Advanced

Chesapeake Real Estate 2011

We spoke with five realtors around the Chesapeake to glean an idea of where the market is heading.

Compiled by Joe Sugarman

Charlie Buckley, aka “Mr. Waterfront,” Long & Foster, Annapolis

2011 bargain pick: This four-bedroom, five-bath South River waterfront home is selling for $1.4 million, $300,000 off its original list price.

Predictions for 2011: I think things are taking off. Right now, the volume is up dramatically. In 2009, we did $24 million in sales. In 2010, we sold $40 million (compared to $100 million in 2006). That said, the prices do not seem to be going up. Buyers have seen we hit bottom. Now is time to cherry-pick the bargains. There’s a lot of inventory, but in six months or a year, the really good deals will be gone.

The sweet spot: A lot of people think the waterfront market is immune. Wrong. On average, it’s dropped about a third. The sweet spot has dropped, too. Almost all my sales have been under $2 million, with the bulk $800,000 to $1.3 million. In 2006, it was all $2 million to $3 million. Almost nothing in the [Anne Arundel] county is selling for over $2 million. Any volume at all is coming up from the bottom. It’s an entry-level world.

Advice to buyers: It really is a great time to buy. Prices are down and interest rates are down. Of those two things, interest rates are more important. It wasn’t that long ago that jumbo mortgages were at 7 or 8 percent. … If you bought a $1 million house several years ago compared to now, that $1 million hasn’t changed, but that monthly payment has. 

Hugh Smith, Chesapeake Real Estate, Coldwell Banker, Easton

2011 bargain pick: This 6.5-acre Church Creek property has a pool, tennis court, and five bedrooms. Originally listed at $2 million, it’s now $900,000.

Predictions for 2011: I’ve seen a gradual improvement tracking the national economy. Consumer confidence numbers, improvement in pace of sales. Based on the stock market, I’m encouraged. Hopefully, we’ll be seeing increased energy and calling for higher-end listings.

Where the bargains are: The bargains are in Cambridge. It’s a buying opportunity for anyone. You’ll definitely get bang for a buck. There’s tremendous value in most of the market. The lower end has been seriously challenged by foreclosures; inventory is very high.

Where the sales are: I am very encouraged by what I’m seeing in the $1 million to $2 million range. They mostly seem to be buyers coming from the suburbs of D.C., purchasing pre-retirement and retirement homes. We’re seeing some good action from the Philadelphia market, too. Most of that has been in Talbot County. Kent has been pretty challenged. Dorchester, too.

Advice to buyers: There’s never been a better time to buy. It’s astounding. Right now the waterfront values I’m seeing are once-in-a-lifetime. There’s a whole new segment of people that couldn’t afford it and now it’s laid out at their feet. But we are seeing investors stepping in. You can feel the tipping point. I tell my own buyers—you’ll only see the bottom in the rearview mirror. 

Mike O’Brien, O’Brien Realty, Solomons

2011 bargain pick: This St. Mary’s County bayfront property with beach was originally offered at $725,000 in fall 2009. Price now: $449,900.

Predictions for 2011: The number of people who have strategically defaulted has gone up. Short sales and foreclosures will continue to influence market value. That’s never a positive thing. I think we’ll have one more year of the same and after that a more predictable market. I think we’ve done all of the rollback we’re going to do.

Trends: The higher priced homes are slower moving. Even homes between $200,000 and $325,000 are selling but not at anything but modest rates. There’s been a little bit of price stability and a little bit of moving upward on waterfront. I think people are recognizing that low interest rates are even a better bargain than a low purchase price.

Appraisals: The issue now becomes appraisals. As prices start to move up, appraisals trail the market because they’re based on looking back in time, so they become a restraint in terms of prices increasing.

Where the bargains are: Anybody interested in a house over $500,000 can get a very good value. Virtually anywhere in rural areas where people bought large lots and built large homes seem to be the best bargain, 60 percent off the peak of what the property sold for. The other bargains are in the foreclosed properties being sold as is—houses with plumbing problems, mold contamination, etc.

Debbie Hileman, Hileman Real Estate, Berlin

Best bargain 2010: This waterfront rancher off the St. Martin’s River in Ocean Pines sold in 2005 for $400,000. It was listed in 2010 for $299,000 and sold for $208,000.

Hitting bottom: I’m going to be honest, I’m not sure if we’ve hit bottom yet. I’m hoping that we’re very close. Our market is more second home buyers. We got hit first and I’ll think we’ll recover last. But I’m optimistic because if you do have money, they’re some really good values out there.

Best bargains: There are some really good deals—Ocean City condos and some of the newer things built. The prices were incredibly high during the boom, but now you can get some of them at 50 cents on the dollar. 

If you can’t sell, rent: There still is a wave of bank property that needs to get blown through the market in order for us to level out here. I expect about the same for 2011. We’ve been very busy with rentals. What first started happening was that people who couldn’t sell have rented, and that created a higher supply, causing rental rates to go down. A lot of people who had short sales and lost property are becoming the new wave of [renters].

Advice for buyers: Right now (pre-season) is a really great time to buy—you don’t have competition. I’ve seen deals as much as $100,000 lower than asking. Even something priced at $200,000, people will offer $150,000. You have to have thick skin as a seller.

Cliff Meredith, Lacaze Meredith Real Estate Co., Easton

2011 bargain pick: The former house burned on this two-acre Royal Oak lot, leaving behind $200,000 worth of improvements, including a pool, driveway, septic, and dock on the Miles River. Priced at $1.6 million.

Prediction for 2011: If I had to guess, I’d say it’ll be better than 2010. I believe some of the higher-end markets have experienced increases. Naples, Fla., for instance, has experienced a 10 to 12 percent increase in prices. I would say overall the market seems to be moving slow but steadily upward, both in volume and price. Still, there’s no sweet spot in the market. People are still looking for bargains at any level.

Advice to sellers: I recommend they look at comps and price it to the market if they want to sell. We’re still seeing listings start at maybe what they were five or six years ago, but we’re in a different market. If it’s overpriced, the house could go for 30 or 40 percent less of list.

Advice for buyers: I’d get a good realtor and just use common sense. Look at what comparable homes have sold for. Low balling is very common today because, well, we’re still in a very unusual situation.

SPRING 2011

For the Record

From the lowest point in the Bay to the oldest building to the biggest crab cake, here are 33 unrivaled Chesapeake facts and feats.

by Joe Sugarman

Drinking Traditions
Annapolitans (and visiting sailors) have long been known to enjoy a good tankard of ale. But for how long? Reynolds Tavern edges out Middleton Tavern as oldest “ordinary” in A-Town by a scant three years or so. Reynolds first started serving drinks in 1747 when William Reynolds, a hatter and dry goods salesman, opened The Beaver and Lac’d Hat in the circa-1737 building. In 1750, Horatio Middleton bought the building by City Dock and operated it as an “Inn for Seafaring Men.” Middleton can claim most notable patrons, however, as George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Benjamin Franklin all enjoyed a belt of whiskey—or two—at the bar.

Lucky Duck
Lothrope Holmes, of Kingston, Mass., was a cemetery superintendent and avid duck hunter. If he had been alive in 2006, the amateur carver would have been shocked to have seen his red-breasted merganser hen— carved circa 1870—fetch $856,000 at a Christie’s auction co-organized by notable decoy auction house Guyette and Schmidt of St. Michaels. The merganser, one of six likely carved by Holmes in his lifetime, set the record for most expensive decoy ever sold at an auction. “I’d have been happier if it made a million because that would have been a milestone,” Gary Guyette noted after the sale. If it comes up for sale again, it may. The last time the merganser changed hands was in 1976, when it went for just $6,000.

Lower Than Low
There have been some real “lowlights” in Chesapeake history (the decline of crabs and oysters and Spiro T. Agnew to name a few), but the absolute lowest point in the Chesapeake itself can be found about 1 mile west-southwest of the southern tip of Kent Island in Queen Anne’s County. At 174 feet below sea level, the natural depression is known as Bloody Point Hole. The area is also known in angling circles for harboring some very big fish. (See “What a Catch!” below.)

High Rent
Looking to upsize your house? Then check out Queenstown’s 29-room Penderyn estate along the banks of the Wye River. The 32-acre property, which features a pool, a conservatory, and oodles of antique fixtures and chandeliers, is the highest-priced house for sale in the Chesapeake region at an asking price of $14.95 million. The house was built in the late 1980s by Maureen and Mario Boiardi, son of Hector Boiardi, creator of the Chef Boyardee line of canned pastas. In this economy, mansions over $10 million don’t move so quickly, but Talbot County’s Benson & Mangold is accepting offers.

Beer Here!
Thirty-six years is a long time to be doing anything, let alone running up and down the steps at a baseball game screaming at the top of your lungs. But that’s how long the Orioles’ longest-tenured beer vendor, “Fancy” Clancy Haskett, has been offering up the suds. What’s kept Haskett going are his crazy antics (he was the subject of the 2008 documentary film, “The Story of Fancy Clancy, the Beer Man”) and his rapport with fans. “I have a large clientele of customers and fans that I have accumulated over the years. It keeps me excited about going to work,” he says. “I’ve got to keep my customers satisfied.”

The Jurors
Turns out John Briant just had some tough luck. The Maryland settler was found dead one day and a jury was called on Jan. 31, 1637 in St. Mary’s County to deliberate what happened. His trial marked the earliest court jury of 12, whose members soon determined that foul play was not involved; poor John was felled by a falling tree.

Sunday Never Ends
Its cemetery is final resting place to a Maryland governor, President Lincoln’s “silent cabinet member,” Anna Ella Carroll, and veterans from every American war (including three from the Revolution). Old Trinity Church, in Church Creek, Md., is the country’s oldest operating Episcopalian church still in its original form. Though membership has ebbed and flowed over the years, church services are still held every Sunday as they were at its founding in 1671.

What a Catch!
This fish was almost as big as the fisherman. It took 97-pound, 12-year-old Devin Nolan an hour to haul in a 67-pound 8-ounce rockfish, setting a Maryland state record for biggest rockfish caught in Chesapeake waters. The Hampstead, Md., pre-teen caught the fish in waters above Bloody Point (see above) in Queen Anne’s County on May 13, 1995. The Nolan family later stuffed and mounted the fish and donated it to the Maryland Department of Natural Resources, where it hangs in perpetuity ready to strike.

What a Catch, Part II
We’re always amazed at the prize money awarded for catching fish. Ocean City’s White Marlin Open, the world’s largest billfish tour-nament, regularly doles out millions in prize money every year. In 2005, angler Ken Coffer suddenly found him-self a millionaire when he caught a 78.5-pound white marlin, netting him $1,538,915 —the biggest prize ever awarded by the tournament.

Bet He Didn’t Pay a Toll
Maryland Gov. Theodore McKeldin made the first trip over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge when it was dedicated on July 30, 1952. He and former Gov. William Preston Lane led a procession of 24 chartered buses across the bridge. With all the sightseeing stops, backslapping, and handshaking along the way, their journey took more than 2 ½ hours—seemingly about the same time it takes to cross the bridge on a busy holiday weekend today. 

Some Like It Hot
For hot sauce aficionados, mecca is located in a Rehoboth Beach strip mall. That’s where you’ll find Peppers and the world’s largest collection of hot sauces. At 8,000 to 9,000 strong (“We gave up worrying about the exact number years ago,” says owner Chip Hearn), the collection ranges from one-of-kind Trinidadian tongue-burners to trial-size bottles of Tabasco. Hearn says he didn’t set out to establish the world record until attending a hot sauce show in the early 1990s. “We found out we had the third largest in the world and didn’t even know it,” he says. “So we made a concerted effort over that winter to be No. 1.” Thousands of bottles are for sale at his Rehoboth shop. 

You Again?
U.S. Census officials may still be sorting through the 2010 tallies, but according to 2000’s records, the smallest incorporated town in Maryland is Port Tobacco in Charles County. All 15 of its residents could fit around a generously sized dining room table.

Crab Caked
Jim Cupp, regional sales manager for Salisbury seafood processor Handy International, holds the record for cooking the world’s biggest crab cake—both officially and unofficially. He set the official Guinness World Record in 2008 when he and a team created a 235-pound behemoth, cooked over nine hours in a custom-built, $10,000 cooker with a three-foot diameter, at Dover Downs. The following year at Baltimore’s HonFest, he concocted a 253-pounder, made of 150 pounds of crab meat, plus breadcrumbs, mayonnaise, onions, pasteurized eggs, and spices. “You have to be careful because too much crabmeat and it won’t hold together,” advises Cupp, who says the cakes are about 55-60 percent backfin and lump. At press time, Cupp was attempting to break his own record at a benefit for a seafood processor in the Gulf. “It’s a big show but it’s also a great way to raise funds for charities,” says Cupp, who notes sales of sandwiches from his previous two colossal cakes helped raise funds for the United Way and Maryland Special Olympics. 

Crab Caked, Part II
They’re not quite the size of Cupp’s creations, but the area’s biggest crab cake sandwiches are created by G&M Restaurant in Linthicum. The softball-sized cakes weigh in at a hefty 8 ounces each.

Crab Caked, Part III
The record for eating the most crab cakes is held by 105-pound Sonya “Black Widow” Thomas of Alexandria, Va., who crammed 46 Phillips crab cakes down her gullet in 10 minutes at 2006’s Baltimore Waterfront Festival. (We’d like to see how she’d handle one of Jim Cupp’s crab cakes.)

Writer’s Best Friend
When Sophie Kerr bequeathed $500,000 to Washington College upon her death in 1965, it stunned college officials, and the literary prize that was established in her name is still stunning students who win it. In 2010 Hailey Reissman won the award—this year $64,243—the largest undergraduate literature prize in the country.

Among Friends
William Penn himself reportedly worshipped in Easton’s Third Haven Meeting House, the oldest Quaker meeting house in the United States. Construction of the building began in 1682 and its first meeting was held two years later. Among its builders was William Southeby, said to be the first native American to write against slavery.

A Real Naval Hero
At the 2006 groundbreaking for the Naval Academy field house which would bear his name, Wesley Brown, the Naval Academy’s first African-American graduate, told the crowd: “Somebody asked me once, did I ever think of quitting? I said, ‘Yes. Every day.’” Good thing he didn’t. Brown, who was subjected to relentless barbs from bigoted midshipmen throughout his time in Annapolis, paved the way for future minorities when he graduated in 1949. More than 1,600 African Americans have graduated since Brown, who retired from the Navy as a lieutenant commander. Barriers take time to fall, however; it wasn’t until 1980 that the academy graduated its first female officer, Elizabeth Anne Belzer.

Fit to Print
Who says newspapers are dead? The Maryland Gazette’s presses have been running since 1727 (albeit, with several lengthy stop pages along the way), making it one of the nation’s oldest newspapers. The paper, based in Glen Burnie and owned by Capital Gazette Communications, publishes semiweekly.

Shoulda Thrown in the Towel
There have been many close Army-Navy football games in the series’ 110-year tradition, dating to 1890—and also a few blowouts. The most lopsided game was Navy’s 51-0 shellacking of Army in 1973. The most points ever scored by one team occurred in 2002 when the mids took the cadets to school, 58-12. Makes us think the tradition should be renamed the Navy-Army game.

Army-Navy, Part II
One of our favorite tidbits of Army-Navy game trivia occurred in 1893 when Navy midshipman Joseph Mason Reeves purportedly wore the first football helmet during a game. He had been advised by a naval doctor that another blow to his head could cause death or “instant insanity,” so the football standout commissioned a local shoemaker to fashion a leather helmet. Reeves, who went on to become a decorated admiral, had a warship and two airfields named in his memory, but, as yet, no athletic equipment.

Wooly Pets
If you’ve ever wondered where you can find the area’s largest alpaca farm (really, who hasn’t?), just look up Angel Forbes Simmons, owner of Villa de Alpacas Farm in Southern Maryland. Simmons cares for 90 animals on 46 acres in St. Mary’s County, breeding and selling them for anywhere between $2,000 and $25,000 for top females. “Alpacas don’t eat much; you can have five to seven of them on just one acre of good pasture, and they’re great around kids,” she says. And in these uncertain economic times, alpacas also qualify for favorable tax breaks. Yet another reason to raise a herd.

In the Swim
The thought of swimming 4.4 miles across the Chesapeake from Sandy Point State Park to Hemingway’s on the Eastern Shore makes us gasp for breath. But not James Kegley, who holds the record for best time during the Great Chesapeake Bay Swim. In 1990, Kegley, who was 32 at the time, completed the swim in a smooth 1 hour 24 minutes and 28 seconds. “No one has beat that record yet,” race coordinator Vicki Saxon informs us. “Several have come close, but no one has ever beat that time.” Kegley also holds the record for most wins with six, the last one coming in 2003.

Poisoned Waters
Although the degradation of the Chesapeake’s waters can be considered an ongoing environmental disaster, the single worst incident in Bay history was discovered in 1975 when a Hopewell, Va., chemical plant was found to have been dumping waste from Kepone production, an insecticide, into the James River. More than 70 workers at the plant were poisoned and the James River was closed to commercial fishing for half-a-dozen years. Even today, Kepone is still detected in the majority of white perch and striped bass samples taken from the James.

Tall Tales
More than eight years after its demise in 2002, we’re still mourning the loss of the majestic Wye Oak, the largest white oak in the nation. So which Maryland tree is today’s champ? The state is home to approximately 23 national champion trees, including a recently crowned 136-foot-tall, 310-year-old Eastern hemlock along Broad Creek in Harford County that has been found to be the largest example of its species in the country. What’s more, according to scientists, it’s still growing.
 
Ferrying Along
Two superlatives for Maryland ferries: In November of 1683 Talbot County authorized the establishment of a ferry service for “horses and men” over the Tred Avon River, thus creating the Oxford-Bellevue ferry. The line is known as the oldest privately operated ferry service in the country. A few dozen miles south, the Whitehaven ferry has been plying the short hop over the Wicomico River between Wicomico and Somerset counties since 1685, and lays claim as the oldest publically operated ferry in the nation. 

Making Rounds
Built in 1902 and installed on the Ocean City Boardwalk in 1912, Trimper’s carousel is the country’s oldest continuously operating carousel—meaning riders get to participate in history with every spin.

Record Collection
There’s a reason folks researching their genealogy head to Eastville, Va.’s courthouse. That building holds the oldest continuous court records in the nation, dating back to 1632. Every few years, members of GHOTES (Genealogy and History on the Eastern Shore of Virginia) convene in the area to talk about the area’s history, family lineage, and ancestry on the Bay. 

Serious Sail
It’s the oldest and longest sailing race on the Bay. The annual Governor’s Cup race from Annapolis, Maryland’s modern-day capital, to St. Mary’s City, the colonial capital, runs 70 miles and was started in 1974 after two St. Mary’s College students and a recent graduate proposed the idea. Now 150 boats participate in seven classes every August. There’s more fun after the race ends: The post-party celebration was ranked one of the top 10 post-race soirées in the sailing world.

Aw, Shucks
Talk about some fast hands. Every year at the St. Mary’s County Oyster Festival, would-be shucking champs step up to a plate of 24 oysters with a blunt knife and a glove and get busy. In 1989 it took Duke Landry of Louisiana just 2 minutes and 20 seconds to cleanly shuck the two dozen bivalves, a record for fastest shucking that still stands. Virginia’s Deborah Pratt, the women’s champ 10 times over, is just 11 seconds behind, a record she set in 1992.

Shining Light
It’s becoming standard for hotels to offer eco-friendly practices such as recycling and water conservation, but Annapolis’ Spring Hill Suites gets extra green credit for being the area’s first hotel to go solar. Last June, the hotel switched on 189 rooftop solar panels, which should reduce energy costs between 15 and 20 percent. We still wonder what happens to all those barely used little soaps and shampoo bottles… 

Old Salt
At 89 years young, Capt. Art Daniels of Deal Island is the Chesapeake’s oldest waterman. He still goes out daily for oysters in winter and crabs in summer on his skipjack, City of Crisfield, which he purchased in 1951. “I fell in love right away,” he says of her. He’s also competed in just about every Deal Island Skipjack Race since its inception in 1959. 

1. What do you enjoy about racing?
I just love to race. The boat kind of comes alive. She don’t say nothing, but she’ll talk when the wind gets in the sails. She’ll obey everything that you want her to do. Over the years, you’ll learn just how she’ll react to certain breezes

2. You two have been through a lot together.
We’ve been in a lot of storms, but I never get scared. Couldn’t afford to get scared! Not when I was captain. You just have to get [the boat and everyone on it] out of the way.

3. What do you like about being a waterman?
You’re free. You go out in the morning and you used to be able to work as long as you liked. When I was a boy, I’d go out at sunrise and come back at sunset. I was my own man. Whatever I put into it I would get out it. It’s good, clean work. 

4. How’s your health? I don’t take no medication.
I take three vitamins a day—C with rose hips, B complex, and an aspirin tablet. Since 1972 I haven’t had a cold. 

5. So you’re not slowing down at all?
Not that I know of. I think you get old when you start thinking old.
If you think you can do it, just go ahead and try it. That’s what I do and I never get tired.

Postcard Central
Mary L. Martin Postcards, in Perryville, Md., offers a peek at history to all who visit the world’s largest postcard shop. After 47 years in business, the store has accumulated several million cards.

1. Why postcards?
Postcards are so unique because they appeal to such a wide array of people. Every topic in the world is on a postcard—whether it’s your home town or your favorite dog or a sport that you play.

2. What is the most valuable postcard you’ve sold?
Most of the postcards that people purchase are relatively inexpensive. You can buy an authentic postcard of Annapolis from 100 years ago for only $10 or $15. But sometimes a specific event, such as relating to the Titanic, can be quite valuable. There are cards that have sold for thousands of dollars.

3. Do you often read the backs of the cards?
If I read all the backs of the cards, I’d be in huge trouble because they are so interesting that I would never get anything done. One of the first things I usually have to tell my employees is not to read the messages on the cards.

4. Do you have a favorite from the Chesapeake area?
Well, I have a huge Maryland collection. Some favorites from the Eastern Shore show people crabbing in Crisfield, and I have some really nice ones from Baltimore that show people bringing in the oysters. A lot of old Naval Academy cards are cool, too.

5. Do you send postcards when you vacation?
Yes, I always send cards, and I always buy them because they are better than the pictures that I take. ... Everyone knows that I don’t write e-mails. If I’m sending a message, it will be handwritten with a pretty picture on the front.—Alexis Blair

FALL 2010

Chicken War

Perdue says a lawsuit against big chicken threatens the family farm. Environmentalists claim the legal action will save it. Who’s right?

By Rona Kobell

Kathy Phillips pulls her skiff close to the shores of South Point Spoils, a tree-covered island in Sinepuxent Bay. The sun has just begun peeking through the canopy of clouds. Egrets glide across the sky, searching for breakfast. As she sits back and watches waves lap, Phillips could be mistaken for a conventioneer from nearby Ocean City out for a day cruise, or a youngish retiree.

But she’s not. Kathy Phillips is the little lady who started the Big Chicken War.

In March, Phillips and her organization, the Assateague Coastal Trust, filed a federal lawsuit against Perdue Farms Inc. and one of the company’s growers, Alan and Kristin Hudson, who have an 80,000-bird poultry farm just outside Berlin, Md. They accuse the farm of violating the Clean Water Act by illegally discharging pollutants into state waters—in this case, a branch of the Pocomoke River. Joining Phillips in the lawsuit are the Waterkeeper Alliance, which Robert F. Kennedy Jr. founded a decade ago. The University of Maryland’s Environmental Law Clinic also assisted in the case and will serve as co-counsel. As of press time, a court date had not yet been set.

Lawsuits over pollution are not new. Nor is it a revelation that poultry manure is a significant problem in the Chesapeake Bay’s waterways. Manure is rich in nitrogen and phosphorus, the bay’s two biggest pollutants, and chickens are mostly raised on the Delmarva Peninsula. Yet, the chicken lawsuit has rocked both the genial Eastern Shore and the sharper-elbow world of Annapolis politics.

At stake is the question of who is accountable for all that chicken manure. The chicken companies tightly control every aspect of how their contractors raise the birds, but they do not control—nor do they want to—the chickens’ waste.

Jim Perdue, whose grandfather founded the company 93 years ago, called the lawsuit “one of the largest threats to the family farm in the last 50 years” and noted that lawsuits like this one probably wouldn’t happen in Delaware. His remarks re-ignited a perennial panic in Annapolis that he could leave the state and jeopardize hundreds of jobs in the heat of the recession. Shore legislators sponsored a bill intended to strip the law clinic of state funding, though it was later amended to just require a report on its activities. Even other environmentalists were conflicted, especially those living on the Shore. Couldn’t the riverkeepers have simply called the Maryland Department of the Environment or paid the Hudsons a visit?

Phillips says she’s tried contacting the agency numerous times over the past four years, and gotten nowhere. And, she notes, you can’t just saunter up to a chicken farm, which has strict rules about visitors and isn’t likely to welcome a riverkeeper anyway.

“These are laws,” she says. “Laws are supposed to be enforced. Permits are supposed to be monitored. And that’s what I am going to do. MDE shirks their responsibility. They haven’t done their job—and people wonder why the Chesapeake Bay is in the shape it’s in.”

Phillips didn’t set out to sue Purdue. Originally, she just wanted to surf.

Phillips and her husband, a teacher, lived outside of Washington, D.C., and used to come to Ocean City on the weekends to catch the waves. They moved to the beach permanently 30 years ago. While her husband got a teaching job, Phillips eventually landed as executive director for a regional surfing association.

In 2006, Phillips ran for Worcester County commissioner. She lost. But the movers and shakers liked what she had to say, and suggested she apply for the job of Assateague Coastkeeper. The position was only a few years old; the first coastkeeper had just left for the West Coast.

Phillips got the job. She learned on the fly, literally—a pilot flew her around the Shore to show her the area. During the flight, she saw the piles of chicken manure that many farmers kept uncovered, despite government funding to help them build sheds to keep it from washing into the bay. She saw how close the farms were to crucial waterways, kept notes, took pictures. Together with the Waterkeeper Alliance, which had already taken on hog farms in North Carolina for some of the same pollution problems, Phillips pressed for stricter regulations on chicken operations, which she argued were more analogous to factories than the typical family farm. The EPA eventually agreed. Now the states are undertaking a permitting process for concentrated animal feeding operations, though they have not yet finished.

But last fall, while on a flight with a Wall Street Journal reporter and the Waterkeeper’s director of advocacy, Scott Edwards, Phillips spotted “multiple piles” of manure on the Hudson farm. She also noticed a trench from one pile that led to a drainage ditch leading to the Franklin Branch of the Pocomoke River, which empties into the Bay. The next day, Phillips took water samples from the ditch. The numbers for E.coli and fecal coliform bacteria were off the charts. Assateague Coastkeeper and the Waterkeepers filed a notice of intent to sue. 

The farmers refused to let MDE test the pile, but they did move and cover it at the agency’s insistence, says MDE spokeswoman Dawn Stolzfus. Five weeks later, based on documentation from Ocean City, MDE concluded the pile was biosolids, or treated human waste, from an Ocean City treatment plant, which farmers often use as a fertilizer to supplement manure. The state also found extremely high levels of contamination in the water but concluded it came from area wildlife. Nonetheless, they fined the farm $4,000.

Stolzfus says the fact that inspectors got the farmers to move the pile and then levied the fine shows that MDE is enforcing the law. “That is doing our job,” she says. “We took action that was appropriate.”

The riverkeepers have never been satisfied with the assertion that the original pile was biosolids, since it specifically was never tested. Perdue, for its part, maintains each farmer is an independent contractor, and it has nothing to do with an individual farmer’s decision to obtain more fertilizer, so it should not be held liable. But regardless of what was in the pile, its condition was a violation of the Clean Water Act. For that, Edwards puts the blame squarely at the feet of Perdue.

