature “fall-off-the-bone” baby back ribs, and their popularity has somewhat eclipsed that of the Stable’s other specialty—the “colossal lump crab cakes.” We didn’t sample the ribs on our latest visit, but we did order the broiled half-pound crab cake and came away convinced of its merits. The cake came with a golden, slightly charred crust that contrasted nicely with the steaming hot, milky white morsels of jumbo lump meat inside. Sides of steamed corn and wild rice were perfunctory, but a decadent peach cobbler—a seasonal dessert offering—more than made up for those disappointments. Crab cakes and peach cobbler: If that ain’t a quintessential Maryland meal, we don’t know what is.

COSTAS INN

Dundalk | 4100 Northpoint Blvd., 410‑477‑1975

Costas is all about crabs, and that’s evident from the moment you walk inside. Many tables within its comfortable, no-frills dining room are prepped with brown paper and mallets, awaiting guests who’ve called ahead to snag a dozen—or more. The menu bursts with seafood, from platters laden with succulent raw bivalves to clams casino. But there is little doubt that Costas is also a crab cake destination. Their meaty mounds are offered broiled or fried, and the quality of the crab is high. There's just enough filler to hold them together and very little outside influence from spices or other flavorings. We’re also fans of the lobster mac and cheese, and kids love the enormous desserts.

CATHERINE PUGH

Mayor of Baltimore

“Crab cakes are a Baltimore tradition [but] I only make them on rare occasions,” says Pugh. “I don’t like fillers or a lot of bread. I like the old-fashioned crab cakes with a few little changes, as I’ve grown more health-conscious.”

    Ingredients
  • 1 pound lump crabmeat
  • 1 egg
  • ¼ cup low-fat mayonnaise
  • ½ teaspoon Old Bay
  • ¼ teaspoon white pepper
  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice
  • 2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
  • 1 tablespoon fresh flat-leaf parsley

Directions
Place crabmeat into a mixing bowl, adding egg, mayo, Old Bay, pepper, lemon juice, and mustard. (Do not over mix. Crab should still be lumpy.) Once ingredients are evenly mixed, shape into cakes, refrigerate for an hour.

Before cooking, set on counter for 20 minutes. If frying, heat nonstick skillet with two tablespoons unsalted butter and two tablespoons olive oil. Heat until frothy, then put cakes into skillet, cooking on each side for four minutes or until golden.

If broiling, spray a skillet with nonstick cooking spray, add cakes to skillet, and place oven on broil, setting until brown. Serve with tartar and/or cocktail sauce, lemon wedge, and saltines. Serves 4.


Indulge in crab imperial, crab dip, crab fluff, crab on your steak, and, of course, crab cakes at the Crackpot.
The corn and a cake at The Crackpot restaurant, dining room, chalkboard listing daily seafood offerings, and crab cake platter.

THE CRACKPOT RESTAURANT

TOWSON | 8102 Loch Raven Blvd., Towson, 410‑828‑1095

The clean and cozy dining room has the ubiquitous barrage of TVs (14 by our count), but still manages to have personality. From the enormous swordfish mounted above porthole mirrors to a table dedicated to the armed forces, Crackpot’s room feels welcoming, and the menu is focused on crab. You may indulge in crab imperial, crab dip, crab fluff, crab on your steak, and, of course, crab cakes. We eschewed the mammoth 23-ounce offering and the riffs (Mexican, smoked, blackened) in favor of a classic broiled cake. It arrived quaintly nestled amongst the sides and was bulging with succulent crabmeat—not too much filler and just the right amount of seasoning. The tangy tartar, above-average wine offerings, and an attractive tap lineup make this unassuming strip-mall haunt all its cracked up to be.

DUDA’S TAVERN

FELLS POINT | 1600 Thames St., 410‑276‑9719

This corner dive is one of the last tried and true pubs left in Fells Point. With walls adorned with old-school Baltimore sports memorabilia, Duda’s is our go-to spot for a burger and a beer, but be sure to try its crab cake platter. While this perfectly deep-fried mound isn’t the biggest in town at just 5.25 ounces, it wastes no space for filler. The dense cake has plenty of flavorful lumps of crabmeat that are complemented by hints of Old Bay and parsley. The tartar sauce, which you only need a smidgen of, was also a standout with red onions and sharp dill pickle chunks. Plus, we love the simplicity of the sides: a small cup of house-made slaw and ruffled Utz potato chips—very fitting on top of a plastic Orioles tablecloth.

FAIDLEY SEAFOOD

Downtown | 203 N. Paca St., 410‑727‑4898

This old-school Lexington Market seafood stand is the gold standard for Maryland crab cakes. With their baseball-size sweet meat and saltine crust, these jumbo lump and backfin beauties achieve their status from more than 130 years of consistency and care, and insistence on using Maryland crab. Cake queen—and third generation co-owner Nancy Faidley-Devine—still molds every mound by hand (the cakes are exactly the size of her mitts). Even in a town with plenty of great crab cakes on offer, if we could only pick one to hail (and inhale), this would be it. They’re a bucket-list item worth checking off more than once.


The family’s legacy of offering Maryland-style seafood remains intact at Floyd’s Crossroads Pub.
The crab cake sandwich, staff, crab soup, and crab cake platter with hush puppies and slaw at Floyd’s Crossroads Pub.

FLOYD’S CROSSROADS PUB

DAYTON | 4809 Ten Oaks Road, Dayton, 410‑531‑7485

The crab cake recipe at this family-run crab house is a well-kept secret. Bill and CindyLee Floyd purchased the restaurant in 2014 from her uncle and aunt, Bill and Kathleen Green, who opened it in 1998 after running a stall at Cross Street Market in Federal Hill. The family’s legacy of offering Maryland-style seafood with as-friendly-as-can-be service remains intact at this charming country oasis with its lovely outdoor deck, where diners crack hard-shell crab, and feast on lobster (on the April Saturday we visited, a 10-pounder was on the menu for $149) and crawfish. Those in the know, however, usually go for “Uncle Bill’s” signature crab cake. Louisiana crabmeat is used in this terrific cake, featuring a creamy binder. Huge chunks of meat also abound in the Maryland crab soup, and “Aunt Kathy’s” house-made coleslaw is your best bet for the one side that accompanies the single-cake sandwich ($17.95), which comes fried or broiled.

GERTRUDE’S

HOMEWOOD | 10 Art Museum Dr., 410‑889‑3399

Sometimes we take classics for granted, but if you have a Tuesday free in the near future, head to the old standby that is Gertrude’s at the Baltimore Museum of Art. There’s a reason John Shields’ name is synonymous with seafood—the chef (with a big nod to his grandmother) knows what he’s doing when it comes to crab cakes. And on Tuesdays, his broiled beauties are served with Boardwalk-style French fries and snappy coleslaw for just $15. The magic behind Shields’ crab cake isn’t only its massive size but also the sweet backfin meat of his Maryland-sourced crabs. It's perfectly flavored with Worcestershire and just a hint of Tabasco, and subtly bound by saltine cracker crumbs. We sure are happy that grandma Gertie saved her recipe card.

JENNINGS CAFE

CATONSVILLE | 808 Frederick Road, Catonsville, 410‑744‑3824

Family run and proudly frills-free, the horse-racing-themed Jennings has been serving up a down-home menu with exemplary service since 1958. The crab cakes, made using the same half-century recipe, are among the restaurant and bar's most popular items. Louisiana crabmeat is mixed with heavily seasoned filler to create a cake roughly the size of a fist. It's not the meatiest or largest ones we've encountered, but that's just fine—just means more room for Jennings' delicious homemade sides, like tangy potato salad and finely chopped slaw. The cheerful servers treat each customer like one of the restaurant's many regulars, so when we ordered sweet-potato fries, it was suggested that we dunk them in a house-made concoction (which usually accompanies rockfish bites) that's so addictive it's dubbed "crack sauce." The crab cake platter (which includes two sides, plus homemade cocktail and tartar sauce) is market-priced (and $5 off on Mondays). On the evening we visited, it was $17.95 for a single—a great deal at a straightforward restaurant that is, thankfully, set in its ways.

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JIMMY CANTLER’S RIVERSIDE INN

CATONSVILLE | 458 Forest Beach Road, Annapolis, 410‑757‑1311

This family-run Annapolis seafood shack offers the quintessential setting for a Maryland crab feast, with piles of steamed crabs and ice-cold Buds served at picnic tables, beside scenic views of ospreys, herons, and fishing boats that cruise the quiet waters of Mill Creek. Though they’re known for their hard shells, consider Cantler’s crab cakes, which are a worthy reward without all the work. These salty-sweet, filler-free treats are coddled into cakes using broiled jumbo lump or flash-fried backfin. Order them atop leafy greens, stuffed into plush sandwiches, or all on their own, paired with sides like hush puppies and potato salad.

AMY GJERDE

Co-owner Woodberry Kitchen, Artifact, and Foodshed

“This is the recipe for the crab cakes my grandmother, Virginia, made,” says Gjerde. “She passed away in 2015 at the age of 94. The recipe includes ingredients from my garden that I add to make them my own.”

    Ingredients
  • 1 pound freshly picked crabmeat
  • 1 teaspoon Old Bay
  • ½ teaspoon salt
  • 1 tablespoon mayonnaise
  • ½ tablespoon brown mustard
  • 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
  • 1 tablespoon freshly picked flat leaf parsley, chives, and bronze fennel (from my garden)
  • Juice from ½ Meyer lemon
  • 1 tablespoon baking powder
  • 1 egg, beaten
  • 2 slices bread broken up and soaked in egg
  • Fine breadcrumbs for coating
  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 2 tablespoons oil

Directions
Combine all ingredients and form into four crab cakes.

Dip in breadcrumbs lightly and sauté in butter and oil about five minutes on each side until well-browned.

Serve with tartar sauce, mustard, and crackers. Serves 4.

JIMMY’S FAMOUS SEAFOOD

Broening Manor | 6526 Holabird Ave., 410‑633‑4040

In March, Jimmy’s offered free crab cakes for life to anyone who correctly picked the winner of every game in the NCAA men’s basketball tournament. It’s an impossible task (Warren Buffett promised $1 billion for the same feat in 2014, and no one came close), yet the fact that the contest garnered so many entries speaks to the crave-worthiness of Jimmy’s crab cakes. And rightly so. The 8-ounce cake, served fried or broiled (we recommend the latter), is assembled perfectly, using crab from Louisiana in the off-season and Maryland meat when it’s available. The single-cake platter comes with a choice of sides, which include a refreshing number of vegetable options. While parts of the restaurant have undergone a face-lift in recent years (a new bar on the second floor features seven large TVs, a pool table, and a party vibe that includes a DJ some nights), thankfully, the crab cake recipe hasn’t changed since Jimmy’s opened in 1974.

KOCO’S PUB

Lauraville | 4301 Harford Road, 410‑426‑3519

Crab cultists swear by this canary yellow Lauraville shack that’s best described as the bay meets the Bahamas. Rife with parrot décor, a big bustling bar area, and state plates on the walls, this 32-year-old family operation exudes an easy-in-the-islands vibe. Consideration and care play into every offering, from classic pub grub to the signature, big-as-a-baseball crab cakes (11 ounces each, to be exact). Made daily by Joanna Kocovinos and her daughter, Marcella Knight, they have minimal filler, tons of flavor, and just a kiss of Old Bay. Cakes come with a coterie of sauces and spreads—Worcestershire, yellow and Dijon mustards, tartar and cocktail—but we enjoy ours broiled, in the buff, and served with Caesar salad on the side.

THE LOCAL OYSTER

Mount VERNON | 520 Park Ave., 844‑748‑2537

When it comes to seafood, The Local Oyster has quickly become the Cheers of Charm City. This tiny Mount Vernon Marketplace stand is a welcome rest stop for shrimp-salad sandwiches at lunch, post-work beers at happy hour, and always chummy conversation over owner Nick Schauman’s grandma’s crab soup. While oysters might be the main event, Schauman’s crab cake is an instant Baltimore classic. Served as a sandwich or a la carte with saltines, this jumbo lump treat is a true testament to the fact that some recipes are best not messed with. It’s Maryland crab, through and through, with a quick bake in the oven and a dusting of Old Bay. Add a bag of Utz to the side and call it a pleasant day in The Land of Pleasant Living.

MICHAEL’S CAFE

TIMONIUM | 2119 York Road, Timonium, 410‑252‑2022

Michael’s modernized both its décor and its menu in 2014, but the York Road standby knew to leave some things alone. One of those things was the crab cake, which has been a customer favorite ever since the family-owned restaurant opened in 1984. The recipe blends Maryland and Gulf crabmeat into a golden ball of buttery bay goodness that can be served broiled or fried. The regular 5-ounce portion is plenty, but we opted for the 10-ounce hungry-man version and came away stuffed, especially since we scarfed sides of pillowy rice pilaf and sautéed broccolini as well. Sitting in Michael’s original dark wood bar area is great if you’re flying solo. (Shout out to bartenders Robin and Shannon, who handled a rowdy customer with tact and discretion.) But the back dining room, sleek new side bar, and patio area might be even better seats.


The nautical old-school interior, the cash register, and dinner is served at Michael’s Steak & Lobster House.

MICHAEL’S STEAK & LOBSTER HOUSE

BAyview | 6209 Eastern Ave., 410‑633‑6485

Perhaps this decidedly old-school East Baltimore restaurant should consider a name change. If you ask us, the best thing on its pages-long menu filled with Greek, seafood, veal, and beef entrees just might be the delicious broiled crab cakes. The large cakes (two for $28.95, served with two sides) feature so much lump crabmeat and so little filler that they can come apart easily. (Note: This is a good thing.) The tangy and thick homemade cocktail sauce lures us to occasionally break protocol and dunk a forkful of crab cake in it. Don’t judge: We swear we know better. Michael’s delivers other crab (sourced from Texas year-round) favorites, too, including crab pretzels, crab cocktail, stuffed soft shells, baked imperial, and a unique dish we’ve not seen elsewhere: sautéed crab lumps Norfolk—a generous portion of crabmeat served over Virginia ham. If you can’t bring yourself to order a crab dish with “Virginia” in the description, remember that a name doesn’t always tell the full story.

MR. BILL’S TERRACE INN

ESSEX | 200 Eastern Blvd., Essex, 410‑687‑5994

This no-nonsense Essex venue is equal parts seafood destination and neighborhood bar. There’s no escaping the glow of wall-mounted TVs, but then you may not care what’s on once your food arrives. Help yourself to a plate of raw oysters or crisply breaded fried green tomatoes. Come hungry, though, because you’re going to want room in your belly for Bill’s glorious globs of crab. Loads of jumbo lump are de rigueur, and the filling has just enough heat to build softly as you make your way through the cake without igniting your palate. It may be Bill’s way of subtly influencing your beer consumption, or maybe enticing you with a follow-up ice-cream sundae. Either way works, and we can’t wait to return for another fix.

OLIVE GROVE

Linthicum heights | 705 N. Hammonds Ferry Road, Linthicum Heights, 410‑636‑1385

Think of this family-friendly Linthicum restaurant as an upscale diner—upholstered booths, a dessert case in the front, and a super-size menu. Direct your attention to the jumbo crab cake platter. There are options for one crab cake or two, but our server told us no one can ever finish two because these 10-ounce behemoths pack a punch. Broiled to crisp perfection, this crab cake is eggy and soft inside and dotted with parsley and red pepper flakes. For accompaniments, we advise their crunchy French fries or buttery green beans. A bonus is that meals come with all-you-can-eat garlicky bread sticks and garden salad with delicious house-made dressing. But it’s all about portion control here, especially if you order two cakes—though we did see one veteran diner box up her second one “for tomorrow night’s dinner.”

PAPPAS RESTAURANT & SPORTS BAR

COCKEYSVILLE | Multiple locations, including 550 Cranbrook Road, Cockeysville, 410‑666‑0030

There are lots of choices when you visit the Cockeysville location of this 45-year-old family business. Head left for white tablecloths and a glass of Pinot Gris, or turn to the right to watch the game over cheap bottles of beer. Wherever you sit, you’ll see diners ordering the broiled crab cakes that Oprah deemed among her “favorite things” in 2015. The recipe, and sourcing, seems to be a Maryland state secret (though on a recent visit, our server suggested that if every crab came from the Chesapeake, “Our bay would be drained”). But this we can say with certainty: However these ginormous cakes are made, they are virtually filler-free and only lightly spiced with crab seasoning, allowing for the full expression of crabby flavor. Visit them at this latest location, their original Parkville outlet, or get them shipped to wherever you live—be it Boca or Beverly Hills.

LOU CATELLI

Patron saint of Hampden

“When I came to Hampden in 2008, all I kept hearing about was Denise Whiting’s Cafe Hon crab cake,” explains Catelli. “I went in for one, and since then, barely a month has gone by without me stopping in for a quick crab cake and gin and soda at the Hon Bar.”

    Ingredients
  • 1 pound of jumbo lump crabmeat (fresh Maryland meat is the best)
  • ½ cup panko 
  • 1 teaspoon Old Bay
  • 2 teaspoons finely chopped parsley
  • 1 large egg
  • ½ cup Hellmann’s mayonnaise
  • 3 tablespoons butter

Directions
Drain liquid from crabmeat. Put crabmeat into bowl and gently pick through for shells, being careful not to break up the lumps. Sprinkle panko, Old Bay, and parsley over the meat and, with open fingers, gently mix the ingredients.

In another bowl, combine egg and mayo and whisk together. Add to the crab and gently incorporate the sauce. Let the mixture set for 30 minutes in refrigerator. Divide mixture to form four 3-inch patties about three-quarters of an inch thick. Patties should be loose enough to show the lumps of meat and not mashed together too firmly.

Melt butter in heavy skillet over medium heat and sauté four minutes per side. Serves 4.

THE PRIME RIB

Midtown belvedere | 1101 N. Calvert St., 410‑539‑1804

The mere mention of this stalwart steakhouse that opened in 1965 conjures up many images: animal print carpet, expertly crafted martinis, the tuxedoed piano player, and, of course, perfectly pink prime rib. But add to that list one of the finest crab cakes we’ve ever sampled in the city. Available as a 5-ounce appetizer or two-to- a-plate as an entree, the jumbo lumps of unpasteurized Maryland crabmeat are miraculously sealed together with seemingly no filler, and dotted with fresh parsley. A la carte sides include the restaurant’s famous crispy potato skins with nose-tingling horseradish, and decadent creamed spinach.

ROMANO’S RESTAURANT

GLEN BURNIE | 6905 Ritchie Hwy., Glen Burnie, 410‑768‑8188

We like a place where you’re called “hon” the second you walk in the door. From sweet servers to walls boasting vintage Orioles memorabilia, this tried-and-true tavern tucked off of Ritchie Highway in Glen Burnie represents everything we love about Bawlmer. The dinner menu boasts a lengthy list of Italian specialties (chicken marsala, veal parm), but the crab cakes—with their plump shape and perfectly bronzed exterior—are what really keep people coming back. Per the suggestion of our waitress, we geared up for the main event with a sizeable soft pretzel smothered in creamy crab dip. The cakes arrived at our white-clothed table soon after, served old-school style with a thick slice of tomato and choice of two sides. We opted for French fries and slaw—because sometimes it’s just best to stick with tradition.

  • Let Him Eat Cakes

    James Beard-winner and Maryland native Bill Addison talks crabs—and coming home.

    By Jess Mayhugh

    Tap to Expand

SCHULTZ’S CRAB HOUSE AND LOUNGE

ESSEX | 1732 Old Eastern Ave., Essex, 410‑687‑1020 

Just in case there’s any question that you’re in the right place when you get to this Essex crab joint, ask yourself what comes to mind when you think “Maryland crab house.” Is it dogs playing pool in a needlepoint tapestry or taxidermied marlins slung across the wall? Is it a billiard table or Keno machine? Is it the knotty pine paneling or servers who seem like circus performers as they balance heaps of hard shells on trays? Or maybe it’s just the crab cakes themselves—sourced from the Gulf out of season and locally in season, with little else but a shake of seasoning and some cracker crumbs to bind it all together. For us, it’s all of the above, and it's why the James Beard Foundation dubbed this 67-year-old crab house an “American Classic” in 2017.

SIP & BITE

Canton | 2200 Boston St., 410‑675‑7077

Sip & Bite wears many hats—legendary diner, late-night nosh spot, Greek flavor-fix, and yes, crab-cake crib. Their unorthodox take on the cake is flattened and griddled, but there’s nothing flat about the flavor. The crab cake is chock-full of lump meat, held together by a bit of egg binder, and just barely sprinkled with Old Bay. We appreciate the atypical side choices such as sweet potatoes, and love the option of mixing things up with Greek favorites like a gyro with house-made tzatziki sauce.


At Woodberry Kitchen, most of the menu comes from just down the block, or bay. If it's on the menu, it's locally made.
Aerial view of the dining room, delivering the goods, daily oyster specials, and crab cake platter at Woodberry Kitchen.

WOODBERRY KITCHEN

woodberry | 2010 Clipper Park Road, 410‑464‑8000

As a habit, it’s always best to ask where the crab for your cakes came from, but at this James Beard Award-winning eatery, where most of the menu comes from just down the block, or bay, there’s no need to ask—if it’s on the menu, it’s locally made. Arriving in a sizzling skillet (alongside potato pavé, some spring greens, and asparagus on our visit), these 6-ounce cakes with lump and backfin from Tilghman Island are broiled and bound by nothing more than fish peppers, oil, and egg, allowing for full unadulterated flavor. As if we needed more proof of authenticity in sourcing, each cake comes with a card reading, “The crab in your crab cake was caught by Chesapeake watermen, steamed and picked at GW Hall on Hoopers Island, and delivered directly to us.” When you’re craving not just any crab cake, but a pure Maryland crab cake, who could ask for anything more?

Source

]]> Water, Water, Everywhere https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/travel/water-escapes-12-best-road-trips-for-summer-travel/ Mon, 12 Jun 2017 09:00:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=3151
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By Marty LeGrand
Opening photo by Jon Bilous
Travel & Outdoors

Water, Water, Everywhere

We've rounded up 12 destinations—from seashores to spas—where H2O is the way to go.

