Dock of the Bay
Volume VII Number 38
Our Ranking Neighbors: Six Who Made Warren's List
Photographer Marion Warren's a man with whom people have been friends so long that no one can remember exactly how they first met.
"I think I met him at church. We both used to go to the Naval Academy Chapel."
"It was on one of the historic preservation groups that we worked on. Maybe the Anne Arundel County Trust."
"He took pictures for the Players for some of our productions."
On Sept. 17, many of Warren's friends and neighbors gathered at Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts. In what was part high school reunion, part autograph session, part town meeting and part art opening, Warren's work and friendship were both celebrated.
The Friends and Neighbors project started with an idea born over two decades ago. Two years ago, Warren took up the project again and began making pictures.
The result is a collection of portraits (as well as the Maryland Hall show, it is available as a book in both hard- and soft-cover formats) from a cross section of Annapolis. Politicians, writers, artists and business leaders are included, but portraits of repairmen, farmers, postmen, and even the paperboy stand on equal footing. The strength of the collection is diversity.
John Shea, a UPS delivery man, rushed into Maryland Hall in between stops.
"I didn't come in costume. I came in my uniform because I'm still working. I just wanted to show my support," said Shea.
When first approached, Shea wasn't in a hurry to be included. "I delivered to his house. He asked to take my picture one day. I was a little hesitant at first. I didn't know he was a professional photographer. I didn't know who he was."
Shea's portrait in front of his delivery truck was shot outside Warren's home.
Beth Whaley, a director at Colonial Players, has both a professional and personal relationship with Warren.
"We met years ago through the players," Whaley recalls. "Marion occasionally took pictures of the cast. We both went to St. Mary's Church, so I know him from there, too."
Whaley felt comfortable having her portrait done by an old friend.
"We took the picture at his studio," Whaley says. "It was great. I was talking to an old friend. Marion talks and snaps pictures. He took quite a few to get the shot he needed."
Whaley knew many of Warren's chosen subjects and met many more at opening night. Friends and Neighbors heightened her sense of community.
"This project is a wonderful idea. It's a way to better the community over the years. You see the people in your community and put faces and names together," she said.
Jack Noone, author of The Barrys of Key West and Annapolis, is another of the friends in Warren's collection.
"I've known Marion for 15 or 20 years," Noone recalls. "We met at church. We both went to the Naval Academy Chapel. Our friendship has been growing by leaps and bounds."
With so many years of friendship, Noone was a natural choice for a portrait.
"One morning Marion invited me over for brunch and talked about the project," Noone says. "The portrait was taken at my house, in my small office. I had my Navy sweatshirt on. It was very casual. He took quite a few shots to get the one he wanted."
For Noone, this collection was just another accomplishment in Warren's full life.
"The exhibit is beautiful. It is a wonderful tribute to Marion and his work."
Warren introduces Anna Greenberg as a "civic leader and professional volunteer." The president of the Annapolis Symphony Orchestra "loves" her portrait and is proud to be included in a "composite of people who've made a difference."
The busy Greenberg also sits on boards of Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts, the Historic Annapolis Foundation, St. John's College and Scholarships for Scholars. "I was born here. I'm a hometown girl who appreciates all that art has done for Annapolis," says Greenberg.
Along with two former Annapolis mayors, current mayor Dean Johnson sat for a Warren portrait. For Johnson it was just more time talking to a friend.
"The photo was taken a while ago, before I ran for mayor," Johnson remembers. "I was sitting backward on a dining room chair in Marion's house. I often sit in chairs like that. I was relaxed and talking and he got the picture."
Johnson marveled at both the portraits and their diversity.
"It's an extraordinary project," says Johnson. "People from all different walks of life, involved in all sorts of activities. Some are well known, others are not. It's something that should be done every so often, so each of us will be reminded of the people around us."
And of people no longer around. Marine biologist, Admiral of the Chesapeake and father of the Bay clean-up Gene Cronin is one of two Friends and Neighbors now deceased.
"Marion took lots of pictures of Gene," his wife, Alice, told NBT. "Gene looks so relaxed and happy because they were old friends."
Cronin was dedicated to the Chesapeake, its people and its creatures. "From his work he knew all kinds of watermen," she added. "When Marion started his last book, Bringing Back the Bay, my husband introduced him to all these watermen. Then he took his beautiful pictures of them."
Bits & Pieces
New Bay Times~Wetly
New Bay Times' delivery staff met Floyd first hand as they drove flooded streets to bring you last week's paper.
