I have no special insight into this. I really don’t know what to make of it. My first thoughts are give the guy a break.
The deputy major of the Baltimore Police Department’s Eastern District has been suspended pending an internal investigation into allegations that he failed to disclose a series of text messages he exchanged with a man sought on a domestic violence warrant, days before authorities say he killed his wife.
Here’s the Sun’sreport.
And Peter Hermann’s.
I got Badges, Bullets & Bars in the mail and started reading it.
I am amazed (maybe pleased is a better word) to find that one story — a police urban myth I constantly heard — is true. There are many crazy stories cops tell. And every squad has its own ghosts. Most of the stories are probably true (you really “can’t make this shit up”). But cops are also good bullshitters, so you never know for sure.
There are stories that come to mind that I fully believe are true but weren’t in my book because, well, I didn’t see it.
One involves fake snow and a sleeping police officer.
another involves an officer who dragged a cold dead body across the street so he wouldn’t have to do paperwork.
Turns out the dead guy had the misfortune of dying right on a post boundary line. What made it even worse was the the line wasn’t even a districtline (I mean if he dumped the body on the Southeast… or even gave it Sector 1, well, that is a littlefunny). But the SOB dragged the body across the street so another member of his own squad had to deal with it! What a prick.
Or who knows? Maybe it never happened. (But it did.)
Another story I heard (many times) involved brothers on Durham St. One brother stabbed his brother with a butcher’s knife. On Thanksgiving. At the family dinner table. Why? Because they were arguing about who would get the turkey legs.
Now that’s certainly a doozie of story! True? Who knows? I mean, I wouldn’t kill my brother over a bird leg. But then there’s a lot of behavior in the Eastern I wouldn’t do.
But I rarely heard stories that weren’t true… I mean, why make shit up when there’s such much true that is unbelievable?
But still… Thanksgiving? turkey leg? brothers? carving knife? table all set up and everything. It seemed too picture perfect to be true. I mean, maybe they were just “brothers.” And it wasn’t Thanksgiving. And it was while eating a chicken box. But really it was about something else.
Well… I’ll be damned. In his book, Dan Shanahan was working Sector Two in the Eastern and says not only is the story true, but hewas the primary at the scene! On Durham Street. In mysector. It happened back in 1976. (The way the story was told, it always seemed like it happened just nights before I hit the streets in 2000). Twenty-five years later (only one officer I worked with had more than 24 years on) this story was still being told to represent everything that was f*cked up about the Eastern.
Still. I’m happy to read this. I feel like Mythbusters. “Man in Eastern stabs and kills brother over turkey leg at family Thanksgiving dinner.” Confirmed!
When I was a cop in Baltimore, I kind of assumed I was the only active police officer going for a PhD at one fo them fancy graduate schools. I wasn’t.
I’ve also assumed I’m the only former Baltimore police officer to write a book based on time in the Eastern District. I’m not.
I’m not certain why I only heard about Daniel Shanahan’s Badges, Bullets, & Bars recently. Professor Edith Linn (retired NYPD) told me about it at the ASC conference in St. Louis. She’s written a great book herself, Arrest Decisions. In it, she quantifies many of the points about arrest discretion I make in my book.
I’ve ordered Badges, Bullets, and Bars and look forward to reading it. You can read the 1st chapter here. It seems pretty hard core.
The book is dedicated to:
“All the excellent Law Enforcement officers who shortened their careers by crossing the thin blue line and venturing into the wrong territory; sometimes into criminal territory. Therefore permanently tarnishing their badge, reputation, family, and all the good that badge stands for. This book is for the police officers that could not find their way back, wanted to make a difference, and unfortunately, could have.”
Yikes! I imagine most police stayed far away from Shanahan. The stories of mentally unstable cops are legendary and usually great for a laugh… until somebody gets hurt.
But I’ll withhold further judgment till I read his book. He certainly does not seem like a man you would want to cross.
You know, if you like police books, there’s a great web site: Police-writers.com. If I checked it more often, I would have know allthe books written by Baltimore police officers.
The Great Blacks in Wax Museum unveiled their Obama statue. Pictures in the Baltimore Sun.