By Marty LeGrand | Opening photo by Jon Bilous

Wherever you’re headed this summer, chances are you know the formula for a relaxing getaway: Just add water. Salty or fresh, briny or chlorinated, water revives our spirits and refreshes our bodies. It eases the summer sun’s intensity. It’s why swimming, boating, surfing, and waterparks were invented. We’ve rounded up 12 destinations—from seashores to spas—where H2O is the way to go.

All beach towns boast sun, sand, and surf, but within those parameters, there’s plenty of diversity. So whether you’re looking for quaintness and quietude (Cape May) or vibrancy and variety (Virginia Beach), we’ve got an oceanside oasis to recommend. Oh, and if you think we forgot about Ocean City, then you must not know us, hon.


On the beach and an Orange Crush in Ocean City.

On the beach and an Orange Crush in Ocean City.

Ocean City

Go: Baltimore’s go-to getaway is better than ever, the pulsing beat of its neon nightlife matched only by the lulling rhythm of the rolling Atlantic surf.

Stay: Watch the sunrise from your balcony at stately Dunes Manor Hotel & Suites (2800 Baltimore Ave., 800-623-8188).

Enjoy family-friendly benefits (full kitchens, kids’ activity pool) at Hilton Ocean City Oceanfront Suites (3200 Baltimore Ave., 410-289-6444).

New oceanfront suites at Hotel Monte Carlo & Suites (11th St., 410-289-7101) will open this summer, as will two bayside Marriott hotels, Residence Inn (300 Seabay Lane, 410-723-2222) and Fairfield Inn & Suites (2501 Philadelphia Ave., 410-289-5000).

Driving Distance: 147 miles, 3 hours (via Route 50); 179 miles, 3.5 hours (via I-95 and Route 1)

Best Beach: North Division Street (more elbow room)

Eat/Drink: Try the crab bisque at foodie fave Hooked (8003 Coastal Hwy., 410-723-4665) or duck tacos at Shotti’s Point (3505 Coastal Hwy., 410-390-3951), the Federal Hill sports bar’s new O.C. location.

NFL fans will cheer Northside Pit & Pub (12701 Coastal Hwy., 443-664-7482), an offshoot of the original barbecue emporium/Ravens bar, and expansion of Steelers haven Buxy’s Salty Dog Saloon (2707 Philadelphia Ave., 410-289-0973) to include Dry Dock 28, a craft pizza restaurant.

And don’t forget the classics: an Orange Crush at Harborside Bar & Grill (12841 S. Harbor Road, 410-213-1846) and Thrasher’s French Fries on the boardwalk (401 S. Atlantic Ave. #1, 410-289-7232).

Do: Jolly Roger at the Pier’s latest diabolical ride, the Kraken (401 S. Atlantic Ave., 410-289-3031), is a tentacled contraption that whips riders over the water. The new (and free) 100 Nights of Lights is a nightly music-and-searchlight show that illuminates the boardwalk’s southern skyline.


Cape May architecture and the Cape May Lighthouse.

Cape May architecture and the Cape May Lighthouse.

Cape May, New Jersey

Go: This Atlantic-cooled island off the southern tip of New Jersey is America’s oldest seaside resort and a well-preserved Victorian magic kingdom of grand hotels, gaslights, and gingerbread houses.

Stay: Vacation in Gilded Age grandeur at the 200-year-old oceanfront hotel Congress Hall (200 Congress Place, 609-884-8421), or the Queen Victoria Bed & Breakfast (102 Ocean St., 609-884-8702).

Foodies will enjoy Carroll Villa Hotel (19 Jackson St., 609-884-9619), a boutique inn that’s home to Cape May’s trailblazing restaurant, The Mad Batter (609-884-5970).

Driving Distance: 154 miles, 3 hours

Best Beach: The Cove (good surfing, great views)

Eat/Drink: A buttermilk short stack at The Mad Batter (as in pancake) is a no-brainer.

Check the chalkboard for locally sourced lunch specials at cozy Louisa’s Café (104 Jackson St., 609-884-5882).

Afternoon tea is an actual thing in Cape May, so swing by Carriage House Café & Tearoom (1048 Washington St., 609-884-5404) for a cuppa and a scone.

Or go hang with surfers and lifeguards at The Rusty Nail (205 Beach Ave., 609-884-0017), a pooch-welcoming beach bar.

Line up at Enfin Farms’ roadside stand for fabulous artisanal breads baked by a 2017 James Beard Award nominee (609 Sunset Blvd., 609-884-1277).

Do: Savor some suds on a free tour of Cape May Brewery (1288 Hornet Road at Cape May Airport, 609-849-9933).

Don’t miss the mansion-turned-museum Emlen Physick Estate (1048 Washington St., 609-884-5404), the circa-1850s Cape May Lighthouse in Cape May Point State Park (609-224-6066), or the guided trolley tours that explain town history (609-884-5404).


Fresh brew at Three Ships Coffee in Virginia Beach, Bald Cypress Trail in First Landing State Park in Virginia Beach, The Cavalier in Virginia Beach.

Fresh brew at Three Ships Coffee in Virginia Beach, The Cavalier in Virginia Beach, Bald Cypress Trail in First Landing State Park in Virginia Beach.

Virginia Beach, Virginia

Go: In addition to being Virginia’s largest city, Virginia Beach is situated on the horn of Virginia, allowing it to offer shores on both the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. These sandy stretches include three miles of resort beach and boardwalk known as “the strip.”

Stay: Enjoy seaside rooms and dining at Hilton Garden Inn Virginia Beach Oceanfront (3315 Atlantic Ave., 757-305-9000). Beach Spa B&B (2420 Arctic Ave., 757-578-1008) offers hearty breakfasts and an array of spa services just blocks from the beach.

The much-anticipated reopening of The Cavalier (4200 Atlantic Ave., 757-425-8555) is slated for early fall, following a $75-million restoration of the Y-shaped oceanfront hotel.

Driving Distance: 254 miles, 5 hours

Best Beach: Oceanfront (wide and clean, with a separate boardwalk and bike lane)

Eat/Drink: For fresh seafood and local charm, try Tautog’s Restaurant (205 23rd St., 757-422-0081), housed in a renovated cottage near the boardwalk.

Locals treasure Three Ships Coffee (607 19th St., 757-321-9371), a coffee bar/roastery in the city’s arts district.

On the strip, The Bee & The Biscuit (1785 Princess Anne Road, 757-689-6243) serves delicious brunch fare in a cozy setting.

Do: Take a dolphin-watching boat tour from Rudee Tours (Rudee Inlet, 200 Winston Salem Ave., 757-425-3400) or head to the nearby Virginia Aquarium & Marine Science Center (717 General Booth Blvd., 757-385-3474) to see aquatic life in a more controlled environment.

Save time to visit Sandbridge, an isolated barrier peninsula adjoined by Back Bay National Wildlife Refuge (4005 Sandpiper Road, 757-301-7329).

And be sure to squeeze in a wade at First Landing State Park (2500 Shore Dr., 757-412-2300), a historic stretch of Chesapeake Bay shoreline where English colonists first set foot in 1607.

  • GO WITH THE FLOW

    Not sure which destination is right for you? Follow the flow chart to find your vacation paradise.

    Tap to Expand

The natural setting for summer camps, lakes summon childhood memories of sailboats, swimming, and s’mores by the campfire. Our picks feature resort-based adventure (Deep Creek Lake) and elegant lodging and dining (Lake Wallenpaupack). Or, for a bit of both, take the waters at medicinal springs that have a presidential pedigree (Hot Springs).


Deep Creek Lake, ice cream from Lakeside Creamery at Deep Creek Lake.

Deep Creek Lake, ice cream from Lakeside Creamery at Deep Creek Lake.

Deep Creek Lake

Go: Maryland’s largest lake buzzes with powerboats and Jet Skis, while numerous coves provide quiet water for swimming, kayaking, dock fishing, or lake-watching from a porch rocker. Mountain breezes keep things cool, and come July 4, DCL celebrates with a boat parade and Fire on the Mountain, a pyrotechnic display from atop Wisp’s summit. Doesn’t get much more Appalachian all-American than that.

Stay: Under new management, Lake Pointe Inn (174 Lake Pointe Dr., McHenry, 301-387-0111) provides luxury B&B accommodations on the lakefront. Lake cruises are a popular guest perk.

Rooms at LakeStar Lodge (2001 Deep Creek Dr., McHenry, 301-387-5596) offer lake and mountain views and décor by local artisans.

The sustainably built hillside cabins at Blue Moon Rising (89 Blue Moon Rising Way, McHenry, 240-442-5287) feature cozy kitchens and quirky architecture.

Driving Distance: 179 miles, 3 hours

Public Beach: Deep Creek Lake State Park (with picnic area, boat launch)

Eat/Drink: Wood-fired flatbread pizzas, microbrews, and mountain views make Mountain State Brewing Co. (6690 Sang Run Road, McHenry, 301-387-3360) a popular hangout.

Tackle the titanic Marsh Mountain Burger (with fried pickles, candied bacon, a fried egg, and more) at Ace’s Run (20160 Garrett Hwy., Oakland, 301-387-6688).

Chocoholics will dig Lakeside Creamery’s Muddy Creek sundae (20282 Garrett Hwy., Oakland, 301-387-2580).

And remember, it’s not a Deep Creek Lake vacation until you’ve quaffed a blended frozen drink at Honi-Honi Bar (19745 Garrett Hwy., Oakland, 301-387-9100).

Do: Wisp Resort Mountain Coaster is a thrilling, 28-mph ride down 3,500 feet of mountain slope (296 Marsh Hill Road, McHenry, 301-859-3159).


The Ledges Hotel near Lake Wallenpaupack, horseback riding, and blueberries at Paupack Blueberry Farm.

The Ledges Hotel near Lake Wallenpaupack, horseback riding, and blueberries at Paupack Blueberry Farm.

Lake Wallenpaupack, Pennsylvania

Go: Nestled in the lake-studded Poconos, the 13-mile-long Big Lake features swimming, fishing, Jet Skiing, parasailing, paddleboarding, and just about any other water sport you can think of. Six recreation areas also beckon campers, hikers, and friends of the forest. Protip: Stop first at Pocono Mountains Visitors Center (2512 Route 6, Hawley, 570-226-2141) for maps, info, and even free loaner fishing gear.

Stay: The posh adults’ spa The Lodge at Woodloch (109 River Birch Lane, Hawley, 800-WOODLOCH) offers nature-based stress relief with botanical treatments, aqua garden soaking pools, and a new float therapy cabin.

Its sister lodgings, Woodloch Resort (731 Welcome Lake Road, Hawley, 800-966-3562), accommodate families beside a private lake.

In town, the boutique Ledges Hotel (119 Falls Ave., Hawley, 570-226-1337) occupies an 1890 glass factory overlooking a stunning waterfall.

Driving Distance: 232 miles, 3.5 hours (via I-83 and I-81); 226 miles, 4 hours (via I-95 and I-476)

Public Beach: Palmyra Township Beach (lifeguards, plus 1.8-mile lakeside trail)

Eat/Drink: Sample locally sourced entrees like lamb with blackberry-red wine sauce at Pocono Restaurant in the English Arts & Crafts-style Settlers Inn (4 Main Ave., Hawley, 570-226-2993).

Casual, nautically themed The Dock on Wallenpaupack (205 Route 507, Hawley, 570-226-2124) serves fresh seafood and classic comfort foods. Enjoy river gorge-ous views and savory small plates at Glass, the Ledges Hotel’s wine/tapas bar.

For simple sweetness, visit Paupack Blueberry Farm (184 Gumbletown Road, Paupack, 570-226-9702), which offers pick-your-own fruit, baked goods, and ice cream.

Do: A local history-and-scenery cruise with Wallenpaupack Scenic Boat Tours (2487 Route 6, Hawley, 570-226-3293) provides a great introduction to the area.


Jefferson Pools in Warm Springs, Lake Wallenpaupack sunset.

Jefferson Pools in Warm Springs, Lake Wallenpaupack sunset.

Hot Springs, Virginia

Go: There’s a reason 23 U.S. presidents (and lots of regular Joes) have journeyed to this Allegheny Highlands hamlet since 1766. Its mineral-rich, naturally warmed springs are the stuff of naturopathic legend.

Stay: The Omni Homestead Resort (7696 Sam Snead Hwy., 800-838-1766) operates two springs: its luxurious on-site spa garden and the historic Jefferson Pools in nearby Warm Springs, named for VIP soaker Thomas Jefferson. A destination resort, the 2,000-acre Omni Homestead offers 483 rooms and suites, indoor and outdoor spas, two championship golf courses, and a host of activities that includes a new zipline tour.

The spas are the main attraction, especially the Serenity Garden, an adults-only retreat featuring the famous geothermal pools and a soothing river-stone reflexology walk. Indoors, the Aqua Thermal Suite offers multi-sensory showers and ah-inducing treatments like the Herbal Cocoon (spa appointments: 877-479-8517).

Driving Distance: 249 miles, 4.5 hours (via I-70 and I-81); 256 miles, 5 hours (via I-95 and I-64)

Classic Spa Treatment: The Homestead’s 50-minute Mineral Springs Mud Wrap

Eat/Drink: Choose from Homestead’s numerous venues. The jackets-for-gentlemen Main Dining Room (540-839-7563) serves classical fare (Châteaubriand, trout almondine) and the Gold Brick Sundae, an irresistible mountain of vanilla ice cream mud-wrapped in a decadent, hard-chocolate shell.

Sample Southern-influenced farm-to-table cuisine at Jefferson’s Restaurant & Bar (540-839-7552). Other options include a popular pizzeria housed in an 1893 casino, a coffee shop with house-made doughnuts, a links-side eatery offering “golf-inspired comfort food,” and small plates at the lobby bar.

Do: A time-honored, POTUS-approved Jefferson Soak at Jefferson Pools bathhouses (11 Bath St., Warm Springs, 800-838-1766) is a must.

For a night out, check the calendar at the Garth Newel Music Center (403 Garth Newel Lane, 540-839-5018), a year-round chamber music venue with a house piano quartet and frequent guest performers.

  • Take Flight: 8 Great Getaways

    We get it. Your wanderlust pushes you beyond local boundaries. Leave your car behind and expand your vacation horizons with a nonstop flight from BWI Thurgood Marshall Airport to one of these watery destinations. You’ll be in new waters before you can say “Marco Polo.”

    Tap to Expand

When the nation’s largest estuary is your next-door neighbor, why wouldn’t you indulge in its briny waters, blue crabs, and boating lifestyle? Whether it’s a fashionable Eastern Shore retreat (St. Michaels), a Western Shore boaters’ mecca (Solomons Island), or a historic hamlet in Tidewater Virginia (Irvington), the Chesapeake Bay makes for a refreshing staycation.


Chesapeake Restaurant at The Tides Inn in St. Michaels.

St. Michaels

Go: If the Chesapeake Bay is indeed The Land of Pleasant Living, this Eastern Shore town could be its capital. Home to a genteel world-class resort and second home to many urbanites, laid-back-but-sophisticated St. Michaels showcases bay culture, cuisine, and history.

Stay: Facing the Miles River, The Inn at Perry Cabin by Belmond (308 Watkins Lane, 410-745-2200) provides deluxe accommodations, landscaped gardens, a fine-dining restaurant, and a spa/fitness center.

One of several old homes-turned-B&Bs, The Old Brick Inn (401 S. Talbot St., 410-745-3323) offers elegant guestrooms and an innkeeper-curated selection of bottled wines.

The water views from Black Walnut Point Inn’s cozy cabins are stunning (4417 Black Walnut Point Road, Tilghman Island, 410-886-2452).

Driving Distance: 79.5 miles, 1.5 hours

Best Boat Trip: Let Capt. Ed regale you with bay factoids and lore on a cruise by Chesapeake Skipjack Sailing Tours (213 N. Talbot St., 410-745-6080).

Eat/Drink: Gina’s Café (601 S. Talbot St., 410-745-6400) is a tiny jewel with a bohemian vibe and Southwestern fare, including to-die-for seafood nachos heaped with crabmeat.

Bistro St. Michaels (403 S. Talbot St., 410-745-9111) serves creative New American cuisine with Parisian ambience.

Get steamed bay crabs, steamed clams, and Eastern Shore sides at The Crab Claw (304 Burns St., 410-745-2900).

Or take the historic Oxford-Bellevue Ferry to renowned chef Mark Salter’s Robert Morris Inn (314 N. Morris St., Oxford, 410-226-5111) for gourmet Chesapeake fare.

Do: The Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum (213 N. Talbot St., 410-745-2916) and its Hooper Strait Lighthouse are must-sees.

Afterward, stroll Talbot Street—which is lined with intriguing shops, cafes, and historic homes—and then sample small-batch rums and whiskeys on a tour of Lyon Distilling Co. (605 S. Talbot St. #6, 443-333-9181).


Golf course at The Tides Inn in Irvington, Solomons Victorian Inn on Solomons Island, and Cove Point Lighthouse on Solomons Island.

Golf course at The Tides Inn in Irvington Solomons Victorian Inn on Solomons Island, and Cove Point Lighthouse on Solomons Island.

Solomons Island

Go: Piers filled with recreational and fishing boats, a major maritime museum and historic seafood plant, and a nearby naval air station give this small island on the lower Patuxent River its nautical flavor.

Stay: Enjoy an elegant respite and three-course breakfast at Solomons Victorian Inn (125 Charles St., 410-326-4811), once a yacht-builder’s mansion.

Facing a quiet cove, Back Creek Inn (210 Alexander Lane, 410-326-2022) features lovely gardens, charming rooms, and full country breakfasts.

Sleep with history: Rent the restored and modernized light-keeper’s lodgings at the 1828 Cove Point Lighthouse (3500 Lighthouse Blvd., Lusby, 410-326-2042, ext. 17).

Driving Distance: 82 miles, 1.5 hours

Best Boat Trip: Wm. B. Tennison (410-326-2042, ext. 41), the Calvert Marine Museum’s vintage oyster dredge boat takes passengers on a 1-hour tour past Solomons Island’s harbor, the Chesapeake Biological Laboratory, and the Governor Thomas Johnson Bridge.

Eat/Drink: Intimate C.D. Café (14350 Solomons Island Road, 410-326-3877) serves innovative seafood like grilled ahi tuna with grilled shrimp chimichurri.

Try the scallop and crab entree at yachting-themed Dry Dock Restaurant (245 C St., 410-326-4817).

Lotus Kitchen (14618 Solomons Island Road, 410-326-8469) is a local favorite for breakfast, lunch, light dinner, and killer Key lime pie.

Slake your thirst with Ruddy Duck Brewery’s seasonal ales (13200 Dowell Road, Dowell, 410-394-3825) or mai tais at imbibers’ mecca The Tiki Bar (85 Charles St., 410-326-4075).

Do: Hunt for fossilized sharks’ teeth at Calvert Cliffs State Park beach (10540 H.G. Trueman Road, Lusby, 301-743-7613).

Explore more recent history at the Calvert Marine Museum (14200 Solomons Island Road, 410-326-2042), where you can tour two lighthouses, watch boat-builders, learn about local seafood processing, and observe playful river otters.


Corkscrew sculptures greet you at The Dog and Oyster Vineyard in Irvington, the marina in St. Michaels.

corkscrew sculptures greet you at The Dog and Oyster vineyard in Irvington, the marina in St. Michaels

Irvington, Virginia

Go: A steamboat stop in the 1800s, this small town on Virginia’s Northern Neck has become a popular destination once more. It is home to a world-class resort catering to golfers, boaters, and spa-goers, and to one of the East Coast’s most romantic inns.

Stay: The Hope and Glory Inn (65 Tavern Road, 804-438-6053) offers three ultra-romantic lodgings: cheery rooms in an 1890s schoolhouse, garden cottages on the schoolhouse grounds, and “tents”—Gothic-style cottages—at the inn’s vineyard.

On beautiful Carter’s Creek, The Tides Inn (480 King Carter Dr., 800-843-3746) boasts spacious rooms and suites, a deep-water marina, an 18-hole golf course, a full-service spa, and activities from s’more roasts to on-site sailing lessons.

Driving Distance: 157 miles, 3 hours (via Route 3E)

Best Boat Trip: Faded Glory, Hope and Glory Inn’s classic Chesapeake workboat (804-438-6053), takes passengers for cruises along the town’s “main street,” aka Carter’s Creek.

Eat/Drink: The Tides Inn’s Chesapeake Restaurant (804-438-4489) offers fresh seafood, Southern hospitality, and splendid creek views.

Under new ownership, Trick Dog Bar & Bistro (4357 Irvington Road, 804-438-6363) upholds its reputation for refined local dining.

Hope and Glory Inn’s Dining Hall (804-438-6053) serves locally sourced, fixed-price dinners, and its vineyard, The Dog and Oyster (170 White Fences Dr., 804-438-9463), serves award-winning wines paired with Byrd’s Seafood Co.’s fresh seafood, like Rappahannock River oysters.

Do: The Dog and Oyster is but one of the many wine-producing properties in the region. Visit others on the Chesapeake Bay Wine Trail (chesapeakebaywinetrail.com). Attractions like the Steamboat Era Museum (156 King Carter Dr., 804-438-6888) and the 1735 Christ Church (420 Christ Church Road, Weems, 804-438-6855) reflect rich Tidewater history.

The first Saturday of each month, shop the Irvington Farmers Market (98 King Carter Dr., 804-480-0697) for artisanal food products, handmade crafts, furniture, clothing, and local art. The 100-vendor-strong marketplace, which also offers live music, was voted the best farmers’ market on Virginia’s East Coast in 2015 by Virginia Living magazine.

On sultry afternoons, there’s nothing more refreshing than hours of immersion at one of the region’s ultra-cool waterparks. Foster family togetherness at an all-in-one destination (Hershey), double dip at the seashore (Rehoboth Beach), or mix leisure and learning (Williamsburg). Just be sure to take the plunge this summer.


Hersheypark, treatment products at The Spa at The Hotel Hershey.

Hersheypark, treatment products at The Spa at The Hotel Hershey.