Betsy Owens-Schulz ventured out through Annapolis, Eastport and Hillsmere in her little Dodge Spirit. "I was chasing papers as the wind whipped them," she says.
Like Owens-Schulz, who went through three sets of clothes that day, all drivers had to wring out their pants by day's end.
"It was so wet that when I came back to my truck there was a duck sitting in my front seat," says the driver covering Bowie and Crofton areas. "It was raining so hard I thought I was in a submarine."
South County was not much better. "It was horrible," confirms driver Tricia Acton. "I bought a poncho, but I was soaked."
"Soaking wet is an understatement," says New Bay Times general manager Alex Knoll who slogged through deliveries to Annapolis. "It was kind of an adventure."
Even Annapolis Mayor Dean Johnson felt the wrath of Floyd when his basement flooded, power flickered and some tree limbs fell.
Though he thought downtown Annapolis' coordinated planning went well, the Mayor said next time he would, "Include BG&E and Bell Atlantic in the planning."
Throughout Chesapeake Country, roads were closed because trees crashed down, puddles became two-foot pools, and electricity was scarce for some.
Bob McDaniel's Toyota pick-up took a beating from Floyd while trying to get to New Bay Times headquarters from his home in St. Leonard. "There were trees laying across roads," he says. "After that I ran into a bunch of water and flooded my vehicle."
"Trees were falling left and right," agrees Lori Sikorski of Lusby. "It was a wet, windy, dreary day."
Despite Fickle Weather, Hospice Cup Crosses the $400,000 Line
Hospice Cup XVIII was the most successful ever - reaching an all-time high goal of $400,000 to be distributed among the six participating hospices - despite a one-two punch from the weather. First Floyd tried to kayo the outdoor festivities, knocking out electricity, knocking down tents and flooding fields where the party was to gather.
"This was really was a cliff hanger. Caterers were cooking by candlelight. Shearwater Sailing couldn't assemble race records because their computers were down. We were pulling our hair out about canceling or changing venues, moving to the Armory, the State Capitol or St. Andrews Church Hall. To top it all, Pat Sajak's race trophy was stranded in North Carolina," said Carole Kauffman, chair of this year's extravaganza.
"That we pulled it off was due to the heroic efforts of hundreds of volunteers. What was planned to be accomplished in three days had to be done in six hours. They did it, and still kept our costs at under 20 percent," Kauffman added.
Forty-eight hours later, Hospice Regatta Day dawned crisp, clear and blue - without a degree of humidity or puff of wind.
"Come rain or shine, we've always sailed. But this year winds were so very slow that we feared there would be no race for the first time ever," said Kauffman. Several starts were aborted. "But then southerly winds came in and boats took off."
First-place winners took trophies in nine standard classes: PHRF Nonspinnaker: Tot O'Mara, aboard Regatta; PHRF AO: James Muldoon, aboard Donneybrook; PHRF A1: Tom Ballard aboard Snake Eyes; PHRF B: John Sherwood, aboard Witch's Flower; PHRF C/D: Art Libby, aboard Results; 27 Catalina: Baxter and Becker, aboard Finesse; MORC: Jude Brown, aboard Scarecrow; J/105: J and M. Driver, aboard El Toro; and Mumm 30: B. and M. Freitag, aboard Prime Time.
Two perpetual trophies were awarded, the Martin F. McCarthy Memorial Trophy for the best performance in the Hospice Class to J. and C. Lombardo aboard Ingenuity; and the Hospice Cup Trophy sponsored by Booz, Allen & Hamilton for best overall performance in the past three years to James Muldoon aboard Donneybrook.
Two more perpetual trophies were not awarded pending protests. One of those, the Sajak Family Foundation Trophy, is still lost somewhere between Maryland and North Carolina.
Floyd Says: You Don't! You Don't
Hurricane Floyd roared into Chesapeake Country last week interrupting lives and interfering with a marriage. That marriage is 2nd Star's musical I Do I Do, a journey through the years with a long-married couple.
Out of power, the Town of Bowie closed the Whitemarsh Recreation Area, which houses the Bowie Playhouse, canceling the 8pm Friday show. A half hour too late, the lights came on.
Jane Wingard, executive director of 2nd Star and director of I Do I Do, lives by the theater slogan 'the show must go on.' She had never before canceled a show. "The closest call came during our production of Camelot in a February 1997 snowstorm." That show went on.
Musical Theatre International, the company that holds the rights to I Do I Do, waived their royalties for that night and the Town of Bowie won't be collecting their Playhouse rent.
