Mornings in Charm City (Post 4, Part II)

Mornings in Baltimore emphasize the bizarre and often tragic differences between the peoples and neighborhoods in the city. Sleek new buses drive by abandoned and run-down homes, opening their doors to greet weary passengers with an automated message about their destination. The buses rumble past the make-shift tent city at Fayette and President Streets (or Front and Fayette via Street View) to drop their patrons off downtown. Day laborers gather at Broadway and Lombard to wait for possible employment, while professionals in glinting BMWs and Lexuses drive down Boston St. towards downtown.

Having volunteered (and briefly stayed) at homeless shelters in DC, I'm fully aware that these kinds of contrasts rear their ugly heads in every major American city, but Baltimore seems to suffer in ways that these other cities don't. I'm not just talking about crime or the crumbling infrastructure. Baltimore seems to be exhausted; resigned to a future of abandoned buildings, abject poverty, and a negligent education system.

I think I'll touch on Baltimore's problems in more detail in a later post, but if you're itching for a clearer understanding of how the city ended up in the mess it's in, I've got two words for you: race riots. In 1968, the city experienced a week-long riot following Martin Luther King Jr.'s assasination. Thanks to Google Street View, you can follow the path of the riot with these directions and see just how little has been fixed and renovated in the city since then. Pay special attention to streets just off North Avenue, like this one, to see the kinds of conditions that people live in.

With a clear view down my street to the heart of downtown and the Inner Harbor, I can see the skyscrapers that loom over the commercial heart of the city. Looking three blocks north of my neighborhood reveals an area of the city wracked by drugs, violence, and urban decay. This patchwork of broken neighborhoods and fancy renovated rowhomes is an enduring reminder that the city suffers from brain drain, a lack of motivation, and a lack of any serious political entities willing to put in the time and effort to change how the city operates. Simultaneously, that same patchwork compels the people who live here to love their city. They might speak poorly of it, and have little to boast about, but I can't think of any instance in which life-long residents have allowed outsiders to talk badly about Baltimore. That is the essence of Baltimore's relationship with it's people; not one of love and hate, but of caring and despair.