That’s Rep. Elijah Cummings on the right. He’s flesh and blood.
Now you might think I’m writing The Great Black in Wax Museum because of some thinly veiled hipster irony in this supposed post-racial era.
Actually, no. I just like the museum. And yes, unlike anybody else I worked with, I’ve actually been there as a paying customer. Wax museums crack me up. I always roll my eyes thinking about them. Doesn’t everyone?
But then when I go to one, I find them very amusing and somewhat educational (for the record, I also like those old-fashioned behind-the-glass perspective-based panoramas museums used to be into).
Anyway, the Great Black in Wax Museum not only has a great name, but it’s also one of the only cultural institutions that actually is inthe Eastern District. 1601 E North Ave. It’s just across the street from the far better patronized 1400 E North Ave.
Is the neighborhood safe? Well. No. But that shouldn’t stop you. Just be careful. I’m not saying you’ll be shot. I’m just saying lots of other people have been shot very nearby. If you can’t park right in front on North Ave, I’d try the courthouse lot across the street.
I first published this a year ago when nobody read my blog. It’s worth a rehash.
#1) 1900 Block of E Eager. 1906 E Eager is the third house (with awning) from Mr. George’s corner laundromat. Two short blocks North of Johns Hopkins Hospital, this corner (Wolfe and Eager) is one of the “hottest” (but hardly the only) drug corners in the neighborhood, heroin and crack are sold around the clock, rain or shine. Most of the customers are locals, but a conspicuous minority of whites drive in from the poor suburbs looking for the purer heroin found in the ghetto. This neighborhood, built around the turn of the century and featuring typical Baltimore rowhomes, formstone, and marble stoops, was all white until the 1950s, middle class until the 70s and 80s, now it is mostly vacant, all black, and very poor. Hopkins and city own most of the property. Hopkins has since torn down most of this area.
#2) The corner looks deserted. It is just 7 in the morning. But a few moments earlier, there were dozens of people roaming about. But a funny thing happens when you part a police car in the middle of the intersection, turn off the motor (otherwise the picture is blurry), and take a picture. People scatter. Note how everybody is walking away. I didn’t take in personally. 
#3) Approaching the rear of 1906 E Eager from N Chapel St. I was looking for a location to observe drug sailes on the corner and out of one house in particular.
#4) Most vacants are boarded up to prevent junkies from entering, or filled with too much trash and damage to let one safely enter. The Rear entrance of 1906 E Eager is wide open. The first, time, on official police business, I went in alone. The second time, to take pictures, I brought along a partner, just to be safe.
#5) The rear room on the first floor is what used to be the kitchen. In the Northeast corner are old appliances, partially stripped and peeling lead paint, and remnants of alpine wallpaper.
#6) Another view of the alpine wallpaper
#7) Looking Southwest in the kitchen, a few more appliances.
#8) The Southeast corner of the kitchen. The iron stove top grates have long been sold for scrap. Almost all the metal has been.
#9) The front room is the living room. A TV and couch remain. Makes me think the home was occupied into the 1990s. The front door is on the right. It’s interesting to me that a big color TV, once somebody’s prized possession, is no longer worth anything.
#10) The front door is on the left. Vivid woodland wallpaper remains.
#11) Looking up the staircase between the rooms. One of the stairs is rotted through, but the rest are in pretty good shape. This is a typical staircase for a rowhome. It’s horrible for police. Often there’s no handrail, and you can easily be pushed down. At the top, suspects could be in either or both directions. They don’t teach you about this in the police academy.
#12) 2nd floor front room. Nice windows for surveillance of the dealers katty-corner across Wolfe St. Otherwise trash, some drug paraphernalia, a mattress against the wall, two pairs of shoes, and a nicely patterned linoleum floor remain.
#13) Looking East in the upstairs front room. A nice old heating grate, removed from the wall, hasn’t been taken to sell for scrap. A small water bottle (nicely labeled “water”) is on the floor. This water would be mixed with heroin and heated with lighter in a metal bottle cap from a 40oz bottle of malt liquor. The mixture is then injected. The only thing is these pictures I manipulated is the water bottle. I turned it so I could photograph the word, “water.” I love how it’s neatly labeled.