“This is a very sophisticated industry that understands very well what nutrient levels do to the Chesapeake Bay,” he says. “Every single step of the way, the industry has resisted doing the right thing.”

Perdue Vice President Luis A. Luna disagrees. He won’t comment on the lawsuit or any specifics relating to the Hudsons—and the Hudsons’ attorneys didn’t return calls for comment. But Luna points to the company’s efforts to help the Chesapeake. Nine years ago, it set up Perdue AgriRecycle, a pelletizing plant in Delaware that takes excess manure farmers don’t want and turns it into a fertilizer additive, which is sold commercially. Perdue has invested $33 million in the plant, Luna says, and this past year was the first that the plant made more money than it lost.

For no cost, Perdue will come to a farm and transport its manure to the plant, which handles about 50,000 tons of manure a year—about a tenth of the total manure produced on the peninsula.

The reason more farmers don’t take Perdue up on its offer is because the manure has value. It’s free fertilizer.

“People do want the manure. This idea that there’s tons and tons of it that is just sitting on the road and not being used is false,” says Virgil Shockley, a Worcester County commissioner who raises chickens for Tyson and saves thousands of dollars every year spreading manure on his 325 acres of cropland. “At the end of the day, manure can be recycled, and the best way is to put it back into the ground and grow a plant.”

The problem is there’s simply too much manure on the peninsula, where the amount of farmland has shrunk but the number of birds has increased. Besides, much of the soil has so much phosphorus in it already that scientists worry it can’t take much more.

Even Phillips would agree that many chicken farms are like Shockley’s—responsible stewards who follow best management practices. They keep pads on the ground to absorb any excess manure, a grass buffer between the houses to absorb pollution, and swales to direct storm water to retention ponds. And, they keep their manure in their sheds. In order to even acquire chickens from a major company, farmers are now required to have a nutrient management plan and manure and composting sheds. And they are subject to random state and federal inspections.

The devil is in the details of how each farmer manages beyond these requirements. Shockley says the farmers are trying to do the right thing—if they could only figure out what that is. Between the changing state and federal requirements, Shockley says, farmers “quite frankly don’t know what the hell to do.”

Perdue is trying to help, Luna says. Working with the EPA, the company started the Clean Waters Environmental Initiative, which uses flock supervisors to make sure the farmers are being good environmental stewards. Those programs were part of the reason Maryland Gov. Martin O’Malley gave Jim Perdue the prestigious International Leadership Award this year, much to the riverkeepers’ consternation. But Luna argues the riverkeepers are blaming the wrong people.

“If there’s any blame to be laid at the plight of Chesapeake Bay, I wouldn’t go to the farmers first,” Luna says. “It makes no sense to me, except that it’s a lot easier to blame a couple thousand farmers than it is to blame 20 million people.”

Judith Stribling doesn’t entirely disagree. A longtime environmentalist, Salisbury University biology professor, and one of the founders of Friends of the Nanticoke, she says Perdue has evolved over the years to become better environmental stewards. To get them the rest of the way, she says cooperation—not a lawsuit—is the answer.

“When the Waterkeepers filed their lawsuit, [farmers] said, ‘That’s what the environmentalists are trying to do. They want to shut us all down.’ The truth is, we have different approaches. I just am not in favor of demonizing people, especially when you’re working with people and negotiating,” she says. “These are our friends, our neighbors, our colleagues.”

Don’t tell that to Fred Kelly. In 1974, the silver-haired Severn riverkeeper was a young attorney working for the Chesapeake Bay Foundation. While there, he heard that PEPCO, the power company, was planning to build a nuclear power plant at Douglas Point along the Potomac River—the very spot where more than half of the East Coast’s striped bass spawn. Kelly knew that the plant would trap thousands of stripers, endangering one of the Chesapeake’s last productive fisheries.

He filed a petition before the Nuclear Regulatory Commission to block the issuance of the permit. But before the matter could go before the three-judge panel, CBF balked, not wanting to appear too radical. So Kelly quit CBF and took the case on himself, representing a small watershed association. He was up against PEPCO’s team of a half-dozen attorneys. He couldn’t even afford the daily court transcript.

But he won. And several years later, the state bought the property, to be forever protected. Kelly netted just $300, but he got so much more, he says. If he hadn’t filed suit, that power plant would stand today.

“True environmental protection only comes from lawsuits, where an impartial judge looks at the action being taken by the polluter and says, ‘You’re in violation of the law. You have to stop,’” Kelly says. “I can understand those groups that want voluntary compliance, but how bad does the Chesapeake Bay have to get before they decide it isn’t working?”

These days, his former employer is inclined to agree. Since 2005, the Chesapeake Bay Foundation has filed more than a dozen legal actions, thanks to a $1.25 million grant from the Philadelphia-based Lenfest Foundation specifically for litigation. It has sued regulators, municipalities, and even Philip Morris. Recently, it settled a lawsuit with the EPA after the agency agreed to meet strict deadlines and limits on its cleanup plan. It also helped kill the King William Reservoir, which would have diverted water from the Mattaponi River to create a water supply for manufacturing in Newport News.

“If we didn’t sue, that reservoir would have been built,” says Jon Mueller, CBF’s vice president of litigation. “That’s some 400 acres of forested wetlands that would be underwater.”

CBF is not part of the riverkeeper suit, but staffers are watching it closely. Obviously, Mueller says, if a chicken farmer violates the Clean Water Act, he is responsible. But whether Perdue is also liable, he says, is “a very interesting question.”

If the chicken companies were forced to also be responsible for chicken waste, Phillips and Edwards say, they would use their vast resources to look for ways to make money by turning manure into energy, and the Shore would likely be the site of many more innovations like the AgriRecycle plant. If that happened, the companies might even pay the farmers for the waste while also taking responsibility for it.

Not only would that change the way chicken companies did business on the Shore, Edwards says, but it could also help the Bay. Manure wouldn’t be piled up anymore, or at least not for long. And farmers wouldn’t have to worry they were polluting one of the state’s most precious resources.

“If we win, that is a victory for every small family farmer on the Eastern Shore,” Edwards says. “I don’t think I’ll get any thank-you notes from them, but that’s the reality.”

Contributor Rona Kobell also writes for the Bay Journal.

FALL 2010

Ups & Downs

A day in the life at Knapps Narrows, the busiest drawbridge in the nation.

By Steve Bailey
Photographs by Kirsten Beckerman

It’s still dark at 5:45 a.m. as George Pigge, walking with a cane, makes his way up a sloping sidewalk and up a flight of steps to the drawbridge tender’s house at Knapps Narrows. At the top of the stairs, he throws open the door and shouts “Wake up!” at Jim Rhine, whose 6 p.m.-to-6 a.m. shift is ending. Rhine, who was wide awake, gets out of a lounge chair and starts collecting his things. The movie “Erin Brockovich” is on satellite TV.

It had been a “pretty quiet” night, Rhine says, meaning he didn’t have to raise the bridge very many times. In a minute or two, he’s heading up Route 33 to his home in Claiborne. Pigge puts down the books and containers of food that will keep him going for his 12-hour shift and surveys the room from which the drawbridge, the busiest in the country, is operated. In 2009, it was raised 10,276 times, nearly double the number of No. 2, Seattle’s Freemont Bridge. When the moveable span is down, the bridge is a 71-foot-8-inch link between Tilghman Island and the southern tip of the Bay Hundred Peninsula in Talbot County. When it’s up, there’s a navigable channel about 42 feet wide for sailboats and other craft.

The room is about 200 square feet. Its windows on three walls overlook the road, the bridge, and both east and west on Knapps Narrows. The bridge control panel, full of buttons, switches and lights, is beneath the north-facing windows. There are a large television, a microwave, a toaster oven, two coffeemakers, a sofa, a table, a reclining lounge chair, and a couple of other chairs. It feels like a really, really nice treehouse.  Unlike the tender’s house at the Miles River Bridge on Unionville Road, this one has an indoor toilet. All this and $8.81 an hour, too.

“I enjoy the job here, I really do,” Pigge says, “but you couldn’t live off it unless you were retired.”

Pigge, 69, was a dispatcher for a large construction company in Northern Virginia before he retired and moved to Hurlock on the Eastern Shore. He began his bridge-tending career on April Fools’ Day 2008, at the Miles River Bridge. Since September 2009, he has been commuting 38 miles each way on the two or three days he works at Knapps Narrows every week.

At 6:28 a.m., a voice on the radio asks for a lift. Pigge first presses a button that changes the bridge’s traffic lights to red and sets off clanging bells. Another button lowers the wooden gates, and another lowers the metal barrier on the side where the gap will be when the bridge is up. A fourth button raises the bridge itself. The boat, High Hopes II, makes its way through, going toward the Bay.

The eastern sky starts brightening, but on this overcast day there is no brilliant sunrise over the broad waters where Harris Creek meets the Choptank River. Pigge settles into the lounge chair, rising with each boat that wants the bridge raised. The Terrapin, which carries workers as well as the visiting public between the Poplar Island restoration project and the project’s land base on Tilghman, goes out and back a couple of times during the morning and may very well spur more lifts than any other single boat.

By 11:15 a.m., the TV has changed to the Fox News Channel—“Thank God for television and air conditioning,” Pigge says of the job—and the bridge already has been raised 18 times, but only once for a sailboat.“We have some weather coming in,” Pigge says. A day with fewer dark clouds would see more sailboats. “Rag haulers, I call them.”

The bridge tender keeps a log of all the boats that ask for a lift as well as the direction each is traveling. The tender also has to keep a count of the cars that wait on each side every time the bridge is up. “It’s not a lot of work,” says Carole V. Wood, the lone woman working at the Tilghman bridge. “I saw the job advertised in the Star Democrat and told my husband,” she says. “He got the job and came home and says, ‘It’s so easy, you can do it,’ so after a few months I applied.”

She did work two days a week, but lately she works only one. Her husband, Sam, a former vice president of a bank in New York, works three overnight shifts.

The job may be simple and low paying, but it holds an attraction for the half-dozen retirees who cover the 14 shifts each week. “We don’t live on the water,” she says, “so we get our water views here. I really enjoy it in the winter.”

“It’s home,” says her husband, Sam, “a great waterfront location. I’ve gotten to know many of the boaters in terms of recognizing the boat names or their voices.”

Sam points out that a big diesel generator, which is beneath the tender’s house and keeps the bridge operating during power failures, means that “it’s sometimes the only place you can watch TV.”

“What’s your clearance?” a boater asks at 11:33 a.m., his voice loud over the radio. “Looks like 11 foot,” Pigge replies after looking across the Narrows to the gauge on the other side.

“Don’t think I can make it,” the boater comes back. “Can I have an opening, please?” The boat, a sport fishing boat from Leesburg, Va., called We Did It Again, passes through toward the Choptank.

“I’m a 40-foot sailboat westbound, approaching the Narrows,” another boater radios. It’s a Hinckley with a blue hull. “Pretty,” Pigge says. 

Clouds on the western horizon are getting darker and the wind is picking up, but the boats still come. The trawler Kismet from Kent Island also goes through toward the Chesapeake.

During a quiet spell, Pigge turns away from the TV to tell a story. “All the monkeys ain’t in the zoo,” he says.  “One day I was closing the bridge, had it almost down, and a dirt biker from the north ran the gate and—the bridge was still up about a foot—jumped it, somehow got the bike up and over the barricade and then slid it under the gate, all without getting off the bike. He was gone down the island. As soon as the gates were up, a state trooper raced through, trying to catch him. He hid somewhere,” Pigge says. “Everybody down here knew who it was.”

Pigge’s second story is simpler: “Had one boat coming through; had a guy and three girls. They stopped near the bridge and waved. I waved back and the girls all raised their tops. I waved back again. What could I do?”

The bridge—called a bascule bridge, meaning that a counterweight is used to balance the weight of the bridge itself—opened in 1998 and replaced a smaller and lower 1934 bascule bridge that was just to the west of the current one. That earlier bridge, which now marks the entrance to the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michaels, had replaced a different type of operable bridge. One bridge or another has spanned Knapps Narrows since the 1840s.

The current bridge is one of 18 state-maintained drawbridges in Maryland; all are operated by contractors hired by the state. The three bridges in Talbot County—Tilghman, the Miles River Bridge, and the Dover Road Bridge over the Choptank that connects Talbot and Caroline Counties— are all operated by M and R Manage-ment in Kennedyville. Mike Lesniowski, a co-owner of M and R, says that when the company recently advertised an opening for a bridge tender, applications were sent out to only the first 50 of more than 100 callers.

Glenn Beck is on TV, but Pigge isn’t paying much attention as his day winds down. He says that 40 lifts and 58 boats make it a fairly active day, especially considering the wet weather. In fact, it’s coming down pretty hard when Sam Wood, wearing a rain poncho, shows up at 5:45 p.m. for his overnight shift.  Pigge gathers his stuff, which doesn’t include an umbrella, and is preparing to leave when Wood offers him his rain poncho. The loan won’t be for long; Pigge will bring it back in 12 hours when Wood ends his shift and Pigge starts another.

Steve Bailey, a former editor with The New York Times, lives on Tilghman Island.

MAY/JUNE 2010

25 (Chesapeake) Things To Do Before You Die

From visiting Blackwater Wildlife Refuge to eating crabs at Cantler’s, here are two dozen (plus one) places and activities that should be on anyone’s Bay bucket list.

By Joe Sugarman, Kessler Burnett, Mary K. Zajac, and Carol Denny

make a date
These annual events are Chesapeake musts, too.

National Outdoor Show Feb. 26-27, Golden Hill, Md., 410-397-8535, http://www.nationaloutdoorshow.org

Chesapeake Bay Blues Festival May 22-23, Annapolis, 410-257-7413, http://www.bayblues.org

Blue Angels Fly-Over May 28, Annapolis, 410-293-1000, http://www.blueangels.navy.mil

Fair Hill Races, May 29, Elkton, Md., 410-398-6565, http://www.fairhillraces.org

Delmarva Chicken Festival June 18-19, Dover, Del., 302-856-9037, http://www.dpichicken.com

Chincoteague Pony Swim and Auction July 28-30, Chincoteague, Va., 757-336-6161, http://www.chincoteaguechamber.com

Renaissance Festival weekends, Aug. 28 through Oct. 24, Crownsville, Md., 410-266-7304, http://www.rennfest.com

Crisfield Hard Crab Derby Sept. 3-5, Crisfield, Md., 410-968-2500, http://www.crisfieldchamber.com

Maryland Seafood Festival Sept. 10-12, Annapolis, 410-268-1437, http://www.mdseafoodfestival.com

U.S. Sailboat Show Oct. 7-11, Annapolis, 410-268-8828, http://www.usboat.com

Sea Gull Century Bike Ride Oct. 9, Salisbury, Md., 410-548-2772, http://www.seagullcentury.org

U.S. Powerboat Show Oct. 14-17, Annapolis, 410-268-8828, http://www.usboat.com

St. Mary’s County Oyster Festival Oct. 16-17, Leonardtown, Md., 800-327-9023, http://www.usoysterfest.com

Downrigging Weekend Oct. 28-31, Chestertown, Md., 410-778-5954, http://www.sultanaprojects.org

Punkin Chunkin Nov. 5-7, Bridgeville, Del., http://www.punkinchunkin.com

Maritime Republic of Eastport Tug of War November, Eastport, Md., http://www.themre.org

Annapolis Christmas Lights Boat Parade Dec. 11, Annapolis, 410-267-9549, http://www.eastportyc.org

MARCH/APRIL 2010

Pet Smarts: Pampering for Your Pet

From pet psychics to gourmet dog food, here are the latest, greatest, and just plain unusual services for your four-legged friend.

By Joe sugarman, Lauren Seibert, and Emma Brodie

From pet psychics to mobile dog washes to acupuncture for cats, here are the area’s latest, greatest, and just plain unusual services for furry friends.

Sit, Stay, Smile

It’s not easy to photograph a pet. More often than not, most people end up with a blur of fur, a whisker, or the edge of one wing. But Stephen Bobb, 33, has put a new, unique face on pet photography.

Two years ago, Bobb, based in Takoma Park, Md., decided to branch out from wedding photography to something a bit ... furrier. Already using a more candid, documentary-style method in his wedding shots, Bobb was inspired to apply that same technique to pet photography and dubbed his business FidoJournalism.

Instead of posing bored little dogs on fluffy cushions, Bobb uses a photojournalistic approach to document pets in their own environment. “Photojournalists observe, watch, capture things that are happening,” says Bobb. “So I do the same with pets. I use more of a storytelling kind of approach.”

Shoots, done mainly at clients’ homes, are often eventful, with Bobb running or sprawling on the ground, looking for a unique angle. Somehow, despite the proximity of expensive equipment to claws and slobbery tongues, the photographer usually comes away with nothing worse than a few nose prints on his lenses. And the results are worth the risk. “I just enjoy the creativity that goes with it,” he says. “And I’m giving people some nice memories with their pets.” 202-329-1670, http://www.fidojournalism.com —L.S.

Good Sports

When a portuguese water dog fell 35 feet over a retaining wall onto a highway, its owner flew all the way from Greece to Maryland for treatment at the Veterinary Orthopedic Sports Medicine Group (VOSM). Then there was the dog flown in from South Korea, brought all the way to VOSM for stem cell therapy.

Hunting dogs, police canines, search and rescue dogs, bomb squad dogs— even Secret Service dogs—VOSM treats them all.

VOSM was founded in 2005 by Drs. Sherman and Debra Canapp to give pets a standard of care equal to that given to humans. “That was our vision,” says Sherman Canapp, who modeled the facility after the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine. “They do [these treatments] on the human side, so why not on the vet side? People want as good medical care for their dog as for their kids.”

The sleek, modern interior—with floors covered in rubber so the dogs don’t slip—includes everything from a canine gym to a rehabilitation pool to a state-of-the-art Gait Analysis System, which uses sensors to determine whether a dog is healing correctly.

Specialists also build custom braces, prosthetics, and can outfit paralyzed animals with custom-fitted carts to help them get around. And all equipment is human grade. “We do a lot of crazy things that no one else does,” says Canapp. 10975 Guilford Rd., Annapolis Junction, Md., 410-418-8446, http://www.vetsportsmedicine.com —L.S.

Creature Clairvoyant

Gena Wilson is not your ordinary psychic. Yes, she can sense desires and fears and decipher hidden pasts. So what makes her so unusual? Well, her clients aren’t exactly human.

Wilson, 56, has worked as an animal psychic in the Baltimore-D.C. area for the past 13 years. While she also sees human clients, “some people just know me as the pet psychic,”?she says with a laugh. “I have a lot of repeat customers.”?

Clients come to her for a plethora of reasons: to solve the mystery of their pet’s strange behavior, to discover health problems, to learn the creature’s likes and dislikes, or to understand an animal’s past.

According to Wilson, everything is made of energy that she can channel, including animals. “They’ll give me images, like on a screen, and I have to decipher what that means,” she explains.

So what sorts of things do they have to say? Plenty. For instance, she says, “They might tell me about their relationships with other pets in the house. This one dog was in love with a cat. It was a scream!”

Although Wilson works mainly with cats, dogs, and horses, she’s also dealt with fish, rats, monkeys, sheep, snakes, dolphins, and ducks. “Ducks might say, ‘Oh my god, the fox is coming every night, you need to make sure the fox doesn’t get me!’” she says. “Or, ‘I want to be in this cage with that chicken, not this one!’”

So far, Wilson, who charges $55 per half-hour for her services, says she has never met an animal she couldn’t channel. She currently sees approximately five human and five animal clients per week, and several local vets have even developed a habit of calling her for help.

Sometimes, however, Wilson will find an animal that doesn’t have a whole lot going on upstairs. “Maybe this horse doesn’t have a lot of ambition or a lot going on in there, and you just have to admit, this animal is dumb as mud.” 301-441-4526, http://www.inspiredbyangels.com —L.S.

Prayers for Pets

Since 1996, Annapolis’ St. Anne’s Episcopal Church has hosted a Blessings of the Animals service, when up to as many as 40 pets receive a personal touch from heaven. In recent years, the Rev. Gid Montjoy has conducted the service, which was begun to celebrate St. Francis of Assisi, patron saint of animals and the environment. This year’s service takes place on Sept. 26 at 10 a.m. “It’s typically held the first Saturday in October,” says Montjoy, “but that’s the day of the Navy-Air Force game, so we had to back it up. We felt we couldn’t compete with football.”

1. Who comes to get blessed?
We get everything: dogs, cats, guinea pigs, goats, white mice, parakeets, hedgehogs, gerbils, chinchillas, hermit crabs, turtles—even snakes. I bless the snakes from afar. One year, we tried to get Homestead Gardens to bring in one of its llamas, but it was too complicated.

2. What happens in the service?
The service centers on the creation story told in the book of Genesis. It’s held on the front lawn of the church. I lay my hands on each animal and explain to the congregation that they’re part of God’s creation; we also ask God to bless everyone else who lives in the pet’s household. We have music, and we add a twist by asking folks to remember the environment since humans were given authority over Earth.

3. Any special, pet-friendly accommodations for the service?
We have treats for everybody and poop bags, and obviously, all dogs are on leashes and cats are in carriers. Most of the time, the cats stay in their carriers, but some people will take them out and hold them. I always ask if it’s OK to put my finger in the cat carrier before I bless them.

4. What do you enjoy about the service?
I love seeing all the animals together, their charm, and their relationships with their owners.

5. Do people look forward to this service?
If we said we weren’t going to do it, there would be a revolt. People really look forward to it. It’s a hoot.
—Kessler Burnett

spotlight

Critical Care

By Carol Denny

It’s Sunday afternoon, and Emmie, the wobbly feline in Anne Arundel Veterinary Emergency Clinic’s exam room 9, looks like she’s been on the losing end of a fight. And, in fact, the long-haired calico has. Several days ago, a nasty run-in with a neighborhood dog left her with a large tear in her abdomen. Her owner, Diane Wogaman, rushed her battered pet from their home in Greenbelt to the Annapolis center for surgery.

Now Emmie is feverish, and Wogaman has returned to ask veterinarian Tasha Fleury to take a second look. “I’m a little concerned by the fever and the fluid around her lymph node,” Fleury notes. “I want to have a look at that under the scope.” As she lifts Emmie, the feline manages a weak meow. “She’s complaining, [but] not in pain,” the women agree.

As Fleury departs, Wogaman praises the care she and Emmie have received at AAVEC. “The clinic staff couldn’t have been nicer,” she says. “Last week, while we were waiting, they brought a CD player into the exam room to play music for her, and when the tech arrived with food, she brought a whole armful of different bowls, just to try to get her to eat.”

Started in 1991, AAVEC has treated an ark-full of ailments. All told, the clinic treats more than 10,000 patients a year (nearly all four-legged), including dogs, cats, rabbits, ferrets, pocket pets (hamsters and guinea pigs) and other animals in crisis. With its muted dŽcor, comfortable sofas, and magazines, the tiled space isn’t all that different from a human ER, except for the extra-large floor scale and the complimentaryÊleashes at the front desk.

Patient care is administered in a large, high-ceilinged treatment room, where scrub-suited vets and technicians circulate among kennels stacked two high. As they check fluid pumps, insert IVs, and administer medicines via Pill Pockets, a hound bays mournfully, ignoring the “Quiet Please!” sign in the adjacent cat ward. A tiny hedgehog sleeps in a cylindrical container on a nearby counter, oblivious to the bustle. Stopping to peer at the fist-sized patient, named Sparky, veterinarian Julie Wentzel, admits, “I’ve put catheters in a lot of things, but never a hedgehog.”

Access to a range of specialists like Wentzel is a hallmark of the clinic, which is affiliated with the Chesapeake Veterinary Referral Center. A team of cardiologists, ophthalmologists, dermatologists, internists, surgeons, and dentists comprise the center’s staff. “We’ve got more than two dozen docs,” says Dr. Tom Kozek, who founded AAVEC with a partner and still works several night shifts a week. “The practices are separate, but we all work together to provide overnight care andÊICU services.”

Patients are referred to the clinic by other vets or come through the emergency room for all sorts of ailments. Fleury rattles off a menu of possible maladies—immune system disorders, broken bones, gastric emergencies, heatstroke, seizures, paralysis, urinary blockage, lacerations. Foreign bodies run the gamut, ranging from Ping-Pong balls to entire sweaters. Sometimes, Fleury says, it’s not so much about stupid pets; it’s about stupid owners. As in: Keep that pack ofÊsugarless gum away from your pooch. “It’s got Xylitol in it,” she explains. “People don’t realize that it can be toxic.”

Appliances can be deadly, too. Fleury recalls a case where a dog licked a paper shredder, with dreadful consequences. She was on duty when the victim, still attached to the shredder, arrived. (She sedated the pet then hit the reverse button.)

Wentzel offers more common-sense prohibitions, the result of years of experience. “Don’t tie your dog in the back of your pickup truck,” she says. “And don’t let your dog off-leash outside—because that’s when bad things happen.”

Not all patients recover, of course, and some clinic visitors face the decision to euthanize their animals. At one end of the treatment room, Lorraine Caufield sits on a folding chair beside the kennel holding Susie, her elderly Australian shepherd-German shepherd mix. “Two weeks ago, she was jogging with my grandson,” Caufield says of her listless pet, patting the dog’s head and murmuring endearments. “But then she began to fade and wouldn’t touch food or water, so the vet told me to bring her here,” a lengthy journey from her home in Georgetown, Del. “She was such a good watchdog.” An hour later, Susie was gone.

“We deal with death daily,” Wentzel acknowledges. It can be traumatic for families, she says—even more so, Kozek adds, when owners must make a choice concerning intensive, high-tech care. “It can be very expensive, especially given this economy, and there’s usually no insurance,” he notes, “so we need to go over the costs and tailor the treatment to what’s best for everyone.”

“There’s a lot we can do in veterinary medicine these days,” says Fleury. “But there are tough questions about what owners can afford and what’s right for their animal.”

Emmie’s fluid sample revealed she didn’t have an infection, and Fleury sent pet and owner home to recuperate. A relieved Wogaman, whose invoice for Emmie’s first visit was more than the price of a new Apple laptop, admits that she’ll have to cancel her upcoming vacation to cover the bill. “But she’s such a wonderful cat,” she declares.
“I didn’t want her final memory to be in the jaws of an angry dog.” Or, heaven forbid, a paper shredder.

Carol Denny has owned several pet rabbits. None have needed emergency care.

Tony, Come Home!

Or why an increasing number of pets sport human names.
By Mary K. Zajac

When I named the pretty gray cat that showed up on my front porch one March evening seven years ago, Sylvie, I had no idea that I was part of a growing trend to give pets human names. After all, every family pet, beginning with Cleo, a cat, and Patrick, a dog, had had human, rather than descriptive, names. It just seemed natural to me to avoid Fluffy or Smokey in favor of a “real” name, one that captured my interest in all things French. Besides, the name suited her silvery gray color.

Turns out a lot of people prefer Sam to Spot. In June, The Associated Press reported that “almost half of American pet owners gave an animal a human-like name, such as Jack or Sophie.”

And according to a database of names kept by Veterinary Pet Insurance, the nation’s largest pet insurance company, Max is the most popular name for both cats and dogs, followed by Chloe, Lucy, Tigger, and Tiger, for cats, and Molly, Buddy, Bella, and Lucy for dogs.

Brian Iannessa, spokesman for VPI, reports that there’s not much difference in the naming of cats and dogs with the slight exception of cats more often being given names “representative of the species.”

“Tigger and Tiger are two of the most common cat names,” Iannessa points out, also mentioning the prevalence of cats called Smokey.

“On the dog side,” he says, “you see a lot more human names.”

