I don’t subscribe to the print edition of The Baltimore Sun, but take the digital version (which gets zero traction on Twitter, which is surprising for a daily that, in the 20th century, was a legacy newspaper), and that’s good for weather, Orioles stories, crime stats—no matter what the public-relations studies say, the violence turnaround is part-fact, part-fantasy—and an occasional whopper of a news story. As in very, very funny, the kind of report (front-page on digital) that’s more 1950s than today.
You can’t beat this headline: “Man accused of peeing on family at Morgan Wallen concert extradited to Maryland.” Not so great for the ad-hoc Porta Potty victims, although I’d think this is an incident that belongs in the near-agate in the paper’s bowels, although I’m not sure how many young Sun employees are familiar with the word “agate.” No sweat, because reporter Luke Parker’s rundown of the weird water scuffle, which occurred last month, is definitely not enhanced by AI.
The perp, 39-year-old Jayson Michael Reed, who was on the lam in North Carolina—he has a Virginia driver’s license—was having too much fun at the Wallen show at M&T Bank Stadium (where the Ravens play) and now has to face the consequences. (Not to minimize his public intoxication, etc. but this kind of offense wouldn’t raise an eyebrow for a possible Law & Order episode.)
Parker: “Not long before taking their seats behind a goal post, and only a few songs into Wallen’s set, [Troy] Grevelding said he felt a ‘wetness’ on his leg. He told The Baltimore Sun that he turned to see a drunken man with his pants down, genitals exposed, urinating on his and his relatives, including his 8-year-old niece… ‘Everything kind of froze, Grevelding said in a phone call. ‘It took me a second to register it… and I had a million thoughts running through my head, wanting to rip this dude’s head off. It was the fastest slow-motion thing that could have happened.”
No word on whether the niece saw Reed’s schlong and nuts, but it doesn’t strike me as a Top 10 Shitty Experience in a person’s life. In fact, it’s a hell of a story to tell for years on end, when Troy’s at a barbecue or knocking back a couple of pints with buddies. Maybe he’s a devout Christian who takes this shit very seriously, but Parker doesn’t tell the reader.
(I remember going to a David Bowie concert at the Capital Centre in Landover, Maryland, in April of 1978, and during intermission I went to the john to take a piss—manners!—and it was bedlam with drunks, junkies and underage girls looking for a trick. In a way, pretty cool, but less so when I stepped away from the urinal and found my sneakers covered in multi-colored puke. I did a two-step, getting the worst off, and returned to my seat, and friends, and saw Bowie start the second half with a spirited rendition of his “Beauty and the Beast.” The puke was forgotten.)
There was a long real estate story about Baltimore’s “housing turnaround”—reporter Nicholas G. Miller says it’s because the city is more affordable than other East Coast destinations, although that was always true—in The Wall Street Journal on August 16th, and the sketchy Mayor Brandon Scott takes many bows for minimally reducing the number of boarded-up houses, but after reading it, I wasn’t convinced. As I’ve noted before, take a tour of Baltimore and the vacant storefronts on main thoroughfares is a far cry from a far more vibrant city in the late-20th century. Unless you need a tune-up at one of many nail salons.
Also missing was at least a mention of the new curfews in the Baltimore neighborhoods (with a lot of entertainment venues and bars) of Fells Point and Federal Hill, both of which have beefed up police presence. Among the new rules are weekend roadblocks, “security” allowed to check backpacks “for weapons and alcohol,” no outdoor drinking (which used to be common and not given any attention) and nine p.m. curfews for children 13 and younger.
The photo above was taken by John Ellsberry one weekend afternoon at the Fells Point “Fun Festival,” and, as you can see, on a Broadway curb (that’s my friend Granville Greene on the left and me on the right) there were empties everywhere. In 1997, a bunch of my colleagues at New York Press went down to Baltimore to celebrate the City Paper’s 20th anniversary at a large, generic bar on Broadway near Thames. There were no incidents and no cops. A more permissive era, or, a time when going out at night in Baltimore wasn’t a chore.
Take a look at the clues to figure out the year: Bob Dole was Senate Majority Leader; the U.S. Senate passes a treaty outlawing genocide; Jonathan Pollard pleads guilty to espionage; NBC airs the last episode of Search for Tomorrow; Dane DeHaan is born and Donna Reed dies; Out of Africa wins Best Picture Oscar; Bobby Doerr is inducted into MLB Hall of Fame; Roger Clemens wins A.L. Cy Young and Most Valuable Player awards; the Yankees’ Dave Righetti is the Rolaids Relief Man Award for the A.L.; David Leavitt’s The Lost Language of Cranes and Harvey Pekar’s autobiography American Splendor are published.
—Follow Russ Smith on Twitter: @MUGGER2023