Even so, community theaters are fragile and every evening's revenue looms large in their survival. This one continues, as planned Friday and Saturday nights and Sunday afternoons through October 3 (call 410/798-7001 for tickets).
"Come see the show," invites Jane Wingard. "It's like Passages for marrieds. It doesn't sugar coat marriage, but the couple makes it through. And the price is cheaper than marriage counseling."
Bluegrass Fans Soak It Up
The votes are in: Deale loves bluegrass and hot rods.
The First Annual Deale Bluegrass Festival and Auto Show attracted almost 3,000 connoisseurs of fine music and muscle cars to Herrington Harbour North, according to organizer Tim Finch.
"The turnout was phenomenal," said Finch, brimming with enthusiasm. "The bands were great. We're definitely planning next year's."
Though the ground remained soggy from Floyd, bluegrass groups Gary Cooper & High Noon, Blue Daze, Bill Harrell & the Virginians and Deale's own Good Deale Bluegrass thrilled crowds to some stellar picking and singing under clear skies and in perfect weather.
Fans cracked crabs, stood in line for a rockfish sandwich or struggled with corn on the cob while the tap in the beer truck stayed on full throttle.
Equally thrilled with the huge turnout was Antique and Custom Auto Show organizer Don Howard. "Last year we got maybe 42 cars. This year we registered 100 and had to turn away around 30," says Howard.
Undeterred, many of the spurned contenders parked outside the gates. Howard also plans another show together with the bluegrass festival next year, when he hopes to squeeze in a few more vehicles.
Families Fight Flab
Fighting flab isn't especially fun. That's why this Saturday and Sunday fitness clubs across the country are opening their doors to families for a day of healthy activities.
Edgewater Fitness and Premier Health & Fitness are two area clubs taking part in this weekend's national Family Health and Fitness Days US.
"The whole gym is open to the public so families can have fun and exercise together," says Gail Connaughton.
They'll have everything from aerobics classes for kids and their parents to relay races to balloon tossing contests and massages.
photo by Christy Grimes
When Don Howard strolled into the New Bay Times office to find out who owned the Ford Falcon, I cut ahead to what was sure to follow: "Not selling." But Don didn't actually want a Falcon. He just wanted to invite it (and me) to the First Annual Deale Bluegrass Festival and Auto Show he was putting together.
What an honor.
I often get compliments and offers on the Falcon, but in the three years I've owned it no one has ever asked me to enter it in a show. When I go to auto shows to admire other vintage cars, no one ever mistakes my Falcon for a contestant as I've always half hoped. But I understand why: It's a beige 1968 Falcon, not a two-tone 1958 DeSoto with TurboGlide and whitewalls.
Back when these finned and lurid dinosaurs hogged the road, their flash and sheer bulk overshadowed humbler reptiles like the Falcon. But amid today's traffic of jellybeans on wheels, the beveled and square-cut Falcon stands out. Even a single-color nonconvertible like mine. For the zeal it elicits, I might as well be driving the Batmobile. Yet the Falcon's impact drops to near-zero at an auto show, where the dinosaurs briefly return to once more obscure this no-nonsense survivor.
Given these facts, my hunch was the Deale show must be pitiful if they wanted my car. I hoped so. Then I could win. I pictured the competition as a handful of Dodge Darts with blistered vinyl tops and door dings. Fabulous. A cluster of beaters for a backdrop would set off nicely my new wax job.
Don said the top cars would get a trophy each. A big one. I wondered how I could mount mine as a hood ornament and remain street legal.
This was not actually the first time a car of mine was asked to an automotive event. My previous car was a pea-green 1971 Chevelle with a caved-in front and a missing grill (missing since the front end caved in), a creased hood and a rear left fender so rusted out I'd had to resculpt it entirely from Bondo. Aside from lots of police attention, these features got me regular invitations to demolition derbies, and I would have entered one had I some other vehicle to drive home with. Metro doesn't run to Brandywine or Budd's Creek.
Now I had a car that could win something just by looking nice, rather than by exploding hideously into flames and billowing black smoke.
Tragically it was my dream of victory that went up in flames and smoke. This happened the moment I pulled into Herrington Harbour North, the yacht yard where the show was held, and saw Jay O'Dell's Rangoon Red 1964 Ford Galaxy convertible with three-speed cruise-o-matic sitting picturesquely near the entrance in the shade of a lush tree. I got the particulars on Jay's car, including his name, from the placard he had centered neatly on the Galaxy's front bumper.
I hadn't thought to get a sign. Or a frame. Or a super car like Jay's.