Hershey, Pennsylvania

Go: The Boardwalk, the beach-themed aqua-musement portion of Hersheypark (100 W. Hersheypark Dr., 717-534-3900), offers Chocolate City visitors more than a dozen ways to keep it chill: wave pools, water slides, a lazy river, waterworks, a bodyboard wave, and five twisty tube rides with names like Vortex and Whirlwind. Hersheypark admission includes Boardwalk attractions, roller coasters, and other rides, including a new pick-your-thrill-level drop tower.

Stay: The amusement park has two on-site hotels: The Hotel Hershey (100 Hotel Road, 844-330-1711), a luxury resort boasting elegantly appointed rooms, suites, and cottages, and the family-oriented Hershey Lodge (325 University Dr., 844-330-1802), which offers rooms and suites for up to eight guests, plus a kids’ activities pool.

Driving Distance: 90 miles, 1.5 hours

Best Ride: Tidal Force, a wave-spewing splashdown coaster

Eat/Drink: Each hotel provides varied dining options. Try cocoa-dusted scallops at The Circular (717-534-8800), Hotel Hershey’s upscale restaurant overlooking the Hershey Gardens.

End your meal at Harvest (717-534-8800) with the house specialty dark chocolate cream pie.

Fire & Grain (844-330-1802), Hershey Lodge’s newest restaurant, serves re-imagined comfort food. The Bears’ Den is its popular sports bar/grill.

Looking to leave the hotel entirely? Enjoy pub grub and tasting tours at Tröegs Brewing (200 Hersheypark Dr., 717-534-1297).

Do: The Hotel Hershey’s high-end amenities include The Spa at The Hotel Hershey (717-520-5888), which offers the Whipped Cocoa Bath and other chocolate-influenced treatments.

Making your own candy bar at Hershey’s Chocolate World (101 Chocolate World Way, 717-534-4900) seems like an act of edible civic pride.


Dolle’s Candyland in Rehoboth Beach.

Rehoboth Beach, Delaware

Go: Waterparks at the shore might seem superfluous, but Rehoboth’s parks offer a refreshing break from sand and surf. Driving Distance: 121 miles, 2.5 hours (via Route 50); 151 miles, 2.5 hours (via I-95)

Stay: Newly renovated, The Avenue Inn (33 Wilmington Ave., 800-433-5870) offers spacious rooms for couples and families, plus an organic spa and indoor pool.

Kids 14 and under stay free at Oceanus Motel (6 Second St., 302-227-8200), a motel with an outdoor pool close to the beach.

Near Jungle Jim’s and Tanger Outlets, Holiday Inn Express (19953 Shuttle Road, 302-227-4030) gives family discounts: Children 19 and under stay free.

Driving Distance: 82 miles, 1.5 hours

Best Ride: Anaconda, Jungle Jim’s signature serpentine water slide

Eat/Drink: Check out the daily blackboard specials at local favorite Big Fish Grill (20298 Coastal Hwy., 302-227-3474).

Small plates and craft beers are highlights at The Blue Hen (33 Wilmington Ave., 302-278-7842), a new restaurant by two of Rehoboth’s top restaurateurs.

For sweeping views of the Atlantic and the stunning Indian River Inlet Bridge, visit Big Chill Beach Club (27099 Coastal Hwy., Bethany Beach), an outdoor eatery slated to open this summer.

For snacks, keep it casual and munch caramel corn from Dolle’s Candyland (1 Rehoboth Ave., 302-227-0757).

Do: The largest water park, Jungle Jim’s (36944 Country Club Road, 302-227-8444), features a lazy river that meanders past a wave pool/patio, children’s sprayground, tipping buckets, kiddie pool, and several water slides.

White Water Mountain (18645 Coastal Hwy., 302-645-8064) has two pools, spraygrounds, and several water slides.

Letting the kids loose at Shell We Bounce (20699 Coastal Hwy., 302-727-5416), an indoor palace of inflatable bounce houses, should burn off whatever excess energy the waterparks haven’t sapped.


Family fun at Water Country USA in Williamsburg.

Family fun at Water Country USA in Williamsburg.

Williamsburg, Virginia

Go: Better known for its preserved 18th-century village, Williamsburg is also an epicenter of theme-park fun, featuring both the state’s largest waterpark, Water Country USA, and the ever-popular Busch Gardens.

Stay: Golf-centric Kingsmill Resort (1010 Kingsmill Road, 757-253-1703) on the James River offers luxury guestrooms plus multi-room condominiums and riverfront cottages.

Amenities include golf, a spa, a pool/beach/lazy river complex, on-site dining, and free shuttles to the waterpark. Rental villas at Marriott’s Manor Club at Ford’s Colony (101 St. Andrews Dr., 757-258-1120) accommodate families with full kitchens, an activities center, and movie theater.

Driving Distance: 191 miles, 3 hours

Besyt Ride: Colossal Curl, a scream-inducing, multi-person ride with a wicked-high wall

Eat/Drink: Food venues at the theme parks serve light fare, kids’ treats, and frozen drinks. For a grown-up meal, reserve the chef’s table at up-and-comer Cochon on 2nd (311-106 Second St., 757-229-1199) and enjoy a personalized multi-course dinner.

Close to both amusement parks, The Whaling Company (494 McLaws Cir., 757-229-0275) serves fresh seafood in a nautical atmosphere.

In Colonial Williamsburg, order gourmet sandwiches (don’t forget the house dressing) at The Cheese Shop (410 W. Duke of Gloucester St., 757-220-0298).

Do: If you spend a day in Colonial Williamsburg (101 Visitor Center Dr., 888-965-7254), you can tell yourself the vacation had educational value.

Reward your studiousness with a two-park ticket to enjoy Busch Gardens (1 Busch Gardens Blvd., 757-229-4386) and Water Country USA (176 Water Country Pkwy., 757-229-4386), which offers 43 acres of rides, pools, lazy rivers, and children’s splashgrounds. Highlights include a large wave pool, fast- and slow-paced rivers, and Rock ’n’ Roll Island, a family water-adventure center. Popular thrill rides include Big Daddy Falls for tubers and Vanish Point for body sliders.

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]]> Guiding Light https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/artsentertainment/harriet-tubman-visitor-center-opens-on-eastern-shore/ Wed, 03 May 2017 08:30:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=3308

A legend lives on in the low, tidal marsh of the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge outside of Cambridge on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. There, where runaway slaves once navigated the loblolly pines, wispy strands of cattails, and dark inky water to seek safe passage on the Underground Railroad, now stands an archipelago of barn-like buildings to honor the illustrious life of the network’s most noted conductor. 

More than 20 years in the making, the Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad Visitor Center opened in March with a celebration that included Tubman’s descendants, who offered extensive input on the center’s creation. “They still have the tenets of faith and family,” says assistant park manager Angela Crenshaw. “That is our focus here with these exhibits.” 

Managed by the Maryland and National Park services, the 15,000-square-foot state-of-the-art visitor’s center serves as a gateway to the Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad Byway, a scenic stretch that runs from the Chesapeake Bay through Philadelphia with stops at local landmarks related to Tubman’s life. 

“This is such an important story,” says Alan Reed, president of Baltimore-based GWWO Architects, which designed the center. “We said to ourselves, we want everything—the architecture, the materials, the experience of moving through the exhibits—to somehow relate back.”

Harriet3 Small Tubman Extra2 Small Tubman Extra1 Small Tubman Extra4 Small

The buildings themselves represent different stations along the Underground Railroad, while the exhibits revolve around a symbolic “view north.” Through a barn wood gateway, the exhibit faces toward floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook a thick forest to the north, before taking tangled twists and turns, similar to those that runaway slaves likely faced during their escapes. 

“It was never a simple journey,” says GWWO senior associate Chris Elcock. “In the exhibits, you find yourself bouncing around, and when you get to the end, you go back the way you came, because that’s what Harriet did. But you’re going to be changed. Each time she returned, she had new information, so she could be a better conductor.”

 The exhibits span Tubman’s courageous life, from her childhood as a slave in Dorchester County to her extraordinary efforts in the Civil War to her late-life role in the women’s suffrage movement. There’s a wall honoring some of the 70 people she helped rescue, and a mural featuring an iconic illustration from Jacob Lawrence’s 1968 children’s book, Harriet and the Promised Land. Throughout, slavery’s terror stands in stark contrast to the region’s natural beauty and Tubman’s unwavering sense of faith.  

One of the most serene yet stirring elements is a life-size statue of Tubman, who will eventually replace Andrew Jackson on the front of the $20 bill, making her the first female and African-American on American currency. She is seated on a church bench beneath faux stained glass windows and a quote by Frederick Douglass, another Maryland slave turned abolitionist. “The midnight sky and silent stars have been the witnesses of your devotion to freedom and your heroism,” he wrote in an 1868 letter to Tubman. 

Out here, beneath the pines, we now bear witness, too.

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]]> Maggie Rogers Discusses Her Fast, Pharrell-Featuring Rise to Fame https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/artsentertainment/maggie-rogers-discusses-her-fast-pharrell-featuring-rise-to-fame/ Fri, 28 Apr 2017 08:30:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=3329

Remember the name Maggie Rogers. Last summer, this Eastern Shore songwriter shot straight to stardom after an internet video gone viral. Go ahead, YouTube it: Rogers is sitting in her NYU music class next to a special guest—beat-making bellwether Pharrell Williams—when she starts to play a song she wrote. A few beats in, Pharrell’s reaction is priceless (he compares her sound to the perfection of a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup), while Rogers’ reaction is infectious (she tries to play it cool).

It doesn’t take long to understand why, in a matter of months, that very track, “Alaska,” has taken over the radio, and that bright-eyed college student has gone from graduation to sold-out tours around the globe. But she’s so much more than Pharrell’s protégé. She hasn’t even gotten started.

You just got back from your first international tour and just started your first sold-out tour here at home.  Your life has completely changed in a matter of months so this is a really basic but loaded question—how do you feel?
I haven’t really had enough time to figure out how I’m feeling yet, but for the most part, I’m really happy. I’m having a lot of fun. At the end of the day, I’m a college graduate with a job, working for myself, doing what I love, and that is pretty awesome. I’m so satisfied just to be part of an artists’ community and surrounded by creative people making music. This is really the only thing I ever wanted to do, so I really can’t imagine graduation going any smoother.

Because you love what you do, is it easy to stay grounded? It seems to come so naturally to you.
I’ve always made music. I’ve always made it for myself. It’s always been my way to process things about my life, and none of that has changed. The focus for me is really on the work itself, and I’m really excited to have work in a field that is so engaging.

How did you first get into music growing up here on the Eastern Shore?
There’s not really anyone musical in my family, but I sort of begged my parents for harp lessons as a kid and I actually started studying the harp at Salisbury University with a teacher when I was about 8 years old. I was taking piano lessons at the same time. I lived in Ocean City until about fourth grade and sang in the choir at our church. I was always participating in music as much as possible.

You’ve said that nature influences your music. How did your upbringing  and the outdoors affect your sound?
I grew up in Easton on the Eastern Shore near the Chesapeake Bay. In school, we talked about water health and spent time at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michaels. We’d go to Baltimore and learn about crabbing boats and canneries and the Inner Harbor. I think about summer in Maryland, and crabs and Old Bay and being surrounded by fields of corn and soybeans. Having that sense of geography, Maryland is just incredibly comforting.

I think what growing up there did do was actually make me hungry for music, because there wasn’t much of it around. It always took four hours round-trip to go see a concert in Philly or Baltimore. When I moved to New York City, I was 18 and I pretty much saw as much live music as humanly possible. I think that dichotomy is actually the reason I’m making the music that I am. I love where I’m from and I love Maryland so much, but I also really love New York. I had a really difficult time rectifying that I could be both people at once, and I think that’s what my music represents right now.

You shot the video for your first single, “Alaska,” at your parents’ home in Easton.
I started thinking about that music video last March. I spent a lot of my childhood inviting all my friends over, making them wear pink eye shadow and make music videos with me. So to actually make that was really, really, really fun. It brought the whole thing to life.

We have to say, we are obsessed with your backup dancers.
[Laughs.] Thank you. They’re my best friends from college. They’re just my friends, and those clothes are my clothes, but there is an element of fancy to it, too. At the end, it becomes a dance scene in the woods and I get to wear my rock star white outfit.

Do you get home often?
I haven’t been back too much—I came home for Christmas for about a week—but I play Firefly [in Dover, Delaware] in June, and I have my five-year high school reunion. I take off for Europe right after that, but I’m excited to have a little bit of that Maryland summer. You know, grab a bushel of crabs, have a beer, and chill outside.

Is it rejuvenating to come back?
It’s incredibly grounding. I love where I’m from and I love the Chesapeake Bay. It’s quiet, and familiar. It’s like a sanctuary. I don’t really leave the house too much when I come back. The only thing about Maryland is that it’s kind of hard to get to an airport, so New York has really been my crash pad. But it’s so nice to come home.

Review: Alaska (Capitol Records)

alaska.jpg#asset:42706

Fusing her folk upbringing with a newfound appreciation for French dance music, Maggie Rogers writes songs that are as much big city as they are small town, each rhythm infused with an earthy energy and spiritual soul that’s well beyond Rogers’s mere 23 years. They’re for anyone who’s ever stood on an urban rooftop and danced under the stars (“On + Off”), and yet they’re for anyone who’s ever listened to the chirp of crickets in the gloaming light of a hot August moon (“Color Song”).

As Pharrell Williams said on that aforementioned fateful day at NYU, her sound is “singular,” and yet, it’s universal, all at once. Get lost in her heady melodies, stunning falsetto vocals, and openhearted authenticity—not to mention her dream-like, dance-inducing music videos—and follow her wherever she goes. (Like at the Firefly Music Festival in Dover, Delaware, on June 15.)

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]]> Fisher’s Popcorn Celebrates 80 Years on the Eastern Shore https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/fooddrink/fishers-popcorn-celebrates-80-years-on-the-eastern-shore/ Thu, 06 Apr 2017 10:50:00 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?p=29547

As temperatures rise, it’s only natural to have sandcastles and salt water on the brain. And if there’s one thing all Marylanders know to be true, it’s that no trip to Ocean City is complete without bringing back a bucket of Fisher’s Popcorn.

“It’s something people have come to associate with being at the beach,” says Donald Fisher, the company’s president and third-generation owner. “People tell me all the time, ‘I came all the way down here just to get a tub of popcorn.’”

The beloved salty-sweet snack has long been a favorite of tourists visiting beach towns along the Eastern Shore, but the roots of the operation actually span further north. Fisher’s grandfather, the late Everett Fisher, started the business in 1937 after selling popcorn at a shop in Philadelphia.

“As the story goes, the man he was working for went away and my grandfather ran out of product,” Fisher shares. “But the other guy never told him the recipe. So my grandfather basically made up his own. And when he tried it, he liked it better than what the other man was selling. So he got himself a partner, came down to Ocean City, and opened up a store here.”

Now celebrating its 80-year anniversary, the company has evolved with an array of additional flavors, expanded distribution, and new retail locations along Coastal Highway and beyond. But its top-secret caramel popcorn recipe is one thing that Fisher says has remained untouched: “People can ask me all the questions they want to,” he says. “But I give no answers.”

In the early ’70s, when Fisher first got into the family business at 15 years old, the flagship boardwalk location off of Talbot Street employed five people—two cooks and three workers behind the counter. Now, in order to meet the demand Fisher oversees a staff of more than 60—some of whom have been working at the shop for decades.

Aside from the increase in employees, the flagship has also doubled in size. Back in 2011, the store expanded to take over a vacant tee-shirt shop next door. Fisher says that the upgrade gave the team more space to mass-produce its signature copper kettle batches in flavors including classic caramel with peanuts, white cheddar, cinnamon, and Old Bay.

“We buy kernels by the tractor-trailer load,” he adds, estimating that the shop sells more than 78,000 pounds per year. “I’ve watched people wait 45 minutes in lines across the boardwalk just to get a small box of popcorn. It’s pure sugar and appeals to your sweet tooth. There’s an addictiveness to it.”

These days, Fisher leaves the wholesaling duties to his older sister, Marty Hall, who opened her own shops in Bethany, Rehoboth, and Fenwick Island. But at one point in the ’80s, he remembers selling to big-name retail clients.

“One day after we got off work, this kid Scott and I went to Bloomingdale’s in Tyson’s Corner,” Fisher recalls. “We were dressed like we’re going to the beach and bouncing through the store with all of the ladies dressed up really nice. We finally found the food display, and I remember standing there going, ‘Hell, we made that.’”

Mary Ann Manganello, executive director of the Ocean City Downtown Association, says that that the novelty of the brand is something that surpasses generations.

“‘Which way is Fisher’s Popcorn?’ is one of our most asked questions,” says Manganello, who has worked the information booth on the boardwalk for several years. “It’s kind of a landmark. So much of the boardwalk has changed around it, but it’s still where it has always been.”

As the company continues to thrive, Fisher is vowing to maintain the mom-and-pop shop legacy that his grandfather began 80 years ago. He says that his children—ages 11, 13, and 15—have already started to take interest in the family affair.

“When I was growing up, everybody figured I was going to be in the business,” he says. “And I got tired of it and actually tried working at other places. I wanted to see what the rest of the world was like. But I ended up coming back. As it turns out, being in the popcorn business aint so bad.”

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]]> Away We Go https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/travel/the-essential-off-route-50-guide/ Mon, 06 Jun 2016 09:00:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=4891

Away We Go

Hit the road for these idyllic Eastern Shore escapes.

By Marty LeGrand

Chesapeake Bay Bridge from Sandy Point State Park

You bemoan its weekend traffic jams, but consider this: Route 50 makes the perfect portal for exploring the length and breadth of the enchanting Eastern Shore. Boardwalks and beaches lined with sunbathers aren’t the only endgame for Bay Bridge summer travelers. Think quiet country roads, out-of-the-way inns, vibrant small towns, farm-to-fork dining, community crab feasts, and paddle trips on a lazy river. Take the route we love to loathe, but feel free to hop off. Follow any of these 10 U.S. 50 escapes—along rural routes and through lively towns—to discover the heart of Delmarva country.

Tea and Artistry Chestertown and Rock Hall

VIEW LARGER

Exit: At Queenstown, dodge the reef of retail outlets separating U.S. 50 and 301, following the latter to Route 213. Head north. Passing cornfields and country markets, you’ll travel through one historic courthouse square (Centreville) before reaching another (Chestertown). Arrive: For First Friday, peruse Chestertown’s monthly mercantile weekend-welcoming party, when shops stay open late. First, silence your hunger pangs with rich cream-of-crab soup, chicken and dumplings (the owner’s grandma’s recipe), and other comfort food at Lemon Leaf Cafe (337 High St., 443-282-0004). Now you’re ready to browse the brick-lined heart of Chestertown, a newly anointed arts and entertainment district. The Carla Massoni Gallery (203 High St., 410-778-7330) features works by talented local artists. Acclaimed painter Marc Castelli’s exhibit Chesapeake Bay Log Canoes-Workboats-Watermen (June 25 to July 11) will include depictions of these so-called canoes—sleek vintage sailboats that still race on Eastern Shore rivers every summer. Stay: In a water-view room at the Osprey Point Inn (20786 Rock Hall Ave., Rock Hall, 410-639-2194), an elegant B&B/restaurant/marina where your nearest neighbors are fish hawks and slumbering sailboats. Don’t Miss: Chestertown’s Saturday morning Farmers’ and Artisans’ Market in Fountain Park (8 a.m.-12 p.m., 410-778-0500), where vendors sell everything from local peaches and scrumptious scones to fresh-cut flowers and handmade soaps. Explore Chestertown’s Colonial roots with a two-hour sail aboard the schooner Sultana (105 S. Cross St., 410-778-5954), which replicates a vessel the Royal Navy used to enforce the law that Chestertown famously flouted. In 1774, tax-weary colonists dumped a shipload of British tea into the Chester River, an event still commemorated annually.

Celebrating the Dog Days in Delaware Lewes and Milton

Exit: Use Route 404 to transect the heart—and soul—of the Eastern Shore. En route, admire the Shore’s longest river, the Choptank, at Denton and savor its signature dish, barbecued chicken, at the Kiwanis Club Stand of Bridgeville (Routes 404 and 16, 302-349-0945) west of Bridgeville, Del. Arrive: Via Business Route 9 in lovely Lewes, a bit of Cape Cod on Delaware Bay. Ease into the weekend and out of traffic zombiedom with dinner at The Gate House of Lewes (109 W. Market St., 302-313-5912), a French-inspired bistro that keeps continental hours on weekdays (serving until 1 a.m.). Try the crispy Brussels sprouts (really). Stay: At Dogfish Inn (105 Savannah Road, 302-644-8292), a canal-side motel handsomely retro-ized by the folks at Dogfish Head Craft Brewery. Borrow a book from the lending library (courtesy of San Francisco’s City Lights Bookstore), burrow into a comfy platform bed, and let your dreams unfurl like a Kerouac manuscript. Don’t Miss: Guest-only perks at Dogfish Inn, including preferred reservations for brewery tours and brewpub dining. Start your day with a spinach lavender omelet at Nectar Cafe & Juice Bar (111 Neils Alley, 302-645-5842), a funky eatery serving breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sample deliciously kicky combinations of fruits, veggies, and herbs fresh from the juicer. Head to Milton and tour Dogfish Head Craft Brewery (6 Cannery Village Center, 302-684-1000). Enjoy beer tastings and the campus’s gigantic steampunk “tree house,” which debuted at the Burning Man festival. At home games, watch the Base Ball Club ( 302-645-7670, historiclewes.org/education/base-ball) play baseball 19th-century style—no gloves, underhand pitches—at The Villages of Five Points (17314 N. Village Main Blvd., Lewes). Leave time to shop downtown Lewes (a must) and bask on the town beach.