Maybe this reflects pet owners’ strong bonds with their dogs, he wonders aloud. Or that dogs are “more integral family members. It’s dangerous to speculate though,” he adds hastily. “I don’t want to offend any
cat owners.”

In an era of gourmet dog biscuits, pet spas, and pet Halloween costumes, it shouldn’t come as any surprise that we name our pets like we name our children.

“We give our pets human characteristics,” says Dr. Wayne Eldridge, DVM, author of The Best Pet Name Book Ever!, now in its third edition. In a telephone interview from his San Antonio veterinary practice, he says it’s only natural that we give them human names.

“The pets that are named after humans are often closer to us,” he continues, “and we have closer relationships with them. If you name your dog Bob, chances are he’s not an outdoor dog.”

Eldridge began compiling lists of names after stumped pet owners asked him for suggestions in naming their pets, and his book offers name categories like “Appearance” and “Personality” (think Blondie, Slinky,
or Flash) as well as “Literature and Art” (Banshee, for example) and “Liquors and Drinks” (Chardonnay, anyone?). Currently at work on a fourth edition, Eldridge is constantly updating the “Sports” and “Screen
and Television” categories.

Still, Eldridge admits, “It throws me for a loop sometimes that people need to buy a book to name a pet.

“This subject is not complicated at all,” he says with the weariness of someone who’s been asked about pet names innumerable times. “I think you could summarize it as people name their pets after areas of interest to the pet owner. If they name their pet Ferrari or Martini that says more about the owner than the pet.”

So what does naming my pet Sylvie say about me? I don’t know that one, he says gently, spelling it back to me in confirmation, but it sounds nice.

Mary Zajac and her cat, Sylvie, live in Baltimore near a dog named Vincent.

Doggie Paddle

When Lynne and Maury Chaput’s black Lab, Shadow, tore her ACL, her surgeon recommended swim therapy to help her heal. But the only water facility for animals was located at an Aberdeen horse farm, more than an hour from their Millersville home. So the couple decided to build their own therapy center. “Here we were, two professionals—a CPA and an architect—and we’re looking at building dog pools,” says Lynne, the accountant.

Today, the Canine Fitness Center has more than 2,300 dogs who come to frolic in the center’s twin, ph-balanced, 11,000-gallon pools as well as exercise on the underwater treadmill or receive massage or acupuncture from doggie therapists. For the dogs, it’s not just about healing but fun and fitness, says Lynne. “Fit dogs live longer. Plus, it improves the bonds between owner and dog. It’s like taking your kid to soccer practice. It isn’t just the physical benefit. It’s like play day.”

Shadow died in 2005, but through the Canine Fitness Center, the Chaputs say her memory lives on. As a sign by the entrance reads: “Shadow: The $600,000 dog and worth every penny.” 1353 Generals Hwy., Crownsville, Md. 410-923-7946, http://www.caninefitnesscenter.com —J.S

Pets & Perks

The Bark ‘n’ Bean might be the only place in America where you could be asked: Would you like a double espresso with that flea dip?

That’s because it’s “likely the only dog wash and espresso bar in the U.S.,” says Theresa Mutlu, who opened the business, formerly known as Muddy Paw Dog Wash and Coffee Bar, with her husband, John, in 2005. The concept has proven to be both unique and successful, as the business boasts more than 6,000 clients and a new location in Severna Park.

Bark ‘n’ Bean offers self-serve and full-service washes, which include shampoo, conditioner, blow dry, and brush. Clients can choose after-bath sprays—in scents ranging from pina colada to lavender breeze—to keep their pooches smelling pleasant.

The coffee bar side (the two are separated by a glass wall and a small revolving door to pass beverages through) serves up traditional coffee drinks and has several racks of pet-themed greeting cards. Customers are encouraged to hang out, check their e-mail, browse the shop’s retail section, or chat with other dog lovers. Spend some time at Bark ‘n’ Bean, and you can see why dog owners find it a whole lot more fun than Starbucks. Mutlu certainly would agree. “I used to work in public relations for a science organization,” she says, “but now I get to hug all of my clients.”

130 Hillsmere Dr., Annapolis. 410-268-7387 and 543 Benfield Road, Severna Park, Md. 410-647-7646, http://www.barknbean.com —J.S.

Westminster Backstage

Irma Tillman and her husband, Donald, of Severna Park, Md., spent many years on the dog show circuit with her Staffordshire bull terriers racking up awards at regional and national shows. In the early 1990s, her dogs, Jim and Lizzie, competed in the granddaddy of them all, the Westminster Dog Show in New York.

1. So what was it like the first time?
It was exciting because it was the first time we had gone. The dogs all have to be champions. They only take so many. The second and third year, Jim won his breed. Lizzie got a medal.

2. We’ve heard the show can get political, is that true?
I think it’s very political, especially when you get to the groups and best of show. The judges know the professional handlers. We used to have a handler who’d show our dogs, and he said a judge told him once that he could walk in there with a donkey, and he’d win. When you hear that, it’s sad. Judges do play favorites. I guess it’s hard not to. The judges see the same handlers all the time.

3. Do you get any money for winning?
You get no money, just a cup or ribbon. But you can get a good stud fee afterward. Jim’s stud fees were $400 or $500. Our last litter in 1995 from Jim and Lizzie—both champions—were $1,000 apiece.

4. How would you primp the dogs before a show?
Actually, our dogs didn’t need any grooming. Just a bath before the show, and we’d have to make sure their eyes didn’t have any coating. We took Jim to so many shows he knew the routine. Whenever he heard the bath water, he’d come running.
—J.S.

Pet Art with Pop

Every pet has its own “color,” according to Annapolis pop artist Erin Simmons, who likes to scope out an animal’s personality first before rendering its portrait in acrylic paint. Based on the vibe she gets from the pet, she’ll choose a bold color scheme—blues and pinks, reds and oranges— to bring the creature to life on canvas.
1. Why pets?
I’ve done some people portrait work, but I find you have a lot more creativity with dogs. With people, you have to be spot-on with details; with dogs, you have a little more room to be creative and wild.
2.What’s your style?
My paintings are huge! The smallest I did was 30 by 30 [inches]. They’re large-scale, sort of like Andy Warhol. They’re funky and a little alternative: big, bright colors and broad strokes.
3. What types of animals do you paint?
I’ve done a cat, a bird, but mostly dogs. I’ve done probably 40 to 50 dogs. But I can do any animal. Right now, I’m working on a koi fish.
4.What message are you trying to get across?
When people remember their pets, they don’t always remember what they look like—they remember how they were, how they interacted with them and what kind of spirit they had. So I wanted to be able to capture both in a painting.
5.Anything weird about this job?
Every dog has their quirks, but the owners are funky, too. Actually, for every dog I’ve painted, the owner has been just like the dog!

443-534-0172, http://www.hotdogsandcatschup.com —L.S.

For the Birds

If you’re a bird person, you might already know about M & D Bird Farm Exotic Birds and Supplies. It’s one of the largest bird supply stores in the Mid-Atlantic, according to its owner, Terri Martin, 47. If you’re not, the store is still worth a stop on your way to the Delaware beaches just to gawk at Martin’s moluccan cockatoo, Princess, who performs her shtick for customers. “Yes, she’s a rock star,”?says Martin of the bird who talks, spins on a bar, and generally does whatever Martin commands.

Martin, who bought her first bird at 18, opened the shop in 2002. “I had 17 birds in my bedroom at home already,”?she says. “Nobody else in the area was doing this, so I figured I would.”?

The colorful, 4,000-square-foot store boasts every bird toy imaginable, plus full grooming and boarding services, not to mention a “bird room,” which contains 75 to 100 exotic birds. But beware, as the half-joking sign on the door reads:?“Enter at your own risk. We sometimes snack on fingers and small children.—The Birds.”
26754 Lewes Georgetown Hwy., Harbeson, Del. 302-684-4101 —J.S.

Pet P.I.

Remember that lost whippet fiasco in New York City back in 2006? The one in which the famous show dog, Vivi, took off at JFK Airport, resulting in city-wide upheaval? Laura Totis, certified Missing Animal Relief (MAR) technician, was one of the first “pet detectives” on the scene.

When Totis started her unusual career seven years ago, only four other certified MAR technicians existed in the country. “Initially it was a running joke about the whole Ace Ventura thing,” she says with a laugh.
“But a lot of info has gotten out there and people do take it a lot more seriously now.” Any pet qualifies for the chase (Totis has pursued llamas, tortoises, and skunks), though dogs and cats
are the most common.

Totis, based in Clarksburg, Md., started out conducting human search-and-rescue on a volunteer basis but subsequently branched out to pet detection. She uses two trained dogs to locate missing pets throughout the Mid-Atlantic region, asking only that clients cover her time with “whatever they feel is reasonable and can afford.” Her bag of tricks run the gamut from behavior profiling to mounting wildlife cameras to listening devices to setting humane traps.

Approximately 80 to 90 percent of her clients are recovered. Much of her success is due to her website, which people can use to post lost pet notifications and track sightings as well as consult with Totis (for a fee of $20). So where is the most common place to find a lost pet? “The last place you look,” she says. 410-239-4746, http://www.ljtpettracking.com —L.S. 

To the Point

When Mac, a 100-pound chocolate lab, collapsed as a result from his diabetes, his owners were told he wouldn’t last more than a few months. But Annapolis animal acupuncturist Lydia Wainwright had other ideas. “They carried him in, and he walked out. It was amazing,” she says. “I saw that dog for three years.”

Wainwright is constantly sur-prising herself and her clients with the effectiveness of acupuncture, a method of ancient Chinese medicine that uses needles to correct imbalances in life force energy or Qi. “If you were a toaster, the electricity that runs through you to make you work is your Qi,” explains Wainwright. “I’m the toaster repairman.”

Wainwright works with both animals and people to improve maladies ranging from arthritis to kidney failure. The result? “Ninety percent of the time there’s some kind of change,” she claims. “This is especially true of animals, because they tend not to hold on to baggage the way people do.”

Wainwright, who is certified by the Maryland Acupuncture Board and sees 15 to 40 patients a week, attends to cats and dogs but is also qualified to help rabbits, ferrets, and birds. Each animal responds differently to the treatment, she says. Some get worse before they get better, some need continued treatment (especially for chronic ailments such as arthritis),
and others are cured after just one treatment. The only common side effect, she says, is that “all animals seem to really enjoy it.“443-474-3631, http://www.acuanimal.com —E.B.

In the Raw

If you’ve ever been to Crunchies Natural Pet Foods in Crofton, you’ve likely met Charlie. The 10-year-old
beagle is not only the store’s mascot
but also something of a poster dog for the benefits of the all-natural foods Crunchies sells.

When store owner Julia Cahill adopted him in 2008, he was suffering from a list of ailments ranging from upper respiratory problems to conjunctivitis. “He was absolutely a mess,” recalls Cahill. “We adopted him on a Friday, and the vet wasn’t sure he’d make it over the weekend. We brought him back two weeks later, and the vet couldn’t believe it was the same dog.”

All Cahill did was switch Charlie’s diet to one rich in raw foods, and “it changed everything about him,” she says.

Raw food is the buzzword in dog parks and kitty condos these days. The tainted pet food scare of 2007 helped give legs to the movement, which emphasizes serving foods made only from raw meats and vegetables—no grain fillers. Cahill and other advocates claim “commercial pet foods,” loaded with chemicals and filler, are the equivalent of fast food. “If you ate fast food every meal, every day for a year, how would you look and feel?”

Cahill asks. “People don’t realize it’s like milkshakes and french fries. You’re not going to have a healthy, well-behaved dog. And people are just starting to realize this.”
Cahill admits that her food lines may sport higher price tags than those found at the big box pet stores, but she says dog owners can feed their pets less because raw foods are nutrient dense.

“Besides,” she says, “you’ll have a healthier dog with less allergies, less ear problems, less skin problems. And you know how vet bills can add up very fast…” 2421 Crofton Lane, Crofton, Md. 410-721-5432, http://www.crunchies.com —J.S.

When Pigs Fly… Literally

Say goodbye to the cargo hold, Rover, and welcome to first class. Pet Airways, the first airline to carry animals as “pawsengers” instead of cargo, started service out of several airports (including BWI Marshall) on July 14. With one-way airfares starting at $149, Pet Airways offers flights out of Baltimore, New York, Chicago, Denver, and Los Angeles.

Beechcraft 1900 turbo-prop planes, filled with pet carriers instead of seats, are used to transport the animals. For now, Pet Airways plans to work solely with cats and dogs, but pigs, birds, and reptiles may soon have their chance to fly the friendly skies, too. 888-PET-AIRWAYS, http://www.petairways.com —L.S.

Laps of Luxury

The kennel, as it used to be known, is a dying breed. Dogs and cats now have “pet resorts” with spas and luxury suites to enjoy while their owners are away. “It wasn’t that kennels were horrible,” says Elizabeth Chaney, owner of Perfect Pet Resort in Lothian (410-741-0000, perfectpetresort.com), “but there’s a demand for dogs and cats to have a great experience while their parents are away, with more benefits than just accommodations.” At Chaney’s resort, both dogs and cats get luxury suites with couches or beds and dogs get TVs playing animal-related shows.

The new Maryland Shore Pet Resort in Vienna (410-376-2107, mdshorepetresort.com) boasts a spa offering blueberry facials and paw cream. Pets can unwind during “Yappy Hour” and “Meowy Hour” with complimentary “happy-tizers” made at the in-house Pure Bred Bakery.

And at Dogwood Acres Pet Retreat in Davidsonville (410-798-4776, dogwoodacres.com) dogs can get “cuddle time”?at the end of the day. “Dogs walk out the door with [richer] experiences than when they came in,” says Chaney. “It’s just like camp. A kid goes in shy and comes out strong. People are not just paying for space anymore. It’s the experience.” —J.S.

Natural Healing

Dr. Francine K. Rattner of South Arundel Veterinary Hospital is not your typical vet. She treats everything from dogs, cats, and birds to rabbits and iguanas, but as one of only 53 vets in the United States certified by the Academy of Veterinary Homeopathy, she does so in a very different way.

Through homeopathic treatments, a formal system of “natural medicine” developed in the 18th century, Rattner addresses all aspects of the animal’s health—from its diet to the amount of exercise it gets to its exposure to toxins.

Symptoms of illness, which vets normally attempt to suppress with drugs, are viewed by Rattner as the body’s attempt to heal itself. She prescribes remedies derived from natural substances that would normally cause the symptoms the animal is already showing, in order to encourage self-healing. For instance, for runny eyes or a bad cold, she might prescribe diluted allium, derived from onions.

Rattner, who also practices conventional medicine, admits that homeopathic medicine for pets has its skeptics, but she believes that her treatments work best with the cooperation of owners who are careful and observant, willing to note subtle changes in their animals. “My favorite cases are patients diagnosed with cancer that have been given a very poor prognosis, who instead choose a holistic approach and live a longer and happier life than was predicted,” she says. 410-956-2932, http://www.southarundelvet.com —L.S.

Clean Machine

For anyone who has ever tried to bathe a dog, doing so in a van may sound like a daunting task. But it’s just another day at the office for Jeff Bawkins, who, as owner of Arnold, Md.‘s U Dirty Dog Mobile Pet Grooming, makes his living grooming dogs out of the back of his white Ford E-350.

1. How did you decide on this mobile pet grooming?
It’s actually been around for quite some time. I like it because it’s quiet and comfortable. It’s also more convenient for the customer.
2. How does it work?
I go to each customer’s house and groom the dogs right
in their driveway in the back of the van.
I groom about 10 to 15 dogs a day. On
a given year, I’ll have a list of 1,800 to 2,200 clients.
3. What’s the van like?
The setup is basically like any other groomer’s: We’ve got special grooming equipment, high-velocity dryer, stainless steel bathtub, hydraulic table, air conditioning—just about everything you could ask for.
4. What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened with a dog?
A bite—that’s the worst. Of course, it depends on the dog and what kind of mood they’re in. If it’s a playful bite, it’s not so bad as if it’s an angry one, but a bite never feels good!
5. Has a dog ever escaped?
No, I’m really careful. Most of them are very cooperative and have never tried. Even if they did, I’m a pretty fast runner. 410-349-3647, http://www.udirtydogmobile.com —E.B.

SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER 2009

Summer Dreamin’

Five essayists write about first kisses, going blond, and the quest for the perfect tan.

Confessions of a Beach Tag Inspector

By Jessica Bizik

At first glance, when the Chevy van’s door slid open, you might have thought we were a bunch of neon-vested juvenile delinquents coming to pick up trash. (Or teen cult members sent to lure new recruits from the boardwalk). We were, in fact, Bethany Beach beach tag checkers coming to ruin your day.

The year was 1989 and two of my buds and I had taken the job to pay for our summer expenses before heading off to college. We expected sun, fun, and the opportunity to flirt with Chad Allen—“the hottest lifeguard, like, ever”—on our daily trek down the shore.

I had already planned, in great detail, the circumstances under which he’d save my life. These involved a tsunami, my efforts to rescue a lost puppy from the jetty, and a strong wind blowing me gracefully into the ocean.

But on our first day at work, the Beach Inspector General divided us into teams of two. My friends got to work together and I was paired with the last remaining female: a cranky, 300-pound North Jersey gal who could’ve made Tony Soprano cry Uncle Junior. Her name was Bertha. (Seriously, Bertha.) And she scared the living daylights out of me.

Descending on the beach, we surveyed our prey: a sea of seemingly narcoleptic people who fell asleep the moment we approached. The ones who managed to remain conscious popped their widening, Looney Toons-style eyeballs back into their heads, nudged their partners in (beach) crime, and ran directly into the water.

“Beach wenches, 3 o’clock!” they’d yell, leaping from their Ocean Pacific towels, leaving us in a wake of sand and disdain.

I, the ever-so-polite suburban prepster, had no rap whatsoever. “Excuse me, sir. Did you, by any chance, happen to purchase beach tags for your lovely family today?”

Some people were simply obstinate: “Do you seriously expect me to pay you to use nature? I mean, you aren’t GOD, are you?”

Others pulled out their wallets with a huff—forking over the cash as if I had somehow just offended them or something.

One woman asked me to watch her kid for 15 minutes. She came back five hours later!

And the older folks? Well, they simply enjoyed the company.

Bertha uttered two simple words: “BEACH TAGS” and you could practically hear the “Jaws” theme in the background. Everyone paid. Period.

“Why are you so nice?” I remember Bertha asking on about our fifth outing together. And I got the sense there was a lot behind that question.

I just stared at her blankly, shrugged, and we spent the rest of the summer thick as thieves.

Sometimes, she was even sweet to me. But not as sweet as vanilla soft-serve with chocolate jimmies—or practicing mouth-to-mouth with Chad Allen in the lifeguard stand a week before the season ended.

The Summer of My First Real Kiss

By Mary Ann Treger

The summer before turning 16, my biggest fear (and embarrassment) was that I had not been kissed. I spent many sultry nights at a pity party on the front steps of my New Jersey home contemplating the possibility of missing out on this momentous marker in my young life. 

My prospects for meeting Prince Charming were grim.

A shy, quiet kid, I longed to be one of the pretty, perky, popular girls. But my crooked teeth (now crowned) and oversized nose (now reduced) kept me off that much-envied list. Who-kissed-who was the topic du jour of every girlie conversation. I would keep mum about never graduating from the Spin-the-Bottle variety. The only real kiss contender I had in sight was Bob, the best friend of my sister’s boyfriend.   

The horror of turning Sweet 16 kissless superseded thoughts of kissing Bob’s grotesquely mismatched lips. His lower lip was, to be polite, oversized. This unappealing trough hung open all the time, exposing more moist, pink flesh than I cared to observe outside of a butcher shop. His upper lip was a cartoon line. I realize that this sounds superficial, even cruel to those born with less than ideal smackers. Bob was a great guy. If only I had focused on his wit—he was pretty funny—or his brains I might have seen beyond “the lip.” But cut me some slack. Fifteen-year-olds are not known for wisdom. Character was not my concern. My objective was a kiss. Ideally, equal to the one Burt Lancaster gave Deborah Kerr on the wave-swept beach in “From Here to Eternity.”

Bob asked me out a few times during that hot, sticky 1960s summer. Since my biological clock was ticking and there was nothing more palatable on the social horizon, I succumbed.

I can’t remember where we went—the movies or bowling or miniature golf. It doesn’t matter. All I remember was the wet smooch he planted on me at the end of the evening in the front seat of his overheated Chevy. Bob’s lips were like a big suction cup, covering the real estate from my nose to my chin. I imagined a teenage squid or octopus would have felt the same after a first smooch. When it was over, half of my face was wet. All I wanted was a towel. Just like Deborah Kerr.

The Summer I Stopped Tanning

By Kessler Burnett

I was a teenager in the early ’80s, when women were expected to bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and maintain a savage tan at all times. Next to a kickin’ pair of Candies and skin-tight Calvin Klein jeans, bronze skin was the most sought-after accessory—and I worked hard to get it.

At boarding school, as soon as spring’s thermometer topped 65, I would find a spot by the pool amid rows of girls slathered in oil dense enough to use in the filter of a Ford F-350. To amplify the grease’s effect, we’d use homemade UV reflectors engineered from tinfoil-wrapped Duran Duran and Go-Go’s albums. Every so often, girls would lift their heads to compare the progress of their melanin production. Even back then I understood that among women, tanning is a seriously competitive sport. Yet, try as I might, I just couldn’t keep up with my olive-skinned opponents. 

Truth is, I’ve never come by a tan easily. My mother has the tawny tone of a Choctaw squaw, my father the soapy pallor of a Scotsman. The genetic combo earns me a spot on the color wheel somewhere between ochre and bile, which yields skin with a tendency to burn. But I never let heredity stop my quest to look like the Bain de Soleil lady.

Then came my wakeup call. On one particular visit to the spa for a facial, the esthetician asked to look at my face under blue light. In the mirror before me emerged a beast’s face covered with a constellation of small black dots and big, misshapen brown blobs. As the esthetician pointed out the areas that revealed the most severe damage, the icy breath of regret brushed against my consciousness. Before me was the handy work of my ego: deep sun damage that threatened to define my future appearance and possibly health. That night, I broke off my relationship with Apollo and opted out of the tanning game. 

Now when I (twice annually) go to the beach, I more resemble a pile of laundry deposited under an umbrella. Instead of Brazilian bikinis, I wear a long-sleeve tunic, floor-length sarong, wide-brimmed floppy hat, and large sunglasses. I’ve donned this Sigmund and the Sea Monsters-esque costume on some of the world’s most exclusive beaches, from St. Barth’s to Mustique, without shame. While I may look like something out of Central Casting, my face, which I obsessively treat with microdermabrasion, Retin-A, and copious amounts of sunscreen, looks pretty darn good, and I sleep better knowing that I’ll have a few less wrinkles and age spots than my contemporaries, who continue to sear under the direct sun. So perhaps, when it comes to midlife female competition, I just might finally have a (pale) leg up. 

The Summer I Went Blond(ish)

By Jayne Blanchard

With its knee-high waves and pasty-skinned beachcombers, Ocean City was a far cry from the West Coast. But in the early ’70s, everyone was California dreamin’ and you wore pukka shells woven on leather strings around your ankles and Hawaiian print bathing suits whether you were from Hermosa Beach or Hampden.

Part of this California look was blond hair. The year I turned 14 I thought I was doomed to go through life a brown-haired Midge to the flaxen perfection of Malibu Barbie until a miraculous new product came out, Sun-In, which promised streaks as sun-kissed as Cheryl Tiegs on the cover of Teen magazine. All you had to do was spritz it on, wait 10 minutes, and then wash it out. Voila, instant surfer girl.

I ran down to Bailey’s Pharmacy for my bottle of Sun-In (a scene I imagined repeated across the country, as mousy-tressed teens stormed unsuspecting store owners, demanding their inalienable right to the pursuit of blondness) and squirted it on my head, as per the directions. True to teenage logic, I thought “Why wait 10 minutes when 15 would be even better?” By the time I washed it out, my crowning glory did not evoke images of Peggy Lipton or Michelle Phillips, but Archie Andrews of comic book fame.

All I needed was cross-hatches on the sides of my head and I could have been the king of Riverdale High with Betty and Veronica on either arm. But follicle faux pas love company, and as it turned out most of the beach that summer was dotted with girls and guys who tried Sun-In, so much so that by August the sand looked like fields of orange chrysanthemums in bloom. 

All season long I assiduously avoided the sun until 4:30 p.m., when I ventured out onto the beach, my carroty hair ablaze and my flounder-white flesh on display, sitting alone in a canvas chair reading “A Season in Hell” or furiously stabbing at my summer art project—a needlepoint rendition of Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.” Come to think of it, I had few dates that summer. Wonder why.

Summer Friends, Self-Doubt, and Raquel Welch

By Stephanie Shapiro

I loved the beach and I loved my best friend, Jo Ellen.

The beach was freedom, possibility, salt and sensuality.

Jo Ellen was fun, true blue, and always up for adventure.

But when Jo Ellen, a precocious beauty, came down to the beach and unpacked her astonishing bikini, the emotional metrics went haywire. Imagine lying next to a teenage Raquel Welch while you’re draped in a loud beach towel that does little to disguise an ill-fitting swimsuit and the chubby body contained within.

Jo Ellen flirted easily with the lifeguards while I toed the sand. I coveted her effortless banter and feared it at the same time. If I were in her flip-flops, I’d be petrified that it could lead to something more, like a date, and then I’d have to worry about other possibilities besides making small talk. 

So it went those circa-1960s summers: Jo Ellen tanned, I burned. Jo Ellen’s hair miraculously turned from dark brown to blond. My hair stayed tangled in a hippie-wannabe mess.

That Jo Ellen wrestled with her own self-doubts didn’t occur to me. Nor did it allay a simmering resentment that flared at times into full-blown jealousy. I downplayed Jo Ellen’s admiration for my jokes and dilettantish store of knowledge and craved a more tangible sign of superiority, as clear to a lifeguard as to Jo Ellen.

The triumph came one cloudy day at a faded amusement park. We slid into a weathered seat for two on the Tilt-A-Whirl. Rising, dipping and rotating, our panoramic view shifted nonstop between shining sea and boardwalk hokum. For about eight revolutions, nothing mattered.

Then, I glanced at Jo Ellen. She wasn’t having nearly as much fun. Her perfect tan had faded to pale green. I signaled the operator and the ride glided to a halt. Jo Ellen excused herself and became sick. For once, I had bested my best friend, who apparently couldn’t take the physical rigors of summer’s idle pleasures. “Wimp,” I crowed silently.

The next day, we probably returned to the beach. There was little no room for smugness there, save a giggle or two at Jo Ellen’s expense, as I lay shrouded in terry cloth next to my beloved, curvaceous friend. Jo Ellen and I probably pattered about boys and bands and hilarious teachers. And as we continue to do today, quietly forgave one another for the wounds that jealousy, self-doubt, and the nauseating ride between the two can exact on a friendship.

JULY/AUGUST 2009

Designer Consigners

At these area consignment shops, you'll find designer labels, fantastic furniture, and bargains galore.

By Mary Ann Treger, Kessler Burnett, Joe Sugarman

Regal Rags
This store looks more like a smart boutique than a shop offering recycled women’s clothes, shoes, handbags, and jewelry, with designer labels. Three visits reveal a brand-new Vera Wang cocktail dress ($275), several new Lilly Pulitzer sundresses ($55 each), and a like-new Escada evening jacket ($150). While the place is packed with pricey labels—Burberry, Kate Spade, Ferragamo, and Tiffany & Co.—there are plenty of Talbots, Dana Buchman, and Chico’s, too. “Between 30 to 40 percent of the merchandise still has the original tags dangling from the sleeves,” says owner Dawn Henderson, who gets her gently used merchandise from well-heeled customers with vast wardrobes and new goods from a not-to-be-named boutique. “We are fussy. We want Louis Vuitton, Chanel, and Dior, the kind of designers you can’t easily find in Annapolis.” This is the sort of place you hesitate sharing with a girlfriend, certainly any girlfriend who wears the same size you do.

