Baltimore is a fascinating town. It leans much more heavily on its older, glory days than on its present, somewhat nondescript identity. Even though the benches at local bus stops are emblazoned with the motto “America’s Greatest City,” it’s a halfhearted claim, as that signage itself is weathered and marred with graffiti. My Uber driver, as we headed downtown from the airport, kept advising me to be on my guard and to stay away from the “bad areas.” Where are those, I asked? “Well, you don’t want to go to the west. And you also don’t want to go to the east.” And let’s not get into the whole fight between our President and Congressman Cummings.
Still, I do like Baltimore. It’s filled with historic architecture and spaces, while remaining largely free of pretense. And one of those historic venues is the Edgar Allan Poe house, at 203 N. Amity Street.
This house, which stands at Ground Zero for the International Edgar Allan Poe Festival, is where Poe had lived from 1832 to 1835. We know Poe today as one of the most famous writers America has produced, but for most of his life Poe was little celebrated, largely friendless, and mostly penniless. He lived in this small, cramped, rented house with his aunt, two cousins, and grandmother. It was here that he wrote MS Found in a Bottle, The Visionary, Lionizing, Berenice, King Pest, The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall, and various other tales and poems.
The International Poe Festival is a small gathering of enthusiastic Poeheads, leavened with a handful of Goths, Steampunks, and other hangers-on looking for an excuse to dress up and be seen. Near the Poe House is a stage on which several groups performed interpretations of Poe’s works. There were also vendors selling Poe swag, as well as other merch only indirectly related to Poe. But the main attraction, other than the house, was the attendees.
But the highlight of the day was a visit to Poe’s grave at Westminster Burial Grounds. Just a mile from the house where he’d written in his 20’s, Poe’s grave is marked by a large monument that was erected a quarter of a century after he’d died. That monument was too large to fit over the grave where Poe was originally buried, so in a life-imitating-art moment, Poe’s body was disinterred and moved some 50 feet to this more open site that could accommodate the new monument. Flanking Poe’s body are his wife/cousin and his aunt/mother-in-law. It’s complicated.
Poe’s death remains a mystery. On October 3, 1849, he was found at Baltimore tavern, delirious and wearing tattered clothes that were not his own. A few days later he died at Washington College Hospital, pictured below. (Poe’s room was on the second floor, to the left of the main entrance.)
As part of the Poe Festivities, we attended a re-enactment of Poe’s funeral. The original funeral had been attended by only about 6 people. (Throughout the day, I found myself muttering “Poor Poe!”) So our crowd of two dozen tourists made for a somewhat more respectable showing.
Later in the evening we ventured beyond the immediate Poe-dom to the Annabel Lee Tavern, named after one of Poe’s poems. The decor was thoroughly Poe-inspired, and the drinks bore names like Mesmeric Revelation, Masque of the Red Death, and The Raven.
It’s remarkable that 170 years (almost to the day) after Poe’s sad life came to an end, his works are still well-known and his characters and scenes inspire cocktail menus, restaurant decor, and international gatherings. Tomorrow, which is the actual anniversary of his death, let us all raise a glass of amontillado to Poe’s memory.
BREW OF THE DAY
Today’s brew was a Peter Brown’s Tribute Ale, from Bear Republic, which I ordered at Annabel Lee’s Tavern. I really tried to drink a local brew, but none seemed palatable. So I ended up with this beer from Healdsburg, CA. It’s extremely malty and rather sweet (brewed with molasses and brown sugar). It’s a beautiful coppery-brown color, with no real nose to speak of. The malt is partly balanced with hops, but the malt definitely dominates. The body is thin, and the ABV is a moderate 6.3. I usually prefer a “bigger” beer, but this one went well with the enormous plate of nachos I had in lieu of dinner. I give it 2.5 stars.
Chasing Phantoms 