Arts and culture

Courtesy of Derick Ebert

  With a bounce to his step and a backpack on his shoulder, Baltimore Youth Poet Laureate Derick Ebert hovers in a constant state of motion. The magnanimous teen’s speech is an energetic patter, but as soon as the discussion turns to his poetry there’s a change in his demeanor. The energy is still there but now instead of jokes, it’s fueling deep reflection. He may only be 19 but he’s an artist, after all, and he wants to be understood.

P. Kenneth Burns / WYPR

George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic will headline the first day’s entertainment at this year’s Artscape. Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake made the announcement Tuesday at the University of Baltimore Angelos Law Center.

Other acts on the main stage during the three day festival include The Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band and Michael Franti and Spearhead. Jazz artist Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue will close out the festival Sunday evening.

After that dark, snowy unforgettable night when the Mayflower trucks hauled away the Colts and the franchise and all that the team possessed, a furious Mayor Schaefer threatened to sue the demon Colt owner Irsay. To avoid the delay and embarrassment of a court case,  Irsay agreed to have his own lawyer and the Colts representative, Ted Venetoulis, settle the matters privately. At the end of the affair they did--the Colts got back their memorabilia and Irsay got a penalty-- slapped on by Venetoulis for "unsportsmanlike like conduct."

In the early 1940s, in what was known then as the Sports Center Ice Rink at North and Calvert streets, it was the all-girls’  Spitfires against the all-girls Glamor girls—in no-holds, rough and tumble ice hockey. The girls ice hockey teams never got to play against any of the boys’ ice hockey teams. The boys, many observers felt, were lucky.

On Saturday night, June 18, 2005, Marconi’s Restaurant on Saratoga Street was crowded with diners, wall-to-wall, and for good reason--this would be the very last meal served in this famous 85–year-old restaurant. The patrons were there to say goodbye to a great Baltimore institution. but the real goodbye began after they had left—by the chefs and waiters and included toasts not only to Marconi’s but to Marconi’s exclusive dish, Lobster Cardinale.

This story begins on the night of February 22, 1960, on St. Paul Street near the campus of Johns Hopkins University—and we will never know the end of it.

On the evening of September 25, 1953 a man on the FBI’s most wanted list was making a phone call in a phone booth on the mezzanine floor of the Town theater at Eutaw and Fayette streets. At the same time, the movie showing in the theater itself was a gangster movie called, “I, the jury.” At once and together, as if scripted, while the FBI agents peppered the phone booth with bullets, at the very same time, on the screen, there was a scene, too, of peppering bullets. So the audience could not know the difference between the real and what was on the movie screen! 

City Councilman Mimi DiPietro took pride in his style, the way he got things done for his constituency by always going “right to the top” to get a problem resolved.  His funeral was in late August, a time in Baltimore of unbearable heat and humidity. But on the day of Mimi’s funeral the weather broke cool and clear. Father Esposito, at Mimi’s funeral, wondered out loud whether Mimi had once again gone to the top to get things done.

A story from Baltimore in 1935  - don't ask the ouija board a question you don't want the answer to.

Baltimore's used to have a "censor board" that tried to control what was shown in Baltimore's movie theaters.