The pier in the Lewes and Rehoboth Canal. — Jon Bilous

You are here at the Dogfish Inn. — Courtesy Dogfish Inn

The chalkboard at Nectar Cafe & Juice Bar. — Amanda White-iseli

The goods at Chestertown’s Farmers’ and Artisans’ Market in Fountain Park. —Shutterstock

Walk This Way Easton

Arrive: Via Dover Street and head straight into the historic heart of this arts-oriented town, which celebrates the Eastern Shore in its food, music, shops, and galleries. Stay: In one of the newly renovated guest rooms at the landmark Tidewater Inn (101 E. Annapolis St., 410-822-1300), beloved by generations of travelers, outdoorsmen, celebrities, and giddy wedding guests. The clubby Hunters’ Tavern remains a favorite happy-hour gathering and gossip spot. Dine: At a foodie favorite, the Bartlett Pear Inn (28 S. Harrison St., 410-770-3300), where the chef showcases locally sourced ingredients as well as anyone on the Eastern Shore. Called an “edible Eden” by one diner, this small restaurant’s limited seating is in big demand. Try the house-made pappardelle, anything bearing the word “truffle,” and the inn’s iconic pear tart. Don’t Miss: The city-caliber Academy Art Museum (106 S. St., 410-822-2787), where visitors can admire exhibits by up-and-coming local artists and occasional little gems—a Canaletto etching, a Picasso aquatint, a Miró lithograph—in the permanent collection. Easton is made for walking. Enjoy the seclusion of the boxwood-fragrant gardens at the Talbot Historical Society Museum (30 S. Washington St., 410-822-0773).

A vista in Easton.—Amanda White-iseli

A fruit tart from Nectar Cafe & Juice Bar.—Shutterstock

Your table is waiting at Lemon Leaf Cafe.—Kate Wellington

That Genteel Feel St. Michaels and Oxford

Exit: Route 322 cuts through Easton and hits Route 33, which winds along a peninsula lined with old farms, new developments, and imposing waterfront mansions. Your first stop is the irresistible—if touristy—town of St. Michaels. Arrive: Prepared. Reservations are strongly advised in midsummer, when spontaneity may spell disappointment. Try Theo’s Steaks, Sides & Spirits (407 S. Talbot St., 410-745-2106), an intimate steak house with a free-ranging, Southern-influenced menu. Someone should order steak, but don’t overlook seafood (shrimp and cheddar grits), veggies (fried green tomatoes), or craft cocktails. Stay: In the heart of town at Five Gables Inn & Spa (209 N. Talbot St., 410-745-0100) and decompress with a stress-busting massage or sea-salt body polish. Comprising three 19th-century buildings, the B&B offers luxurious rooms, a spa, a sauna/steam room, and indoor pool. Don’t Miss: Downtown shops, purveyors of jaunty clothing, nautical antiques, and artisanal everything. Housed in a historic mill, Lyon Distilling Co. (605 S. Talbot St., #6, 443-333-9181) sells small-batch rums and whiskeys, including a smooth-sipping Maryland rye. Visit the mill’s two other nearby tasting emporiums to sample craft ales at Eastern Shore Brewing (605 S. Talbot St., 410-745-8010) and reds, whites, and Gollywobbler sweet wines at St. Michaels Winery (609 S. Talbot St., 410-745-0808). On your way home, make a scenic side trip. Take Route 329 East, follow signs for the Oxford-Bellevue Ferry (Bellevue, 410-745-9023), and cross the peaceful Tred Avon River into the 17th century. Oxford is the dowager duchess of Talbot County: venerable and staid. Its oldest house, Byberry (built in 1695), still stands on the grounds of Cutts & Case Shipyard (306 Tilghman St., 410-226-5416), a custom builder of classic wooden sailboats.

The dock at St. Michaels. — Jon Bilous

A workman at Cutts & Case Shipyard. —Dave Cooper

Good spirits at Lyon Distilling Company. —Jennifer Hughes

Choptank River Lighthouse. —Shutterstock

Nature calls at the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge. —Shutterstock

Nature calls at the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge. —Shutterstock

JaM Sessions

Uh-oh! Taillights are glowing for miles. What’s a Route 50 traveler to do? Try these tips to make traffic jams entertaining.

Rearview Mirror Game

Observe motorists’ mirror décor. Score by letter: A for air-fresheners, C for crystals, K for Kokopellis or dream-catchers, T for team memorabilia, and Y for fuzzy dice. Parking passes (wildcards) earn a letter of your choice. First player to spot a trinket earns that trinket’s letter. First to spell TACKY wins.

ICE ICE Baby

Soothe restless passengers
with In-Car Entertainment (ICE). Load your favorite flicks on a portable hard drive and stream them via phone or tablet to rear-seat monitors. If the family truckster isn’t tricked out for video, install an aftermarket system.

Infotainment

For multitaskers and restless minds, extended travel time can be educational. Load your audio device with podcasts or shows such as NPR’s TED Radio Hour (inquiring minds), Game of Thrones (fantasy geeks), or the locally produced The Digression Sessions (comedy lovers).

Can We Talk?

Why text when you can carry on a conversation? Try it!

A Renaissance Cambridge

Arrive: Over the Choptank River bridge (U.S. 50) and head for Sailwinds Park (200 Byrn St., 410-228-7245), Cambridge’s waterfront welcome center, playground, and concert venue. Cambridge, a Colonial port known for its tobacco plantations, fell on hard times as the tobacco market declined. But the city has transcended its hardscrabble days to become a trending destination for 21st-century travelers. Stay: At the cornerstone of Cambridge’s renaissance, the 400-room Hyatt Regency Chesapeake Bay resort hotel (100 Heron Blvd., 410-901-1234), a vast luxury golf resort, spa, and marina overlooking the river. Enjoy the resort’s high-end dining and amenities, but save time to explore downtown Cambridge, too. Dine: Chez chef Patrick Fanning, who operates a small-but-growing empire of eateries, including Stoked (413 Muir St., 443-477-6040), where the pizzas are innovative and the award-winning wings can be dunked in a small army of sauces, from Old Bay to a Thai peanut-curry with blackberry gastrique. Don’t Miss: Maritime attractions at Long Wharf Park (High and Water streets) near the municipal yacht basin. Tour the screwpileChoptank River Lighthouse (410-463-2653) and set sail aboard Nathan of Dorchester (Saturdays, 410-228-7141), the baby of the Chesapeake’s dwindling skipjack fleet.

Of Waterfowl & Watermen Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge and Hoopers Island

Exit: From Cambridge, follow Routes 16 and 335 for a ramble through rural Dorchester County to one of the mid-Atlantic’s most ecologically diverse wildlife refuges. Quaint crossroads, mossy churchyards, and endless farm fields enrich the scenery. Arrive: At Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge’s instructive Visitor Center (2145 Key Wallace Drive, Cambridge, 410-228-2677) before exploring the 28,000-acre preserve’s hauntingly beautiful marshes and Seussian loblolly pine groves. See bald eagles— Blackwater harbors nearly 30 nests—soar above. Binge-watch ospreys and eagles on nest cams. Drive or bike the paved wildlife observation trail, or consider a guided kayak tour with Blackwater Paddle and Pedal Adventures (2524 Key Wallace Drive, Cambridge, 410-901-9255) that puts you close to resident ducks, herons, and other waterfowl. Stay: Book a week in a waterfront rental from Eastern Shore Vacation Rentals (16 N. Washington St., Ste. 102, Easton, 410-770-9093), where properties range from cozy cottages to multifamily mansions with outdoor pools. On cook’s night out, feast on broiled crab cakes, the Hoopers Island Combo (crab cake, ham, fried chicken), and other local dishes at Old Salty’s (2560 Hoopers Island Road, Fishing Creek, 410-397-3752), an out-of-the-way seafood institution beloved by locals and travelers. Don’t Miss: Vestiges of local history, including Old Trinity Church (1716 Taylors Island Road, Church Creek, 410-228-2940), a still-active 17th-century house of worship restored to architectural glory, and the old Bucktown Village Store (4303 Bucktown Road, Cambridge, 410-901-9255), where Dorchester native Harriet Tubman famously risked her life protecting a fellow slave.

Bears and Birds Salisbury

Arrive: U.S. 50 leads to the “Capital of the Eastern Shore,” a diverse city of some 30,000—plus college students—midway between Ocean City and the Chesapeake Bay. Enjoy riverside parks, a popular zoo, craft brews, and minor league O’s baseball. Stay: In a spacious room at Courtyard by Marriott Salisbury (128 Troopers Way, 410-742-4405), minutes north of downtown on the city’s boulevard of chain restaurants, U.S. 13. Amenities include an indoor pool and a Starbucks-serving bistro. Dine: Indulge in the best of the Shore’s largest city. Head to Main Roots Coffee (111 W. Main St., 443-944-9789) for lattes and smoothies crafted by convivial baristas or brewpubs such as Evolution’s Public House (201 E. Vine St., 443-260-2337) for top-notch burgers and home-brewed ales. There’s also farm-to-table-inspired Sobo’s Wine Beerstro (1015 Eastern Shore Drive, 410-219-1117) for wine-paired dishes like rockfish risotto. Night owls will enjoy Headquarters Live (115 S. Division St., 443-358-5329) for hot bands in a repurposed firehouse, andThe Brick Room (116 N. Division St., 443-358-5092) for late-night eats and craft beers. Don’t Miss: Green spaces, such as Riverwalk Park, a scenic downtown promenade; Salisbury Zoological Park (755 S. Park Drive, 410-548-3188) with its adorable Andean bear cub, Alba; and Perdue Stadium ( 6400 Hobbs Road, 410-219-3112), home field of Salisbury’s boys of summer, the Orioles-affiliated Delmarva Shorebirds.

A box turtle at Delmarva Discovery Center & Museum. —Shuterstock

A horse grazes at Assateague Island National Seashore. —Shuterstock

Blacksmith Bar & Restaurant. —Courtesy Blacksmith Bar & Restaurant

Coffee art at Main Roots Coffee. —Shutterstock

King Crab and the Queen’s English Crisfield, Princess Anne, and Smith Island

Exit: Follow U.S. 13 South to Princess Anne, an 18th-century town that prizes its historic homes. From here, take routes 13/413 to Crisfield, the Shore’s resilient seafood port, or take Route 363 to several prime bird-watching reserves at Deal Island, a sleepy fishing community. Arrive: With kayaks and bikes. The marsh-lined water trails at Janes Island State Park (26280 Alfred Lawson Drive, Crisfield, 410-968-1565) and Chesapeake Bay National Estuarine Research Reserve’s Monie Bay (Messick Road, Dames Quarter, Deal Island, 877-620-8367) make ideal paddling paths. Reachable only by boats that haul bikes, not autos, tiny Smith Island is best seen by pedal power. Stay: At the centrally located The Alexander House Booklovers’ B&B (30535 Linden Ave., Princess Anne, 443-880-6858), offering four literary-themed rooms, an inviting veranda, and—naturally—a well-stocked library. Don’t Miss: Crisfield, the self-proclaimed “Crab Capital of the World,” where Maryland’s favorite crustacean is landed and processed, steamed and served, and celebrated at numerous festivals. In late summer, watch crab-pickers in action at a processing plant during the J. Millard Tawes Historical Museum’s Port of Crisfield Walking Tour (3 Ninth St., 410-968-2501). Tackle a pile of steaming blue crabs—or a fresh flounder sandwich—at Linton’s Crab House & Deck (4500 Crisfield Hwy., 410-968-0127). Cheer your favorite sidestepper at the Labor Day weekend National Hard Crab Derby, Crisfield’s seafood-racing spectacle (410-968-2500). Hop a passenger ferry at Crisfield City Dock (1201 W. Main St., 410-968-1333) for a ride to Smith Island, a cloistered fishermen’s community where the local dialect still hints at the island’s English settlers.

Rolling on the River Snow Hill and Pocomoke City

Exit: From Salisbury Bypass (U.S. 13), take Route 12 to Snow Hill, a quiet riverfront town from which you can explore the Pocomoke River’s otherworldly beauty (or the nearby ocean beaches’ temporal attractions). U.S. 113 South makes a leafy run through a state forest to lovely Pocomoke City. Arrive: To a warm Snow Hill welcome. Dining is a cabaret (literally) at Blue Dog Cafe (300 N. Washington St., 410-251-7193), an exuberant eatery noted for its singing servers, live entertainment, local seafood, and homemade desserts. Reservations recommended for Fridays and Saturdays. Stay: On the banks of the Pocomoke at the elegant River House Inn Bed & Breakfast (201 E. Market St., Snow Hill, 410-632-2722) where four guesthouses—including three cottages—are arrayed on a more than two-acre tract that includes an outdoor pool/lounge. Don’t Miss: The dark and sultry Pocomoke’s unusual fauna and flora. See warblers, herons, and the river’s iconic bald cypress trees on one of Pocomoke River Cruises’s (112 W. Green St., Snow Hill, 443-365-7599) daily, April through November, pontoon-boat trips, or explore the river yourself in a rental canoe or kayak from Pocomoke River Canoe & Kayak (2 River St., Snow Hill, 410-632-3971). “Steer” a replica steamship, crawl through a real (reassembled) beaver lodge, and greet river otters (scheduled to arrive this summer) at the interactive, kid-pleasing Delmarva Discovery Center & Museum (2 Market St., Pocomoke City, 410-957-9933). The museum/learning center is devoted to local ecology and culture. Next door, grab a design-your-own sandwich or salad at Riverside Grill (2 Riverside Drive, Pocomoke City, 410-957-0622) and enjoy spectacular river views.

From Main Street to Barrier Beaches Berlin and Assateague Island

Exit: Minutes from U.S. 50 via U.S. 113 South, Berlin is quintessentially hometownish: neighborly, picturesque, and irresistible to visitors. It’s also situated a convenient eight miles from beautiful Assateague Island. Arrive: On a Thursday night at Burley Oak Brewery taproom (10016 Old Ocean City Blvd., Berlin, 443-513-4647) to sample the cask of the week from one of the shore’s top craft brewers. For dinner, pair a Burley Oak on-tap brew at nearby Blacksmith Bar & Restaurant (104 Pitts St., Berlin, 410-973-2102) with a savory house burger or an Eastern Shore Bahn Mi (pulled pork, scrapple, pickled veggies, Sriracha mayo) best savored on the eatery’s tree-shaded, twinkle-lighted patio. Stay: Opulently, at the historic Atlantic Hotel (2 N. Main St., Berlin, 410-641-3589), where Victorian décor meets flat-screen TVs and Wi-Fi. A fixture since 1895, the refurbished hotel offers 17 rooms (plus a cottage outside) and a fine/casual dining cafe. For outdoorsy types, Coastal Camper Rental (410-726-4015) rents a new line of cottages-on-wheels deliverable to Assateague Island campsites. The cute caravans pack a queen bed, couch, table, and storage into a shipshape 16- by 7-foot living space. Don’t Miss: Assateague, a barrier island spared privatization when a 1962 storm inundated a nascent development there. See Assateague’s famous wild horses roam freely on Maryland’s portion of the island, which includes the Assateague Island National Seashore (7206 National Seashore Lane, Berlin, 410-641-1441) and the smaller Assateague State Park (6915 Stephen Decatur Hwy., Berlin, 410-641-2918). Some of the offerings include: swimming, camping, surf fishing, crabbing, canoeing/kayaking, cycling, and nature centers. Hike the Seashore’s dunes, marsh, and trails to spot indigenous wildlife from carnivorous “doodlebugs” to majestic snowy egrets.

A horse grazes at Assateague Island National Seashore. — Shuterstock

A room at Atlantic Hotel. —Rick Maloof

Sweet Dreams

A bakery business flowers on the Eastern Shore.

She hailed from the Eastern Shore, he from Southern Maryland. Culinary school brought them together in Baltimore. Today, Gena and David Levy are folding family recipes into breakfast, lunch, and pastry offerings at Bay Country Bakery (2951 Ocean Gateway, 410-228-9111), the Cambridge cafe they’ve owned for 17 years.

“My grandmother was the cook,” says Gena, whose parents owned a farm in Trappe. “I always ended up in the kitchen with her.” David remembers watching his grandmother make Croatian nut rolls at the homestead in Leonardtown. The bakery features butter cookies using her recipe year-round.

After attending Baltimore International College, the couple married and moved to New Orleans, where David worked in the pastry kitchen at Commander’s Palace. Leaving the bayou for the bay, the Levys settled in Cambridge. When Gena’s father mentioned that a beloved bakery was being auctioned, they bought it. The bakery’s signature sweet is a tweaked recipe inherited from the previous owners—the “meganut,” a doughnut that feeds 12 to 15. “We’ve taught ourselves a lot,” says Gena. With a little help from grandma.

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]]> ​“C” for Chesapeake is One of Bay’s Best Marks Since ’86 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/community/c-for-chesapeake-bay-is-one-of-best-marks-since-86/ Thu, 19 May 2016 19:57:00 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?p=31149
C Chesapeake Bay chart

Most of the Bay health index indicators improved in 2015, with improvements in water quality contributing to a resurgence in aquatic grasses, an important habitat that provides a home for key species such as blue crab, bay anchovy and striped bass.

Sources of pollution to the Bay include agricultural manure and fertilizer; vehicle, industry and utility emissions; municipal, industrial and septic waste water; storm water; and chemical fertilizers applied to lawns, golf courses and other developed lands.

“Total nitrogen levels continued to improve throughout the Bay, corresponding to reductions in nitrogen entering the Bay being measured at monitoring stations. Dissolved oxygen—the amount of oxygen available in the water for the Bay’s creatures to survive—remained steady, while the benthic index of biotic integrity—what’s happening to life on the bottom of the Bay—showed improvement,” a press release for the study reported.

Chesapeake Bay Program executive director Nick DiPasquale told the Capital Gazette that the report shows progress toward the goal of increasing populations and development.

“You have to keep in mind we’ve had over two centuries of environmental assaults on this ecosystem,” he said. “I think it’s fantasy to think we can turn it around in two or three decades.”

The one indicator that worsened was total phosphorus, which had a lower score from the previous year. Excess phosphorus can lead to algae blooms, which reduce the amount of oxygen in the water available for Bay organisms.

“We know why the Bay became degraded and what we need to do to restore it. This report card shows what’s possible when we take action,” said Donald Boesch, president of the University of Maryland Center for Environmental Science. “The positive results give us confidence that even greater improvements will be realized if pollutant loads are further reduced as committed.”

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]]> Great Outdoors https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/events/outdoor-events-ranked-from-gentle-to-hardcore-excursions/ Wed, 11 May 2016 08:30:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=5002


CROMWELL’S DISCOVERING ORIOLES
MAY 14: Willow Grove Nature Center, 2002 Cromwell Bridge Rd., Parkville. 9:30-10:30 a.m. $2-4. 410-887-2503. Get a sneak peek at the nesting habits of our beloved Baltimore orioles with local birders Jim Meyers and Joanne Dintzis.

BLUEGRASS, BLUES, & NIGHT HIKING SHOES
MAY 19: Irvine Nature Center, 11201 Garrison Forest Rd., Owings Mills. 6:30-9 p.m. $30-40. 443-738-9220. Enjoy Irvine’s “Eat, Drink and Learn” series for the 21-and-up crowd with drinks, dinner, and discussion, followed by music, campfires, and a night hike.

BAY BRIDGE PADDLE
MAY 14: Sandy Point State Park, 1100 E. College Pkwy., Annapolis. 8 a.m. $45-100. 410-353-9237. Bring your stand-up board, kayak, or canoe for this first annual, 8.4-mile paddle across the Chesapeake Bay.

OSPREY TRIATHLON
MAY 15: Kent School, 6788 Wilkins Ln., Chestertown. 8 a.m. $75-145. 410-778-4100. Bring your A-game to the Eastern Shore for the annual Osprey Triathlon, including a 7-mile bike ride, 2-mile kayak paddle, and 3-mile run.

CAMPFIRE FUN AT CROMWELL
MAY 28: Willow Grove Nature Center, 2002 Cromwell Bridge Rd., Parkville. 1-3 p.m. $5-7. 410-887-2503. Create memories around the campfire with your family and friends while enjoying snacks, stories, and games.

SPRING CAMPOUT
MAY 21-22: Oregon Ridge Nature Center, 13555 Beaver Dam Rd., Cockeysville. 6 p.m.-9 a.m. $6. 410-887-1815. Pack your tent, camping gear, and dinner for a night hike, campfire, s’mores, and breakfast the next day.

ST. MICHAELS RUNNING FESTIVAL
MAY 21: 300 Seymour Ave., St. Michaels. 7:15 a.m. $25-110. 410-924-3109. This fifth annual running festival offers 13.1 miles of scenic views in one of the oldest tidewater towns on the Eastern Shore.

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]]> Bay Window https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/travel/10-travel-tours-experience-chesapeake-bay/ Tue, 12 Apr 2016 08:30:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=5149

It takes only a few hours spent along its lapping waters, soaking up the peace and natural beauty, to realize that the bay’s highlights include much more than just fabulous seafood. Whether dipping a paddle into a pristine creek or learning about the region’s rich history aboard a magnificent vessel, the Eastern Shore of Maryland and Virginia is home to trips designed to celebrate its treasures. So if you’re searching for adventure, or wanderlust has captured your heart, consider one of our top 10 tours of the Chesapeake Bay. You’ll come away with memories that will serve as reminders of just how lucky we are to have this spectacular attraction in our midst.