Best Bargain: On a recent visit, we spotted a very gently used St. John black knit jacket with gold embroidered collar and jeweled buttons for $300. Sounds rich, but it would cost you $1,200 in a department store. 626B Admiral Drive, Annapolis, 410-224-3434, http://regalragsannapolis.com/ —M.T.

Consign & Design
It’s hard to decide what to look at first when you enter Consign & Design—the snazzy new and consigned furniture in a small room off to the left or the sophisticated women’s consigned clothes and accessories in two rooms to the right. The shop looks expensive but the prices say otherwise. That $275 tag on a gorgeous antique Chinese chair is a real deal. Two palm tree lamps with beveled glass shades are sure to be snapped up at $125 each. “The woman who brought them here paid $500 apiece,” says shop owner Wilma Howett. Clothes look like new and are displayed as if they were in a fine designer salon—there’s no crowding. “A lot of women are glad to have a place to take their better clothes; they don’t want to give them to Goodwill,” says Howett.
Best Bargain: We loved that no-name white-beaded evening dress, a clear deal for $30. 2 Annapolis St., Annapolis, 443-458-5941—M.T.

Return to Oz
This consignment shop is not for the claustrophobic. The first floor is jam-packed with kids’ clothes, shoes, and boots, many with Gap, Baby Gap, Gymboree, Patagonia, and Lands’ End labels. Prices for kids’ clothes range from $3 to around $50 for a darling, fur-trimmed girls dress-up dress. Upstairs, two small rooms are loaded with women’s clothes (up to size 16), maternity, men’s clothes, and housewares. “We get some high-end women’s boutique stuff, some European brands but mostly Abercrombie & Fitch, Juicy Couture, Ann Taylor, Gap, and Citizens of Humanity jeans,” says co-owner Chloe Griffis, who transformed this 100-year-old house into a consignment shop with her business partner, Virginia Shea, about 1½ years ago. “Sometimes we get Pottery Barn furniture and linens or fabulously expensive shoes—Ferragamo or Michael Kors—that sell for $50 or $75, a quarter of the original price.”

Best Bargain: On our last visit, we spotted a darling, new white bassinet propped on the porch. For $40 it’s a steal. 2011 West St., Annapolis, 410-266-9390—M.T.

Affordable Furniture
Whenever there’s an estate sale on the Eastern Shore, you’ll find Lord Scott hunting for cool furnishings to bring back to his shop. Affordable Furniture consists of six rooms stocked with an eclectic blend of contemporary, antique, and downright funky furniture. “I get furniture from million-dollar houses in Talbot County,” says Scott. “Lawyers who handle the sales call me and tell me what’s happening and when.” The funkiest, most expensive item Affordable Furniture’s ever sold? A $5,500, six-foot-tall Turkish bath studded with angels from a local estate.

Best Bargain: Recent deals include a reproduction Victorian sofa ($175), a walnut chest of drawers ($300), and a 1950s RCA radio cabinet ($50). 123 S. Washington St., Easton, Md. 410-822-1475—K.B. 

New to You
The distinguished gent clad in a starched white shirt, elegant tie, and meticulously coiffed hair looks like he should be shopping in Nordstrom’s instead of cruising the aisles of New to You, but Bill Parker, a criminal defense attorney from Upper Marlboro, is a regular. “I became hooked years ago. My best find was a $400 Lladro figurine for $125. And my cheapest bargain was a dozen new Titleist golf balls still in the original box for $3.”

This place is chock-full of housewares, linens, women’s clothes, handbags, even ski goggles and a few Timex watches. Labels such as Abercrombie & Fitch, Talbots, and Ann Taylor are tucked between scores of lesser-known brands. Owner Madeleine Powers, who runs the store with her daughter, Susan Hummer, keeps a request list. “One customer is a party coordinator. She needs serving pieces,” says Hummer. “If a woman wants a fur coat, we call her when one comes in.” Shopping tip: There’s a lot to look at. Allow plenty of time to roam.

Best Bargain: There’s lots of jewelry but one item stands out—a David Yurman blue topaz and diamond ring ($800). It would probably retail for twice as much.
1916 Forest Drive, Annapolis,
410-263-2211—M.T.

Little Rascals
Those who love the thrill of the hunt will love Little Rascals. Housed in a cottage-style shop on Route 50, the store is full of racks crammed with modern women’s and children’s used clothes. Recent finds include a pair of women’s Italian leather gloves ($5), toddler-size, squeaky-clean Tretorn sneakers ($5), and a baby’s hand-woven Hannah Anderson sweater ($16.50). But owner Kari Kullman says that her biggest market is rapidly becoming teenagers. “More and more teenagers are becoming consigners,” says Kullman, “trading in their Abercrombie & Fitch stuff for something else instead of going to the mall to get something new. At first, a lot of those kids pooh-poohed the idea of buying something used, but once they found out that they can buy things like Lucky Jeans for $25 instead of $125 here, they began to change their minds.”

Best Bargains: We scored several excellent condition designer duds, including a multi-colored, woven Bottega Veneta purse ($85), Gucci shades ($75), and Coach loafers ($70). 7924 Ocean Gateway, Easton, Md. 410-822-6806—K.B.

Second Look
It’s hard to decide what’s better at Second Look—the bargains on homewares and clothing for kids, women, and men or the friendly customer service. Co-owners Marcel Ross and Barbara Segraves work the shop like a couple of Energizer bunnies, constantly helping customers or tidying up. This place isn’t fancy. The long narrow shop is basic but packed with buys. A rack of once pricey greeting cards (each in a plastic sleeve) is tucked in a corner ($1 each). Bargain hunting revealed a Banana Republic black cashmere sweater ($14) and Tahari beige silk suit ($35.) Many kids’ outfits still have the original tags attached. Just a few doors down from Giant, this shop is a must-stop before hitting the supermarket aisles.

Best Bargain: Two brand-new adorably dressed, stuffed bears would make any kid (and his parents) happy for $5 each.
942 Bay Ridge Road, Annapolis, 410-263-3111—M.T.

The Clothes Box
Who says going for your mammogram can’t be fun? A short stroll down from the radiology department in Anne Arundel Medical Center’s Sajak Building lies the well-organized Clothes Box and its great deals for everyone in the family, plus housewares and linens. While you’ll spot an occasional St. John or Prada label, most of the well-known brands include Chico’s, Gap, Ellen Tracy, and Dana Buchman. Smart shoppers stop by before or after visiting the doctor when the Clothes Box has a weekly sale on Wednesdays—and what a sale it is! Thanks to a team of terrific hospital volunteers led by manager Debbie Ganz, there’s always someone nearby to help.

Best Bargain: We spotted a like-new Liz Claiborne running suit for $15 last time we detoured after an appointment with the doc. Sajak Pavilion, Anne Arundel Medical Center, 2002 Medical Parkway, Ste. 160, Annapolis, 443-481-5070—M.T.

The Bazaar
This is one place where hand-me-downs are hip. The consignment shop, operated by Easton Memorial Hospital’s Auxiliary, contains a combination of retro, vintage, and altogether classic finds likely owned by some of Talbot County’s most fashionable frauleins. The shop is organized like a small 1950s department store, complete with window displays and tidy rows of clothing, shoes, and even a home goods section for linens, lamps, and knickknacks. “[Recently,] a lady came in just before closing to look for a gown for a party that night,” says saleswoman Diane Bisanar. “She found a great gown that fit like a glove. She came back in the next day to say that she was the belle of the ball and that she told everyone where she got it.”

Best Bargain: For $9, we snatched up a 100-percent pure camelhair swing coat with three-quarter length sleeves made by Thalhimers, a now-defunct Richmond-based department store chain. Throw on a wide black belt with it, and you’ve got an updated classic. 121 Federal St., Easton, Md., 410-822-2031—K.B.

Echoes & Accents
Just inside the front door at Echoes & Accents, three handsome twisted iron bar stools with upholstered seats are reduced to $75 each. Nearby, four large heavy wooden, Spanish-style chairs are priced at $100, and a stunning Bernhardt painted country French china cabinet is marked $650. “This is recycling at its best,” says Leah Deane, who owns the store with her partner and sister, Barbara Rasin Price.

It’s just about impossible to separate new furniture from consigned goods. Even if you’re not in the market for furniture, stop by to steal a decorating idea or two or to check out the jewelry cases. Furniture is organized in color-coordinated vignettes. Accessories range from two fabulous Chinese porcelain dogs ($277 for the pair) to a handsomely carved duck ($39). “Sixty percent of the merchandise is consigned, 40 percent is new,” says Deane as she proudly shows off a Baccarat crystal vase for $165. “So there are a few chips on top. Are you really going to see them when a dozen roses are in it?”

Best Bargain: A glass-topped dining table with handsome iron base, plus six iron dining chairs with upholstered beige striped seats reduced to $325—for the set!
224 Chinquapin Round Road, Annapolis, 410-280-8800, http://echoesandaccents.com/ —M.T

Great Estates
About 50 percent of the mostly contemporary merchandise offered at Great Estates is new and much of it comes from area model homes. The remaining furniture and accessories are consigned goods that look like they’ve barely been touched. Several big name furniture makers are represented—Bernhardt, Hooker, Bassett. Lots of interesting (and inexpensive) accessories are dotted about—a large white ceramic “O” priced at $21 would jazz up any ho-hum space. The place is packed with bargains. A painted five-drawer Stanley dresser for $159 is a great buy for a kid’s room. That’s cheap (or cheaper) than what you’d find at a big box store. The only downside is that the place isn’t very large so selection is limited.

Best Bargain: A massive Bassett triple dresser and matching hutch in chocolate cherry for $616. 8258 Veterans Hwy., Millersville, 410-987-2490, http://www.greatestatesfurniture.com/ —M.T.

MARCH/APRIL 2009

Gifts that Kept on Giving

Toy spaceships, engagement rings, and a can of Chef Boyardee spaghetti: For these fifteen folks they were holiday gifts they’d never forget.

Compiled by Gail Buchalter
Illustration by Francis Blake

Tom Weaver, owner, Eastport Yacht Co., Annapolis
We were living in Tanzania when I was four and went to visit my grandparents in Nairobi. Despite these exotic locales, my favorite gift was very American: a cowboy hat, little vest, chaps, holster, and lots of tassels. The gun, of course, was the best part of the outfit. My first target was my sister. Then I went after the imaginary Indians hiding in the bushes. I think the gift lasted two weeks before I destroyed it. The funny thing is, a few years later, I received a real air gun rifle and then a .22 and later a big boy’s gun, a .303. But after all these years, it’s the little toy gun that I remember with such joy.

Cynthia McBride, owner, McBride Gallery, Annapolis
I grew up on a farm in northern Minnesota. We were very poor. Every Christmas we received two gifts, a toy and a piece of clothing. My best memory is falling asleep to the sound of my mother’s treadle sewing machine, knowing she was making something for us to wear. When I was eight, she made me a pale blue dress with puffy sleeves and a gathered skirt. I wanted to show it off when we went to church the following Sunday. Usually, we kept our coats on throughout the service, because it was freezing. But on that Sunday, I took off my coat and showed off my beautiful dress—and my goose bumps.

Woodlief Oliver, musician, Easton, Md.
I got my favorite Christmas present in 1955 when I was five years old. I raced down the stairs, and there, next to the tree, was a X-1, silver and red spaceship. It was a two-seater made of cardboard that had a cheesy printed control panel with Tinkertoy-like levers. But I could get inside and fly through outer space. I still remember the absolute joy of commanding my X-1 across the universe. I would never know that joy again: It was the last Christmas that my younger brother was still in his cradle and not able to mess up my presents. I hadn’t even heard that horrible word share yet.

Ron Bowman, retired NASA project manager, Annapolis
My wife recently gave me the best Christmas gift, something I had wanted for a long time. Ten years ago, I did my first Ironman [race], in Hawaii. I wanted something to commemorate this accomplishment. I saw this beautiful gold ring with the Ironman emblem on it, but it was too expensive. Instead, I bought a tie tack. I retired this year and don’t wear ties anymore. Then, this past July, I completed my second Ironman, in Lake Placid, shaving 1.5 hours off my previous time. My wife took the tie tack to a jeweler, had him turn it into a ring, and gave it to me for Christmas.

Ann Coates, owner, Bishop’s Stock Fine Art and Craft, Snow Hill, Md.
The best Christmas gift I can remember had nothing to do with presents. Three years ago, my husband, son, and I decided we didn’t need anything. Our son, Bryan, was graduating from college, and we wanted to spend time together while we could. So we went on a family trip to New York for three days. The highlight was going to see Jersey Boys on Broadway. We had third-row seats right in front of Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban. Bryan even got to talk to them. He was thrilled. It was such a special night. We all realized having time with family is the best gift possible.

Lari Caldwell, social worker, East New Market, Md.
I desperately wanted a Tiny Tears doll when I was seven, because my mother refused to have another baby. My friend had a Tiny Tears; it drank from a bottle, cried, and even wet itself. It was the most wonderful doll in the world. But we were poor, and every time I asked for it, my mother would only say, “Maybe Santa will bring it to you.” Christmas morning, I opened my gifts. No doll. I thought maybe Santa had to give it to some other girl. Then my parents pulled out a huge box from behind the tree. I tore off the wrapping paper, and there she was. She even had a layette. All these years later, it is still my favorite gift. 
                   
Stewart Dobson, publisher, Ocean City Today, Ocean City, Md.
The year of the BB gun, the first bike, and the stocking full of bubble gum—which my capitalist, robber baron brother promptly sold by the piece—somehow seem fused into a single yuletide blur. But the one gift that stands out is a box of spaghetti by Chef Boyardee stuffed in my stocking, the great chef being a step up in the Italian cuisine of the pedestrian Franco-American. This gift stemmed from an early obsession with spaghetti, a small part of which involved disgusting my older sister by holding one end of a strand, swallowing the other and then pulling it back up. It was the gift that kept giving to a six-year-old.

Jeff Schaub, owner, Annapolis Marine Arts Gallery, Annapolis
When I was a kid, I loved anything that flew. I would often go on trips to Newark Airport with my family or with my Cub Scout troop. When I was seven, my parents got me my very own airplane that was made in post-war Japan. It was unbelievably intricate: hand-welded wires formed the wings and body and both were completely covered in brilliant blue silk thread. It was about twenty inches long and two feet wide. It didn’t fly very well, but I didn’t care. It was so beautiful and ephemeral. As I got older, I got into building balsa wood planes and then planes with engines that could really fly. But none of them meant more to me than that beautiful blue airplane. 

Marc Apter, associate vice president, marketing and public relations, St. Mary’s College of Maryland, St. Mary’s City, Md.
From the time I was born, my grandfather took me out on the water. When I was six, he blessed me with the most wonderful Christmas gift ever. I was sent to the garage and opened the door. There was my very own eight-foot Chris-Craft dingy. It was a total surprise. It was the Porsche of dinghies. It started me on my avocation of acquiring
little boats: Today I like to say I have 103 feet of yachts, seven in total, including a Hobie Cat, Zodiac, and a Laser.

Butch Arbin, captain, Ocean City Beach Patrol, Ocean City, Md.
Even as a child it was never about getting gifts for me; it was about giving. I am blessed that my children feel the same way. Nine years ago, when they were eleven and fifteen, we had a family meeting. We decided to take the money we would have used to buy gifts for ourselves and bought gifts for families living in a women’s shelter. My kids picked out the gifts themselves, wrapped them, and had their best Christmas handing them out. Watching the delight on their faces was the best gift I could have received.

Judy McDonald, Choptank Animal Hospital, Cambridge, Md.
It was the week before Christmas when our cat, Wolfie, went missing. My husband and I scoured the neighborhood and finally found someone who had seen some dogs attacking a cat three days earlier. We went to where the attack happened and found Wolfie hiding under the porch. We rushed him to the vet and brought him home four days later. One of the girls in my husband’s office made a Christmas ornament to commemorate his return: a big silver ball with paw prints, his name, and the year. Sadly, Wolfie died four years ago, but we still hang the ornament on the tree and think about our best Christmas gift ever, his miraculous return.

Jennie Merrill, teacher, Severna Park Elementary School, Severna Park, Md.
I would get one gift from my mother every Christmas, and it was always great. The most memorable one was when I was nine. It was a Person Power Vehicle (PPV). It literally looked like a paddleboat on wheels. I would pick up my best friend who’d sit upfront with me and pedal (it took two), and we’d put two more friends in the back. We’d pretend it was a car and feel, oh-so cool. We’d ‘drive’ all around town, pretty much stopping traffic when people saw it. The PPV lasted four years until it finally wore out and was too expensive to fix.

Samantha McCall, freelance writer, Easton, Md.
My boyfriend, Tom, and I were traveling around the world and were about a third of the way through our trip when we stopped in Bali. It was a week before Christmas in 1994, and Tom asked me where I saw our relationship going. Did I think I wanted to get married and have kids? I was very excited, but he dropped the whole conversation. Then on Christmas morning, while we were still snuggled in bed, he proposed. When I said, ‘Yes,’ he gave me a pair of beautiful amethyst and silver earrings [he wanted us to pick out the ring together]. That’s a hard gift to top.

Cheryl McCready, secretary, Advanced Projects Office, NASA, Wallops Island, Va.
Holidays are a time for family, especially Christmas. But as our sons have grown up and moved away, it gets harder to coordinate everyone’s schedule. Eight years ago, my boys and daughter-in-law made it home right before an ice storm hit and knocked out the electricity for three days. We all huddled around the wood-burning stove with our boys, taking turns chopping wood. I made chili on top of the wood stove for our Christmas dinner. We had a real old-fashioned Christmas with lots of laughter and conversation—all made possible by our secondary heating system. Who knew it would turn out to be the best gift we had ever given ourselves?

Stacie May, captain, Trader Joe’s, Annapolis
After nearly forty years, I still have a picture of my favorite gift: a two-foot-long Fisher Price plastic Noah’s ark. When you opened it up, it had lots of little compartments filled with pairs of animals. I’d play with them for hours. Years later, I was looking through my husband’s photo album and saw that he had the same toy. Five years ago, I bought a similar ark in a toy store, and put it away. We’re going to give it to our three-year-old and eighteen-month-old for Christmas. Hopefully, it will become a second-generation favorite gift.

DECEMBER 2008

Everyone does it. Some people just do it better.

C'mon, you know you've done it. Learn how to do it better.

By Sarah Achenbach
Illustration by Shane McGowan

It’s the morning after your holiday celebration (or birthday party, bridal shower, retirement party, whatever). Among the boxes and bows are some gems. But there are also duplicates and duds—and nary a gift receipt to be found.

Sooner or later, this pile of un-wanted loot is going to raise a serious question: To regift or not to regift? Not me, you say. I’d never. Not so fast. If you’ve ever given someone a bottle of wine that was given to you, congratulations, you’ve regifted. In a recent American Express survey, 31 percent admit to regifting at least once.

Chances are that Ben Parker wasn’t thinking about regifting when he told his young nephew (and soon-to-be-Spider-Man) Peter that, “with great power comes great responsibility.” But the sentiment certainly applies. With gift-giving, it’s the thought that counts. With regifting, the same motto applies, though your thinking needs to be more strategic. Here are the basic rules of engagement.

Don’t ask, don’t tell. It’s official: Judith Martin, aka Miss Manners, has deemed the practice of regifting acceptable. She writes in the latest edition of Miss Manners’ Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior that if you receive a present that isn’t quite right, “the present does not have to be used or displayed…This leaves room for returning, donating to charity and regifting, none of which is rude if the rule is strictly observed about protecting the donor from knowing.”

When you unwrap the crime novel from your brother-in-law, follow the standard rules of etiquette (and basic kindness): say thank you and don’t let on that the gift isn’t everything you’ve ever wanted. Then start thinking about people you know who love James Patterson’s work. On the flip side, your brother-in-law shouldn’t comment when he doesn’t see the book on your shelves a few weeks later. If he does, you could feign surprise—”Oh, isn’t it? I saw it there the other day.” Or tell a little white lie that your friend is borrowing the book. Whatever you do, avoid a conversation about plot development.

Take the effort to make it look new. Let’s be honest: Regifting successfully boils down to not getting caught. Be sure to remove every scrap of the original wrapping paper and tape. Nothing says, “Here, I didn’t want this, so I’m giving it to you,” like a crumpled gift bag and used tissue paper. If the packaging shows signs of obviously having been wrapped once before, consider finding another use for the gift. And by all means, heed the true tale of the bridal couple who didn’t look inside the Crock-Pot box after unwrapping it. Instead, they rewrapped it and gave it to another couple—who discovered a note of congratulations inside the box, written to the first couple.

Keep good records. It can be as simple as jotting notes in a spiral notebook or as elaborate as a spreadsheet, but keeping track of the gifts you plan to regift will minimize embarrassing mistakes and protect the feelings of all interested parties. Just jot down what you received from whom and when and to whom you gave it. Giving your mother the chocolate fountain your sister gave you—or, God forbid, your mother herself gave you a few years before—is unwise. 

Keep your distance. If you received the original gift from a family member, don’t regift within the family (or to a family friend). Keep species separate. Regift the platter your running buddy gave you to your college friend who lives across the country. The idea is to put some distance between the item’s point of origin and its final resting place.

Give it away—but not as a gift. If you’d rather not regift, fine, but you don’t need to hang onto something you don’t want. If the green V-neck sweater you received is neither your size, color, nor cut, give it to someone you think would like it. Tell the person you received it as a gift, and ask if she’d like it—no long preamble necessary.

Or donate it to charity with tags attached. Goodwill has new stuff on the racks all the time. Since it was a gift in the first place, you could return the favor to a charity that collects new items such as Toys for Tots. Most charities put new items like clothing and household appliances to good use year-round, too.

Cash out at your own risk. Holiday gift-giving (or any other time of the year) is not about profiteering. Sure, eBay has lots of things that were gifts in their first life, so auction if you must. But remember that you never know who is scanning the auction sites. Ditto for Internet regifting sites, such as regift.com, which allows you to swap (for a fee), buy or sell unwanted gifts and swapagift.com for unwanted gift cards.

As for consignment shops and yard sales, don’t do it anywhere near the donor. I sold a few wedding gifts at a yard sale, but it was years after the gift was given and the donor lived two time zones away. The idea was to get it out of the house, and I think I netted enough to buy a latte. 

Make it a party. Kristin Hoffman of Baltimore County throws an annual regifting party during the week between Christmas and New Year’s. Guests bring their unwanted gifts rewrapped as fancily as possible. People pick numbers and select a wrapped gift, opening it as they go. Those with higher numbers can “steal” an already unwrapped gift. “This party is the perfect example of one man’s trash being someone else’s treasure,” says Hoffman. “One year, someone brought a bird clock that makes different bird calls on the hour. One lady loved it. You can’t come expecting to get something great, but it’s a lot of fun.”

Give good karma. This holiday season, show your loved ones you really care: include a gift receipt (or gift invoice if you shopped online) with every gift you give. That way, they can easily return the coffee-maker, cut-glass picture frame, or Cosby-esque cardigan. Do you really want to see the talking moose slippers you bought your father on his neighbor when he could have returned them to get what he really wanted: talking cow slippers?

DECEMBER 2008

Going Green

Thirty-one ways you can help the Bay

Written by Kessler Burnett, Joe Sugarman, and Elizabeth B. Wrightson

1 Plant a Tree

What do you get the person who has everything? How about a tree? With a donation of $25 or more, the Chesapeake Bay Foundation will plant a tree in the Bay area in honor or in memory of whomever you wish. Trees absorb nitrogen and phosphorus (two main pollutants in the Bay) and also control runoff and soil erosion. Besides, Aunt Rita doesn’t need another silk scarf, anyway. 410-268-8816, http://www.cbf.org/trees.—J.S.

2 Adopt a Native

If you’re challenged for garden space, you can adopt one of the many species of plants, from white wood aster to orange
coneflowers, growing in the Chesapeake Bay Foundation’s native plant garden, designed and maintained by Takoma Park-based Chesapeake Natives. Adoptive “parents” are required to weed their plants’ beds during the growing season and, in the fall, harvest seeds, which are stored at Chesapeake Natives and reserved for landscape projects organized by schools and parks. Often, adoptive parents plan an adult “play date” to go to the garden together and afterward kayak in the bordering tidal creeks. Nurturing has never been so much fun. 301-580-6237, http://www.chesapeakenatives.org.—K.B. 

3 Dress Smart

The next time you’re craving a shopping spree, avoid the malls and head for The Happy Fish, the region’s first all-organic clothing store for men, women, and kids. From zip-up cardigans for him to organic Peruvian cotton tights for her, all items are made from merino wool, organic cotton, linen, cashmere, bamboo, soy, and hemp. (17 Lexington Dr., Milford, Del. 302-684-1229, happy-fish.com) And at Che Bellezza, check out more green-friendly clothing, handbags made from recycled belts, and organic goats’ milk soaps. 6 Fleet St., Annapolis. 410-268-2258, http://www.chebellezza.com.—K.B.

4 Plant an Oyster Garden

  We’re not exactly sure if you need a green thumb to become an oyster gardener. We do know, however, that you’ll need a dock and at least one foot of water in which to “plant” your oyster spat in several twelve-by-eighteen-inch cages. To get started, attend one of the Chesapeake Bay Foundation’s oyster gardening workshops, where you’ll pick up your cages and 3,000(!) tiny spat. Nine months later, just return the oysters to CBF, which will plant them in one of the Bay’s protected oyster reefs.
The mature oysters have a much better chance of surviving than if simply planted on the reef as spat. One caveat: CBF asks
oyster gardeners not to eat their crops, please. 410-268-8816, http://www.cbf.org/oysters.—J.S.

5 Grab a Drink

 
Happy hour just grew a (green) conscience. Every other month, folks converge at selected Annapolis watering holes for Green Drinks Annapolis, the local chapter of the international organization. The object of the game is to network with the environmentally likeminded and chat about topics ranging from recycling to architecture to alternative fuels. “The best part is meeting folks who would not otherwise have crossed paths,” says Annapolis chapter founder Lynne Forsman. “I’m hoping that people will find out all the different things that are going on concerning the environment in this town.” 410- 269-4213, http://www.greendrinks.org.—K.B.

6 Get a Green Buzz

Sometimes the water in the Bay looks like a latté, perhaps the inspiration behind Chesapeake Bay Roasting Company, the new Crofton, Md., coffee roaster. The people behind these Fair Trade, organic beans pledge 3 percent of their sales to Bay restoration groups and use a roaster that recycles part of the bean chaff and burns it as fuel. Their recyclable and reusable cans can be found at stores
and cafes up and down the Chesapeake coast. 410-451-6600, http://www.cbayroasting.com.—E.B.W.

7 Recycle It

Electronic equipment is just loaded with nasty stuff—mercury, radioactive materials, old music downloads of the Baja Men singing “Who Let the Dogs Out?” So don’t dump that old Radio Shack TRS-80 in the trash; instead, check out the Maryland Department of the Environment’s eCycling page (mde.state.md.us) to see who handles recycling for televisions, computers, stereos, and other electronics in your area. And if your office is looking to unload a bundle of old computers, call Edgewater-based Annapolis Office Technologies (443-336-3018), and they’ll take them off your hands for a fee.—J.S.

8 Adopt a River

Unlike a pet, you can’t cuddle with a river or name it or take it to the vet when it gets sick. But you can take care of it and
nurture it, and it will reward you with many happy hours of play. There are a dozen major rivers in the Chesapeake watershed and each one is indelibly connected to the health of the Bay. The Anacostia, Patuxent, Severn, South, James, Potomac, and the West/Rhode rivers all have riverkeepers, such as Severn riverkeeper, Fred Kelly (above), who could use a hand in spotting polluters, monitoring the waterway’s health, and cleaning up trash and debris. What a better way to ensure you’ll keep rollin’ on the river.
www.waterkeeper.org.—J.S.