Beyond the Galaxy, slightly blinded by Rangoon Red, I could see other glorious contenders: a 1931 Ford Model T, a cream- and-aqua 1956 Buick Special and a slate-blue and navy 1946 Hudson Sport Coupe, which, it turns out, belongs to Howard. Nearly 100 cars covered the property.
Braving my abrupt slide into loserville, I registered. As I was guided to a show spot I expected to hear someone yell "hey lady, the parking lot's in the back!" Lucky for me this didn't happen. Auto show enthusiasts and bluegrass fans alike are friendly folk, and the Falcon got some nice comments.
The sign on my dash helped. The auto show gave me the sign, a fill-in-the-blanks affair issued to each car to note make and model. But best of all was the blank for "outstanding features." That's where I wrote "all original," which is true. The fact lends interest to a garden-variety oldster like my Falcon.
Most show cars are painstakingly restored if not rebuilt. They have to be: 30, 40 and 50 years are hard on any car. Leonard Morehead's, for example.
Leonard invests plenty of sweat equity in his red '54 Chevy truck: "I just do the dumb work, sanding and grinding, and my friends do the rest," he explained.
He also invests some long money: "I got this truck about 15 years ago. A guy owed me some money and offered me this instead. I should have let him keep his truck and my money, too. Once I started pouring money into it, I think I got up to $7,500 and after that I just got ready to walk away from the whole thing," he says.
"Ask this guy. He's had this thing about two years and he's still about $5,000 from where he wants it."
"This guy" is Leonard's friend from Shadyside, Norman Mullen. "This thing" is Norman's 1950 Ford Club Coupe "with the original motor," he notes, no small thing.
Norman found his car alongside the road. "It was sitting there for about 6 months and I kept passing it. Finally I couldn't stand it any more. The guy gave me a figure on it, I said too much. Two weeks later I heard he'd reduced it, so I came back and bought it."
To this Leonard adds, "and he's been spending money on it ever since."
It's common for auto show cars to be not only overhauled and repainted but also souped up hot.
Like the '57 Chevy two-door of veteran trucker James "Cotton" Tayman of Upper Marlboro. Tayman put in a massive 502 engine: about double the size and power of the original. "We wanted to get here on time," Tayman explained. For good measure he had the Chevy's tubby body resprung with a Corvette suspension, so that now it sits sassy on its frame.
Though he has in effect created a street rod, Tayman claims not to exceed the speed limit at any time. "I never drive over 55," he maintains. "It'll go pretty good, I reckon," he speculated.
Of all these craftsmen it was Cotton Tayman who truly grasped the aesthetic of the Deale Auto Show crowd.
It turned out all my fretting over being outclassed by nobler classics was needless. The Deale auto show was judged by popular vote, and though the show was dominated by lovely older vehicles, the people's choice was muscle cars.
The top draw was a 1998 Viper, hardly an antique. Among the other winners the oldest was a '58. But it was a '58 Corvette.
-Christy Grimes, of Annapolis, is NBT's fall intern.
Way Downstream ...
In Virginia, you may want to think twice if you plan to move into the new development at the site of old Lorton prison. They've found underground fuel tanks leaking, tear gas chemicals, asbestos and lead in the water ...
In Montreal, Bombardier Recreational Products, maker of Sea-Doos, has developed four new models that emit 70 percent less pollution than present models. The company says it is responding to complaints about pollution and noise that have resulted in jetski bans on Lake Tahoe and elsewhere
In Oregon, they're getting ready to announce drastic limits on rockfish species similar to Maryland's actions in the 1980s to bring back striped bass. The Pacific Fishery Management Council plans to order cutbacks in November likely to include gear restrictions and outright closures
A Kingsbury, N.Y. jury rejected Wayne Davis' argument that air pollution had accumulated in his fatty tissues and caused him to flunk a breathalyzer, the Boston Globe reported
Our Creature Feature comes from Kern County, Calif., where people are wondering why half of California's giant condors suddenly have invaded a private mountain resort called Pine Mountain Club. Not only that, the 15 young condors are making a nuisance of themselves.
Since they arrived at the toney resort earlier this month, the birds have strewn trash, torn out insulation, wrecked chimney tops and even destroyed patio furniture. Bird-lovers say the condors are just "curious" but concede that they may be evidencing a "lack of parental guidance" because they were raised in zoos and released into the wild, where there are no adult condors left.
A Pine Mountain resident told the Los Angeles Times that authorities "ended up raising a bunch of great big friendly barnyard chicks, not wild, free-roaming birds."
| Issue 38 |
Volume VII Number 38
September 23-29, 1999
New Bay Times
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