Sail Selina II (St. Michaels)

The Tour: A sail on the Selina II is a trip back to the Gatsby-era, when elegant wooden yachts plied the bay and ladies called everyone “dahling” instead of “hon.” These days, the 41-and-a-half-foot-long yacht—the world’s largest surviving vintage catboat, according to its owner and captain, Iris Clarke—makes for a relaxing sail out of St. Michaels. On the two-hour afternoon tour, depending on wind conditions, the six-passenger, single-masted boat either heads up the Miles River or past the ritzy waterfront mansions along Leeds Creek. Clarke offers several tours, including a sunset champagne cruise and a unique beer-tasting cruise, during which voyagers get to sample up to a half-dozen Eastern Shore microbrews. Your Guide: The Selina II has been in Clarke’s family since her “fabulously wealthy” grandparents had it commissioned in 1926. Captain Iris peppers her tours with ample info about the yacht’s history, local sea life, and copious amounts of adult beverages. “I’m a fount of information,” she says, “as well as beer and wine.” Highlight: As much as we like the beer-themed trip, the Moonlight Cruises, offered once a month when the moon rises as the sun sets, are magical. “Watching the stars come out is like watching a photograph develop before your eyes,” notes Clarke. Details: Prices vary by tour. 101 N. Harbor Rd., 410-726-9400

Parkers Creek Guided Canoe Trip (Prince Frederick)

The Tour: Located about an hour-and-a-half’s drive from Baltimore, Parkers Creek is a beautiful anomaly: one of the last undeveloped tributaries on the bay’s western shore. The 3,000 acres abutting the creek have been preserved and protected by the nonprofit American Chestnut Land Trust (ACLT). You can hike the trails throughout the property, but the best way to see the area is on an ACLT-led canoe tour of the creek. Paddlers launch from a beach on the bay and then enter the quietly flowing creek, paddling upstream. The three-hour roundtrip weaves through salt marsh and wooded wetlands that look much the same as they did 400 years ago, when explorer John Smith passed by. Your Guide: A rotating cadre of knowledgeable guides from the ACLT ensure even rookie paddlers are looked after, as they point out the variety of waterfowl and wildlife and talk about how the tributary has remained so well-preserved. Highlight: The unspoiled wilderness and serenity can’t be beat. On a trip last fall, we spotted roughly a dozen bald eagles soaring above the waterway. Details: Canoe trips depart several Saturdays per month, spring through fall. Tours are free, but there is a suggested $15 donation per person. Scientists’ Cliffs Rd., 410-414-3400

Crab-Bytes (Chance)

The Tour: If you’ve ever wondered how soft-shell crabs get from the water to your plate, join Butch and Macy Walters on one of their Crab-Bytes tours, which give crab lovers a front-row seat to the business. Tourgoers can help Butch haul up peeler pots in a tributary of the bay, or join Macy at the family’s crab shanty to see how the crustaceans shed their shells and are sorted for market. The three-hour tour on the couple’s 40-foot deadrise out of Chance allows the Walterses to share their way of life. “It’s an opportunity for us to tell our story,” says Macy. Best of all, you can buy what you catch. Your Guides: Butch is a fifth-generation waterman and Macy also can trace her maritime pedigree back four generations. “Working the water is all we know how to do,” she says. Highlight: Hauling up a pot full of crabs makes for great Facebook photos, but hearing the Walters family lore is likely what you’ll remember most. Ask Macy about her grandfather, Captain Biscuit, who earned his nickname by eating a pan of home-baked biscuits every day. Details: Tours run May through October. Oyster-dredging tours are offered during winter months. $50 per person, Eldon Willing Rd., Chance, 410-430-6788

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If you want a (wet) thrill, climb onto the netting and you’ll feel like you’re flying.

Chesapeake Sailing Tours (Arnold)

The Tour: Trimarans—three-hulled, sail-powered boats—are an uncommon sight on the Chesapeake, which is what makes a trip aboard the Dragonfly such a unique experience. The 27-foot-long boat is one of the fastest crafts on the bay, but its multi-hull design also makes it one of the more stable. On a two- or three-hour daytime or sunset sail along the Magothy River and out in the bay, you’ll speed past the Baltimore Harbor Light, keep an eye out for stingrays and jumping fish, and gawk at the million-dollar homes along Gibson Island. If you want a (wet) thrill, climb onto the netting between hulls and you’ll really feel like you’re flying over the water. Your Guide: Captain Dan Tobin earned his sailing cred while leading charter boat tours in Florida for about a dozen years. He has been cruising the Chesapeake on Dragonfly for almost 10 years. Highlight: Tobin lets willing passengers take the helm or trim the sails. “It’s always fun when we pass some multimillion-dollar sailboat with a little kid steering,” he says. Details: $250 for up to four passengers for a two-hour trip, $75 an hour after that; includes a $20 gift certificate to Deep Creek Restaurant & Marina. 1050 Deep Creek Ave., 410-349-4360

Wm. B. Tennison (Solomons)

The Tour: Buyboats used to be ubiquitous on the Chesapeake. The sturdy crafts would cruise around the bay, purchasing oyster caches so watermen wouldn’t have to return all the way to port to sell their catch. The Wm. B. Tennison, built in 1899, spent most of her life doing just that, but these days, she runs tours out of the Calvert Marine Museum in Solomons. The one-hour voyages are a relaxing way to explore the Patuxent River, while cruising past the Navy Recreation Center, busy Solomons harbor, and under the 135-foot-tall Governor Thomas Johnson Bridge. Your Guide: Captain Don Prescott, who has piloted the Tennison since the late 1990s, does the heavy lifting, while mates relate the history of the boat, and point out prominent sights. Highlight: Just getting a chance to sail on a 118-year-old bugeye, the predecessor to the skipjack, is a pretty cool experience. The Tennison’s sails were swapped out for an engine in the early 20th century, but the nine huge logs that comprise her hull—instead of the frame-and-plank type of construction used more frequently for bugeyes—remain. In fact, she’s the only Coast Guard-licensed log-hulled vessel in the United States. Details: Tours depart from the museum dock at 2 p.m., Wednesday through Sunday, May through October, with additional cruises on summer weekends. $7 for adults; $4 for children, 5-12. 14200 Solomons Island Rd., 410-326-2042

Sultana Public Sails (Chestertown)

The Tour: The original Sultana patrolled the coastline of Colonial North America from 1768 to 1772 enforcing the despised Townshend Acts, a series of acts that most notably imposed taxes on colonists. This exact replica, launched in 2001, cruises the Chester River with a much more benign purpose: educating audiences on the ecology of the bay. During the week, the Sultana hosts myriad school kids, but on Saturdays from spring through fall, it’s time for kids of all ages to have fun. Best bet is the late morning Ecology Sail, during which the crew drags a net behind the boat and pulls up crabs, catfish, choker, eels, and other river critters, and plops them into an on-board tank. This allows passengers to see, touch, and learn about them firsthand before depositing them back into the water. Your Guide: Captain Michael Fiorentino and a complement of mates let passengers hoist sails or take the helm, while relaying historic information about the boat and the ecology of the river. Captain Mike also worked on the Pride of Baltimore II and captained the Lady Maryland, but he had another life before he found the sea: Fiorentino once designed sets for Broadway shows. Highlight: Like any good Colonial-era schooner, the Sultana packs some punch: During the tour, the crew fires off the swivel gun. (Hold your ears!) Details: Public sails depart Saturdays, April through October. $30 for adults; $15 for kids under 12. 105 S. Cross St., 410-778-5954

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“I like to get people out of their comfort zones. I like to blow minds.”

Chesapeake Lights (Tilghman Island)

The Tour: The best way to take in the majesty of a real Chesapeake lighthouse is from the water, of course. Captain Mike Richards offers four different lighthouse adventures in scope and length from 13 lights over two days (for lighthouse fanatics only; you know who you are) to five-hour trips that visit beaming beacons along the mid-Eastern Shore to a one-and-a-half-hour sunset trip that just stops at Sharps Island Light. “We get so close you can see the rivets,” says Richards. Your Guide: Few people know more about Chesapeake lights than Richards, who has been leading these tours on the MV Sharps Island—his stout, former U.S. Navy Special Forces boat—for about 14 years. Best of all, you can combine a tour with an overnight at Tilghman Island’s The Lazyjack Inn, which Richards runs with his wife, Carol. Highlight: Seeing a lighthouse close up should be on every Marylander’s bucket list. Added bonus: Motoring under the Bay Bridge on a busy summer weekend is far more pleasant than crossing it. Details: Tours range from $40 for the Sunset Pursuit trip to $280 for the two-day tour. Locations vary, 410-886-2215

Captain Barry’s Backbay Cruises (Chincoteague Island, VA)

The Tour: This isn’t a sit-back-and-relax boat ride. On a trip with Captain Barry Frishman, you can expect to get dirt on your hands and mud between your toes. Frishman, who has been called the “Indiana Jones of the Chincoteague,” is on a mission to expose people—both kids and adults—to nature as closely as possible. That means docking his pontoon boat on sandbars and digging for clams, foraging for snails and hermit crabs, and learning how to shuck—and slurp—an oyster. “There’s a whole generation of kids growing up on laptops,” he says with despair. “I like to get people out of their comfort zones. I like to blow minds.” Your Guide: Frishman, who has been operating these tours for more than 25 years, is a whirlwind of energy and an encyclopedia of Chincoteague wildlife. He keeps the tours limited to six, so he can “crawl around on his hands and knees” with every passenger. Highlight: You’ll likely remember Frishman just as much as the trip itself. (Take a selfie with him before disembarking.) Photo ops of seabirds and water views are plentiful. You can even snap one of your kid holding a live jellyfish—the kind that doesn’t sting. Details: The two-hour tours depart five times daily during summer. $40 per adult and $35 for kids 11 and under. 6262 Marlin St., 757-336-6508

Kayak Winery Tour (Cape Charles, VA)

The Tour: We don’t usually endorse mixing booze with water sports, but kayaking and sampling wines on SouthEast Expeditions’ Kayak Winery Tour—thought to be the first in the nation—is a don’t-miss experience. Tourgoers depart from the tiny watermen’s hamlet of Bayford on Virginia’s Eastern Shore, and paddle an easy 45 minutes along the pristine, protected shoreline of Nassawadox Creek to Church Creek before disembarking at Chatham Vineyards. The 20-acre waterfront farm makes a lovely setting for a picnic lunch. After sampling the winery’s half-dozen vintages, it’s back into the kayaks for a decidedly mellower trip home. Your Guide: Several certified eco-guides lead the tours out of SouthEast Expeditions’ Cape Charles, Virginia, locale. At Chatham Vineyards, the winemakers themselves, Jon and Mills Wehner, often do the meet-and-greet and chat up visitors about the vintages. Highlight: If you join a tour in spring or fall, you’ll paddle past a blue heron rookery on an island in the middle of Church Creek. All tours include a complimentary bottle of Chatham Vineyards wine. Details: Tours run spring through fall. $89 per person, which includes single or tandem kayak rental. 32218 Lankford Hwy., 757-695-4001

Skipjack Sails on the Rebecca T. Ruark (Tilghman Island)

The Tour: One of the best ways to experience the bay is the most traditional: aboard a working skipjack. The Rebecca T. Ruark, a National Historic Landmark and the oldest surviving skipjack on the bay, has been plying the Chesapeake since she was built in 1886. The two-hour tours on the Choptank River are as relaxing as they are educational: Captain Wade Murphy, a fourth-generation waterman, dispenses history and science lessons on bay ecology, as well as plenty of opinions on the challenges of earning a living from the sea. Your Guide: After six decades of working the water, Murphy and his boat have reached legendary status. During his tours, the captain shares plenty of personal stories from a lifetime spent on the bay, including the sad tale of when the Ruark sank during a storm in 1999. (She was raised and rehabbed soon after.) Highlight: If you’ve ever fancied yourself a waterman, this is an opportunity to prove your mettle: Captain Murphy lets landlubbers hoist the sails, steer, and sometimes work the dredge—all this and you don’t even have to wake up at the crack of dawn to do it. Details: The Ruark sails twice daily from the end of May through October. $30 per person. 21308 Phillips Rd., 410-886-2176

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]]> Her Own Brush https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/artsentertainment/reginald-f-lewis-exhibit-explores-ruth-starr-rose-artist-ahead-of-her-time/ Tue, 17 Nov 2015 08:30:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=5850

The line of cars rumbles down a long road, covered in pine needles and shaded by towering trees, before stopping at a magnificent brick mansion with walls blanketed in ivy. Here, seven passengers alight and follow a regal, blond woman inside. She hustles them through the drawing room and a library lined with wood bookcases, then outside onto a wide porch with a breathtaking view of lapping water leading to the Chesapeake Bay. “Oh wow, look at that,” one woman murmurs. Cicadas hum in the July heat and the fragrance of mint from the garden fills the air as the guests sit in wicker chairs.

The group—which includes the former chair of the Maryland Commission on African American History and Culture and an expert in African-American spirituals—has come to tour Hope House, a plantation just outside Easton on the Eastern Shore. The attraction is the home’s former resident, Ruth Starr Rose, a talented, yet little-known artist whose work is the subject of a major exhibition at the Reginald F. Lewis Museum. It may seem odd for a museum dedicated to African-American culture to show work from a privileged, white woman, but Rose was always doing the unexpected. For subjects, she chose the African-American members of the Easton community—unheard of in the early 20th century.

“See that boat across the water?” Barbara Paca, the woman leading the tour, asks, pointing to a slip of land that appears over the narrow creek. “That was Ruth Starr Rose’s dock. She had her studio over there.”

Paca, a noted art historian and creative designer, curated the exhibit of Rose’s work, Ruth Starr Rose: Revelations of African American Life In Maryland and the World. It features portraits of crab pickers, sail makers, and heroic soldiers, some of whom were descendants of Harriet Tubman and Frederick Douglass, as well as bold depictions of spirituals. Rose captured those she called “her beautiful people” with an elegance and pride during an era of intense segregation and Jim Crow laws.

Her radical views could explain why she is not listed among other groundbreaking artists of her time. But Paca’s exhibit, which opened in October, aims to shed light on this unprecedented artist that history forgot.

“She gave strength to so many different people,” Paca says. “Ruth didn’t want to make the world more confused, she wanted to show universal brotherhood, to bring about a unity in races through paint.”

The exhibit coincides with the Lewis Museum’s 10th anniversary and is the first comprehensive showing of Rose’s work. “I’m overwhelmed with the similarities in tension between the time Rose lived and the atmosphere around civil rights now,” says the museum’s executive director A. Skipp Sanders. “This is an important story, and a perfect example of how art can capture history.”

Though Rose received accolades during her lifetime—with shows in Europe and New York and works in collections at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Smithsonian—critical acclaim eluded her.

“When her work is most compelling is when she was doing what she wanted to do.”

Keith Sheridan, an art dealer based in Myrtle Beach, SC, who sells Rose’s prints, said she put the male-dominated art world on edge. “She’s left out more because of her subject matter and style, which wasn’t something the art world recognized as progressive.”

To this day, Paca says, “male curators use terms like ‘saccharine’ to define her work, or ‘amateur,’ or ‘socialite.’” But she and others see Rose’s work differently. “There’s no doubt this woman is a first-class artist, and that she is every bit as good as her male counterparts. She was just shoved aside,” Paca says.

“There’s no pretense to her work,” Sheridan says. “She portrays these social issues in a format that’s heart-felt and natural.”

Though it took over 10 years to find support for the exhibit and gather Rose’s prints and paintings, their beauty and power has transfixed art patrons. And that has affirmed Paca’s belief that Rose’s story has a message that still needs to be heard.

It was 1906 and Rose was 16 when she and her family moved to Talbot County from Eau Claire, WI. The Starrs had purchased and refurbished the run-down, 17th-century plantation called Hope House, and set about constructing a lifestyle vastly different from their neighbors—one of equal dealings between blacks and whites.

William Starr had made a fortune in timber—he brought the wood for Hope House’s library bookcases from one of his mills. His family had been active abolitionists in Wisconsin, and while at Hope House, he and his wife, Ida May Hill Starr, entertained black guests as well as prestigious visitors such as President Woodrow Wilson, and brought black friends to the nearby country club. Ida May highlighted the work of African-American gardeners while writing for fashionable publications.

“These people were ahead of their time,” Paca says. “They had an integrated community here, and it made people very uncomfortable.”

Rose attended Vassar College, then enrolled in classes at the Art Students League of New York. In 1914, she married William Searls Rose, who was also from a wealthy family, and they settled outside New York City, and adopted two children. But they spent summers at Hope House, and at the adjoining farm, Pickbourne, which had been Rose’s wedding gift. Her wealth allowed her to pursue art, and the social activism she valued.

On the Eastern Shore, she raced log canoes, taught Sunday school in Copperville, and brought prestigious friends to visit, including author DuBose Heyward, best known for his novel that was adapted into the opera Porgy and Bess, and artist Prentiss Taylor, famed for his lithographs of Harlem life.

“She did everything in capital letters,” says granddaughter Brenda Rose. “She was not traditional by any means.”

Rose painted and sketched the people around her, in their homes and at work on the water, using bold colors and brushstrokes reminiscent of contemporaries Thomas Hart Benton and Georgia O’Keeffe. She illustrated the historic songs passed down through generations of slaves, depicting fiery flames and parting seas. Hers were the most comprehensive visual interpretations of spirituals in the United States, said noted Howard University professor James Amos Porter in 1956.

RuthStarrRose-Paca Ruth-Star-Rose-photo RuthStarrRose-Boy-on-Steps RuthStarrRose-Downes-Curtis RuthStarrRose-Sweet-Chariot RuthStarrRose-crabpickers RuthStarrRose-AnnaMaeMoaney

Critics didn’t know how to react. Rose was lauded for her technique, but cautioned to stick to paintings of boats and flowers. But she was not swayed.

“She wanted people to learn that we are all part of the color palette,” Brenda Rose says. “She wanted everyone to see that we are just people.”

Still, Rose seemed to understand that she was only one person, that it would take a movement for any real change to occur.

“Instead of a story of wonders, I can only tell you about the very insignificant struggle of one human being against a world of ignorance and hate,” she wrote in a 1930 speech. “The very little I have been able to do is only the smallest dent in the steel wall of the caste system.”

Rose demonstrated the courage of her convictions, particularly in 1933 when she had the only solo show of her life in Baltimore at the Municipal Arts Society. This was shortly after a lynching on the Eastern Shore led to the National Guard being dispatched near Hope House to control angry white mobs that protected four of the assailants. Reviewers of the show incorrectly spelled Rose’s name—but Paca believes that was on purpose, to protect her.

The Great Depression brought hardships, and the family eventually sold Hope House. After her husband’s death, Rose left Maryland, traveling and staying at her ranch in Montana, before settling in Alexandria, VA, where she died in 1965. She added cowboys and cherry blossoms to her repertoire, and painted Haitians and members of the Seminole tribe. But her later work didn’t seem to have the same connection as with her Easton subjects.

“When her work is most compelling,” Paca says, “is when she was doing what she wanted to do. It’s almost like she was filling in the blanks, saying, ‘We all know what George Washington looked like. Here are the people you don’t hear about.’”

This idea of a shared history, regardless of race, is something Paca believes firmly. She is dismayed when people ignore a story or key fact because it’s complicated, or makes them uncomfortable.

Though she was born in California, and now spends most of her time in New York, Paca has family ties on the Eastern Shore, and is drawn to the place and its history. Still, she wasn’t prepared when she discovered Rose’s painting of a young woman with creamy, caramel skin and a peach hair ribbon at a Chestertown art restoration studio some 10 years ago. She was further astounded when conservator Kenneth Milton told her the artist was a white woman, not an African-American. Paca left the studio with the painting—which some now call the “Black Mona Lisa”—and a desire to find out more about Rose.

Paca encountered apprehension when she began asking her relatives, who lived close to Hope House, about Rose and the Starrs. They hastily replied, “We don’t want to talk about it,” and it reminded Paca of another time she’d received a similar response. Her family is descended from William Paca, one of Maryland’s founding fathers and a signer of the Declaration of Independence. The family always knew he’d had an illegitimate daughter of mixed race who’d vanished from historical records and was rarely, if ever, spoken of. “I always felt badly that we didn’t know that story,” Paca says. “And there were many people in my family who were very uncomfortable with my constant asking of that question.”

As she interviewed the descendants of Rose’s portrait subjects, many of whom still live in the towns of Copperville and Unionville, they told her how much they wanted their story told. Paca knew she would follow their wishes. The exhibit is scheduled to tour Maryland after its Lewis Museum run.

“I’m so impressed that there are paintings that show the black community as a proud and dignified community,” says Jeffrey Moaney, who grew up on the Eastern Shore and whose ancestors Rose portrayed. “It’s important that our part of the history is shared just as the white history has been.”

After the Hope House tour that July day, Paca gathers the guests back into the cars—they’re headed up the road to Wye House, the plantation where Frederick Douglass had been enslaved. A mission of the trip is to gather anecdotes for the exhibit, so Paca guides Tissier Moaney, Jeffrey Moaney’s grandmother and a descendant of Wye House slaves, to the high-ceilinged veranda where the lady of the house once sat.

A Lewis Museum staff member takes out a video recorder and asks, “How do you feel when you see Ruth Starr Rose’s portraits?” Rose had painted Moaney’s husband as a chubby-cheeked infant.

Moaney, 83, thinks for a moment, then replies, “Her portraits represented [our] honor and strength.”

After more questions, a group member asks if Moaney, a singer and pianist who has received commendation from President Barack Obama, wants to sing a spiritual.

“How about ‘Ride On King Jesus’?” another visitor asks.

“Get it started,” Paca instructs, and soon Moaney and others sing in harmony, “Ride on King Jesus, no man can a-hinder me.”

Paca watches, and thinks to herself, “Ruth would have liked to see this.”

Big Ten

The Reginald F. Lewis Museum opened 10 years ago with a mission to preserve and educate the public about Maryland’s African-American culture. Here’s a timeline of the museum’s history:

June 25, 2005: The Reginald F. Lewis Museum opens. Its first exhibit is A Slave Ship Speaks: The Wreck of the Henrietta Marie. February 2007: The exhibit At Freedom’s Door: Challenging Slavery in Maryland debuts, the state’s first large-scale exhibition to focus on slavery and its aftereffects.
Fall 2013: Facing declining attendance and revenue, the museum drafts a plan to rebound.
December 2013: Maulana Karenga, the founder of Kwanzaa and a Maryland native, speaks at the museum’s annual Kwanzaa celebration.
May 2014: USA Today calls For Whom It Stands: The Flag and the American People one of the summer’s must-see exhibits.
July-August 2015: The free Lewis Now space opens with an exhibit by photographer Devin Allen, whose work appeared on the cover of Time following the death of Freddie Gray. Misty Copeland speaks to a crowd of 1,000 on the day that she becomes American Ballet Theatre’s first African-American principal dancer.

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]]> Autumn Glory https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/travel/fall-festivals-roundup/ Mon, 14 Sep 2015 08:00:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=6144

Autumn Glory

It's the most wonderful time of the year for wine gatherings, birding events, and other fall festivals.

By Marty LeGrand

SPONSORED BY TALBOT COUNTY TOURISM

SPONSORED BY TALBOT COUNTY TOURISM

Bountiful harvests and beautiful foliage. Indian summers and All Hallows’ Eve. There’s so much to celebrate this time of year that, on any given weekend between now and November, you can’t swing a scarecrow without hitting a fall festival. Festivals let us give thanks for everything we hold seasonally dear: pumpkins, apples, oysters, wines, Oktoberfest, Halloween, and Renaissance rituals. We’ve come up with 20 weekend-worthy fests that represent the spectrum of autumnal events. So hit the road and partake in one of these pilgrimages.