9 Get an Energy Audit

That drafty basement may not just be keeping you cold, it may be costing you big bucks in energy costs. TerraLogos Green Home Services to the rescue. The Baltimore-based company will come to your home and conduct an energy audit to determine areas where you could be saving money. Drafty doors and windows could be a problem, but it’s more likely a poorly insulated basement or attic that’s sapping your greenbacks. Find out for sure by setting up an appointment. $345 and $495. 443-451-7130, http://www.terralogos.com.—J.S.

10 Dock at Clean Marinas

Thanks to Maryland’s Clean Marina Initiative, boaters can support venues that are committed to reducing water pollution. The program, implemented in 1998 by the Maryland Department of Natural Resources, requires participating marinas to excel in eight areas, including vessel maintenance repair, petroleum control, sewage handling, and storm water management. The program also teaches boaters how to keep clean with information on phosphate-free, biodegradable, and non-toxic detergents as well as a list of recycling centers that accept solvents and waste gasoline. So far, 103 marinas from Havre De Grace to Solomons Island are certified clean. Only some 500 more to go…www.dnr.state.md.us/-boating/cleanmarina.—K.B. 

11 Wear Grandma’s Clothes

Think of buying vintage clothing as doing your wardrobe—and the environment—a favor. After all, it’s no different than recycling. Check out the selection of hip frocks at Coco & Company. Owner Kim Ruark scours auctions and second-hand stores for hip, gently worn pieces, from June Cleaver-style, hook-and-eye wool cardigans to silk evening gowns to ’50s swirly A-line skirts. If your finds are just a hair too big, Rurak will arrange for custom tailoring. Who knew shopping could be so good for the earth? Coco & Company, 209 S. Talbot St., St. Michaels, Md. 410-745-3400, http://www.cocoandcompany.com.—K.B. 

12 Get a Green Dry

Clean Your clothes may be killing you. Most dry cleaners use a chemical called perchloroethylene, or perc, a solvent that removes organic matter from clothing. The chemical is classified as toxic waste by the EPA and has been proven
to affect the nervous system in cases of high exposure; plus, the chemical also contaminates the soil. But Dry Cleaning Station uses something called GreenEarth Solvent, a silicone-based solution that uses sand as its main ingredient and has been shown to clean garments more effectively and gently than perchloroethylene. Most importantly, GreenEarth can be safely disposed of because it breaks down within days into its basic compounds—sand, carbon dioxide, and water. Locations: South River Crossing, 3059 Solomons Island Rd., Annapolis. 410-956-6134; 4315 Mountain Rd., Pasadena, Md. 410-360-7712, http://www.drycleaning-stationatlantic.com.—J.S. 

13 Think Pink

The crustaceans at Marvesta Shrimp Farms enjoy clean living. Grown in five 100,000-gallon tanks filled with water trucked in from the Atlantic, they’re raised in an antibiotic-, hormone-, chemical-, and preservative-free environment. And since they’re farm raised, no ocean ecosystems or aquatic life is harmed during their harvest. Some 50,000 shrimp were shipped to restaurants last year and are now available online for the rest of us. Thanks to the company’s recent expansion to twenty-four tanks and a hatchery, these fresh little guys will likely be swimming to a supermarket near you. 410-943-1733, http://www.marvesta.com.—E.B.W.

14 Eat Green

If all goes according to Matt McLaughlin’s plan, The Rockfish will be a no-waste restaurant as of next summer. “I’ll just call up Waste Management and tell them to take their dumpster away,” says the general manager, who is transforming the Eastport restaurant into the region’s greenest eatery through a series of recycling, energy-reduction, and conservation programs. McLaughlin already takes all of the restaurant’s organic waste to a compost facility and has organized a recycling program for the businesses of Eastport. He grows organic herbs on the building’s roof (in soil made from the restaurant’s compost), and last winter, Rockfish purchased 1.14 million kilowatts of wind power renewable energy credits, enough juice to offset the business’s carbon footprint for the next three years. The restaurant boasts an eco-friendly menu, too: 80 percent of its seafood comes from sustainable sources. “Businesses in Anne Arundel County should be a national model for taking care of the local ecology, and we’re not,” says McLaughlin, whose restaurant is one of just two in Maryland certified by the EPA as a Green Power Partner. “There’s so much at stake here.” 400 Sixth St., Annapolis. 410-267-1800, http://www.rockfishmd.com.—J.S.

15 Sign up for a CSA

With housing developments replacing family farms in our area faster than the corn grows, joining a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) program not only guarantees fresh produce all summer but also helps a farmer know his crops will be sold. Here’s how it works: You sign up with a farmer, pay a monthly fee, and he or she delivers produce to you (or a mutually agreed upon meeting place) during the growing season. Your selection of produce depends on whatever the farmer grows—you might end up with ten pounds of zucchini—but at least it’s all farm fresh. Visit http://www.maryland-agriculture.info for a list of CSAs in Maryland.—J.S.

16 Step on It

Not all floors are created equal—or eco-friendly. The Green Heron Flooring Company is changing that with an abundance of sustainable flooring products made from the likes of bamboo, recycled linoleum, cork, and wool carpeting. Like the rugged look? How about flooring made from reclaimed barn wood, river-recovered heart pine, and plantation-raised exotic hardwoods? Also, check out the countertops made from recycled glass and granite. 114 South Cross St., Chestertown, Md. 410-810-3350, http://www.greenheronflooring.com.—K.B.

17 Build a Straw House

It’s easier to turn your home green than you think. Just ask Polly Bart, owner of Greenbuilders, a general contracting firm specializing in eco-friendly renovations and additions. No drywall used here; Bart’s work centers around environmentally friendly building techniques, including using salvaged building materials, straw bale construction, geothermal and solar energy units, green roofs, and low VOC (volatile organic chemicals) paints and finishes. Want to bring your office building up to standard as well? Bart is also a LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) accredited professional consultant for commercial projects. Besides, compost toilets make great fodder for lunchroom conversation… 410-833-4814, http://www.greenbuilders.com.—K.B.

18 Invest Green

If you’re an environmentalist who feels just a little bit uneasy about her mutual funds being invested in companies that harm the planet, check out Benchmark Asset Managers, a Philadelphia firm with a branch in Baltimore that only invests its clients’ money in environmentally and socially responsible companies. That means no oil companies, cigarette firms, casinos, or major polluters. So who’s both environmentally sound and profitable? “I like to give the example of two companies,” says John Campagna, managing director. “Hansen Natural Soda has been very concerned with recycling, and it also happens to be the highest returning stock of the last five years. And there’s also Virco, which makes most of the school desks in the country. They started taking back desks from schools and using parts to remake new ones. That way, they’ve cut costs, kept clients happy, and, from a business perspective, remained environmentally friendly.” Benchmark only accepts high-end clients ($500,000-plus), religious organizations, and nonprofits, so you’ll have to earn some green before investing green with them. 410-878-7084, http://www.benchmarkam.com.—J.S.

19 Get a Proper Pampering

When it comes to hair dye, Rachel Epstein sees red. The unhealthy mix of toxic chemicals convinced the long-time stylist to abandon traditional salon products when she became pregnant—and when she and her husband, Alan Kolb, opened Spout: An Organic Salon, in Baltimore’s Hampden neighborhood, they decided to keep the all-natural theme. “Rachel and I were just incorporating our basic values into every aspect of our lives, so it just made sense,” says Kolb. “You walk into a typical salon and you get that horrible smell. Our salon actually smells good.”  Clients receive a completely organic experience, from the plant- and mineral-based hair dyes to the all-natural shampoo and conditioning products to the vinegar water used to scrub the floors. If you’d like a green manicure or massage after your dye job, visit Renew Organic Day Spa down the street, which uses all organic products in its services, from massage oils to vegan nail polishes. 843 W. 36th St., Baltimore. 410-400-2745, http://www.renewdayspa21211.com. Sprout, 925 W. 36th St., Baltimore. 410-235-2269, sproutsalon.com.—J.S.

20 Volunteer for a Good Cause

 
There are so many environmental organizations in need of volunteers. You could be cleaning up streams or planting oyster beds or rescuing horseshoe crabs. So how do you find out which organization needs what? Several ways. WMPT’s “Chesapeake Bay Week” (mpt.org/bayweek/volunteer.shtml) lists the variety of bay nonprofits looking for help. Or punch up the website (volunteermatch.org) and select your geographic area plus “environment.” You’ll be getting your hands dirty—and the environment cleaner—in no time.—J.S.

21 Switch to Sustainable Energy

In an ideal world, we’d all get our energy from the sun or the wind or Rachael Ray. Barring any radical developments anytime soon, Clean Currents hopes to fill the void. The year-old, Rockville-based energy broker arranges for clean power contracts for both residential and business clients. And while you won’t necessarily be getting your power direct from windmills, the money you spend will provide a subsidy to electricity generated from renewable sources via renewable energy credits. President Gary Skulnik promises that Clean Currents can help find clients rates that are competitive to BGE or PEPCO, and his company will lock in that rate for up to three years without any price increases. “The only thing that changes is where your money is going,” says Skulnik. “You get more peace of mind knowing that you’re helping the environment.” 301-754-0430, http://www.cleancurrents.com.—J.S.

22 Snack Well

Not only is Chesapeake Fields helping keep the tradition of farming alive on the Shore, it’s giving serious snackers organic—and tasty—options. The organization, founded to create consumer products that increase the profitability of regional family farms, produces non-genetically modified snack foods, including several varieties of flavored popcorn, and soy chips, available at grocery and retail stores in the region. 410-810-2082, http://www.chesapeakefields.com.—K.B.

23 Take Root

Instead of heading to big-box stores for spring flowers, purchase your plantings at one of the region’s many native plant sales. Ideal venues include Adkins Arboretum, Historic London Town, and most garden and master gardener clubs. All have well-stocked annual and
bi-annual sales of homegrown trees, shrubs, and flowers that are indigenous to the Chesapeake watershed. (Visit the Maryland Native Plant Society web site (mdflora.org) for a list of regional sales). www.Adkinsarboretum.org; http://www.historic-londontown.com; Federated Garden Clubs of Maryland, http://www.hometown.aol.com/fgcofmd; Maryland Master Gardeners, http://www.mastergardener.umd.edu.—K.B.

24 Search & Rescue

The folks at Second Chance believe that architectural details should last a lifetime—several lifetimes, in fact. From Colonial Revival-style eight-pane widows to railing spindles to Victorian crystal door knobs—not to mention scads of cabinetry and doors—the nonprofit stocks hundreds of architectural details salvaged from condemned buildings and existing homes. The company, which boasts 150,000 square feet of warehouse space, also gives new life to the community by hiring and training low-income Baltimoreans in the art of carpentry and disassembling buildings. 1645 Warner St., Baltimore. 410-385-1101, http://www.secondchanceinc.org.—K.B.  

25 Shop Green

Looking for organic cotton sheets? A journal made from “tree-free” paper? Or a business card holder made from recycled bicycle chains? Baltimore’s Bluehouse is the area’s only complete green lifestyle store, stocking everything for your eco-friendly home or office. Choose from furniture made from oak wine barrels or reclaimed Brazilian barn wood, dinnerware fashioned from recycled glass, or colorful totes made from Luna Bar wrappers. And the store even carbon-offsets their deliveries. Now that’s shopping green. 1407 Fleet St., Baltimore. 877-276-1180, http://www.bluehouselife.com.—J.S.

26 Hug the Shoreline

The next time you take a stroll along the banks of the Bay, thank the folks at Environmental Concern in St. Michaels, Md. Since its inception in 1972, the organization has restored more than thirty-five miles of Chesapeake Bay shoreline on private and public lands. They also have the nation’s first wetland native plant nursery, comprised of thirteen acres, nineteen buildings, and two greenhouses. Not only are the plants grown for usage in stormwater management and restoration projects (they installed some 500,000 on Poplar Island in 2005), but 120 species, from blooming asters to soft bulrush, are for sale to the pubic. The bi-annual plant sales are worth cleaning out the back of the station wagon for. 201 Boundary Ln., St. Michaels, Md. 410-745-9620, http://www.wetland.org.—E.B.W.

27 Leave Your Land

It doesn’t matter if you have three or 30,000 acres: The Eastern Shore Land Conservancy wants to help you protect your land. Through programs such as conversation easements that restrict future development to estate plans that ensure the transfer of preserved land to the next generation, the ESLC is preventing precious—and rapidly disappearing—green space on the Shore from turning into strip malls and housing developments. Since 1990, it has preserved more than 40,000 acres as well as partnered with many counties to tackle growth issues. 410-827-9756, http://www.eslc.org.—K.B.

28 Get Fired Up

This is one restaurant that’s on a mission to “do the right thing.” Out of the Fire is one of the few regional eateries with an organic food-focus. Here, diners enjoy the likes of antibiotic- and hormone-free meats and chicken, locally grown veggies, organic wines, and quinoa (an ancient, gluten-free grain). And proceeds from Wednesday nights go to the new Out of the Fire Foundation, which supports environmentally and socially minded children’s charities. “I am making changes gradually, like not offering sugary sodas but suggesting Steaz Green Tea Soda sweetened with stevia [a natural sweetener made from the stevia leaf],” says owner Amy Haines. “I live my life this way at home, so why shouldn’t I do this at work?” Seems to be working. Locals and visitors alike beat feet to the door—yet leave very small (carbon) footprints. 22 Goldsborough St., Easton, Md. 410-770-4777, http://www.outofthefire.com.—E.B.W.

29 Use Alternative Fuels

If you’ve got a diesel engine in your car, truck, boat or tractor, it only makes sense to use biodiesel. The alternative fuel, made locally from soybean oil, releases fewer harmful emissions, eases our dependence on foreign oil, and best of all, smells like french fries when it burns. Cropper Oil, located in Berlin, was Maryland’s first biodiesel manufacturer when it opened in 2006. You can fill up with one of three grades of biodiesel at its pumps, located at 10535 Ocean Gateway, 410-641-2251. Cropper also sells home heating oil made from 5 percent biodiesel. Closer to the Bay Bridge, the Hillside Quick Serve in Centreville (2640 Centreville Rd.) also has biodiesel available at the pump.—J.S.

30 Play In the Dirt

Ever wonder what happens to the shells when you buy a pound of local backfin crabmeat? It’s likely they’ve become an ingredient in Chesapeake Blue, one of the four types of organic soil enhancement products made by Bay Organics, a composting facility in Hurlock. The company is helping the local environment by finding new uses for seafood byproducts from local crab houses. Chicken waste is golden here, too. In Chesapeake Green, chicken byproducts (everything from the beaks to the feet) are used to create a lawn care
product, while HY-CAL uses hatchery byproducts to create a top dressing for athletic fields and golf fairways. “We provide a cost effective and environmentally sound alternative to landfills, proving you can make a silk purse out of a crab’s claw,” says owner Lonnie Heflin, 410-349-9396, http://www.bayorganics.com.—K.B.

31 Care for the Critters

Who says organic food is just for people? Crunchies Natural Pet Foods
in Crofton, Md., stocks all-natural and holistic foods and vitamins for cats and dogs. Hard-to-find Natura pet foods, like Innova EVO dry cat and dog food, are a big seller. Also check out Artemis holistic dry food, made with real veggies and probiotics, and Wellness WellBars, treats made from whitefish, sweet potatoes, and whole grains. Freeze-dried and frozen Steve’s Real Food dinners await pets who prefer ingredients such as duck, liver, sardine oil, and broccoli for supper. If your pets had thumbs, they’d stick them up. 2421 Crofton Ln., Crofton, Md. 301-261-6280, http://www.crunchies.com.—E.B.W.

NOVEMBER 2007

100 Chesapeake Classics

You know them when you see them, those icons of the Bay, from blue crabs to crabby Willy Don. Here's our salute to the region's unforgettable people, places, and things.

Written by Donna Bozza
Kessler Burnett
Kathy H. Ely
Joe Sugarman
Bill Thompson
Elizabeth B. Wrightson
Mary K. Zajac

1 Love it or hate it, the region was forever changed by the William Preston Lane, Jr., Memorial Bridge, aka the Bay Bridge, upon its completion in 1952. On its opening day, July 30, a throng of 20,000 came to see then-Gov. Theodore McKeldin (and Francis the Talking Mule) lead a caravan across what he called “the most outstanding single accomplishment that Maryland has ever undertaken.”

Its 4.35-mile length made it the third longest bridge in the world and the longest continuous-over-water steel structure. Traffic always exceeded expectations, spawning a three-lane westbound span in 1973. Today, as annual traffic nears 25 million cars (predicted to increase by 40 percent in twenty years), old ideas, including a return to ferries or trains—or another new span—are being floated by planners and politicians. Still, since that momentous day in 1952, the Eastern Shore has never been the same.—J.S.

2 Just the sight of orange glass crab dishes makes our mouths water. These fifties icons, which graced many a grandmother’s table, were usually vessels for golden crab imperial. Now they’re an eBay staple, though not rare enough to go for more than around twenty dollars. If only we could find ours!—K.H.E.

3 How many ways are there to prepare an oyster? Eat, Drink and be Merry in Maryland, Frederick Philip Stieff’s classic anthology of Maryland recipes, lists twenty-one, including raw, fricasseed, panned, baked, pickled (!), in a loaf, in stew, in pie, with ham on toast, and in a cocktail. Oysters, in fact, have their own chapter in the cookbook, a single-ingredient honor shared only with terrapin and ham. (Take that, crabs!)—M.Z.

4 A debate has raged for years as to whether Newport or Annapolis is America’s sailing capital. Annapolis’s United States Sailboat Show seals the deal for us. The “boat show” is the world’s largest of its kind—and one of the only still privately owned. Its been going strong down at the City Dock since 1970, attracting 50,000 visitors, with more than 600 sailboats for sale. The sister powerboat show the following week offers twice as many boats to ogle.—E.B.W.

5 So what if its waters are occasionally so contaminated with bacteria that you can’t safely swim off its beaches, or that, when the wind blows just right, diesel truck fumes waft off the Bay Bridge? Sandy Point State Park has been the site of some of the Bay’s best festivals, celebrating everything from Mid-Atlantic wines to seafood to the blues. It’s also a great spot to go fishing, launch a boat, or spot waterfowl—and so much better than private balconies hogging all the great views of the Bay.—J.S.

6 It was the local Indians who created lacrosse, with hand-carved wood sticks and rawhide strings. Now it’s the darling of prep school and college jocks everywhere (even if they are taking the off-the-field antics a bit far). If there were ever a Chesapeake sport, this is it.—K.H.E.

7 For many, eating crabs without Old Bay is as unthinkable as peanut butter without jelly. But most people don’t know that this Chesapeake classic was created by a Jewish refugee from Nazi Germany, Gustav Brunn. Owned by McCormick Spice Co. these days, Old Bay has expanded beyond the Chesapeake into the nation’s kitchens. Need proof? Witness the host of recipes on the company’s website suggested by people from New Jersey to Indiana. Indiana? Can you even get crabs there?—J.S.

8 For one weekend every winter over the last sixty years, Dorchester County’s muskrats fear for their lives. The National Muskrat Skinning Championship, the highlight of the National Outdoor Show, is a combination Olympic event and rodent apocalypse, in which contestants, from pre-teens to senior citizens, use their sharpest wits—and knives—in a battle for skinning supremacy. But the Outdoor Show is not all blood and fur. There’s a duck-calling contest, outdoor-related goods a-plenty, and the crowning of Miss Outdoors. In a place where golf course resorts are threatening to infringe on well-practiced ways of life, the National Outdoor Show gives us a strange sense of comfort. Of course, the muskrats would probably disagree…—J.S.

9 Long a landmark on the way to the beach, Holly’s was founded in Grasonville in 1955 by Thomas and Mary Ewing. Ewing’s daughter-in-law, Kay Ewing Maloney, still runs the place, and hasn’t changed the restaurant much since she took over in 1987. The green-and-white tile floor, wood-paneling, and paper placemats remain familiar sights, and all the food is still made on the premises, including the vegetable crab soup, touted as “the best on the Eastern Shore.”—J.S.

10 Carson City ain’t got nothing on Frontier Town. With its very own contingent of ruthless outlaws,  sheriffs sporting white hats, and sassy can-can girls, Frontier Town has been thrilling kids who love all things western since 1959. Daily stage coach robberies, shoot-outs at the OK Corral, and bank robberies make its dusty streets just as exciting as the real Wild West.—K.B.

11 It’s hard to believe that a fourteen-mile-long ditch could change the course of history and commerce. Yet when the C&D Canal opened in 1824, it did just that. After almost a century of planning, the canal finally connected the Delaware River and the Chesapeake Bay with the Port of Baltimore. The waterway, which shaved 300 nautical miles from the previous route around the peninsula, is now the second busiest canal in the country, and delivers more than 40 percent of Baltimore’s shipping traffic.—K.H.E.

12 Blue crabs aside, Southern Maryland owns the bragging rights on another regional delicacy: stuffed ham. Natives of Charles and Calvert counties, and particularly St. Mary’s, have been cooking up ham filled with a mixture of tangy greens since the early seventeenth century. Ham lore has it that some thrifty cook once decided to stuff the boneless cavity of a ham hock with kale, cabbage, onions, and spices, and—voilà—a Bay classic was born.—J.S.

13 The Little Crab House that Could It’s hard to believe that Phillips Restaurant, that of crab cake fame, of Tudor-style timbers and long waits in line, is celebrating its fiftieth birthday. Yet it was fifty years ago that Brice and Shirley Phillips moved their family to Ocean City and opened their first restaurant—a one-room carryout on 21st Street—as a way to sell the leftover crabs from their Hooper’s Island packing house. (Heck, it’s even harder to believe that there could ever be the problem of too many crabs).

As the business grew, the Phillips’s added dining room after dining room to the original structure. During the season, recalls Joanna Phillips, granddaughter of Brice and Shirley (and the company’s marketing manager), the family would live in rooms above the restaurant, and the cooks and wait staff had their own bunk rooms. (Later, dorms would be added.) “All of us, my cousins, my brother and I, started out working there,” Joanna says of her own stint in the mid 1980s.

Today, the Phillips’ empire includes nine restaurants in four states plus D.C., and a seafood company that handles between twelve and fourteen million pounds of crabmeat—mostly imported from Asia—per year. (Phillips’ plant in Locust Point alone handles two million pounds of crabmeat, for crab cakes from Shirley Phillips’ original recipe.) But while the black cans of Phillips’ crabmeat may be ubiquitous, it’s the 21st Street restaurant that captures the true charm of the family endeavor. Says granddaughter Joanna with pride: “Phillips is still a
destination in Ocean City. It’s still considered an event for a lot of people who grew up going there on vacation.”—M.Z.

14 There are so many reasons why Chick n’ Ruth’s Delly made this list: It’s one of the oldest, continuously run businesses in downtown Annapolis (founded in 1965 by Chick and Ruth Levitt); you can order the sandwiches by name (We’ll always think of former Maryland Governor Marvin Mandel as chopped liver and corned beef) the staff leads the Pledge of Allegiance every morning; the pickles are free. The list could go on, but above all, it’s the tasty food and friendly service that keeps us—and thousands of other hungry diners—coming back.—J.S.

15 It takes about one year for an oyster to mature but less than two seconds to down the poor thing. We don’t know who actually invented the oyster shooter, but it’s pure brilliance in its simplicity: one fat Chesapeake bivalve swimming in a shot glass of cocktail sauce followed by a pop of cold beer. We’ll drink to that.—J.S.

16 Our own “ol’ blue eyes,” baseball legend Cal Ripken thrilled the world with a host of records, including his ironman stint. But hometown fans have long known—and loved—the family Ripken. From dad, Cal, Sr., so familiar over almost four decades as a line coach and later Orioles’ manager, to brother Billy, also a major leaguer and O’s alum; even mom Vi urging them all on.

But they’re not resting on their laurels. After Cal started up the Aberdeen Ironbirds, and built The Ripken Baseball Complex, the brothers are continuing their father’s legacy with the Ripken Youth Baseball Academy, housed at the Aberdeen site, hosting an annual youth World Series as well as camps and programs throughout the year. The cool thing is that the kids will play in a miniature Camden Yards, fittingly named for Cal, Sr.—K.H.E.

17 Tucked into a nondescript business park in Stevensville, Md., lies an unusual factory that makes beautiful music. World-class musicians, from Carlos Santana to Dave Matthews, have made their way to Paul Reed Smith for his quality guitars, many with distinctive birds inlaid between the frets. Smith started making custom guitars in Annapolis back in his college days; thirty-plus years later, more than 200 employees are cranking out thousands of instruments per year. They’ve just broken ground on an expansion that will quadruple the size of the factory, with room for a museum. Rock on!—K.H.E.

18 Way before Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat, a little lady from Bucktown, Md., made huge strides for her African-American compatriots. Born into slavery around 1820 on a Dorchester County estate, Harriet Tubman stole away to Philadelphia to establish her own freedom in the 1840s. During her lifetime, the brave soul personally saved more than 300 other slaves, and helped to spirit thousands more north as a conductor on the Underground Railroad. Though she settled and died (in her nineties) in Auburn, N.Y., her roots in our region are strong. Her birthplace is marked at the Brodess Plantation, just south of Cambridge.—K.H.E.

19 By their very nature, remote and steeped in tradition, Smith and Tangier islands have long captured the imaginations of outsiders, drawn to the real Chesapeake working life tradition: the crabbing, oystering, and fishing that define the local inhabitants’ livelihood. Low tide reveals that the two islands were once one. Years of erosion finally split them, and their individual characters took over. Distinct accents persist on the two islands, which now exist in separate states. Tangier welcomes an increasing number of visitors, who come by boat to enjoy its long, narrow, and friendly village; Smith also owes much of its economy to tourists who explore its three small towns and sample its famous cakes. The marshlands of both draw flocks of birders, and the unique settings have inspired reams of writer, photographers, and painters.—K.H.E.

20 They began as pick-up races among those working on the dugouts, but someone was smart enough to organize log canoe races (left) in St. Michaels in 1840, where a rivalry grew and boats were soon made just for the competition. The Chesapeake Bay Log Sailing Canoe Association was born in 1933. And, today, many still race—and flip—their over-canvassed canoes into sea nettles every weekend without ever letting go of their Bud.—E.B.W.

21 We know the deep roots of the South Pacific and Hawaii from his major epics. But when James Michener moved to St. Michaels to pen Chesapeake in the late seventies, he met with a welcome and a rich subject. And he left us with a sweeping narrative that’s a fine primer on Eastern Shore lore. But we still wonder, who was that first Indian to actually bite into a blue crab?—K.H.E.

22 Elkton has a “quickie wedding tradition” that rivals Sin City’s matrimonial morals. Prior to 1938, the town drew couples from all over to its slew of chapels ready to hitch up folks at the drop of a hat (no license required). Now the annual National Marriage Day, held each June, celebrates the tradition. A mere $40 gets you champagne, cake, and a carriage ride through town. (You’ll need another $30 for a license.) Oh, and hearty congratulations for a lovely future.—K.H.E.

23 The smoke rising over Route 404 is a telltale sign that the fellas of the Bridgeville Kiwanis Club are back at the grills, cooking
up great barbecued chicken. Hordes heading to the beach have been stopping at the roadside stand since the sixties. Thirty-plus members of the local charity organization volunteer as cooks, and, says barbecue chairman Dan Vanderwende, all the profits (upwards of $2 million over the last forty-five years) go back to the community for scholarships, emergency loans, and the like.—K.H.E.

