As we approach the end of our 4-year tenure in Baltimore, I am reminded of how the storied charms of the so-called Charm City remain so well-hidden. The COVID epidemic hit smaller cities hard and with less bounce-back than larger ones. As such, there is a general malaise that permeates this city in its visuals, the dilapidated infrastructure (well before the Key Bridge collapse), the smell, the crime and drug problem, the cartoonish civic dysfunction, and the overall menacing vibe. A sulfuric miasma of pessimism fills your nostrils, that if not equivalent to 70’s NYC is at least proportionate. It’s loud. It’s dirty. The “squeegee kids” (average age about 40) are a major irritation. And the drivers in the entire region are downright reckless. Dodging the ubiquitous ruts and potholes with people passing on the right (or right shoulder!) at 80mph surely takes years off your life. Things were much better here during my first stint in the 90’s, and my best city memories live there.
Not to say there isn’t still potential here. As the NE Corridor megalopolis gradually coalesces, it’s only a matter of time until Baltimore is rediscovered and surges in value. There are a few downtown cranes to offer a glimmer of hope to speculators. I wouldn’t be surprised if Newsweek calls it the comeback story of the century in 10 years. There are pockets of genuine quality — the odd restaurant, art gallery and shop — but too few to fully redeem it. And people are surlier than I remember, although that might be a universal.
Baltimore, we are pulling for you. But we are also pulling up stakes.
Great Exudations 