Sampling the goods at the Virginia Wine Festival. – Courtesy Across-The-Way Productions

GRAPE EXPECTATIONS Virginia Wine Festival September 12-13 Great Meadow, The Plains, VA

The 411: Toast the nation’s fifth biggest wine state by sampling vintages from several dozen top Virginia winemakers. Admission fees buy all-day tastings, seminars to sharpen your palate, and a souvenir wine glass. Impress your oenophile friends by learning how to keep a wine scorecard like a tasting judge in one of several specialized classes. And spring for private food and wine pairings where an expert will explain why a Barboursville Merlot is perfect with chicken Marsala while you savor both. Tickets cost $20-105 (or $15-90 in advance). Drink to This: Tour nearby vineyards—Pearmund Cellars ( 6190 Georgetown Rd., Broad Run, VA, 540-347-3475) and Linden Vineyards (3708 Harrels Corner Rd., Linden, VA, 540-364-1997)—whose wines have cracked the exclusive list at the five-star Inn at Little Washington. Good Taste: Restaurants love to highlight their vintner neighbors. The Airlie Room (6809 Airlie Rd., Warrenton, VA, 540-347-1300), the in-house restaurant at Airlie, a historic hotel/conference center, features frequent winemaker dinners with grapes sourced by local vineyards. And don’t miss wine tasting, Wednesday through Sunday, 2 to 5 p.m., with the sommelier at the acclaimed Ashby Inn (692 Federal St., Paris, VA, 540-592-3900). Take a Load Off: Once your wine glass is empty, drink in the Virginia countryside and spend the night at Georgian Revival-style Airlie, whose founder strove to create a haven for socio-political deep thinkers. (Earth Day had its beginnings here.)

Food vendors at Sunfest in Ocean City. – Courtesy Town Of Ocean City

FUN IN THE SUN Sunfest September 24-27 Inlet Parking Lot, Ocean City

The 411: Alas, summer isn’t endless in Ocean City, so send it off with a bang at Sunfest, the resort town’s carnival-esque harbinger of fall. Roam the sea of tents at the boardwalk’s southern tip, while browsing nearly 200 artisans’ booths, noshing on crab cakes, oyster fritters, and deep-fried Oreos, and listening to live bands, including nightly headline performers. (The festival is free, but concert tickets will set you back between $15 and $60.) Meanwhile, fluttering overhead, behold master kite fliers’ colorful creations at the Sunfest Kite Festival. Better Shop Around: The holidays loom, so gift shop for glass jewelry, beach-themed paintings, custom handbags, and other crafts. Good Taste: Relish reasonably priced, Eastern Shore-sourced surf-and-turf dishes (rockfish tacos or short ribs braised in coffee and locally brewed Burley Oak stout) at Blacksmith (104 Pitts St., Berlin, 410-973-2102). If weather permits, dine on the garden patio at this new farm-to-table restaurant, a quick jaunt from the Sunfest grounds. Take a Load Off: Stay within walking distance of Sunfest at Atlantic House ( 501 N. Baltimore Ave., Ocean City, 410-289-2333), a just-off-the-beach B&B, which offers scrumptious full breakfasts (think crème brûlée French toast), homemade snacks, off-street parking, and a front porch made for relaxing.

A HIGHLAND FLING Celtic Classic September 25-27 Downtown Bethlehem, PA

The 411: With its brick sidewalks and Moravian architecture, Bethlehem’s historic district doesn’t exactly conjure the Scottish Highlands. But for one weekend, kilted clans gather here to toss cabers, dance jigs, play bagpipes, and enlighten newcomers on the finer points of Celtic beverages. Watch muscled competitors vie for the U.S. National Highland Athletic Championships. Delight in Celtic music, dance, food, whiskey, and beer. Join the culinary competition by flexing your intestinal fortitude at the haggis-eating contest. (Entry fee is $10.) Contest rules: The first one to devour one pound of the organ-meat pudding wins. (No ketchup allowed.) Drink to This: Learn to tap a perfect pint of Guinness. (Tickets: $10.) Good Taste: McCarthy’s Red Stag Pub (534 Main St., Bethlehem, PA, 610-861-7631) adds special dishes to its Scotch-Irish menu for the Classic. Head there for breakfast (served until 4 p.m.) and scarf down authentic fare like Scotch eggs, Irish bacon, and Irish boxty, a crepe-like potato pancake filled with scrambled eggs, cheese, and a banger. Take a Load Off: You can’t get any closer to the festivities than Historic Hotel Bethlehem (437 Main St., Bethlehem, PA, 800-607-2384), an elegantly restored 1920s-era building overlooking the festival’s Main Street stage.

– C. Wiley

Crowning Glory

A Maryland Ren Fest fan meets—and marries—a king.

Twenty-five years ago, Sascha Nelson attended her first renaissance fair, a small gathering of revelers in Ohio. But it wasn’t until she attended the Maryland Renaissance Festival in Crownsville that she was truly hooked. “Maryland has one of the top fairs in the country,” says Nelson, “and the first time I attended, I was blown away. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen.”

Ever since, Nelson has become a devotee of the so-called “Ren Fest,” and she now attends every weekend, late August through October, when the fair is in full swing. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that last fall, she married Fred Nelson, who plays King Henry VIII. After meeting him at the fair in 2008, the two friended each other on Facebook. “We had an Internet friendship first,” explains Nelson, “but when we talked face-to-face, we realized that there was a real spark. I remember feeling like, ‘Wow, I found my other half.’” Married life in Columbia seems to suit them well. At the end of her husband’s day of donning a 40-pound gem-encrusted coat in the sweltering sun, Sascha says, “I take him home and rub his feet.” And Fred, an award-winning videographer by day, returns her loving kindness. “I get treated like beyond a queen,” Sascha says. “He brings me coffee in bed every morning.” And he always gives her the royal treatment. “I collect aprons and he bought me one that says, ‘Queen of Everything,’” Sascha says. “He’s the king of Maryland Renaissance Festival, but I rule the house.” Quips Fred, “I never have to fear losing myself in the role. I know who’s in charge at home.”—Jane Marion

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LEAF OUT Autumn Leaf Festival September 26-October 4 Downtown Clarion, PA

The 411: Watch a mega-parade, tap your toes to talented fiddlers and flat pickers, and join 300,000 foliage worshippers in a small college town that becomes the Pasadena of Pennsylvania for nine days. Bows and fingers fly September 26 at the Pennsylvania State Old Time Fiddlers’ Contest. Grab a choice spot along Main Street for the festival’s centerpiece, the 62-year-old Tournament of Leaves Parade (October 3), featuring 100-plus bands, drill teams, and floats. In addition, enjoy the renowned crafters/farmers’ market, carnival rides, dancing, and delectable dishes. Better Shop Around: Shop the crafters show for handmade home furnishings. Down Right Primitives (625 Oakridge Rd., New Bethlehem, PA, 814-221-5968) sells mirrors, benches, and other furniture cleverly repurposed from old doors, windows, shutters, and headboards. Good Taste: Join the throngs at Daddy’s Main Street ( 513 Main St., Clarion, PA, 814-223-4687) for grass-fed-beef burgers, fresh-cut shoestring fries, and wings (mild to “Demon’s Breath”). Take a Load Off: Book a Jacuzzi suite or stylishly rustic cabin at Gateway Lodge (14870 Route 36, Cooksburg, PA, 814-744-8017), a wood-beamed B&B nestled in an old-growth forest 20 minutes from Clarion. Hike the famous Cook Forest. Soothe sore quads at The Woods Spa, and then dine on game grub (venison strip loin with juniper rub) at the lodge restaurant/wine bar.

HOW ’BOUT THEM APPLES? National Apple Harvest Festival October 3-4 and 10-11 South Mountain Fairgrounds, Biglerville, PA

The 411: Journey to the heart of orchard country for this two-weekend extravaganza celebrating all “apple-achian” traditions. Indulge your appetite for homemade applesauce, dumplings, pancakes, pies, even apple pizza, as you wander past kettles of bubbling apple butter and an old-fashioned cider press. Bid on prize-winning pies at the baking auction. Watch antique John Deeres do-si-do at the tractor square dances. Other offerings include live traditional music and a steam-powered shingle mill. Tickets cost $9-10, including parking and shuttle service, plus orchard tours. Drink to this: Need we remind you you’re in Appleland? Take home a bag or two and a jug of cider from festival vendors. Savor the country comforts of a weekend at Hickory Bridge Farm B&B (96 Hickory Bridge Rd., Orrtanna, PA, 717-642-5261), an 18th-century farmhouse-turned-inn famous for its rib-sticking, family-style dinners. Secure a cozy creek-side cottage, a deluxe farmhouse room, or ensconce the whole family in a farmhouse suite.

Making music at the Autumn Glory Festival. – Courtesy Garrett County Chamber of Commerce

SEASON'S GREETINGS Autumn Glory Festival October 7-11 Oakland and Garrett County

The 411: The auburn slopes of the Alleghenies provide the color for this five-day event, featuring parades, crafts, quilt shows, and antiques sales, as well as turkey dinners, mountain music, clogging, marching bands, classic cars, and a kind of pumpkin X Games. Cheer on numbered, rapids-running pumpkins in a race for prize money at the Great Pumpkin Festival. Don’t miss the state banjo and fiddle championships or a concert on the Great Highland Pipes. And for an extra indulgence, download maps (visitdeepcreek.com) for 25- and 60-mile self-guided foliage driving tours. Better Shop Around: Shop for hand-made quilts, Amish-built furniture, Longaberger baskets, and vintage jewelry at the weekend shows in and around Oakland, the festival’s hub. Good Taste: Dine on New York strip in a peppercorn-cognac demi-glace at Cornish Manor (830 Memorial Dr., Oakland, 301-334-6499), a hillside Victorian restaurant boasting sensational views and memorable desserts. (Tuck into the bread pudding with caramel-walnut sauce.) Take a Load Off: Pamper yourself at Lake Pointe Inn (174 Lake Pointe Dr., McHenry, 301-387-0111), a luxury arts-and-crafts-style B&B perched on a quiet cove of Deep Creek Lake. The romantic, treetop level Savage Room, overlooking the lake, is a guest favorite.

Bavarian folk dancers perform at the Richmond Oktoberfest. – Courtesy Oktoberfest of Richmond

SUDS UP Richmond Oktoberfest October 16-17 Richmond International Raceway, Richmond, VA

The 411: Visit Bavaria by way of I-95 South to attend Richmond Oktoberfest, the Old Dominion’s homage to Munich’s 200-year-old bier-palooza. Find a seat at the communal tables in the cavernous indoor beer garden and sample German and domestic lagers, pilsners, and seasonal brews, along with bratwurst, roast pork, sauerkraut, potato pancakes, and Bavarian pastries. Polka, waltz, and shake your hintern to The Continentals, an award-winning polka band. Then rest a spell and watch the Bavarian folk dancers—all for a mere $15 a day. Drink to This: Spring $12 for the commemorative Oktoberfest beer stein. This year’s model depicts the handsome medieval Eltz Castle. Good Taste: You’ll be carbo-loading all evening, so grab brunch and you’ll be good to go ’til then. Tame your morning hunger with the Mallorca, a grilled, powdered sugar-dusted sandwich with cheddar cheese, country ham, and a fried egg at Saison Market (23 W. Marshall St., Richmond, VA, 804-269-3982), the casual counterpart to a Latin-influenced gastropub. Take a Load Off: Walk to the Thomas Jefferson-designed state capitol, Tobacco Row restaurants, Canal Walk, and other downtown attractions from The Berkeley Hotel (1200 E. Cary St., Richmond, VA, 804-780-1300), boutique lodgings in the city’s historic Shockoe Slip district.

Facing off at the National Oyster Shucking Championship. – Courtesy Rotary Club of Lexington Park

A REAL PEARL St. Mary’s County Oyster Festival October 17-18 St. Mary’s County Fairgrounds, Leonardtown

The 411: After every round of the National Oyster Shucking Championship—the marquee event of this singular celebration—scores of bivalves must be disposed of. That’s where you come in. As each shuck-off ends, spectators line up to devour the spoils. In addition to giveaways, you can buy the oysters raw, grilled, scalded, stewed, deep-fried, beer-chased, or po’ boyed. And if oysters don’t float your boat, consider another St. Mary’s specialty—ham stuffed with spiced greens, and then rolled into a savory, sliceable treat. The festival’s $5 entrance fee is a total bargain. Take a Load Off: Inspired by all that showy shucking? Invest in a stylish oyster knife. Carolina Shuckers, a festival vendor, sells elegant, hand-forged knives fashioned from reclaimed railroad spikes. Good Taste: Chow down on rockfish dinners and house-made desserts like a local at Kevin’s Corner Kafe ( 41565 Park Ave., Leonardtown, 301-997-1260), an out-of-the-way, order-at-the-counter eatery run by a former waterman. Take a Load Off: About 30 minutes southeast of the festival—and a world away—find comfort and Colonial grandeur at Woodlawn (16040 Woodlawn Dr., Ridge, 301-872-0555), a 1798 Potomac River manor house turned B&B. Set on 180 acres, the historic house and five cottages offer luxury and nature aplenty.

EYE ON THE BIRDIE Cape May Fall Festival October 23-25 Cape May, NJ

The 411: Lifelong birders and curious novices flock to southern Jersey in the fall to see migrating hawks, eagles, seabirds, and scarcer species like the fork-tailed flycatchers sighted here last year. Join trained observers as they count raptors—sometimes thousands a day—at the Cape May Hawk Watch. Festival admission includes guided walks at birding hot spots, indoor workshops (bird identification, avian photography), and talks by top ornithologists and authors. Cost is $65 per day for the festival ($35 additional for field trips by bus and boat); admission is free to the concurrent Bird Show (Cape May Convention Hall, 714 Beach Ave., Cape May, NJ, 609-884-9563). Better Shop Around: Consider upgrading your gear. Bird Show vendors offer binoculars, spotting scopes, and other equipment. Good Taste: Whatever’s in season—bluefish, butternut squash, Swiss chard—you’ll find on the chalkboard menu at Louisa’s (104 Jackson St., Cape May, NJ, 609-884-5882), a farm-to-table cafe known for fresh fish dishes. Its new chocolate shop speaks to dessert possibilities. Take a Load Off: An upscale motel in a refurbished cottage, The Star (29 Perry St., Cape May, NJ, 800-297-3779) is as cheery inside as its goldfinch-yellow exterior. Choose from standard rooms, efficiencies, or carriage house suites, all decorated in a retro-motel-meets-beach-resort style.

Flying broomsticks at the Sea Witch Halloween & Fiddlers’ Festival. – Courtesy Rehoboth Beach- Dewey Beach Chamber of Commerce

ALL DRESSED UP Sea Witch Halloween & Fiddlers’Festival October 23-25 Downtown Rehoboth Beach, DE

The 411: Think the beach is boring after Labor Day? Think again. This spirited festival is a shoulder-season romp rife with Potteresque imagination and kooky contests. The hijinks include competitive broom tossing, a dress-up 5K, and two- and four-legged best-costume parades (past canine entries included pooches dressed as flying monkeys and “Boston Tea Party,” a large, Boston terrier-filled teacup). Watch a parade down Rehoboth Avenue led by the huge Sea Witch balloon while deciphering clues on a “witch hunt” for this hidden harpy. Also enjoy musical acts, including swing, indie-rock, and tribute bands at the bandstand, plus fiddlers and bluegrass groups at the state fiddlers’ festival (Convention Hall). Good Taste: Rehoboth restaurant folks adore Halloween, but none more than those at Blue Moon ( 35 Baltimore Ave., Rehoboth Beach, DE, 302-227-6515). A local institution, Blue Moon blends acclaimed cuisine with outrageous entertainment. On Saturday nights, impersonators evoke Elton, Aretha, and other legendary crooners. Take a Load Off: Register, park, stay put. Book a cushy room at The Bellmoor Inn & Spa (6 Christian St., Rehoboth Beach, DE, 302-227-5800) and you’re blocks from Sea Witch events. Rates include daily hot breakfast buffet, free parking, and the quietude of a charming brick-paved courtyard.

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]]> Ten Restaurants Worth The Drive https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/travel/ten-restaurants-worth-the-drive/ Tue, 11 Aug 2015 08:30:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=6313

Sometimes, when the craving strikes, you just need to head out on the open road. There, you will find out why foodies flock outside on winter mornings in Manhattan for a Dominique Ansel cronut, why they endure the sticky heat of Austin for a tray of ribs from Franklin Barbecue, or brave the sun-drenched sidewalks of L.A. for a Hollywood hot dog at Pink’s. Yes, Baltimore has become a culinary haven, but we still love the thrill of the chase. So get out of Dodge and heed your hankerings—and wanderlust. These dining destinations—listed from nearest to farthest—won’t disappoint.

Toki Underground

Washington, D.C., 37 miles // The Lowdown: Despite its rabid fans, long waits, and endlessly Instagrammed food, Toki Underground has managed to keep its cool. From the skate-shop vibe to the inspired take on Asian comfort food, this postage-stamp-sized hot spot is even better than the hype. Kitchen Cred: Remember this hip young chef’s name: Erik Bruner-Yang. The one-time Sticky Rice alum turned 2015 James Beard Rising Star Chef finalist is joining the ranks of trend-setting dining deities such as Danny Bowien (Mission Chinese) and David Chang (Momofuku). Food For Thought: The lineup is approachable (and affordable) but no need to mull the menu: Head straight for a steaming bowl of noodle soup. The rich tonkotsu broth comes in simple, yet complex, arrangements, from classic pulled pork with soft-boiled egg to inspired kimchi infusions. Make it your own with add-ons like melt-in-your-mouth pork belly and house-made “endorphin sauce,” made with five different chilies. However you bedazzle your bowl, sip slowly. And don’t be ashamed to tip it back: There’s a reason Bruner-Yang moves over 200 orders a night. Trip Tip: For good kitchen karma, order the Xie Xie, a round of beers that go to the ramen-making masters in the kitchen. 1234 H St. NE, Washington, D.C., 202-388-3086

Rose’s Luxury

Washington, D.C., 39 miles // The Lowdown: The “Rose” in question is chef Aaron Silverman’s grandmother, so it’s only fitting that every element of this charming eatery—mix-and-match plates, antique touches, fresh flowers—is reminiscent of the little luxuries in your own nana’s house. It might take a few hours to get a table (no reservations accepted), but if awards alone are any indication (James Beard Award semifinalist for Best New Restaurant in 2014 and GQ’s Most Outstanding Restaurant of 2015), it’s well worth the wait. Kitchen Cred: Silverman has worked with the crème de la crème including David Chang, Sean Brock, and George Mendes. Now at the helm of his own spot, he wraps past into present—melding the French, Asian, Italian, and Southern influences of his former haunts into something completely original. Food For Thought: Despite the hype, Silverman keeps it real with his eclectic blend of flavors, marrying homespun comfort food with high-end gourmet. Start with the fan-favorite pork sausage, habañero, and lychee salad, which is anything but a bowl of boring greens. Don’t miss the crispy Chesapeake soft-shell crab or spicy strawberry spaghetti, topped with house-made ricotta. Trip Tip: If you’re eating at a table for one, at least one dish will be gratis. 717 8th St. SE, Washington, D.C., 202-580-8889

Rasika

Washington, D.C., 41 miles // The Lowdown: One of the most trusted names in Washington, D.C., isn’t a Capitol Hill congressman or POTUS appointee. Instead, it’s a restaurant in the Penn Quarter (with a second location in the West End), where a luminary cast of VIPs from the Clintons and Obamas to New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd and Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg choose to break bread. (Or should we say garlic naan?) For the past decade, Rasika has remained a tried-and-true stalwart for its modern take on classic Indian cuisine, but this isn’t your common curry. Rasika continues to top best lists for its intricate, inventive meals. Kitchen Cred: Props to the power duo of Bombay-born, James Beard Award-winning chef Vikram Sunderam and New Delhi-native and veteran restaurateur and James Beard semi-finalist Ashok Bajaj. Also of note: Penn Quarter chef de cuisine Neraj Govil spent 18 years at the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel. No biggie. Food For Thought: Given Sunderam’s ability to amaze the palate, Rasika—derived from “flavors” in Sanskrit—is aptly named. Start with small plates like the famous palak chaat, or signature flash-fried spinach, before moving onto classics like chicken tikka masala, swaddled in a swoon-worthy tomato sauce. Trip Tip: While you’re in the ’hood, saunter down the street to beloved landmarks like the Newseum, National Gallery, and National Mall. 633 D St. NW, Washington, D.C. 202-637-1222

The Restaurant at Patowmack Farm

Lovettsville, VA, 63 miles // The Lowdown: To beat the heat, head south to the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains and pastoral Patowmack Farm. Opened in 1998 as one of the first farm-to-table restaurants in America, the organic eatery is locavore to the core, with locally grown goods plucked and plated the very same day. Kitchen Cred: Foraging farmer-chef Tarver King might focus on back-to-basics, but his culinary education—from Philadelphia’s Le Bec-Fin to Napa Valley’s The French Laundry—was anything but. A James Beard semi-finalist, King uses the land’s bounty to create cuisine that’s artistic and avant-garde. Each plate is a little masterpiece, adorned with fresh flowers and herbs, as inspiring as a walk through the nearby woods. Food For Thought: Three menus are broken up by mode of source—“raised,” “grown,” and “found”—rotating regularly based on King’s finds. Taste the seasons as you move through your courses, like the summer cherry gazpacho with pistachio, cucumber, and cardamom cream. Trip Tip: Don’t forget to order one of Loudon County’s award-winning bottles of wine. 42461 Lovettsville Rd., Lovettsville, VA, 540-822-9017

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Clockwise, from left: An artful plate at The Restaurant at Patowmack Farm; the dining room at Bartlett Pear Inn; the goods at Federal Donuts; canoodling at Toki Underground. - Courtesy of Patowmack Farm; Jenna Walcott; Michael Persico; Daniel Krieger