24 Okay, so a rockfish is really a striped bass, but who cares? Marylanders know it as rock, so rockfish it will be. As legend goes, the fish was once so plentiful near Rock Hall that folks said they would jump into your boat; no need to toss a line. Then an over-fishing scare caused a four-year-long moratorium in the eighties. Now the delicious flaky filets grace Chesapeake tables once again. Thank heavens!—M.Z.

25 They once dotted the fields of Southern Maryland and beyond, spacious wood-frame barns that opened to reveal the hanging sheaths of tobacco drying within. But these iconic tobacco barns have become an endangered Chesapeake landmark, victims of development and smoking backlash. To the rescue is the Southern Maryland Tobacco Barns Preservation Initiative, which is working in Anne Arundel, Prince George’s, Calvert, Charles, and St. Mary’s counties to preserve these symbols of our rural heritage.—K.B.

26 The crab may be our regional symbol, but the Chesapeake Bay Retriever is surely our pet of choice. As the story goes, the breed was spawned from Newfie pups, Sailor and Canton, rescued from a sinking English ship in 1807 by a Maryland captain. This powerful and efficient retriever was born to do the undesirable job of finding and returning downed fowl, made possible by a coat with a double layer of fur: thick on top for warmth, oily underneath to keep dry. The first time a Chesapeake was shown at a Kennel Club show, it was suggested that they be dunked in ice water so the judges did not miss the purpose of such a frizzy, oily coat.—E.B.W.

27 Master Photographers
Of all the people who ever pointed a camera at our region, these two photographers were undoubtedly the most skilled, prolific, and thoughtful at capturing what makes the Chesapeake region unique. A. Aubrey Bodine, the longtime photographer for the Sunpapers, specialized in “pictorial photography,” using the darkroom to manipulate images, pre-computer.  His moody, iconic shots of skipjacks, watermen, and regional landmarks (like Wye Oak, above) are still reprinted frequently in magazines and books. Though Marion E. Warren was born in Montana, he became enmeshed in the region after moving to Annapolis in 1947. Years as an official photographer for the state of Maryland honed his photography skills and provided a treasure trove of images from around the region. The eighty-six-year-old was still signing and selling his prints from the Annapolis Publishing Collection on State Circle when he died this past September. Both are missed, but their images will live forever.—J.S.

28 It was bigger than a circus tent and older than William Donald Schaefer, and we always thought we could lie in its shade forever. When the Wye Oak finally fell during a storm on June 6, 2002, at more than 460 years old, it marked the death of the nation’s largest white oak tree—and the birth of a new industry. In the years since its demise, wood from the tree has been used to make everything from guitars to oyster shucking knives to the governor’s desk. The Giving Tree, indeed.—J.S.

29 There’s just something about bamboo, a grass roof, and mai-tais that make us—and throngs of others—think of summer. Solomons Island Tiki Bar’s annual opening in April, which draws more than ten thousand people, signals the start of bathing suit season better than any weatherman could.—J.S.

30 Is it really the world’s largest crab feast? If not, the Annapolis Rotary Crab Feast is hard to beat. This year, on its sixty-first anniversary, Rotarians ordered up 390 bushels of crabs, 3,400 ears of corn, 130 gallons of crab soup, 1,800 hot dogs, 150 pounds of beef barbecue, and hundreds of gallons of soft drinks and beer for the 2,400 people who attended the annual summer event, held at Navy-Marine Corps Memorial Stadium. All funds raised by the event are donated to local charities—more than $47,000 in 2005.—M.Z.

31 Maryland’s Eastern Shore has a justified reputation for tasty fried chicken, but perhaps the tastiest of all can be found just over the state border, in Melfa, Va. Tammy & Johnny’s, named after owner Ronnie Edward’s son and daughter, has been serving up perfect, amazingly greaseless fried chicken since 1967. How sublime is this bird? Just ask the recently unemployed folks at the nearby KFC and Popeye’s, both of which couldn’t compete with T&J’s golden-fried goodness.—J.S.

32 In 1774, citizens of Chestertown followed the Bostonians’ lead and chucked their own tea stash, that on the brigantine Geddes, into the Chester River and resolved to be done with the tea trade. In 1968, the local residents began commemorating the event with what is now known as the Chestertown Tea Party Festival, complete with a re-enacted tea dump, a colonial parade, crafts, English country dancing, and appearances by Ben Franklin and George Washington.—M.Z.

33 Discover what millions of Canada and snow geese already know: Blackwater Wildlife Refuge’s 27,000 acres of water, marsh, and woodlands outside of Cambridge, Md., is a national treasure. The refuge, with its prime location on the Atlantic Flyway, is an important waterfowl sanctuary.
New kayak paddling trails through the marsh, plus miles of hiking trails, have made this a refuge for nature lovers as well, hoping to spy a falcon or bald eagle. A recent fight has ensued over proposed development near the refuge, which could harm one of the Eastern Shore’s most well-loved nature spots.—K.H.E.

34 You don’t often see crazy guys (and gals) galloping at breakneck speed (often in suits of armor) thrusting a ten-foot spike into a little metal ring. But jousting is Maryland’s state sport, with tournaments taking place throughout the region, most regally at Crownsville’s annual Renaissance Festival.—K.H.E.

35 When the Ark and the Dove landed on these southern Maryland shores in 1634, they brought Catholic Englishmen in search of religious freedom. Today, reenactments, a replica of the Dove (which sails the Chesapeake on goodwill missions), and numerous restored seventeenth-century buildings provide living history at its best in St. Mary’s City.—K.H.E.

36 The menu at hundreds of bull & oyster roasts is pretty much the same no matter the sponsor, be it the Mid-Atlantic German Shepherd Rescue, the Baltimore County Bar Association, or the Air Conditioning Contractors of America. There are oysters prepared every imaginable way, juicy pit beef piled high on rolls, beer, and the always puzzling term “set-ups,” (those mixers to dilute your supplied spirits), accompanied by salads, sides, and local homemade desserts. We’re not sure where or even how this local tradition started, but look to your neighborhood firehouse or not so fancy banquet hall every fall, and you’re sure to find a party centered around this down-home version of surf and turf.—M.Z.

37 Looking for a mahogany mantelpiece? Or maybe the gas tank to a 1924 Model T Ford? You’ll likely find both at Dixon’s Auction in Crumpton, Md. Since 1963, the weekly auction has drawn everyone from New York antiques dealers sniffing out a bargain to local collectors in search of the perfect thingamagig. The auction (really three separate auctions occurring simultaneously) takes place rain or shine, year-round, every Wednesday except Christmas. The action starts at 9 a.m. and continues until everything is going…going…gone.—J.S.

38 As you’re driving own Route 13 in Olney, you can’t miss Turner Sculpture, a striking gallery/studio/ foundry with giant Bay creatures outside. In less than twenty-five years, the father and son team of Bill and David Turner have forged reputations as Chesapeake sculpting icons. And they’ve done it with the emblematic natural symbols of their surroundings: blue heron, ducks, and geese, all frozen in bronze.—K.H.E.

39 Starring in 200 of his own TV commercials, Frank Perdue convinced us that “It takes a tough man to make a tender chicken,” and thanks to those trustworthy, forlorn blue eyes, we believed him.

The Salisbury native’s father, Arthur, started Perdue Farms in 1920, with Frank taking the helm in 1952, transforming it into the nation’s third largest chicken company. His success came from his decision to peddle his poultry in New York as well as his pioneering vision to advertise on TV, where—with a heavy does of humor and eerie physical resemblance to a chicken—he and his birds became a household name.—K.B.

40 The man spent more than five decades in public service, often capturing the media’s attention with his devil-may-care attitude. But, in the end, it was political correctness rather than politics that cost William Donald Schaefer his latest bid for state office. Marylanders have much to thank him for, including championing Oriole Park at Camden Yards and the National Aquarium in Baltimore. The National Organization of Women will thank him for leaving town.—J.S.

41 Even those who can’t bear to pick it agree that the blue crab is one of the Bay’s most versatile and tastiest gourmet treats: You can steam it, broil it, or fry it up in a pan. You can roll it into a ball, flatten it into a patty, or crack it open directly from the shell. And it complements more recipes than you can shake a chicken neck at, from casseroles to pasta dishes to cold salads. It’s the culinary glue that has been bringing Chesapeake families together at summertime feasts for
centuries.—K.B.

42 At the turn of the nineteenth century, more than forty screwpile lighthouses graced the Bay. Today, we are down to four, with only one in its original rocky spot (Thomas Point Shoal, 1875). The unique design came from an Irish engineer, Alexander Mitchell, who created it as an inexpensive alternative to the straight towers, more suited to sandy and muddy bottoms. The name comes from its central corkscrew-like pile, which is set first and then surrounded by six or eight perimeter piles that are screwed in place, eliminating the need for underwater masonry.—E.B.W.

43 Annie Oakley—and her gun—made a huge splash around the world as part of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, along with her famous co-entertainers Bill Cody and vaudeville marksman—and future husband—Frank Butler. Annie and Frank built a retirement home outside of Cambridge—it’s the only surviving residence (now privately owned) of the popular entertainer and suffragette. Local lore has it that she could step out on her specially designed roof to shoot game off the Choptank River.—K.H.E.

44 Any inn that has been going full-tilt boogie for 110 years must have something going for it. Harrison’s combination of country accommodations, spectacular water views, and “no apologies, lots of butter” cooking is what keeps everyone coming back to the Tilghman Island eatery. You won’t find veal reductions, but you will get hot crabs, cold beer, and the liveliest deck bar around. Arrive by boat, arrive by car, but don’t arrive on a diet.—E.B.W.

45 The old salts of Annapolis know where to find their turnbuckles and sea boots. Fawcett Boat Supplies has been outfitting boats of all stripes with everything from Honda 4-strokes to Harken sailing equipment for more than a half century. No easy feat for a store with no room to grow and all those chain stores moving into its territory.—E.B.W.

46 Perhaps it plays into the universal childhood “I want a pony” dream, but there is no denying that those stocky, wild ponies living on Assateague Island put neighboring Chincoteague on the map, starting with the first Pony Penning in 1924. The internationally known event continues each July, when the town’s volunteer firemen serve as saltwater cowboys, rounding up the ponies and driving them across the channel for the annual auction. The event inspired Marguerite Henry’s 1947 children’s book, Misty of Chincoteague, which hit the big screen in 1960. (It was filmed right on the island.) Now even strangers of the Eastern Shore of Virginia know that Chincoteague’s “where the ponies swim!”—D.B.

47 For better or for worse, English’s has been the Shore’s favorite family restaurant since 1951. Renowned for its kettle-fried crispy chicken, sweet potato biscuits, and diner atmosphere (heavy on the chrome and red vinyl), English’s was once twenty-two restaurants strong in its heyday. Now, the only eatery in the chain that remains is on 15th Street in Ocean City, where patrons can still find its original comfort food-inspired menu, complete with twenty side dishes. Longing for a piece of the past? English’s devotees can make a pilgrimage to the American Diner Museum in Providence, R.I., where the steel dining box car belonging to the chain’s first restaurant, formerly located in Salisbury, Md., is proudly on display.—K.B.

48 We grew up thinking the “land of pleasant living” in its jingle was somewhere exotic, like along the Great Lakes of Michigan or the wilds of Minnesota. But Natty Boh, officially National Bohemian beer, was our very own, “brewed on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay.” The iconic logo still lives on for a new generation, gracing the Baltimore skyline (even though the beer is brewed in North Carolina by Pabst.)—K.H.E.

49 Saving the Bay Are we saving the Chesapeake Bay or paving it? The answer isn’t always clear or reassuring, but one thing’s certain: There’s no shortage of organizations championing the benefits of making the Bay healthier. Today’s formalized Save the Bay movement began in 1967, with an upstart volunteer group called the Chesapeake Bay Foundation (CBF). CBF now claims 116,600 members and a staff of more than 160. Not much goes on with the Bay without CBF in a leading role, fighting nearly every environmental fray withinthe vast watershed.

But CBF isn’t the only nonprofit watchdog group out there. The Maryland League of Conservation Voters is small but feisty and keeps a scorecard on politicians’ environmental records. The Alliance for the Chesapeake Bay distributes the best publication about what’s happening around the Chesapeake. The 1000 Friends of Maryland pushes a cleaner Bay as well as safer roads and more affordable housing.

Quasi-government organizations formed to promote Bay restoration include the Chesapeake Bay Program and the Chesapeake Bay Commission. But the movement has its grassroots components as well, from consortia, school groups, Girl and Boy Scout troops, to lone voices preaching the clean water mantra. And the Chesapeake thanks them all.—B.T.

50 Call ‘em damn Yankees or come-heres, but in 1884, Pennsylvanian tycoons William L. Scott and Alexander Cassatt (Mary’s brother) brought a railroad—and prosperity—to the tiny Eastern Shore of Virginia. Connecting the North to the South with a revolutionary idea of floating train cars across the Bay (which continues to this day), the railroad’s tracks were laid down in the center of the rural region, birthing a legion of towns along the way. The shortline lives on as Bay Coast Railroad, a freight and future tourist excursion train, proving that the little railroad that could still can.—D.B.

51 Part Charles Kuralt, part Mark Twain, Scorchy Tawes is one of the Chesapeake’s great storytellers. For twenty-five years, Scorchy (named for the blond color the summertime sun bleached his hair) worked for Salisbury-based WBOC-TV, getting his start in 1975 as the host of the fishing show, “Outdoor Report.” In 1977, the station hired the Crisfield native to write/host his very own Monday night feature, “Scorchy’s Corner,” when he took viewers inside the homes and workplaces of everyday folks, from watermen to coffeeshop owners to chicken farmers, proving the old adage that everyone has a story to tell. He invariably ended the program bidding viewers adieu after another segment spent “wandering this Delmarvalous land.” Tawes retired in 1998 after airing more than 2,000 stories, and now, at the age of eighty-six, spends his time photographing the great outdoors.—K.B. 

52 Larry Albright may well be the arch enemy of every goose, deer, and duck that dare traverse the farmlands of the Eastern Shore. But to hunters, he’s man’s next-best friend. With a full stock of all things camouflage, Albright’s Gun Shop in Easton has been a mecca, since 1982, for serious sportsmen clientele, who range from game wardens to high-powered politicos. And now she-hunters have a haven of their own: In November, Albright’s opens its first women’s store, Albright’s at The Tidewater, in The Tidewater Inn. Looks like the term “shotgun
wedding” just got a whole new meaning.—K.B.

53 Wander the shoreline of Calvert Cliffs, and you step waaay back in time. Consider what has happened here—how the sea carved these magnificent cliffs over 15 million years ago, how creatures known to us only through their bones made Maryland their home. Fossils of more than 600 different species have been found here, including shards of the pig-like peccary, crocodiles, and even mastodons. Sharks’ teeth still litter the sand. What, we wonder when thinking of the nuclear plant nearby, might someone find 15 million years hence?—M.Z.

54 Ever since Maryland’s first steeplechasing event in 1873, it’s been a spring tradition for the local horsey set to pack an elegant tailgate, don woolen hounds-tooth jackets, and cheer on jockeys and their horses, bounding over fences in sprawling farm fields. Among the dozen steeplechase competitions throughout the region, the Marlborough Hunt Races at Roedown Farm in Davidsonville is one of the most popular point-to-point events, drawing thousands each April, rain or shine, to Anne Arundel County’s horse-country tradition.—K.H.E.

55 Skipjack
Hail the skipjack, Maryland’s state boat and member of America’s last commercial sailing fleet. It was cold, hard winter work that these shallow-draft, late-nineteenth-century oyster boats made possible; there were 700 registered in 1880, many sinking to the gunwales from the weight of their catch. In 2006, their numbers stand at a dozen or five (depending on whom you ask), most cruising the waters as floating classrooms and private charters.—E.B.W.

56 Reported sightings of a Nessie-like, ninety-foot sea serpent plying the Chesapeake waters surfaced more than a century ago. (See story on pg. 131.) The creature (or its cousins), dubbed Chessie, was spotted as late as the 1980s, but scientists still can’t verify it’s anything more than a myth.—K.H.E.

57 Sure, Illinois gets to claim Abraham Lincoln, but we get George Washington. President numero uno was born on the shores of Popes Creek on Virginia’s Northern Neck in 1732. His boyhood home is long gone, but at the site’s interpretive center, visitors can still take in the same views that inspired America’s first leader. —J.S.

58 It’s the ultimate mystery meat, an acquired taste typically enjoyed at breakfast, preferably fried up crispy and thin, or thick and chewy, slathered in ketchup. Ralph and Paul Adams founded RAPA Scrapple in 1926, using up assorted pig parts to make a poor staple for tough times. Although it’s been eaten up by Jones Dairy, a conglomerate out of Wisconsin, the company continues its local manufacturing of numerous modern-flavored versions (with bacon, hot and spicy) in Bridgeville, Del. Celebrate the gray meat at the town’s annual scrapple festival each September.—K.H.E.

59 Walk into any crab house on the Bay, and it hits you—that briny freshness of crustaceans coupled with the salty spiciness of Old Bay and a hint of stale beer. In classic joints such as Cantler’s, The Red Roost, The Crab Claw, and many more, pull up to tables wrapped in brown paper like packages ready for the post office, next to generations of families wielding wooden mallets with ease, tapping and cracking and crushing the claws of mediums, jumbos, or colossals. Grandma pulls the apron off a crab. Dad offers up a shard of claw meat to his little daughter. Pitchers of beer disappear. This is summer on the Chesapeake.—M.Z.

60 There are several great oyster festivals along the Bay, but only St. Mary’s County bivalve blowout features the National Oyster Shucking Contest. The St. Mary’s Oyster Festival, held on the third weekend of every October, pits man (and woman) against twenty-four oysters. Whomever shucks them in the fastest time—two minutes forty-one seconds is the record—wins.—J.S.

61 The incomparable Vera Freeman, who stood watch over her namesake restaurant for more than half a century, finally sold her eccentric eatery last year, but her legacy—and the tchotchkes assembled from her travels—still shines at Vera’s White Sands Beach Club and Marina. New owners have spruced the place up and revamped the menu, but its quirky Polynesia-meets-Calvert County vibe remains. Actor Robert Mitchum, who, in the 1960s, famously leapt off his yacht into Vera’s and declared, “Gimme a drink, right away,” would undoubtedly approve.—J.S.

62 Chief Little Owl was erected in 2002 to welcome all who venture into town. The Bethany Beach totem pole, a Nanticoke Indian carved in cedar with the head of an eagle facing north, replaced its 1976 predecessor, Whispering Giant (which decayed). Both were carved and presented to the town by Hungarian sculptor Peter Wolf Toth. It’s one of a series of sixty-seven totems he created to stand in all fifty states and Canadian provinces.—K.H.E.

63 His nautical CV includes tactician on the 1977 America’s Cup on Courageous, ESPN sailing analyst, all-American collegiate sailor, and author. Heck, Gary Jobson’s movie-star looks even earned him a spotlight in a Dewar’s Scotch profile. Annapolis’s Jobson has made a career out of marketing his talents: world-class sailing—and talking. He continues to pack lecture halls across the world with old salts who crave a taste for the kind of back-to-the-wall action that only life on the high seas can bring.—K.B.

64 When seventeen-year-old Kunta Kinte was brought to Annapolis from his native Gambia in 1767, he could never forsee the impact of his legacy. Kinte played a major role in Alex Haley’s Pulitzer Prize-winning book, Roots, which inspired African-Americans throughout North America to research their own genealogies and take pride in their ancestors’ struggles. When the Kunta Kinte-Alex Haley Memorial was completed on Annapolis’s City Dock in 2002, it became the only memorial in the United States to commemorate the actual name and place of arrival of an enslaved African.—J.S.

65 When it comes to freeing the steamed crab’s meat from its shell, no machine has been invented that can compete with a human. So, today’s crab harvests are picked much the same way as they were a century ago, in picking houses that once dotted waterfront Bay towns.
Nimble-fingered crab pickers—traditionally women, because many of the men were out on workboats—sit at metal tables with small knives prying the white meat from the shell. Now, few houses remain, with Latinos taking up the slack from a diminishing African-American workforce. But the rich tradition of that force remains, as they belt out a pantheon of sea shanties and religious songs to pass the tedious hours at the picking table.—B.T.

66 Chowing Down, Downy Ocean
Summer vacation ain’t vacation without french fries, pizza, and saltwater taffy. As luck would have it, our local traditions in these beach food delicacies are strong. Thrasher’s of Ocean City has been at the top of the french-fry heap for more than seventy-five years. Its original boardwalk stand still draws long lines for its potatoes deep fried in peanut oil, best served, as generations know, with a splash of vinegar. Local competitor Boardwalk Fries, founded in 1980 and now a franchise gone nationwide, gives them a run for their money.

Delaware beachgoers have long argued the merits of Nicola vs. Grotto pizza; you were the dedicated citizen of one or the other, never both. Teenager Dominick Pulieri and family members started up a little pizza business named Grotto in 1960, giving out samples on the boardwalk. The family-owned Nicola Pizza came along in Rehoboth Beach in 1971; it’s mostly known for the delicacy known as a Nic-o-boli (rolled-up pockets of pizza deliciousness). We still know families that ship home frozen Nic-o-bolis for winter grazing, but Grotto has edged ahead in popularity, spawning numerous franchises off the beach and into Pennsylvania.

Dolle’s has been serving four generations of candy-craving tourists, creating the original Ocean City saltwater taffy in 1910; its iconic script logo still defines the Rehoboth skyline. And sweet tooths have flocked to Ocean City-based Candy Kitchen, with its familiar orange-and-pink stores dotting Ocean Highway, since its family beginnings in 1937. Sweet.—K.H.E.

67 Assateague has always been in the shadow of Chincoteague’s star. There’s no pony roundup on this end of the island (though there are plenty of ponies); no firemen’s carnival to speak of; no best beloved children’s book evoking its history. Yet Assateague is a natural wonderland that we keep returning to over and over. We love to watch the pelicans dive and the egrets step gingerly around the marshes, to spot sika fawns hiding in the brush, to get close but not too close to the painted ponies, to revel in the bioluminescence of the nighttime surf. And to look north to the growing sprawl of Ocean City and be happy to be so close but yet so far.—M.Z.

68 Gen. Robert E. Lee likely wouldn’t have approved of Yankees poking around his childhood bedroom, but that’s too bad. Luckily, both Northerners and Southerners get to check out Stratford Hall, Lee’s impressive early eighteenth-century boyhood home on Virginia’s Northern Neck. A fine museum and visitors center showcases the history of this storied general and his family home.—J.S.

69 It all started back in 1982 as a sideline business for Lloyd Lewis and his Talbot Street Pier in Ocean City. He opened a tiki bar named M.R. Ducks, playing on the Eastern Shore colloquialism between two hunters in a duck blind. When he followed it up with a T-shirt shop, little did he know the brand would grow into its own empire. Now more than six independent stores sell all manner of M.R. Ducks clothing and accessories. Got your 2006 collectors’ edition T-shirt yet?—K.H.E.

70 Although we think of them as an endangered species (seafood harvests are down, waterfront towns are being taken over by condos and fancy boatyards), the Maryland Watermen’s Association estimates that about 10,000 watermen still live around the Bay. Many only work part-time on the water and others hold on to their commercial licenses in hopes that some day, when there are more oysters and crabs, they’ll return to their workboats.—B.T.

71 It’s one of the few local food traditions that double as a deadly weapon. With the density, size, and shape of a golf ball, the beaten biscuit made its culinary debut on dining room tables throughout the Eastern Shore during the eighteenth century. Constructed of flour, lard, baking powder, salt, sugar, and water, the dough is then flogged with a rolling pin, shaped into a chubby orb, and baked until the color of toasted paper. (Orrell’s, the nation’s sole commercial beaten biscuit business, is located in Wye Mills, Md.) The biscuits’ not-so-heart-smart ingredients were apparent even to our country’s earliest foodies. Wrote Eliza Leslie in her 1857 New Cookery Cookbook, “This is the most laborious of cakes and also the most unwholesome. When living in a town where there are bakers, there is no excuse for making Maryland biscuits. Believe nobody that says they are not unwholesome. Better to live on Indian cakes.”—K.B.

72 For a dose of history all concentrated in one place, few Chesapeake destinations can compete with the eight antebellum James River plantations in Charles City, Va. Presidents William Henry Harrison and John Tyler were born and lived here, and Gen. Robert E. Lee spent much of his boyhood here. But what separates these plantations from ersatz Williamsburg is that many of these homes are still in the same family—and still armed. —J.S.

73 He traveled the world, playing with musicians from Andres Segovia to Stan Getz, but guitarist Charlie Byrd was, at heart, a kid from Tidewater Virginia. Byrd and saxophone player Getz collaborated on 1962’s seminal Jazz Samba, one of the most highly regarded albums of the Bossa Nova era, and recorded more than 100 albums over five decades, many with his brother Joe on bass, two-thirds of the Charlie Byrd Trio. After the brothers moved to the Annapolis area, Main Street’s King of France Tavern became their regular showplace. Charlie died in 1999, but brother Joe still lives on in Edgewater, frequently jazzing up the local music scene.—J.S.

74 Dinner parties during the Victorian era were seldom complete without oysters. And so nineteenth-century hostesses on both coasts demanded ornate tableware to present the beloved bivalves in style. Enter the oyster plate. Today, fancy plates by the likes of Wedgwood, Minton, Haviland/Limoges, and Quimper fetch hundreds of dollars on the regional antique circuit.—K.B.

75 As with so many other great traditions, the Maritime Republic of Eastport was founded over some beers at a Super Bowl party in 1998. Feisty locals banded together with a flag and an independent attitude when repairs to the Eastport drawbridge threatened to cut them off from hoity-toity neighbor Annapolis; talk of secession followed.  Continuing under the slogan “We Like It This Way,” the group holds parties, tugs of war, and assorted fun gatherings throughout the year, with proceeds going to everything from local starving musicians to reading programs and the SPCA.—K.H.E.

76 Folks have been heading to the quiet banks of Carter’s Creek in Irvington, Va., since 1947 for the ideal family-oriented, Chesapeake-themed vacation. (It’s even dog-friendly.) That’s when the Stevens family opened The Tides Inn. Their modest resort would pale in comparison to its more modern, updated version, which includes three restaurants, two golf courses, and a full-service spa. But quiet, Chesapeake tradition still reigns, especially on a cruise aboard its 127-foot classic yacht, the Miss Ann.—K.B. 

77 Herons
You see them in marshes, on license plates, and company logos. They’re blue herons, and they’ve become the unofficial mascot of the Chesapeake. More than half of the Atlantic coast’s population of these regal birds breed in the Bay area, where they nest. Sure, these birds are beautiful (they were once hunted for their plumage), but, man, are they noisy. When it’s time to chat, they produce a prehistoric, guttural cry that’s enough to make you want to fly the coop.—K.B.

78 Nothing says Chesapeake childhood like a firemen’s carnival: the grassy (often muddy) thoroughfare, whirling colored lights, polyester-pelted prizes, churning Ferris wheels, fried fare from clam strips to funnel cakes doused in powdered sugar. Once as plentiful in the summertime as blue crabs, not all in the region have survived.

After seventy-seven years, the Onancock firemen’s carnival folded its tent in 2005. Due to the rising cost of carnival expenses, the fire company sold its rides and the longstanding parcel of land that supplied so many years of summer fun.—K.B.

79 Carving Out Their Place Crisfield natives Lem and Steve Ward were barbers back in the 1930s. But since cuts were 15 cents and decoys $1.50, the Ward Brothers spent most of their time perfecting their skills as decoy carvers, gaining a worldwide reputation among the hunting set. Native Americans used decoys to attract birds, drawing them close enough to kill. For the modern-day sportsman, the theory is still the same, but the advent of plastics has changed things a bit. The hand-carved geese and ducks, many made from telephone pole chunks, have moved into auction houses and onto mantelpieces.