Bartlett Pear Inn

Easton, 70 miles // The Lowdown: In the heart of historic Easton sits a beautiful pink house. On the outside, its faded Colonial brick tells the story of days past, while inside, something new stirs on the stove. Step through the door and you’ll feel like you’ve entered a dear friend’s home. With a bright interior and colorful walls covered in art, the little inn is imbued with warmth, and its tender, loving care is equally evident on every plate. Kitchen Cred: After years of working for acclaimed eateries like Michel Richard’s Citronelle in D.C. and Thomas Keller’s Per Se in New York, chef Jordan Lloyd and his wife, Alice, returned to their tiny hometown to raise a family. Luckily for us, he brought his bountiful experience back to the Eastern Shore, and in 2009 transformed the 18th-century inn into a beautiful dining room and boutique hotel worthy of its rave reviews. Food For Thought: The rotating, regional menu of contemporary cuisine is concise and enticing. Start with small plates like braised pork cheeks and belly from nearby Black Bottom Farm with braised radicchio and saffron-glazed turnips, or cornmeal-crusted soft crab with spring peas. Move on to mains like inn-made pappardelle or summer-truffle risotto in maitake mushroom fricassee. Trip Tip: Browse the nearby Academy Art Museum, featuring works by Thomas Moran, Pablo Picasso, and Rembrandt. 28 S. Harrison St., Easton, 410-770-3300

Robert Morris Inn

Oxford, 80 miles // The Lowdown: Just a short drive from the Bartlett Pear sits the Robert Morris Inn, also on the Eastern Shore. One of the oldest inns in the country, the historic home remains little changed since 1710, albeit with the addition of chef Mark Salter, who started the restaurant, and breathed new life into the inn’s kitchen. Kitchen Cred: Over the course of his international career, Salter has fed the likes of Margaret Thatcher, Diane Sawyer, and Paul Newman. More recently, the English epicurean spent 17 years as executive chef at the acclaimed Inn at Perry Cabin in St. Michaels, before moving down the road to this truly hidden gem in 2010. In this classic Colonial dining room and tavern, Salter fuses British-American fare with regional cooking and seasonal ingredients. Food For Thought: Try Salter’s Chesapeake classics like an award-winning crab cake, but don’t overlook the pub-perfect burger with white corn succotash and watermelon and yellow tomato sauce. Trip Tip: After your meal, take a shortcut home across the Tred Avon River on the oldest privately run ferry in the U.S. 314 N. Morris St., Oxford, 410-226-511

Federal Donuts

Philadelphia, PA, 99 miles // The Lowdown: Move over waffles and biscuits: Chicken and donuts are the hot new take on savory and sweet. While this foodie fad was born above the Mason-Dixon Line, it was still raised in the South—South Philly, to be exact. As the world’s first dedicated shop for both downhome delicacies, Federal Donuts (aka “FedNuts”), started as a micro-sized brick-and-mortar shop and quickly became a local legend. Kitchen Cred: Since its original location on South Second Street, FedNuts has hatched five locations, part of the growing empire of James Beard-winning chef Michael Solomonov and restaurateur Steve Cook. Food For Thought: Inspired by Korean fried chicken, the twice-fried birds have juicy meat and skin as crisp as a Lay’s potato chip. Pick your kick with seasonings and glazes ranging from mild to mouth-tingling, but no worries: Your little red basket comes with a honey donut to beat the heat. Need another reference? These deep-fried delights are favored by Philly native drummer Questlove and notorious sweets lover Vice President Joe Biden. Trip Tip: Fancy donuts like French toast and lemon ricotta often sell out by 2 p.m. 1219 S. Second St., Philadelphia, PA, 267-687-8258

Jim’s Steaks

Philadelphia, PA, 100 miles // The Lowdown: The Cheesesteak Wars are practically a sport in the City of Brotherly Love. Most argue between South Philly behemoths Pat’s and Geno’s (whose fans run the gamut from President Obama to Snooki). But on a corner of South Street, amidst a colorful collection of head shops and pizza joints, the real champ is Jim’s Steaks. From the minute the doors open in the morning, the crowd begins to build as the line moves out the door and around the corner down Fourth Street. Kitchen Cred: This second-generation sub shop has been a Philly institution since 1976, winning five “Best-ofs” and cementing itself as a bucket-list landmark. Celebrity glossies on the walls add to the ambiance. Food For Thought: To sound like a local, order “Whiz wit” (read: Cheese Whiz) from the guys behind the counter. Their hands move like magic on the grill as they tend to the mountain of meat and sizzling onions before stuffing them into soft sub rolls, lacquered with liquid cheese. Trip Tip: Philly is a wonderfully walkable city. From Jim’s, you’re just a short stroll to the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall. 400 South St., Philadelphia, PA, 215-928-1911

Zeppoli

Collingswood, NJ, 100 miles // The Lowdown: This quiet Jersey suburb is home to an abundance of old-school red-sauce joints, but Zeppoli is in a league of its own. The little BYOB has the quintessential charm of your classic Boot Country trattoria, but shakes things up with an extra dollop of gusto. Kitchen Cred: Growing up in South Philly, Joseph “Joey” Baldino learned to cook from the masters—his Sicilian mama and aunts. From there, he went on to work with legends like Alice Waters and Daniel Boulud, eventually landing a gig as chef de cuisine at the venerable Vetri in Philadelphia. Since opening his own eatery in 2011, Baldino has become a four-time James Beard Award semi-finalist. His years in the big leagues are an indisputable influence, but one taste of his authentic country cooking, and you’ll realize it’s in his blood. Food For Thought: Fine-dining meets la famiglia on Baldino’s modest, Mediterranean menu, which is surprisingly simple, with rich pastas, rustic meats, and fresh ingredients sourced from Philly’s Italian Market. Carbo-load on classics like homemade tagliatelli with lemon and prosciutto, or revel in Baldino’s Southern Italian roots with a hearty fisherman’s stew. Be sure to save space for the namesake fried dough. Trip Tip: Collingswood is a dry town, so don’t forget to bring your own wine. 618 Collings Ave., Collingswood, NJ, 856-854-2670

The Inn at Little Washington

Washington, VA, 107 miles // The Lowdown: It’s a bit of a schlep to Rappahannock County, but you won’t regret expending the extra effort. Here, at the Inn At Little Washington, you’ll be transported straight to the set of a Jane Austen novel. With antique accents, period furnishings, and elaborate wallpaper, this five-star foodie manor is impeccably dressed to impress. Kitchen Cred: Back in 1978, chef Patrick O’Connell started his internationally acclaimed food mecca out of a garage-turned-country inn. A forefather of the modern-day farm-to-table movement, he befriended nearby farmers to stock his pantry with the freshest local supplies. Today, the James Beard-winning chef and New York Times bestselling author continues the pastoral practice, also picking produce from the inn’s own farm. With pomp and precision, the D.C. native turns plain white plates into imaginative American masterpieces. Food For Thought: Before you unfold your napkin, prepare for the fit-for-a-prince price, as the special-occasion eatery starts at $178 per person. (And if you drink too much wine from the 14,000-bottle cellar, stays start at $495 per night.) Splurge for a front-row seat in the kitchen, or settle into the lap of luxury in one of its intimate dining rooms. With three seven-course menus, consider the Tin of Sin (caviar, peeky-toe crab, and cucumber rillettes) and then order the herb-crusted lamb loin carpaccio with Caesar salad ice cream. Trip Tip: It’s easier to nab a table on weekdays, but book your reservations at least three weeks in advance. Make a day of it and explore the scenic byways of the Shenandoah Valley. 309 Middle St., Washington, VA, 540-675-3800

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]]> J.M. Clayton Seafood Celebrates 125 Years in Maryland https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/fooddrink/j-m-clayton-seafood-celebrates-125-years-in-maryland/ Wed, 15 Jul 2015 13:05:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=6439

The first day of crab-picking season at the J.M. Clayton Seafood Company in Cambridge this year was the morning after your tax returns were due. That’s April 16, a little later than usual, thanks to a long winter’s freeze.

The crack of the first claw at Clayton marked the start of eight months of processing crabmeat on the Choptank River, a season that almost exactly parallels baseball season. And, just like the national pastime, the big prizes come in September and October, the month of the greatest blue-crab harvests in the Chesapeake Bay.

Autumn—far removed from the imaginations of those who equate steamed hard crabs with Fourth of July cookouts and vacations downy ocean—“is when the crabs are migrating,” says William “Bill” Brooks, whose great-grandfather, John Morgan Clayton, known to all as “Captain Johnnie,” founded the company. September and October, says Brooks, 62, “is when the crabs are moving.” The same can be said for five generations of the Clayton family and many thousands of employees over the years, who, since the late 19th century, have moved ton upon ton of oysters and crabs from Maryland waters to kitchen and picnic tables.

Now in its 125th year, J.M. Clayton Seafood was founded on Hoopers Island the same year a Baltimore shipyard produced the first steel tanker ship in the United States and is believed to be the oldest working crab-processing plant in the world. Clayton’s crabmeat is coveted by high-end restaurants, including Wit & Wisdom and Gertrude’s. It is marketed under the name Epicure, the name of Captain Johnnie’s boat. “J.M. Clayton is vital to the survival of the state’s crabbing industry,” says Steve Vilnit, former director of fisheries marketing at the Maryland Department of Natural Resources. The man behind the state’s True Blue program—which urges restaurants using Maryland crabmeat to label their cakes as local—Vilnit is a great booster of all the Free State’s 22 crab processors. “These picking houses allow watermen to harvest and sell their product throughout the season,” he says. “Without them, the history and tradition of crabbing would not survive.”

On Cambridge Creek, once busy with picking houses and now a cove of condos, the tradition is held together by a trotline of gentlemen’s agreements reaching back to the start of the company. J.M. Clayton works with 30 to 40 watermen, some of them the grandsons of men who dealt directly with Captain Johnnie.

Now at the helm of J.M. Clayton are three of Captain Johnnie’s great-grandsons. They are the sons of John Clayton Brooks: Jack, Bill, and Joe. Jack Brooks, 63, the current president, took over in 1989. Brother Joe “can do it all,” and Bill works the books, directs the wholesale market, and proudly describes his title as “family member.”

“I’m a seat-of-the-pants businessman,” says Bill Brooks of the unpredictable crab industry. “Every day we wake up and react to what comes our way.”

Jack’s son, Clay—age 36, fifth generation, and the guy who oversees operations—possesses a very valuable skill: He can speak a very passable Spanish to the mostly Mexican workforce of 60 or so and gets more proficient at the language by the day.

“J.M. Clayton is vital to the survival of the state’s crabbing industry.”

A few summers ago, Joe Brooks gave a tour of the plant to a writer from a Chesapeake Bay boating magazine. The story famously quoted Joe saying, “We always tell [the watermen], ‘We will buy all of your crabs.’”

“All” at Clayton ranged as high as 483,000 pounds of crabmeat in the bountiful 1980s, and dipped as low as 200,000 during a bad spell in the 1990s. In the past five years, the trend has fluctuated between 234,000 and 350,000 pounds per season. Explaining the handshake deal with watermen, Bill Brooks says, “We don’t want them looking for hot markets and then just selling us what they cannot sell other places. They have a market for all their crabs here every day they fish, and we expect them to sell us all of their catch.”

Though Clayton handles both oysters and crabs before shipping them out again for sale, it is the meat locked inside the hard shell of callinectes sapidus—most especially the sweet and delicate backfin of the beautiful swimmer —for which it is known.

Ask Bill Brooks to take a taste test by giving him visually identical crab cakes—perfectly rounded, with only enough filler to bind, golden brown, either fried or broiled—with everything the same except the source of the meat. Have one made from crab spawned in the waters of the Chesapeake, known by the Algonquians as Chesepiooc, a word akin to village “by a big river.” Make the other from an Asian crab, the portunus pelagicus, a blue crab native to the Pacific and Indian oceans with a bright black-speckled shell. Then ask him if he can discern the difference. “Asian crabmeat is denser, sort of pearly and has a definite aftertaste because of chemicals they use to preserve it for shipping,” says Brooks. “Ours has that yellow tinge of crab fat. That’s the cream—cream rises to the top.”

Captain Johnnie, a native of Accomack County, VA, started the company that bears his name in 1890 along a wooden pier on Hoopers Island. Business was good for the next 30 years. After the advent of telephones, trucking, and trains, Captain Johnnie realized that things could be even better if he had greater access to major markets such as Wilington, DE, the Midwest, and, with its plentiful rail connections, Baltimore. So in 1921, he packed up the whole kit-and-caboodle—including his workers and their families—and moved the operation some 30 miles north to Cambridge.

Among those who uprooted their lives to follow the work was Fronie Dorothy Jones. “That was my mother,” says 81-year-old Nicie (pronounced Nice-y) Jones, a recently retired Clayton picker. As a child, Nicie recalls, “I went out to pick crabs early in the morning, go to school, and then come home and crack more claws in the afternoon. I loved it, loved all the carrying on with my mama and the women I knew in the picking room. Oh honey,” she says, summing up her long life of work, “it was lovely down at that crabhouse.”

Both of Nicie’s parents worked at Clayton’s. Her mother picked there for eight decades before her death in 1992, starting as a child on Hoopers Island and staying at it—paid by the pound, what was called “piece work” in factory parlance—until she was nearly 90. In her prime, Nicie could pick about 40 pounds of crabmeat in a day and says her mother was even faster. The hours were long, the pay was modest, the season only lasted a half to three-quarters of the year, and workers’ hands took a gouging. Just like today. “People worked until they couldn’t work anymore,” says Brooks.

“Oh, honey, ” says Nicie Jones, “it was lovely down at that crabhouse.”

If the crabbing season follows the baseball season, its pickers are as competitive as the athletes who play ball. Each picker is given a number and their totals are put up on a white board as the day goes by. The number is also printed on each can of Clayton’s retail crabmeat for reference when complaints (“I found a shell”) or compliments (“best I’ve ever had”) come in.

Fronie was number 10 and Nicie labored under the number 12. “We have retired both of those numbers,” says Brooks.

“I wasn’t the best, but I was right there with ’em,” says Nicie, noting that the men steamed the crabs and the women picked them. “My mama was the best. She didn’t do too much talking, didn’t take many breaks. She just worked.” How fast was Nicie—who swayed rhythmically as she worked, as though singing a hymn—in her prime? “Oh my goodness,” she says. “When I started to rocking, look out!” For almost all of Nicie’s career, the other women at the picking tables were virtually all African-Americans from the Eastern Shore. The last African-American in the picking room today is Cornelius Johnson, a man on the other side of 80. Cornelius retired from regular picking a while back but comes in now and again to crack claws and keep busy.

By the 1970s, with workers leaving for jobs at a new industrial park in Cambridge, the challenge of finding Americans to work the crabhouse became so difficult that John Clayton Brooks and a couple of buddies invented and patented the “Quik Pik,’” a mechanical crab-picking machine. Although it was never as good as the human hand when it came to unlocking top-shelf lump meat from the baffles of a blue crab, it could pick 100 pounds in an hour. And while those machines are no longer in use, the company still uses mechanical pickers today.

The first year Clayton brought seasonal laborers from Mexico to keep the business alive was 1997. Without the federally approved “guest worker” system, which allows foreigners to work in the U.S. on a temporary basis, the Clayton firm would be packing it in instead of shipping it out. There are other signs that the crabbing industry is far more precarious than it was in peak times from the Depression through WWII, when Clayton employed more than twice as many pickers as it does today. Brooks observes that the average age of watermen is older than ever and their children are less likely to follow the family tradition.

Pollution from a range of sources, loss of habitat like vital bay grasses, over-fishing, and disease have all contributed to the decline of the Chesapeake Bay blue crab.

But that thing that wants to pinch the hell out of your finger if you get too close is a hardy scavenger, and Brooks has kept an old scrapbook of newspaper clippings from the 1950s through the 1970s that his great uncle cut out as a bellwether—it reported that things were dire for the crabbing industry.

Bill takes it all in stride.

Will there be Maryland steamed crabs on your grandchildren’s picnic table on some far off Memorial Day? “Absolutely,” he says. “Nobody wants to be the guy who catches the last crab.”

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]]> ​Harriet Tubman Tops Poll to Become New Face of U.S. Currency https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/community/harriet-tubman-tops-polls-to-become-new-face-of-u-s-currency/ Tue, 23 Jun 2015 15:05:00 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?p=68924 Continued]]> You may have heard recently that the Treasury Department has a redesign of the $10 bill in the works, including plans to put the first portrait of a woman on U.S. currency in more than a century.

A little controversy has sprouted around the effort—mainly that getting rid of Andrew Jackson on the $20 bill because of his pro-slavery and Indian removal policies might be a better idea than replacing Alexander Hamilton on the $10 bill. But overall, the project seems to have wide backing.

(Martha Washington was the last woman whose face appeared on U.S. paper currency—on silver dollar certificates printed in1886, 1891, and 1895. Pocahontas was also included in a group picture on a $20 note in the mid-19th century.)

There are any number of reasons to support the long overdue measure, including that Harriet Tubman appears to be the frontrunner to have her portrait engraved on the new currency. After 10 weeks of online voting recently organized by the nonprofit Women On 20s—founded to convince Secretary of Treasury Jack Lew that he should authorize a new bill honoring the 100th anniversary of women’s suffrage in 2020—Tubman emerged the poll winner in a remarkable field that included Eleanor Roosevelt and Rosa Parks, among others.

Tubman, of course, was born into slavery on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, in Dorchester County in 1822. She escaped at 27 years old, and then returned an estimated 13 times to help free family, friends, and many dozens of other slaves, becoming a leader in the Underground Railroad. Tubman famously was called the “Moses of her people.”

Not as well known, is that Tubman later served as a nurse, scout, cook, and spy in the Union Army during the Civil War. After the war, she advocated for women’s suffrage and established the Harriet Tubman Home for the Aged in Auburn, NY, the town where she died in 1913.

By the way, there’s a wonderful, if small, Harriet Tubman Museum, started and run by local volunteers, in downtown Cambridge, MD that is worth a visit. There’s also a self-guided driving tour of the Eastern Shore, known as the Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad Byway, which you can learn about via the Dorchester County Visitor Center in Cambridge. And, last year, Congress passed legislation to approve a new national park in Tubman’s honor in Dorchester County, which is expected to open later this year.

Beyond the Women on 20s poll, there’s been a lot of other buzz (here and here) and national attention around Tubman as potentially the new face of $10 bill, which we think is great and long overdue, too.

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]]> The Sea Also Rises https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/sciencetechnology/the-sea-also-rises/ Mon, 05 Jan 2015 12:00:00 +0000 http://server2.local/BIT-SPRING/baltimoremagazine.com/html/?post_type=article&p=7323
Science & Technology

The Sea Also Rises

The Eastern Shore is already facing the dire consequences of global warming. Baltimore, Annapolis, and the rest of the region are on deck. 
Ron Cassie - January 2015
Science & Technology

The Sea Also Rises

The Eastern Shore is already facing the dire consequences of global warming. Baltimore, Annapolis, and the rest of the region are on deck. 
Ron Cassie - January 2015

The Hooper's Island Road Causeway at High Tide. —Greg Kahn

The first thing you notice is the standing water in the roadside gullies, even though it hasn’t rained in a week. Then, you notice the small houses and churches all teetering on concrete blocks or bricks four or five feet above the muddy, soft ground. But driving down Maryland Route 335 toward Hooper’s Island, it’s the trees that give you the deepest pause. Thousands of pine trees have been stripped bare of their needles, branches, and brown bark in this part of south Dorchester County. Ramrod straight, white as ghosts, the hollow trunks look like some kind of zombie deadwood, the staggering aftermath of an unfolding calamity.

Which, it turns out, is exactly what they are.

The land here is sinking beneath a fast rising Chesapeake Bay and the pine trees can’t survive the encroaching saltwater. Look closer, says Shawn Riley, a local waterman who makes his living harvesting oysters and blue crabs, and you can see that the process has been picking up speed. “Out on the boat, you’ll see trees leaning like this,” Riley says, holding his arm at a 45-degree angle. “There are tons of stumps, too, in the water. We have to maneuver around ’em.”

Riley, 53, grew up in the nearby small town of Crocheron and has lived on Hooper’s Island—the original home of the state’s century-old, family-owned Phillips Seafood—for 20-plus years. Technically, he lives in Hoopersville, the middle of Hooper’s string of three islands. Well, two islands now.

Or maybe one and a half.

The lower island, known as Applegarth, once a thriving village with its own post office, washed away decades ago. And Riley will tell you that Hoopersville, where it seems half of the remaining few dozen homes are for sale, probably isn’t long for this world, either. With rising sea levels accelerating erosion, Hooper’s Island is losing about two acres of land a month. “The street in front of my house is named Steamboat Wharf Road because there used to be a wharf down the way where the steamboats came in,” he says, pointing maybe two hundred yards away. Today, little remains of the old thriving wharf area, or of nearby Hickory Point. “That’s been [eroding] since I’ve been here.”

A Dorchester county pine tree withering in encroaching saltwater. —Greg Kahn

A dozen years ago, Hurricane Isabel swept the bay across the island, flooding and destroying Riley’s house, among many others. He says he considered leaving, but ultimately rebuilt with the help of a Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) grant and a low-interest loan. “They only offered the money if you built on the same site,” he says. “What else was I going to do?” His home now sits on a foundation that’s five cinderblocks high, but other issues press. The causeway from the upper island, known as Fishing Creek, to Hoopersville has begun flooding at high tide most of the year. A couple of years ago, when Riley needed to replace his old Chevy truck, he went with a bigger, taller Silverado, in large measure just to get home safely from work.

“I know those Arctic glaciers are melting and that water has to go somewhere,” Riley says, shrugging in his driveway on a recent, unseasonably warm afternoon. “I guess it’s coming here.”

It is not just Maryland’s Eastern Shore islands that are in danger of disappearing beneath the surface because of global climate change and rising sea levels. In truth, 13 of the lower bay’s charted islands, many of them once inhabited, are already gone. Even more alarming are stories foretold by the interactive displays at the visitor center at the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge in nearby Cambridge. Those models show that by the end of the century more than half of Dorchester County, the third-largest county in the state in terms of land area, will be under water. Of course, much of the Eastern Shore—most urgently, the lower counties of Dorchester, Wicomico, Somerset, and Worcester, which includes vacation haven Ocean City—is threatened by rising seas, erosion, tidal flooding, and storm surges. So, too, are western shore small towns in Anne Arundel, Harford, and eastern Baltimore counties.

The question really isn’t what will be lost anymore, but what we will decide to save.

Due to the region’s geology and Atlantic Ocean currents, sea levels in the Chesapeake Bay are rising twice as fast as the global average and are projected to jump by as much as two feet in the next 35 years, and up to five feet or more by the end of the century. That leaves the state’s two largest cities on the bay vulnerable: Baltimore, with its iconic waterfront and port, and the state capital, Annapolis, with its historic city dock, will be challenged like never before in the coming decades by near constant flooding. So-called “nuisance flooding,” when storm drains get overwhelmed and water pools two or three feet deep, has already become more commonplace here than anywhere else in the country. Floods have already increased by more than 900 percent in both cities since 1960. Some projections call for 225 or more such floods a year for Baltimore and, essentially, daily inundation for Annapolis by 2045, according to a recent study based on National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration data.

“The question really isn’t what will be lost anymore,” says Jim Titus, a Maryland resident and leading sea-level-rise official at the Environmental Protection Agency, “but what we will decide to save.”

The last house on Holland Island, which succumbed in 2010. —David Harp
Annapolis, facing a growing crisis, is already one of cities most susceptible to flooding in the U.S. —Amy McGovern
The Inner Harbor, Fells Point, and the greater Baltimore Harbor area will be challenged by ever-stronger storm surges. —Baltimore City
Dundalk, in Eastern Baltimore County, is regularly forced to close roads today after storms. —John Long


With 3,190 miles of shoreline and 265,000 acres of rural and urban land situated less than five feet above the high-tide line, Maryland, along with Louisiana and Florida, is among the states most vulnerable to sea-level rise. With slowly sinking land around the Chesapeake (still settling from the last Ice Age, ironically enough), rising seas will eventually necessitate the need for revised or completely ne

Going by the upper-end projections of sea-level rise—which we’re likely headed for as atmospheric carbon-dioxide levels surpass concentrations not seen in millions of years—more than 440,000 acres of land, $42.3 billion in property, and 94,000 homes in Maryland will be in increased danger of inundation.“By our estimate, we should prepare for a sea level that’s going to come up to our knees by 2050 and then chest-high by the end of the century. It’s no longer a question of ‘if’ sea levels will rise that high, but ‘how fast,’” says Donald Boesch, president of the University of Maryland Center for Environmental Science and technical chair of a 2013 Maryland Climate Change Commission report that updated sea-level-rise projections. “Houses are going to have to be raised, and you do not want to locate firehouses, police stations, hospitals, and schools—buildings that are meant to last—in places that are going to be destroyed in every flood.”

Nothing in either the Climate Central or the Maryland Climate Change Commission report would come as a surprise to Mary McCoy, 60, who lives not on the bay, but about 90 feet up from the Chester River outside the small Eastern Shore town of Centreville in Queen Anne’s County. McCoy readily recalls the early morning hours of Sept. 19, 2003, when she and her husband decided to ride out Hurricane Isabel at home. When the winds finally quieted, they went downstairs, hoping damage to the home, previously owned by her grandparents, was minimal. That is, until McCoy looked out her first-floor windows. “The lawn was glistening in the dark,” she says. “The Chester River was in our front yard. We were moving the furniture as it began seeping through the floorboards. When it receded, there were jellyfish and sticks and things all over the grass.”

Water entering the house was something that had never happened in the 80-year history of McCoy’s home. The ductwork in the basement needed to be replaced, and soon she and her husband, like certainly thousands more in the coming years, had to start making decisions about a future that they hadn’t considered previously. Initially, they discussed landscaping options, and then, later, sought a bid from a contractor to move the house further from the river. Ultimately, moving the home, though probably necessary in the long run, was too costly at the time. McCoy had hoped to pass the family home onto her younger cousins, but now she’s doubtful that will happen. “I ‘Googled’ and found a Maryland Department of Natural Resources map showing that the Chester River will eventually be lapping at the foundations of my house,” she says.

By our estimate, we should prepare for a sea level that’s going to come up to our knees by 2050 and then chest-high by the end of the century.

Even more than the compelling data and science—the past year also recorded the warmest global temperatures since they began being measured in 1880—such anecdotal evidence, says Mike Tidwell, director of the Chesapeake Climate Action Network, is at least helping Marylanders recognize that climate change is undeniable. The change in sea level may be imperceptible year by year, but when a flood comes rushing in like never before, the message gets driven home, he says. “It’s something that is difficult to wrap your mind around when scientists talk about projections in 2050 or the end of the century,” Tidwell says. “But when you hear more people say, ‘That never happened before’—and we’re hearing a lot of ‘that never happened before’ these days—people begin to connect the dots.”

One recent “never before” was Superstorm Sandy 26 months ago, which flooded the Inner Harbor, but mostly spared Baltimore City. Sandy walloped much of the Eastern Shore, including Ocean City and Salisbury, where the mayor instituted a civil emergency and a curfew during the storm. Sandy hit Crisfield, a town of 2,726 and the self-proclaimed “crab capital of the world,” very hard, with waves of white caps literally pouring into the heart of downtown and driving caskets up from their graves. At the Captain’s Carry Out on Main Street, which remained without power for days, the Little Annemessex River, at the mouth of the Tangier Sound, came rolling in halfway up the counter.

With devastation to Long Island, NY, and the Jersey Shore grabbing the national attention, the fallout in Crisfield has been widely overlooked. The storm displaced hundreds of local families, some of whom never returned home, and, eventually, residents there began thinking about climate change in relation to the town’s precarious location on the Delmarva Peninsula. “It made believers out of everyone,” says former mayor Percy Purnell, whose own property, as far away from the shoreline as you can get in Crisfield, was inundated with two feet of water. “There’s no question sea levels are rising, in my mind. Every time you rebuild a dock here, it has to be built two or three feet higher than it used to be when I was a kid growing up.” The town has received money since Sandy from the Maryland Emergency Management Agency to install tidal gates in the town’s storm drains and is working with the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers to drop a series of breakwaters near the town’s shoreline. Two nearby barrier islands need be rebuilt to protect Crisfield as well.

The town is also close to passing legislation requiring that the first floor of all new structures be elevated above ground. New homes receiving FEMA money have been elevated four to seven feet off the ground, in accordance with their regulations.

[In terms of climate change], Sandy made believers out of everyone.

“Sandy completely changed the community’s consciousness around climate change,” says James Lane, a Crisfield minister and community historian. “People recognize that we are, and will be, consistently challenged by rising sea levels now. And we will have hard choices to make. We lost a lot of people who moved after Sandy, elderly people who didn’t feel like they could deal with something like that again, as well as young families and newer residents, who don’t want to face these issues their whole lives. So, what do we do? Abandon and move? Those people become climate-change gypsies, as I call them, or refugees,” Lane continues. “Then again, what about the people who can’t leave because they’re poor and have no place to go? We have a lot folks who make a living on the water or in the maritime industry, struggling to get by as it is.”

In many ways, Crisfield, in making decisions where and how to rebuild, is on the forefront of a complicated, multi-pronged process that will play out over and over again across low-lying areas of the state.

More than 40 percent of the homes and assets of Somerset and Worcester counties lie below the five-foot high-tide line, and more than half of Dorchester County lies below 4.9 feet above sea level. In Baltimore City, low-lying areas include dense commercial and residential districts such as the Port of Baltimore, Canton, and Fells Point, where most residents and business owners have already become dedicated sandbaggers in the wake of various hurricanes and tropical storms. Models show that the whole Inner Harbor would be at risk during 8-foot storm surges, which are projected to be a fairly common event by the end of the century.

Other populated areas in Baltimore County, such as Middle River, Bowleys Quarter, Dundalk, and Edgemere, which already face severe flooding problems, will see an increase in storm surges, too. In Anne Arundel County, Glen Burnie is expected to see greater flooding and some residents of Shady Side and Deale could find themselves underwater by the end of the century. In Harford County, places like Joppatowne and Havre de Grace will be in greater harm’s way.


TWO feet high and rising

CHESAPEAKE BAY FACTS MAP

Led by the University of Maryland Center for Environmental Science, the most recent state report recommends Maryland plan for up to two feet of sea-level rise by 2050, highlighting the need to build adaptation into the state’s natural and built environments. The study’s assessment only worsens moving forward, with a “best estimate” of sea-level rise of 3.7 feet by 2100 and the possibility of a 5.7-foot sea-level rise by the end of century. With 3,100 miles of tidal shoreline and 265,000 acres of rural and urban land situated less than five feet above the high-tide line, much of the state faces a significant increase in flooding in the years ahead.

Of course, Queen Anne’s County, especially vulnerable near Kent Narrows just over the Bay Bridge; Talbot County, which includes scenic St. Michaels and Tilghman Island; and Kent, St. Mary’s, and Calvert counties; also have a lot of hand-wringing to do about where and how to protect shoreline, infrastructure, and homes. (On a related note, consider that Garrett County in Western Maryland was a center of the U.S. maple syrup industry before rising temperatures pushed the industry farther north.)

In fact, the mantra often heard in response to climate change and sea-level rise from federal, state, and local officials and planners these days is not prevention, but adaptation. The choices are generally presented as “defend, retreat, or accommodate.” The euphemism “managed retreat”—a mixture of the three, but not a phrase many politicians will want to be associated with—has also been thrown around among planners and climate scientists.

In general, sea-level rise planning efforts for most counties and municipalities largely remain in the early assessment stages. Considered at the forefront, however, the Baltimore City Department of Planning has created a new initiative: the Disaster Preparedness and Planning Project (DP3), which is addressing, among other issues, existing flood problems and expected higher sea levels. The city has already set new building guidelines to offset higher sea levels, including lifting the base elevation of new structures from one to two feet above the 500-year tidal flood plain. The DP3 also recently completed a report identifying vulnerable assets and critical facilities.

At the same time, Baltimore City is considering other projected climate-change and natural hazards, including more frequent and more intense precipitation episodes, as well as droughts and potentially deadly heat waves. According to a 2013 DP3 report, average air temperatures are expected to rise by 12 degrees in Baltimore by 2100, at which point the city will feel more like New Orleans. “It gets overshadowed by the attention on sea-level rise, but we have ‘hot spots’ in many parts of the city, like in East and West Baltimore, that are of an immediate concern, especially for senior citizens and children in those neighborhoods,” says Kristin Baja, the city’s climate change czar within the Office of Sustainability. “Heat waves like we’ve experienced in the past and other cities have experienced can be life and death situations.”

While the powers that be in D.C. work to protect the national monuments on the Mall and New York City plans the initial construction of “The Big U,” a 10-mile, $335-million fortress of berms and moveable walls to safeguard lower and midtown Manhattan, compromises on the Eastern Shore (as the minister from Crisfield referenced) are already underway.

Several months after Sandy, state officials offered controversial buyouts to a number of homeowners on Smith Island, which is eroding and sinking into the bay. The buyouts seemed more practical than reinvesting in an island with 276 residents that, in the long run, appears doomed. On Kent Island, Gov. Martin O’Malley and the state Board of Public Works have sparred with local officials and developers over the addition of a big condominium project because of the potential impact on what they consider an already at-risk flood area and over-burdened environment.

You can look at the Gulf of Mexico. You lose wetlands and you have Hurricane Katrina.

Following an executive order by O’Malley in 2012, two months after Sandy, new formal guidelines for state construction projects were published last year, recommending that future state and/or other major infrastructure projects should avoid, wherever possible, areas likely to be inundated by sea-level rise in the next 50 years. By setting the guidelines, says Zöe Johnson, director of resiliency planning and policy for the Maryland Department of Natural Resources, the state is trying to lead the way for counties and municipal government planning. She also notes that Maryland needs to keep working on maintaining and building natural protections against sea-level rise, such as wetlands barrier islands, because they remain critical to protecting shorelines. "You can look at the Gulf of Mexico,” she says. “You lose wetlands and you have Hurricane Katrina.”

Along with Baltimore City, Johnson adds that Annapolis and Anne Arundel County have been working with the state in developing flood mapping, planning, and mitigation efforts for the past several years. “We really want to work with every jurisdiction and provide all the technical assistance and financial assistance that we can,” Johnson says. “We are supporting them as much as we can, but we really can’t do it for them. In the end, it’s going to be up to each county and community.”

Tidwell, of the Chesapeake Climate Action Network, believes that recent polls indicating support for additional clean-energy goals in Maryland at least offer hope for the future. He’s also pleased the state is at the forefront of reducing carbon emissions, noting that outgoing Gov. O’Malley made dealing with climate change a priority, signing legislation to reduce greenhouse-gas emissions by 25 percent by 2020. Now, Tidwell and his organization are trying to raise the bar on clean energy, pushing a new goal of 40 percent by 2025.

Even with new Republican Governor Larry Hogan, who has criticized the state’s sustainability and alternative-energy goals, taking office, Tidwell believes there’s opportunity to make progress. “[Former Republican Governor] Bob Ehrlich actually signed the state’s first greenhouse gas emissions bill, the Maryland Healthy Air Act, and one of the original clean-electricity mandates into law,” he says. If the state legislature is willing to act, he says, legislation can get passed. “If you walk around the state house in Annapolis, about 90 percent of the pictures from around the state include water,” Tidwell continues. “Maryland is a water state, and it only makes sense that we should be leaders in dealing with climate change and sea-level rise.”

High Water Mark

THIS GRAPH CHARTS THE PROJECTED FREQUENCY OF TIDAL FLOODING IN THE NEXT 15 AND 30 YEARS.

U.S. coastal communities, including those in Maryland listed to the right, are already dealing with more tidal-flooding episodes than in the past. As climate change pushes sea levels higher — through melting glacial ice and rising ocean temperatures, which expand water volume — flooding over the next 15 and 30 years is projected to occur much more frequently. With rising sea levels also creating higher tides and greater storm surges, flooding will reach previously “safe” ground as well, and cause more disruption, particularly along the East Coast and Chesapeake Bay region, where sea levels are rising twice as fast as the global average.

Courtesy of Union of Concerned Scientists

But so much climate change and sea-level rise is “baked into the cake” at this point, says Boesch, that in reality, any action taken in the next 40 years likely won’t make any major impact in Maryland until the next century. “There’s little we can do now to reduce sea-level rise by the middle of the century, but we can potentially help by stabilizing global temperatures and sea-levels by the end of the century, for the next century,” Boesch says. “I can tell you one anecdote about this that’s funny but also a little sad at the same time,” he continues. “There’s an elderly couple on the Eastern Shore that I visit from time to time. They used to always ask me, ‘How much longer is our house safe?’ Well, the last time I saw them, they didn’t ask about the house. They told me they’re going to be buried in Oxford, and they wanted to know if their graves would be safe. I told them, ‘Probably until the end of the century, I can’t make any promises after that.’”

Unfortunately, this means that much of what we consider quintessentially Maryland on the Eastern Shore, including significant state natural treasures, such as the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge and the Assateague Island National Seashore will be lost. Historic landmarks, too, such as Harriet Tubman’s birthplace and the museum planned in her honor are at tremendous risk.

In Anne Arundel County alone, 422 archaeological sites, including four historic lighthouses, as well as historic downtown Annapolis and its centuries-old city dock are at risk in the next decades. “A few of these sites are 3,000 years old, Native American sites, that will inundated by flooding over next 100 years,” says county contract archeologist Stephanie Sperling, who participated in a two-year study of the county’s threatened assets. “A huge part of our cultural legacy, will just wash away.”

Historically, of course, Marylanders have long had to struggle with rising water levels and erosion. Before the 20th century, this was largely due to the slow subsidence of the land along the Chesapeake and Atlantic. With climate change accelerating the process since the Industrial Revolution, the problem is taking on a more serious existential threat for many Marylanders.

On Smith Island, where the official Maryland state dessert, Smith Island cake, is still made by local women at the Smith Island Baking Company right off the dock, the looming threat to home, community, and a way of life, is never far from the minds of the remaining residents. A 45-minute boat ride from Crisfield, the island remains happily isolated from the harried pace of modern life and people here like the sunsets. It’s the last of Maryland’s inhabited lower bay islands not accessible by car.

The post office is only open four hours a day and the public school, with 11 students, is the smallest in the state. Home to watermen, a few retired folks, and a couple of bed-and-breakfasts mostly catering to summer visitors, the island rallied after the state offered buyouts, turning them down and instead organizing a group called Smith Island United to fight for grants to build badly needed sea walls and jetties to slow down erosion, and, at least, delay what is most likely its fate.

Erin Pruitt, who grew up on nearby Tangier Island, on the Virginia side of the bay, is one of the bakers at the Smith Island Baking Company, and like all the women working in this friendly atmosphere, she doesn’t want to leave. Only 26, she lived in Ocean City for a while before falling in love with a young man and moving to Smith Island. She admits occasionally missing the convenience of living inland, but she cherishes the slower pace and strong sense of community here.

“It’s the people here I love more than anything else, and if the island ever disappears, the culture and community will, too,” she says. “And that’s what I grew up with.”

Lively and thoughtful, a white apron tied around her waist as she removes the nine-layer chocolate and coconut cakes from the baking racks, Pruitt pauses and looks down for a moment. “People ask, from time to time, ‘Do you think when you have kids and grandchildren that Smith Island will still be here?’” she says. “‘I hope so,’ I say.

“But the truth is, and the reason it takes me a while to answer that question,” she continues, “is that I don’t want to think about it. That’s the harsh reality.”

Online Exclusive!   View the interactive rising sea levels map.

View the full size map and type in your address to explore how rising sea levels are projected to impact your home or property in the Chesapeake Bay region.

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]]> Wildlife Weekend https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/section/events/wildlife-weekend/ Fri, 14 Nov 2014 15:52:00 +0000 https://www.baltimoremagazine.com/?p=67075 Continued]]> There are a slew of things going on in the city this weekend, but it’s already the middle of November. The days are getting shorter. Our sleeves are getting longer. The temperatures are dropping fast and before we know it, we’ll be in a three-month, bundled-up slump of never leaving the house. So now’s the time to go—to get out of dodge and get up to the mountains or out into the fresh country air.

To do just that, take a short drive across the bay for the 44th annual Waterfowl Festival, which celebrates the Eastern Shore with a three-day weekend of wildlife arts, culture, and activities in the historic tidewater town of Easton.

A region rich in heritage, history, and tradition, people come from near and far to see the wildlife artwork—the paintings, photography, sculptures, and carvings on view and for sale by regional artists—and to observe or participate in the bucolic, bay-oriented activities—like goose- and duck-calling contests, dock-jumping dog competitions, retriever demos, live bird demos, and fly-fishing demos.

“It’s a true celebration of who we are as a community,” says Amy Steward, a longtime festival volunteer and public relations consultant for one of the event’s main venues, the Academy Art Museum. “The Eastern Shore has developed and changed but there’s still a real element of tradition here and a conscious effort to retain our way of life and our environmental heritage.”

Since it began in 1971, the festival has grown from 4,000 visitors to as many as 20,000, with attendees hailing from all across the state, up and down the Mid-Atlantic, and beyond. Like the shore itself, it has evolved, but also like the shore itself, it has stayed true to its roots.

In the early 70s, the Eastern Shore of Maryland was a quiet, beautiful, but rapidly changing place. The Bay Bridge had been erected in 1952, followed by the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel and new interstates, and with the country in a state of suburban sprawl, developers saw the lush, local region as a prime opportunity. They started moving in—draining and filling wetland; razing forest; converting farmland for new buildings, houses, and businesses—and before long, plans were under way for a second span of the bridge, with an expected completion by 1973.

At that point, the Eastern Shore’s fate started to look like a foreshadowing of much of its future wildlife—exposed, endangered, maybe one day even extinct—but a small group of Talbot County sportsmen and women had devised a way to share the East with the West. On the opening day of goose hunting season, they gathered 50 exhibitions of carvings, paintings, and artifacts at three local venues in Easton. Their aim was to teach the outsiders the insides of the region—the heart of it, the history, the deep-rooted heritage—and consequently help preserve it, along with its wildlife and habitat. Unbeknownst to the founders at the time, that’s exactly what it would do.

That first year, the festival raised $7,500 for Ducks Unlimited, and ever since, it has raised more than $5 million for hundreds of conservation projects up and down the East Coast, with an emphasis on the Chesapeake Bay. In 2011, the festival launched its own fundraising arm—Waterfowl Chesapeake—devoted to the creation, restoration, and conservation of waterfowl habitat throughout the watershed.

“I think people from the Western Shore really appreciate the provincial community feel of the Eastern Shore,” Steward says. “When they come over, they can experience the small-town charm and some of those open spaces and farmland that maybe doesn’t exist as much over there anymore.”

After a swing by the decoy auction or a peruse of the town’s shops, you can head to the wine and beer pavilion and, with a $10 wristband, taste local wines from the likes of Crow Vineyard in Kennedyville, Casinelli Winery in Church Hill, Far Eastern Shore Winery in Easton, or Linganore Winecellars in Mt. Airy, and imbibe in local beers from Reale Revival Brewery in Cambridge and Eastern Shore Brewing in St. Michaels.

And then there’s the food.

“People love coming for a cup of crab soup or a plate of raw oysters,” says Steward.

Vendors include local restaurants, churches, and fire departments, plus the Ruritan, Lions, and Elks clubs, who, in addition to crab soup and raw oysters, will be slinging the shore’s very best bites: oyster stew, rockfish corn chowder, soft-crab sandwiches, crab cakes, etc.

“It’s just a great tradition for people to get together,” says Al Silverstein, president and CEO of the Talbot County Chamber of Commerce.. “Every year, we meet people who say, ‘Oh, this is my 20th year coming,’ or ‘Oh, I was here 30 years ago,’ or ‘Oh, we’re meeting friends and going back and staying at the same B&B we always do. There’s something for everyone. You can even bring your dog.”

So this weekend, grab a friend. (And your pup.) Throw on a sweater. Drink a St. Michaels ale from Eastern Shore Brewing. Eat as many oysters as you can. Marvel at all the wildlife. Winter is coming but for a little while longer, we’ll still have those perfect days of fall.

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