With our spot right on the Atlantic Flyway, it makes sense that we have some of the best carvers in history: R. Madison Mitchell (Havre de Grace), Ira Hudson (Chincoteague), and Charlie Joiner (Chestertown), to name a scant few. But the most famous are those of the Ward brothers, whose decoys today fetch up to six figures. Not bad for a pair of country boys.—E.W.B.

80 By her reckoning, Mrs. Frances Kitching may have been the originator of the famous Smith Island Cake. Or maybe not. No matter. We’re just thrilled that someone thought to bake ten impossibly thin cake layers and fill them with crushed candy and a luscious icing that is a cross between caramel and fudge. Although Duncan Hines cake mix is often the base for these towering creations, the home-cooked chocolate frosting is what elevates it to cult status. (We’ve even seen recipes with banana frosting as well.) You’ll find the delicacy on Smith Island, of course, at weddings and other celebrations, but if you miss the ferry, there have been cake sightings in Crisfield and Salisbury. —M.Z

81 Ocean City without its boardwalk is like New York without Broadway. But O.C. didn’t always have its famous promenade. Back in 1902, a few hoteliers laid some wood on the beach so their guests wouldn’t scald their delicate toes on the hot sand. But the slats had to be removed every day at high tide. A permanent boardwalk (five blocks long) was erected in 1902. It was leveled in 1962 by a storm, then expanded to its present length—nearly three miles. Today it boasts tacky shops, rides, and eateries along its 52,600 planks. How many nails? We’ll save you the trouble of counting. It’s got 1,372,800.—J.S.

82 Many a lassie has tracked down a Middie to marry, ever since the Philadelphia Naval Asylum School became the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis in 1845 on the ten-acre Army post called Fort Severn. Annapolis was chosen by Secretary of the Navy George Bancroft because it was “healthy and secluded,” removing midshipmen from “the temptations and distractions that necessarily connect with a large and populous city.” More challenging distractions came later, with the advent of the Army-Navy games and the arrival of women in 1976.—E.B.W.

83 McGarvey’s Saloon has had the enviable spot in the corner of Market Space in downtown Annapolis for thirty-one years, drawing regulars to its lively bar scene and raw bar. (Though plenty of others travel for their crab dip and Aviator Ale, a nod to owner Mike Ashford’s past as a Navy pilot.) The dress code still requires gentlemen to “wear sleeves,” so if you are not a gentleman, perhaps you should continue on to the next port of call.—E.B.W.

84 We mark the progression of the summer by what’s fresh at the farm stands. In June, we savor sweet Eastern Shore strawberries and asparagus. In July, it’s the first taste of Silver Queen corn and juicy peaches. By August, we’re filling up on tomatoes, cukes, and melons. Come September, apples fill our trunks and backseats. Everyone has a favorite farm stand—some are around the corner, others are on the way to the beach. All harken back to a time when people knew who grew their food, and all are deserved Chesapeake classics.—J.S.

85 Behold the chicken, in all its fine-feathered glory. Yards throughout Delmarva flout signs sayings “Eat Chicken Tonight”; in other words, support one of our region’s key industries. Those long, skinny chicken houses, silver on the outside, lights blazing constantly within (if they’re awake, they’re eating) are ubiquitous reminders of our agricultural heritage. So when you pass that truck, chock-a-block with crates, white feathers flying, nod your hat to our avian martyrs, and pray the bird flu doesn’t make its way here anytime soon.—K.H.E.

86 Around 1710, ship carpenters built a residence with pegs and hand-hewn beams by Oxford’s waterfront. In 1730, it was bought by Robert Morris and inherited by his son, Robert Morris, Jr.—the “Financier of the American Revolution”—  in 1850. Since then, it has served as a town hall, boarding house, convalescence home for WWI veterans, and a general store. The Robert Morris Inn, with its thirty-four rooms, started welcoming overnighters in the forties. It still retains some of its original architectural elements: handmade nails, fireplaces made from bricks that were used as ballast in ships, and handmade wallpaper and paneling. It also retains its reputation as James Michener’s favorite spot for a crab cake.—E.B.W.

87 It just ain’t summer in the Chesapeake without the lovely, if not lovable, jellyfish. Peer into the Bay and its many tributaries come July and August and spy its ghostly, graceful strands. (They’re especially numerous if it’s been a dry spring.) We remember the sting, after that ill-chosen dive, and the home remedies that cured it. But it’s the shadowy shape that makes us say, yet again, “Maybe I won’t go swimming today.”—K.H.E.

88 More than three generations have discovered the fact that Annapolis’s Middleton Tavern is bipolar. On one hand, the 250-year-old building retains its colonial tavern atmosphere (not surprising, for one of the oldest pubs in continuous operation in America). But by night, it’s a popular bar where live bands play. You can romance someone upstairs with filets, champagne, and piano music, then go bob your head to the thomping music downstairs with your wingmen and a draft. It’s the prime Annapolis spot for those who have their heads in different centuries.—E.B.W.

89 If it’s Chesapeake nautical history you want, the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michaels is your ticket. Built on two acres in 1965, it now spreads across eighteen prime waterfront acres of classic-boat heaven. Nowhere else can you find such a collection of Chesapeake watercraft, naval history, or the nation’s most complete collection of Bay artifacts. You can even roll up your sleeves and help restore traditional boats as an “apprentice for a day” at the on-campus working boatyard.—E.B.W.

90 It has been sitting on the corner of Dover and Harrison Streets in Easton like a fortress since 1947, adopting the moniker of “The Pride of the Eastern Shore.” The Tidewater Inn occupies the site of the Avon Hotel, built in 1841 but lost to fire in 1944. It’s made a name for itself as host to many celebrities, the place to stay when in town for a hunting trip (kennels were kept in the basement but dogs are now allowed in the rooms), and the hub of the November Waterfowl Festival’s social whirl. Now it’s spiffing up with new owners and a new restaurant.—E.B.W.

91 A century’s worth of screeching kids can’t be wrong. Founded around 1900 by Daniel and Margaret Trimper (their grandkids still own it), Trimper’s Amusement Park at the Ocean City inlet “modernized” with a hand-carved carousel in 1902. Out of its forty-plus rides, we’re not sure which is worse (or better): the corkscrew Zipper; the manically swaying, colorful Freak Out; or the boomerang roller coaster known as the Tidal Wave, with its cars speeding upside down around loops so big you see them from miles away.—K.H.E.

92 It began as a small celebration of local life on a watermen’s island and has turned into an event not to be missed. People come from afar to Tilghman Island Days for the oyster-shucking and crab-picking contests, workboat races, and to listen to Bird Dog Wheeler’s band. The menus at the firehouse and Methodist church represent the seafood mecca well, with cream of crab soup, oyster fritters, and softshell steamers. Is this the place to find the ultimate crab cake? “‘deed Lord so.”—E.B.W.

93 Born in 1818 in a cabin along the banks of Talbot County’s Tuckahoe River, Frederick Douglass lived a miserable existence as a
slave. But after finally winning his freedom, he claimed his Eastern Shore heritage with pride: “I am an Eastern Shoreman, with all that name implies. Eastern Shore corn and Eastern Shore pork gave me my muscle. I love Maryland and the Eastern Shore!”

Douglass went on to become an advisor to President Lincoln and one of America’s most famous orators during a time in American history when African American voices were silenced. Today, his autobiography is required reading in schools across the country, with good reason: His credo of believing in oneself, taking advantage of every opportunity, and using the power of spoken and written language to effect positive change for oneself and society still ring true today.—J.S.

94 In the middle of November’s fall foliage and migrating geese, historic Easton shuts down its streets and swings its doors wide open for the annual Waterfowl Festival, a celebration of waterfowl art and the sporting life. It began in 1971 with fifty exhibitors; now it attracts more than 450 artists, from painters to decoy carvers. Thousands come to hear the world championship duck- and goose-calling contests, watch sportsmen shoot clays, and check out the outdoor fly-fishing and retriever demonstrations. And a good portion of the proceeds goes to protect those very birds and the marshes that they inhabit.—E.B.W.

95 Whether or not you see eye-to-eye with its current occupants, you have to agree that the Maryland State House is one impressive piece of work. Designed by colonial architect Joseph Horatio Anderson and completed in 1779, it’s the oldest state house in continuous legislative use. It briefly served as the national capital (Nov. 26, 1783 to Aug. 13, 1784); Gen. George Washington resigned his commission here; the Treaty of Paris was ratified here; Benjamin Franklin even designed its twenty-eight-foot-tall lightning rod. But these days, the loudest thunder reverberates beneath its wooden dome.— J.S.

96 It was no mere flag, this giant that flew over Ft. McHenry in 1814. Made the previous year by Baltimore’s own Mary Pickersgill, it inspired not only Francis Scott Key, but generations to follow. The thirty-by-forty-two-foot Star Spangled Banner is now in the hands of preservationists, working on its tatters to ready it for its new home in a gallery currently under construction at the Smithsonian’s Museum
of American History. But you’ll have to wait until 2008 for the unveiling.—K.H.E.

97 What a dude. Not only did Capt. John Smith beat the pilgrims to the New World by thirteen years, but he was the first explorer to chart the Bay watershed—his maps are considered still correct by modern standards. What’s more, after his 1607 landing in Jamestown, he was elected leader of the colony, survived disease, and won the respect of Chief Powhatan of the hostile Algonquin Indians after being held captive.

(He even made Smith a subordinate tribal chief.) Subsequent trips to the New World in April 1614 had the roving captain exploring Maine and Massachusetts, which he dubbed New England. Though he wanted to return to Virginia, Smith was barred, due to his quarrelsome, independent nature. He spent the rest of his life writing books in England until his death in 1631 at age fifty-one.—K.B.

98 Crisfield’s National Hard Crab Derby, held each year to celebrate the end of summer and the town’s most famous seafood, had modest beginnings in 1948. It was then that a couple hundred townspeople gathered on Main Street to watch a few blue crabs scurry from the center of a chalk circle. Now boat races, a parade, a Miss Crustacean pageant, and crab-picking and cooking contests bring thousands to the little town. Most turn out for the derby itself, with racing crabs named the likes of Grouchy Meg, Big Red, and Willie. The race course, a wooden ramp raised at one end and covered with water, can accommodate a couple dozen crabs at a time. It’s the perfect occasion to enjoy seafood and watch Crisfield’s characters—both the two-legged and the clawed kinds. What’s next? Synchronized shad swimming?—B.T.

99 The Bay Bridge may have put several lines out of business, but two of the oldest ferry services in the country still operate today on the Eastern Shore. The 1685 Whitehaven Ferry, named for the quiet little town on the banks of the Wicomico River, is billed as the country’s oldest publicly owned ferry. The motorized boat follows an underwater cable and shuttles people and up to three cars between Wicomico and Somerset counties. The better known of the two, the Oxford-Bellevue Ferry, is touted as the country’s oldest privately operated ferry, with origins also in the 1680s. The three-quarter mile trip across the Tred Avon River (March through November) takes about ten minutes and offers great views of the Strand, Oxford’s fashionable waterfront. So while you’re absorbing some history, you can also take in some scenery in a traffic-free ride.—B.T.

100 Last but not least, the Chesapeake Bay! Without it, where would we—and the other 99 classics—be?

NOVEMBER 2006

Blame Game

The watermen blame the farmers. The farmers blame the poultry growers. The poultry growers blame the sewage treatment plants. And so it goes in the battle to determine who's at fault for the state of the Bay. People around the region speak out on what's crippling the Chesapeake.

Interviews By Molly Winans & Jessica Porter
Illustration By Francis Blake

Ann Pesiri Swanson, executive director, Chesapeake Bay Commission
“The Bay is defined by fifty rivers and thousands of miles of streams, creeks, and ditches that drain into its 64,000-square-mile watershed. It’s these rivers that define both the essence and the health of the estuary. For the Chesapeake Bay to be restored, it must be tackled one river at a time. The residents living on these rivers must join forces with government and focus on tackling their river’s problems. I have no doubt that if the rivers’ problems were corrected, the Bay would be restored.”

John Page Williams, senior naturalist, Chesapeake Bay Foundation
“It’s nitrogen pollution. We’ve got the Bay on a super-size diet of nitrogen. It’s fertilizer, and fertilizer is good for the Bay in the same sense that food is good for us. But right now we are feeding it, on average, the human equivalent of a 15,000-calories-a-day diet. So we shouldn’t be surprised that the system is as unbalanced as it is. The issue is, as Pogo, the comic strip possum, once said, ÔWe have met the enemy, and he is us.’ Nitrogen pollution comes from a wide range of human sources, including sewage, agriculture, polluted run-off from urban and suburban areas, and even motor vehicle exhaust. But there are solutions that will work given half a chance. We know how to improve sewage treatment. We know a lot about reducing agricultural pollution. We’re even beginning to learn something about treating urban and suburban storm-water run-off. The issue is going out there and making the improvements. It will cost money to make these changes, but we must think about what it will cost us if we don’t.”

Buddy Hance, president of the Maryland Farm Bureau and grain/greenhouse farmer, Port Republic, Md.
“The lack of oysters. They’re natural filters - one adult oyster filters between twenty to fifty gallons per day. The nutrients that feed into the Chesapeake Bay, no matter where they come from, they need to be absorbed. When we had an abundance of oysters, we didn’t have the magnitude of problems we have now.”

Gerald W. Donovan, owner, Chesapeake Beach Hotel & Spa/mayor of Chesapeake Beach, Md.
“I think it’s a simple problem. It’s called political will. Everyone knows what needs to be done, from the air pollution to run-off from farms to discharge from wastewater treatment facilities. It requires the leadership to make the changes occur in the whole watershed.”

Ed Merrifield, Potomac Riverkeeper
“Sediment. What needs to be done is developers who put sediment into the streams should have to pay serious fines. If local governments enforced serious fines, it would cut down on extra sediment.”

Paula Jasinski, former president, South River Federation, and NOAA scientist, Annapolis, Md.
“I think the largest problem is non-point source pollution, which includes run-off from agricultural and urban lands, leaking septic systems, and air pollution. Even in the South River, where there are no large industries in our part of the watershed, we are finding high levels of heavy metals, organic compounds, and other toxics. We also find levels of E. coli way above EPA acceptable levels for swimming. The public is very often unaware of these problems. That’s why watershed groups like South River Federation and riverkeepers are so important to the overall clean-up effort.”

Mark Carter, Earth Sports director, Quest Fitness & Kayak, Lewes, Del.
“I used to live blocks from the Bay in the Norfolk area. Every day I walked the beach I’d collect at least one bag of litter. This was extremely disheartening. Trash, litter, rubbish, whatever you want to call it, is a big problem. Yet, it’s not a difficult one to fix. Pick it up (even if you didn’t put it there) and do your part! And being a surfer and a kayak guide, I love pulling up to the ocean or Bay and seeing glassy waves to surf or a nice reflective sea surface to paddle upon. Sometimes we will pull up to the water, and the client will say, ÔLook at how the water is shimmering. It’s so beautiful.’ÊUnfortunately, some days these glassy conditions are due to oil slicks in the water. This is pollution that can be reduced by diligently maintaining our powerboat engines, recycling oil from our vehicles, and being cognizant of what we pour down our drains.”Ê

Bob Reed, owner, Bob-A-Long Charters, Kilmarnock, Va.
“One of the biggest problems is uncontrolled commercial fishing of menhaden in the Virginia portion of the Bay. While purse seining for menhaden is restricted in Maryland waters, Virginia fishermen are allowed to remove these extremely valuable filter feeders without restrictions. It also removes food for stripped bass and other fin fish. The Virginia Marine Regulatory Commission needs to be in control of the menhaden fisheries.”

Ed Farley, skipjack captain/waterman, St. Michaels, Md.
“We’ve worked for a lot of years to determine the scientific reasons the Bay is declining. In spite of knowing what the problems are, we aren’t really changing the way we live, and that’s the real problem. There’s a huge delay between having the knowledge of a problem, having the political will and economic strength to implement a program to improve it, and seeing the results. For example, we’ve known since the early 1980s that the Bay’s nutrient problem should focus as much on nitrates as it does on phosphates, but we’ve only recently appropriated the federal monies to improve some of the sewage treatment plants to reduce the nitrate flow into the Bay. That’s a twenty-year delay from having the knowledge to implementing a program.”

Jack Russell, skipjack captain/co-founder of Chesapeake Bay Field Labs, St. George Island, Md.
“St. George Island used to be two-hundred-people strong as a fishing community, and now there are only three or four making a living out on the water. We are losing a culture here. We have destroyed the habitat of the Chesapeake Bay by flooding it with people and industry. We’re like a runaway train, and the people still enjoying what’s left of the Bay life are on the caboose hanging on to anything they can. Perhaps education is the key out of this mess. I became an environmental educator in 1985 to teach kids to be responsible users of the Chesapeake, to use the tools of maritime culture such as a skipjack, an oyster house, and try to enlighten them so that they become better stewards of the Bay than my generation was. Up to this point, we’ve had 60,000 kids on this boat. Perhaps we’ll make a wee bit of difference.”

William Donald Schaefer, Maryland comptroller
“People. We’ve got to get more individuals involved in cleaning up the Bay, people willing to share responsibility for improving its condition. Each of us has a part to play, no matter how small it may seem. One person can make a difference.”

Joseph E. Chisholm, Sr., poultry grower/president of Delmarva Poultry Industry, Georgetown, Del.
“There are lots of groups responsible for the Bay’s problems beyond the farming community. We have too many people. We have the highest population of any bay in the world. And the sewage treatment plants are part of the problem. The suburban homeowner who over-fertilizes his lawn is part of the problem. Even the tourist who drives up and down the streets is part of the problem. You can’t point a finger at any one group. It’s all of our responsibility.”

David Norris, Southern Maryland singer/songwriter, Hollywood, Md.
“It’s real simple. It has to be pollution - on an industrial level and an individual level. I went rock fishing in the Bay recently and caught some really big ones but also caught some that had lesions on them. You have to wonder about the bacteria in the water that would cause such infection. When I used to take my grandson to the beach, we’d always spend time picking up trash on the beach. It troubles me that people will use such a beautiful resource like the Bay and just not care for it. People just have to care more. There’s a level of social consciousness that needs to be raised.”

Hal Ashman, owner, Ultimate Water Sports, president of the Marshy Point Nature Center, Middle River, Md.
“The Bay’s biggest problem is us. Simple things we do every day, like spilling oil or gasoline in the streets, not recycling or properly disposing of our waste, all affect the Bay. The only solution is to educate children to become much more responsible about how they live. Adults don’t seem to realize the effect of a single household on a resource as huge as the Chesapeake. It’s too late to change the way adults think, but we can still teach the children. It needs to be in their classrooms, in their curriculum. We need to get them to the Bay so that they can see first-hand how so many of the things they do in their daily lives ultimately affect the health of the Bay.”

NOVEMBER 2004

Where's the Political Will?

Bay-friendly organizations and Annapolis lawmakers are looking out for the Chesapeake, right? Then why are conditions still getting worse instead of better?

By Bill Thompson
Photography By Kirsten Beckerman

Like a street corner prophet who’s tired of toting his own soap box, Howard Ernst walks hesitantly to the front of Mark Haddon’s Environmental Science class at Anne Arundel Community College. He’s been invited to share his views about the condition of the Chesapeake Bay - by his tally a talk he’s already made sixty-five times along the East Coast in the last eighteen months - and he wants the students to know up front that he’d rather be someplace else.

Ernst, an assistant professor of political science at the United States Naval Academy, doesn’t get paid for these appearances, and he has a family who likes him at home now and then. Besides, he says defensively, why should he be the one telling people the Bay is sick? The evidence is clear enough, and there are plenty of politicians, bureaucrats, and salaried environmentalists whose job it is to sound the alarms. “Why should I be standing here?” he pleads.

But he knows why. His book, Chesapeake Bay Blues: Science, Politics, and the Struggle to Save the Bay, published in June 2003, presents a disturbing view of how the country’s largest estuary continues to suffer because the very people who are supposed to be protecting it are not doing their jobs very well. Ernst, an outsider to the tight-knit Chesapeake environmental community, seemed to pop up out of nowhere last year with the book’s publication. Now he’s one of the most sought-after speakers on the subject of the Bay, and, with his take-no-prisoners attitude, he’s the enfant terrible of the green movement.

Ernst says that if he were a talented writer like Tom Horton or a gifted photographer like David Harp, whose nature books on the Chesapeake are among the region’s favorites, audiences would reward his talks with smiles. But that’s not the reception Ernst gets when he broaches his controversial views.

“When people leave my talks, they usually leave pissed,” he warns the students. If they’re not angry with Ernst for challenging the status quo thinking about the environment, they’re fired up about policymakers who, he charges, shy away from making the serious decisions necessary to actually bring back the Bay.

A central point of Ernst’s polemic is that we’re only fooling ourselves if we believe we’re on course. “We’re not going to save the Bay,” he says bluntly. “We have to stop killing it.”

After nearly two decades’ worth of efforts to help restore the Bay, beginning in the early 1980s after the Environmental Protection Agency released its dramatic report on the deteriorating Chesapeake, here’s where we are today:

The once heralded oyster industry is on the verge of a collapse.

Crab harvests are so poor that sea-food restaurants catering to tourists are forced to import crabmeat from hundreds, even thousands, of miles away.

“Dead zones” of oxygen-depleted Bay water are the largest in years.

Bay grasses, so vital as habitat for young crabs and fish, are declining steeply.

And ubiquitous nitrogen, considered to be the Bay’s biggest problem, still finds its way too easily into the Chesapeake through air, water, and land.

“‘Save the Bay’ bumper stickers get old,” Ernst tells the Environmental Science class. “What the Bay needs is a bulldog willing to fight the political fight and go beyond education.”

Who he’s targeting is no mystery. But just in case someone didn’t catch on, Ernst reloads and fires again.

“The Chesapeake Bay Foundation is a giant political eunuch.”

Ernst is right about one thing. The Chesapeake Bay Foundation (CBF) is a giant. With a membership roll of 116,600, a paid staff of 165, and an annual budget of about $17.5 million, CBF has bragging rights as the giant among regional enviro-educational organizations throughout the country. Not only does it dwarf all other local green groups (the feisty but overburdened 1000 Friends of Maryland has three staffers, about a thousand members, and a yearly operating budget of $250,000), it overshadows local membership rolls in such national organizations as the Sierra Club and the Audubon Society.

While most greens work out of cramped quarters in rented or donated space, CBF is housed in its $9 million waterfront Philip Merrill Environmental Center outside of Annapolis. It also has offices in Salisbury, Harrisburg, Richmond, Norfolk, and Washington, D.C. It owns an entire island - Port Isobel - in the Virginia portion of the Chesapeake Bay, and, of course, a fleet of boats.

In some respects, it seems as though CBF has always been around. Founded in the patchouli-scented sixties, it predates the first Earth Day, construction of the second Bay bridge, and is twice as old as most of the students who participate in its popular educational programs.

As the environmental movement grew nationwide, the ranks of CBF swelled. And there’s no question that green consciousness about the Chesapeake grew because of CBF. On the policymaking scene, CBF was there, either in the foreground or behind closed doors, for nearly every significant piece of Maryland legislation, from the Critical Area Protection Act of 1984 to this past session’s Chesapeake Bay Restoration Fund, better known as the “flush tax.”

CBF is a model of how smart public relations, combined with a righteous cause and an awesome fundraising capability, can grow from a pup to the big dog on the block. CBF so dominates the green movement here that no news report about the environment is complete without a CBF spokesperson weighing in. From the signing of the flush tax bill into law aboard a replica Baltimore clipper to former State Sen. Bernie Fowler’s annual “wade-in” to gauge river water quality in Southern Maryland, no photo-op is successful without a CBF representative inside the frame.

But in the Ernstian view, the colossus that is CBF falls short on achieving what really matters to Bay health - helping elect individuals willing to push the environmental agenda past the point of easy compromise. Under its status as a 501(c)(3) not-for-profit organization, CBF does not and cannot endorse political candidates. It does not and cannot give money to a candidate’s campaign or, for that matter, to organizations that support political candidates, such as the League of Conservation Voters, which are set up differently and do muck about in the political trenches during election years.

While CBF is keenly aware of Ernst’s criticisms, it is not about to issue any mea culpas and, in fact, does its best to appear to ignore the gadfly from the Naval Academy. Nevertheless, CBF announced this summer that it would use the courts more aggressively to clean up the Bay. With a hefty $1.25 million grant from the Philadelphia-based Lenfest Foundation, CBF launched its Chesapeake Watershed Bay Litigation Project to compel state and federal agencies to enforce existing environmental laws and regulations. CBF had already announced its intentions to sue the Commonwealth of Virginia for issuing pollution permits to Philip Morris USA and the town of Onancock for discharging excessive amounts of nitrogen. That action demonstrated that CBF isn’t afraid of making enemies in an effort to improve the Bay.

If it wanted to, CBF could form a political action committee to help candidates. It’s not likely to happen, says Will Baker, the organization’s longtime president. “It’s not our expertise. Our board believes, and I think our staff believes, that you do what you do well. Forming and being a political action committee is probably not what we do well.”

Besides, Baker continues, if CBF were legally permitted to endorse candidates, it might have chosen Stephen Sachs over William Donald Schaefer in Maryland’s 1986 gubernatorial primary election. “We got a lot done under Don Schaefer,” Baker says of the former two-term governor and current state comptroller. “When you go against a governor, it’s awfully hard for them to work with you later.”

Not wishing to antagonize the state’s highest elected leader is one thing. (Always careful with his choice of words, Baker praises Maryland Gov. Robert L. Ehrlich, Jr. - viewed by many environmentalists as their foe - for sponsoring legislation to improve failing sewage plants.)

Not scaring away your dues-paying base is another. Ninety percent of CBF’s annual budget comes from private contributors, who apparently agree with most of the group’s moderate, incremental stances on green issues. CBF didn’t grow to be a giant by appealing to the fringes. Moving to a more radical position could alienate many members who might take their tax-deductible contributions elsewhere. In many ways, Baker is like a corporate CEO whose commitment to revenues means limiting political risks.

Baker says he’s content leaving the political fights to the Maryland League of Conservation Voters (LCV). It’s a big task for a small group. Through the leadership of Executive Director Sue Brown, LCV has earned a reputation as a feisty advocate for the Bay. But like all the other small green groups, LCV is hampered by a lack of funds. The organization subsists on about $250,000 a year and, during election cycles, is able to raise another $150,000, which it spends on a half- dozen favored candidates. Because it is set up differently than CBF, LCV backs candidates for office. It also runs a special voters’ education program, trains volunteers to be better lobbyists, and publishes an impressive scorecard evaluating legislators’ record on key environmental bills.

All these efforts cost money, and the three-member LCV staff has to pay close attention to staying within its budget.

“People ask for more scorecards,” Brown says. “I can barely afford to print the 2,500 that I do. I need to have the resources so that we can get this message far and wide, because we do the accountability side of things - and elections are the ultimate accountability.”

If there is a founder of the Chesapeake Bay environmental movement, it’s probably Dr. Reginald V. Truitt, an Eastern Shoreman born in 1890 into a family of watermen, who created the Chesapeake Biological Laboratory in Solomons in 1925.

Truitt was among the first and the few scientists to worry whether the Chesapeake’s once abundant oysters could withstand the incredible harvest pressures permitted under law. Early on, he cautioned that more restrictive measures were needed to manage the bivalve. Lore has it that he so incensed a meeting of watermen and legislators in Annapolis with his calls for tighter regulations that he had to duck out a back door of the State House to escape their wrath.

Decades later, in 1995, the Chesapeake Bay Foundation warned that the crabbing industry was about to collapse, due in large part to overfishing. The group urged lawmakers to impose tighter restrictions on crabbing, including a ban on harvesting crabs in deep water. Predictably, crabbers weren’t happy and on devout Smith Island, where the Foundation maintains an educational outpost, someone torched one of the group’s buildings.

Both instances reveal that little has changed over the years in how the green movement is perceived around the Bay. Reduced to its starkest contrast, it’s environmentalism versus capitalism. That’s wholly unfair to both sides, and most mainstream policy-makers believe you can have one foot in each camp. But in politics, perception is reality. It matters not what the truth is, what matters is what people think the truth is. What a lot of people think is that environmentalists are bad for business.

That’s a notion that Brian Frosh, a state senator from Montgomery County, tries his best to quash. “You can justify [cleaning] the Bay on an economic basis,” he argues. “I think that the investment we put into it is one that we would likely get back in the form of a healthy fishing industry and healthy recreation and tourist industries. I think the Bay still generates well over a billion dollars a year in Maryland.”

But it’s a hard argument to make among farmers, watermen, and industry leaders whose livelihoods could suffer in the short run with increased environmental restrictions. And in today’s realpolitik, that means rough weather ahead for Chesapeake greens.

The timing couldn’t be worse.

After nearly two decades of gaining clout and respectability in Annapolis, Maryland’s environmental community faces a crisis in leadership.

While environmental champions are emerging in the legislature, no single lawmaker has achieved the status of previous advocates like Gerald Winegrad, a former state senator who represented Anne Arundel County from 1983 to 1994. Sharp as a razor and capable of haranguing his fellow lawmakers, Winegrad worked on nearly every bill remotely linked to the environment, until he finally bowed out of public office to avoid legislative burnout.

Sen. Frosh is probably the greenest lawmaker in Annapolis these days. But as chairman of the Judicial Proceedings Committee, most of his session time is spent on issues that have little to do with the environment.

The governor’s office is less than friendly toward green advocates. Access to Gov. Ehrlich is limited, to say the least, in part because he was the first gubernatorial candidate openly opposed by greens since the days before Harry Hughes. Like most partisans, Ehrlich knows how to keep a grudge scorecard and, in fact, the label “environmentalist” is so distasteful to some of his aides that, while insisting he’s an advocate of a clean Bay, they prefer to define their boss as a “conservationist,” according to a top Ehrlich lieutenant.

The first Republican to win the governor’s seat in thirty-six years, Ehrlich took office promising to give an ear to farmers, developers, commercial watermen, and others who felt they had been ignored by his Democratic predecessors, particularly Parris N. Glendening. Only so many “special interests” can gather around a governor at a time. Who got shoved to the back? The environmentalists.

Politically, the decision to shuffle the influence deck was not that big a risk for Ehrlich. “The flaw of the environmental movement,” says J. Charles “Chuck” Fox, one of the most highly regarded political analysts among the greens and the board chairman of the Maryland LCV, “is that support for the environment is a mile wide and an inch deep.”

Frosh elaborates on the pitfalls facing hard-line environmentalists. “There are people out there doing the right thing, being very aggressive. The problem is that as one of these organizations gain in force and becomes part of the mainstream, it tends to move toward the middle because it is part of the mainstream. The solutions are very hard politically and they’re very expensive. If someone’s out there advocating really tough stuff, they’re obviously going to lose support from a large segment of the population. It’s true of politicians, and it’s true of the environmental community.”

“Everybody’s an environmentalist,” Fox says a little facetiously, “but few actually vote on it as an issue.”

He says most greens - about 75 percent of them - are Democrats, with a smaller percentage made up of Republicans or conservatives in the so-called “hook and bullet crowd,” sportsmen who may vote on fishing and hunting matters. Because they care about the environment, they often are specifically courted by green candidates in tight elections.

Fox says that, while voters tend to trust Democrats over Republicans on the environment by a wide margin, “In general, traditional environmentalists are not considered swing voters.”

That much is not lost on Paul E. Schurick, Ehrlich’s communications director and one of his political advisors. Why should the governor go out of his way to accommodate the demands of environmental leaders? There’s no reason, Schurick suggests. “In 2006, the League of Conservation Voters, the 1000 Friends, and the others will endorse the governor’s opponent,” he says. “We know that. They’re going to work against us.”

The gap between greens and the governor’s office widened during the 2003 session, when environmental leaders helped deny legislative approval of Lynn Buhl, Ehrlich’s nominee to head the Department of the Environment. It marked the first time in state history that a gubernatorial nominee for a cabinet post failed to win Senate confirmation. It will surely go down as an embarrassing footnote in Ehrlich’s tenure.

“There were a lot of bridges burned on that issue,” says Michael Powell, attorney general with the department of the environment, who now works as a so-called “black hat” lobbyist for chemical and building interests. “Was it worth it?”

Dru Schmidt-Perkins, executive director of 1000 Friends of Maryland, thinks it was. The cause was right, she argues, and the greens helped teach Ehrlich a lesson. “He had to learn, ‘Don’t mess with these people.’”

During the following legislative session, environmentalists may have jeopardized their already shaky political footing by insisting on adding a provision to the governor’s Chesapeake Bay Restoration Fund (dubbed the “flush tax” by Democrats to tweak the anti-tax governor). That provision added rural septic systems to the list of homeowners who will eventually pay nearly a billion dollars for sewage plant upgrades and other methods of stopping nitrogen from entering the Bay. Ehrlich did not want the private septic tanks tacked onto his bill, and he has threatened to strip it out next year.

In the supersaturated atmosphere of Annapolis politics, some people seriously believed - and still do - that the greens had insisted on the septic tank provision in hopes of forcing the governor to kill it. It was, after all, the most significant piece of environmental legislation of the year. It wouldn’t look good, the theory went, for Bay advocates to be out-greened by the man they criticize as anti-environment.

Was this scenario true? Remember: In politics, perception is reality. And in politics, too, revenge is sweet.

As Kermit the Frog laments, “It’s not easy being green.”

Bill Thompson is a freelance writer living in Easton, Md.

Charting the alphabet soup of groups that set out to protect the Bay

Written by Bill Thompson and Jessica Porter

Chesapeake Bay Foundation
The Skinny: The Daddy Warbucks of the not-for-profit greens, CBF reigns as the top educator, awareness builder, and fundraiser, but chooses to stay out of the political fray - where the real action is - to keep its middle ground and its 501(c)(3) status secure.
Mission: The largest conservation organization solely dedicated to saving the Chesapeake Bay watershed by reducing pollution, improving fisheries, and protecting and restoring natural resources. The CBF staff serves as watchdogs and speaks out on behalf of the Bay with government, businesses, and the public. Its environmental education program strives to increase knowledge and empower citizens to protect and restore the Bay both in the classroom and in the field.
Founded: 1967
Members/Staff: 116,600 members; 165 full-time employees
Budget: $17.5 million
Funding: Primary support from individual members; secondary funds from foundations, corporations, partner organizations, and bequests.
Locations: Headquartered in Annapolis; offices also in Virginia and Pennsylvania. Operates fifteen environmental education programs.
Contact information: Philip Merrill Environmental Center, 6 Herndon Ave., Annapolis, Md. 21403, 410-268-8816 or http://www.cbf.org

Chesapeake Bay Commission
The Skinny: Mostly advisory and mostly toothless, this panel includes both legislators with impeccable environmental records and a few who may not hold the health of the Bay as a top priority. They’re the ones who got those “Entering the Chesapeake Bay Watershed” signs erected on local highways.
Mission: A tri-state legislative commission that advises the members of the General Assemblies of Maryland, Virginia, and Pennsylvania on matters of Bay-wide concern, including fisheries management, toxics reduction, land use, agricultural nutrient management, and natural resource protection. Serves as the legislative arm of the Chesapeake Bay Program.
Founded: 1980
Members/Staff: Twenty-one members, equally divided between the three states: legislators (five each), cabinet secretaries (with direct responsibility for managing their state’s natural resources); citizen reps. Five staff members.
Budget: $480,000
Funding: $160,000 from each state
Locations: Main office in Annapolis; others in Richmond and Harrisburg
Contact Information: 60 West St., Ste. 406, Annapolis, Md. 21401, 410-263-3420 or http://www.chesbay.state.va.us

Alliance for the Chesapeake Bay
The Skinny: A feel-good group that promotes rain barrels, kayaking, and clean streams. But its Bay Journal is one of the best publications for getting the latest on what’s happening to and around the Chesapeake.
Mission: A regional nonprofit organization that builds and fosters partnerships between government, business, academic communities, nonprofits, and the general public to protect and restore the Bay and its rivers. The Alliance does not lobby or litigate; it develops tools for restoration and trains citizens; mobilizes decision-makers and policymakers to learn about issues and participate in resolving them; and provides analysis, information, and evaluation of Bay policies, proposals, and institutions.
Founded: 1971
Members/Staff: 1,300 members, 24 full-time employees, 2,000 volunteers
Budget: $2 million
Funding: Majority comes from federal and state grants
Location: Offices in Baltimore, Harrisburg, Richmond, and Washington, D.C.
Contact Information: 6600 York Rd., Ste. 100, Baltimore, Md. 21212, 410-377-6270 or http://www.alliancechesbay.org

Chesapeake Bay Program
The Skinny: Launched in the wake of the eye-opening early eighties’ EPA report on the Chesapeake’s sorry state, this research advisory group is often hobbled by politics and bureaucratic ennui. What else can you expect from a group pressured from all sides?
Mission: Considered a national and international model for estuarine research and restoration programs, the Chesapeake Bay Program is a regional partnership between Maryland, Virginia, and Pennsylvania; Washington, D.C.; the Chesapeake Bay Commission; the EPA; and various advisory groups and organizations. This federal/state partnership sets policies and goals for Bay restoration activities that cross state lines, primarily focusing on the Bay’s living resources (aquatic life and wildlife).
Founded: 1983
Members: The governors of Maryland, Virginia, and Pennsylvania; the mayor of Washington, D.C.; the EPA administrator; and the chair of the Chesapeake Bay Commission, which make up the Chesapeake Executive Council, as well as numerous academic and governmental organizations.
Budget: $20 million
Funding: Federally funded by the EPA
Location: Annapolis, Md.
Contact Information: 410 Severn Ave., Ste. 109, Annapolis, Md. 21403, 410-267-5700 or http://www.chesapeakebay.net

Chesapeake Bay Trust
The Skinny: Nice license plates and an impressive roster of community leaders and former lawmakers, but only has so much money it can distribute.
Mission: The Trust is a private, nonprofit grantmaking organization created by the Maryland General Assembly to further public awareness and participation in the protection and restoration of the Bay and its Maryland tributaries. Recipients include thousands of organizations, agencies, and schools throughout Maryland, which use the grants for stream clean-ups, tree and marsh grass plantings, erosion control projects, water quality monitoring, habitat restoration, aquaculture projects, recycling activities, and the development of awareness programs and educational materials.
Founded: 1985
Members/Staff: A Board of Trustees of nineteen, including representatives from business, education, and conservation interests; local government; and the general public. Six staff members.
Budget/Grants: $3 million.
To date: awarded 6,000 grants to 3,000 community groups, schools, and organizations totaling in excess of $14.5 million.
Funding: Majority from sale of “Treasure the Chesapeake” license plates and the Maryland income-tax-return check-off; additional funding from private and corporate contributions.
Location: 60 West St., Ste. 405, Annapolis, Md. 21401, 410-974-2941 or http://www.chesapeakebaytrust.org

1000 Friends of Maryland
The Skinny: With so many causes - from restoring the Chesapeake to providing affordable housing and safe highways - these lean but not-so-mean folks ought to have a million friends.
Mission: A nonprofit coalition of business and development companies, architectural and historical preservation organizations, community and environmental groups whose goals are to “preserve what is best about Maryland and to encourage sensible growth.”
Founded: 1996
Members/Staff: 21 board members plus an executive director and two subordinates oversee a wide array of educational and legislative activities. Membership rolls stay steady at about 1,000.
Budget: $250,000
Funding: Foundation support, a few major donors, and members’ donations.
Location: 1209 N. Calvert St., Baltimore, Md. 21202, 410-385-2910 or http://www.friendsofmd.org

Maryland League of Conservation Voters
The Skinny: Keeper of political scorecards on environmental votes, this small but feisty group actually endorses candidates who might be good for green causes. Its small staff proves that you don’t need a huge budget to make a difference. Still, more money couldn’t hurt.
Mission: Maryland LCV advocates for sound conservation policies, promotes environmentally responsible candidates for public office, and holds elected officials accountable for the decisions they make affecting air, water, open space, and quality of life. The group produces the Legislative Scorecard every two years, grading state legislators on their votes on key environmental issues. LCV also grades the environmental record of the governor.
Founded: 1979 (volunteer-only until 2000)
Members/Staff: Fifteen board directors, three full-time staff, volunteers
Budget: $250,000 a year, with an additional $150,000 raised and spent in election years
Funding: Major donors and many small gifts (donations are not tax deductible)
Location: 1 State Circle, Annapolis, Md. 21401, 410-280-9855 or http://www.mdlcv.org

NOVEMBER 2004

Bridging The Shores

The Chesapeake Bay Bridge turns fifty this July. Despite a rough road to fruition, it forever welded East to West, country to city, and changed the course of Maryland history.

By Jim Duffy

Do anything often enough and it becomes ho-hum. That’s why it’s easy for veteran Chesapeake travelers to forget the soaring feelings they had during their very first trip across the Bay Bridge.

I’m guilty as the next driver on this count, which is why I’m glad I mentioned to my mother-in-law that I’d be writing about the bridge’s upcoming fiftieth birthday. She immediately went weak at the knees, recalling her one and only trip across the Bay a couple of decades back.

“It was hazy and kind of overcast, and we couldn’t really see very far off into the distance,” she recalled. “There was one spot where we were climbing the bridge and all we could see ahead of us were clouds. It felt like we were driving right into them, right up into the sky, right up into heaven.”

And so we’ll start there: The bridge as breathtaking beauty. This isn’t just a matter of taking in the panoramic views of the Bay and both its shores. The bridge itself is all gentle swoops and graceful geometry. Even its splayed legs have a muscular sort of grandeur. The Bridge is a thing of power, too, of course—structural, financial, political—but we’ll get to all that soon enough.

For now, let’s stick with the view on hot midsummer days, when the shore ahead seems more shimmering dream than imminent destination. So it must have been on July 30, 1952, a day that found Maryland in the midst of a withering heat wave—sixteen consecutive days of temperatures in the 90s. Still, a crowd of nearly 20,000 people made their way to one or the other shore of the Bay to see Governor Theodore McKeldin and former Governor William Preston Lane cut ribbons, make speeches and, finally, drive across the Bay.

That ride marked the end of one momentous journey for Maryland—and the start of another. The stories and the timeline on the pages that follow tell the tale of both those journeys.

1880s: Official histories, newspaper accounts, and oral traditions all date the idea of bridging the Bay to the nineteenth century. But who raised it? And why? No formal plans or proposals survive, so we can’t say for sure who deserves credit for first coming up with the idea.

1907: Railroad is king and new tracks are making it easier for many Eastern Shore businesses to trade by land with Wilmington, Philadelphia, and even New York City than by water with Baltimore. On Sept. 3, 1907, businessman and State Senator Peter C. Campbell proposes rescuing the city’s Eastern Shore trade by building a bridge across the Bay. It isn’t a roadway he wants to build but an electric trolley line stretching from Chestertown to Baltimore.

1909: In the first formal report on the feasibility of a bridge across the Bay, the engineering firm of Westinghouse, Church, Kerr & Co., Inc. endorses not only the trans-Bay trolley line but also envisions a 235-mile network of trolley tracks crisscrossing the Eastern Shore, stopping at scores of burgs and crossroads. The price tag? A cool $13 million. The plan collapses for lack of financing.

1918: Governor Emerson C. Harrington puts the bridge back on the table, this time in the form of a double-decker span between Bay Shore and Tolchester. One level would be for trolley lines, the other for freight trains. Another key figure in the 1918 plan is John E. Greiner, whose engineering firm, J.E. Greiner Co., would go on to design the original span and the second span that opened in 1973. But a combination of cost and complexity eventually kills the double-decker plan.

1919: On June 19, in response to public demand for a more convenient Bay crossing, a ferry service begins operating between Claiborne and Annapolis.

1929: The first plans for a roadway across the Bay between Rock Hall and Tolchester comes close to fruition in the late 1920s. By 1927, both the Maryland legislature and the U.S. Congress sign off on it. The legislature even appropriates nearly $500,000 for preliminary work. But before the project begins, the stock market crashes, launching the Great Depression.

1930s: The bridge project remains on the table throughout this decade, the subject of endless legislative committee meetings and reports. Legislation eventually passes authorizing detailed planning and preliminary work, but before any real work gets under way, a little thing called World War II happens.

1933: One of the most outspoken opponents of the bridge proposal is writer H.L. Mencken, who in a moment of false prophesy, insists in one of his newspaper columns, “There is not the slightest reason to believe that any such structure could ever earn enough to pay the interest and amortization on $10,000,000, to say nothing of the heavy costs of maintenance. There is simply not traffic enough between the Eastern and Western Shores, and there is no evidence that there will ever be enough hereafter.”

Early 1940s: With public clamor growing for an easier way across the Bay, the ferry route is shortened by stopping at Sandy Point instead of downtown Annapolis. The number of ferries working the crossing grows to three and sometimes four. “We had two land crews, one on each side,” recalls former ferry toll collector Warren Coursey. “They had lines of traffic waiting—two, three hours they’d be backed up for that ferry. Of course, when the bridge come on, that backed up pretty soon, too.” As opposition to the proposed bridge mounts on the Eastern Shore, a 1940 dance band pens anti-bridge lyrics to the tune of “The Old Gray Mare.” Sample lyric: “We don’t give a damn for the whole state of Maryland/We’re from the Eastern Shore.”

1946: After the war, bridge plans move south. Kent Island offers Eastern Shore businesses a more central location and better access to growing Washington, D.C. And the military is skittish about plans that put a northern crossing close to the weapons testing facility at Aberdeen Proving Grounds.

1947: A Baltimore Sun editorial notes: “It’s a good thing they didn’t build that trolley bridge forty years ago. It would have been out of date and just a piece of junk now. If they wait another forty years before they build this bridge, they won’t need it. Automobiles will be as out of date as trolley cars. People will have flymobiles and won’t need bridges to cross the bay.”

1948: Governor William Preston Lane is so determined to build the Chesapeake Bay Bridge that critics dismiss the project as “Lane’s Folly.” (The bridge eventually will be renamed in his memory in 1967.) There is some debate about building a combination bridge-tunnel, but its price tag comes in at $7.5 million higher than a bridge alone. By 1948, Congress, the state, and everyone else involved have all signed off on the bridge.

1949: The first shovel hits dirt in January on the western approach road near Sandy Point. Work on the largest-to-date public project in Maryland’s history has finally begun. The first span costs $45 million to build. By comparison, the second span, which opened in 1973, costs $120 million. (And a current plan to clean and repaint the first span, a six-year project scheduled to end in 2005, is projected to cost $72.3 million.)

1950: An issue of Transmitter magazine extolls the futuristic “wireless” telephones being used by crews building the bridge. The pre-cellular mobile phone system is built around one 60-watt transmitter at Sandy Point, two 30-watt mobile stations on tug boats and eleven 10-watt stations on various derricks, diggers, pile drivers, and utility boats. No word on whether the phones cause any construction accidents.

1951: Lou Kelley, who would go on to become known as “Mr. Bay Bridge” during a thirty-nine-year career as patrolman, administrator, and superintendent of the bridge, is just a wide-eyed, young Kent Islander watching the bridge rise over the Bay and wondering what changes are in store for the Eastern Shore. “We were told by some of the old timers not to worry too much about all that,” Kelley says. “They’d tell us, ‘On a hard winter when the ice comes up the bend and the Bay freezes, it’s gonna wipe that bridge out. It’s not gonna be there long—I’ll guarantee you that.’”

July 27, 1952: On the Sunday before the bridge opens—construction crews have the day off, and the bridge looks deserted—the teenaged Lou Kelley lifts his bike over the barricade at the edge of the bridge, determined to be the first person to pedal across. Halfway across, a car pulls up, and the driver commences denouncing Kelley’s dangerous stunt. “Where did you come from?” the man demands. “Kent Island,” the youth replies. To this day, Kelley laments that fact that he didn’t lie and say “Annapolis.” If he had, he could have finished his historic crossing and rode the ferry back. A few years later, Kelley would be working as a bridge patrolman, diligently chasing all manner of trespassers and gate-crashers.

July 30, 1952: On opening day, in addition to the crowd of 20,000, Francis the Talking Mule shows up. Governor Theodore McKeldin and former Governor Lane deliver speeches at Sandy Point, then lead a caravan of twenty-four chartered buses across the bridge. Lane tells the throngs: “The completion of the bridge marks the realization of a dream of over forty years. It is the most outstanding single accomplishment that Maryland has ever undertaken.” Between sightseeing stops and lots of handshaking and backslapping, this first trip across takes more than two and a half hours.

At 6 p.m., the Kent Island-to-Sandy Point ferry begins its last run. Toll collector Warren Coursey says today that he knew it was the end of an era, but he didn’t know how much change the bridge would bring to Kent Island. “I liked it in olden times better,” he says. “But you can’t stop progress.”

Just as the last ferry shoves off, the bridge toll booths open for business. One-way trips cost $1.28 for small cars and $1.54 for larger vehicles, with an additional 25 cents tacked on for each passenger. Omero C. Catan, of New Jersey, is the first paying customer, as he had been time and again over the years at public facilities up and down the East Coast. That’s why everyone calls him “Mr. First.”

Late 1952: After the ferry stops running, Warren Coursey becomes a toll collector on the bridge. In the bridge’s early days, drivers who didn’t have any money were required to leave something of value in lieu of a toll. “Most of the time, it was spare tires and jacks,” Coursey recalls. “But sometimes we got some jewelry or a camera or something.” Drivers had a period of months to reclaim the materials before they went up for sale at a warehouse near the bridge.

July, 1953: On the bridge’s first birthday, at exactly 6 p.m., officials stop the car of retired electrical engineer Frank Stephenson and his passenger, Mabel Adams. Stephenson and Adams are asked to blow out candles and help distribute cake to passing motorists. “I thought I’d robbed a bank or something,” a startled Stephenson tells reporters.

Mid-1950s: Maintenance crews ride back and forth across the bridge to help motorists stranded in broken-down cars. Once in a while, it isn’t a car they need to rescue. One officer gives a lift to a young woman whose angry boyfriend has ordered her out of the car in the middle of the bridge. On several occasions, dogs that had been abandoned on the Eastern Shore made their way onto the bridge in a show of fierce determination to make it back to their Western Shore homes.

Bridge toll collectors hand out free maps in the early days. This practice is halted after too many drivers stayed at the booth, unfolded the map, and demanded that the collectors show them which roads to take. “You’d try to tell them that there were cars waiting on them, and that they had to get moving, but they just wouldn’t leave,” Coursey recalls. “It happened all the time.”

1957: From day one, bridge traffic exceeds expectations. Experts estimate that the bridge will carry 1.1 million vehicles a year at first and grow to 1.5 million by 1961. Instead, nearly 2 million cross in 1953, and by 1957, it’s up to 3 million.

1962: When the bridge was built, state officials estimated it would take forty years to collect $45 million in tolls. They raised $41 million in just ten years. Then they lowered the cost of tolls to $1 a vehicle.

1965: Maryland’s general assembly authorizes funds for parallel span. Construction begins on May 19, 1969.

June 28, 1973: The three-lane westbound span of the bridge opens.

1982: On the occasion of the bridge’s thirtieth birthday, an anonymous Queen Anne’s County resident sums up his feelings of disdain for the bridge and its impact on Eastern Shore life this way: “I wish they could have built it from Baltimore to Ocean City.”

1999: After thirty-nine years of working on the bridge, Lou Kelley retires. He tells everyone that he has one bone to pick with the bridge-using public: “Most people look at government employees as being freeloaders who stand around with their hands in their pockets all day,” he says. “But over the years there was a lot of conscientious people at the bridge that I was proud of. Police rushing around, helping people. Maintenance people, working all those hours in bad weather. Collectors taking tolls from 400 patrons an hour and doing their best to say thank you to every one of them. These were people who were proud of their jobs and proud to do what they could to help others. That’s what I remember more than anything.”

July 30, 2002: The bridge marks the fiftieth anniversary of its muggy opening day. Half a century later, it carries more than 20 million vehicles across the Bay annually—nearly twenty times as many as it did in 1953. Love it or hate it, it’s impossible to imagine life in Maryland without it.

By the Numbers

• The original bridge took three-and-a-half years to build. When it opened, its 4.35-mile length from shore-to-shore made it the third longest bridge in the world and the world’s longest continuous-over-water steel structure.
• Building the bridge involved 17,500 tons of steel piling for 4,130 steel piles; 42,500 tons structural and other steel; 118,000 cubic yards of cement concrete; 2.5 million cubic yards of earth; and 151,400 tons of slope protection stone.
• Designing the bridge with a crescent curve wasn’t simply a matter of getting from Point A to Point B. The bridge needed to meet the Bay shipping channel at a right angle so that ships could navigate their way through it hassle-free. Vertical clearance in the shipping channel is 186 1/2 feet.
• Horizontal clearance is 1,500 feet. The man-made islands at the base of the bridge don’t serve any structural purpose; they’re there mainly to prevent ships from crashing into important structural elements.
• The two suspension towers are 385 feet tall and 2,922 1/2 feet apart. The suspension cables are 14 inches in diameter.
• The ferry system could carry 180 cars per hour across the Bay. The two-lane Bay Bridge handled 1,500 cars per hour. Once the three lanes on the second span opened, that number increased to 3,750 cars per hour.
• In the 1950s, two jeeps patrolled the bridge round-the-clock to assist motorists. In 1952 alone, bridge crews helped change 357 tires, gassed up 293 cars, and extinguished 10 vehicle fires.

 

JULY/AUGUST 2002

Rob Timm
Josh Cohen
Wayne Gilchrest
Chuck Fox
Lead Guitarist: Paul Reed Smith
Smooth Sailor: Gary Jobson
Searching For Tallulah
James McBride’s Eastern Shore
The Next Generation of Traditional Bay Occupations
The Vienna Water Ski Club
Misunderstood Professions
Landscape Painter Carol Rowan
Talbot County Home to Hollywood Insiders
Most Memorable Summer Jobs
The Bay's Dirtiest Jobs
Marvesta Shrimp Farms
Tangier Island’s Medical Clinic
Favorite Christmas Tree Ornaments
Baltimore Inner Harbor’s Trash Skimmer
Local Reality TV Folks
Behind the Scenes at the Maryland Renaissance Festival
Survivor Stories
Bay-area Volunteers
Deanna Dove, singer/songwriter
People Who Bring Their Dogs to Work
The Struggles (and Successes) of Bayview, Va.
Huntsman Jim Faber
Outdoor Jobs on the Bay

Arthur Crudup
Chesapeake's Historic Amusement Parks
Kent County’s African American Schoolhouse Museum
Southern Maryland's "Little Vegas"
Tom Horton’s Holland Island
Camp Wright
Historic Cemeteries
Eastern Shore Railroad

Chesapeake Real Estate 2011
Chesapeake facts and feats
Chicken Lawsuit
Knapps Narrows Drawbridge
25 (Chesapeake) Things To Do Before You Die
Pampering for Your Pet
Fun Essays About Summer
Designer Consignment Shops
Memorable Holiday Gifts
The Art of Regifting
31 Ways to Help Save the Bay
100 Chesapeake Classics
Who’s to Blame for the Chesapeake’s Polluted Waters
Where’s the Political Will to Save the Bay?
Chesapeake Bay Bridge 50th Anniversary