#14) Rear room second floor. View looking rear from the stairs. Two layers of floor cover are visible, along with purple latex gloves, and a black tourniquet to make veins bulge for easier injection. An empty container of cornstarch is on the chair. Cornstarch can be put into empty crack vials and repackaged as “burn,” or fake drugs to sell for a quick buck, mostly to whites coming into the neighborhood. Some of these whites then call the police and tell us they were robbed (always of $10 or $20). They don’t get much sympathy. Locals would know not to buy from local junkies. But selling burn is not without risk as selling burn to the wrong person can get you beat up or killed.
#15) Looking towards the front in the rear room. Mirrors and black pride posters increase the positivity and create a much nicer overall environment. Tupac, Goodie Mob, and Q-Tip. An almost empty bottle of Pepto Bismal lies on the ground, showing that indigestion can strike anyone.
#16) A poster and broken clock on one wall is just of above the bottles of piss and cans of shit neatly kept in the corner (unfortunately my partner knocked over that board you see on the lower right corner, tipping everything over. It smelled really rank after that.)
#17) A 2000 Sears poster celebrating Black History claiming it’s not just for February anymore: “Every family has a history. We celebrate yours every day, every year.”
#18) Bottles of piss sit in old malt liquor bottles. Next to it is a free parenting magazine and a toy box. My partner accidentally knocked the loose door on to the bottles of human waste. This spilled a lot of piss. We left the place worse than we found it. This wasn’t low-impact policing. Sorry.
#19) Another view of the main lounge and work area. Given the conditions, this is not where serious drug dealers do their work. This is a place for addicts to shoot up, relax, and scheme how to come up with their next $10 hit.
#20) A few chairs are set around a collection of empty crack vials. There are also more shoes. Why all the shoes?
#21) Looking closer, there are dozens of empty crack vials. Every color of the rainbow. The legal use for these vials in for perfumes and oils. The color of the cap on the vial often becomes a sort of brand name: red tops, blacks tops, or orange tops. Other good brand names: Uptown, Bodybag, Capone, and the more generic Ready Rock. Also on the floor are candles, cigarette butts, lighters (lots of them), tin foil, and bottle caps. Heroin and coke is an ever popular mix. John Belushi overdosed on it. Sugar, in the form of candy bars and tasty cakes can take some of the edge of the beginnings of heroin withdrawal.
Notice that the cup being used as an ashtray is standing and in use. The shoes are lined up. Paper is on the floor. In this disorder, there is order. But it’s almost inevitable that at some point in time they’ll burn the place down. And when that happens, you don’t want to be the neighbor next door.
These pictures were taken in early 2001.
Baltimore Sun reporter Peter Hermann doesn’t exactly crack the case, but he does provide a bit more insight and analysis than you usually find in such a story. Read it here.
Buried in a small story in the Sun: “Nineteen people have been killed in the Eastern District this year, half as many as at this point last year.”
It’s sad to think about cities being abandonded. I hate to make the Eastern District stand for everything that’s bad. It’s bad in East Baltimore. But it’s also bad in St. Louis, East St Louis, Detroit, Gary, Camden, Newark, the west side of Chicago. The list goes on and on.
Just two generation ago, this area was packed full with homes and families and people. Streets. Sewers. Water. Electricity. A roof over our head. Everything you need. Then the jobs left. Now, because of drugs, the war on drugs, and crime, it’s literally abandoned.
If (like me) you’re fascinated with urban decay, you should check out the work of photographer Camilo Jose Vergara. And some of later work shows before and after pictures of the re-habitation of Harlem. Good stuff.
And if you like Baltimore rowhouses, I recommend The Baltimore Rowhouse. It’s not all decay. It’s stained glass and marble stoops and Formstone! They may all look the same to outsiders, but you can pretty easily tell what part of Baltimore you’re in just by the look of the rowhomes.
Above is a street, not an alley. Baltimore has a lot of narrow streets. I call them alley streets. But they’re streets, with houses fronting them. Here the whole block just happens to be torn down.
This looks like west on E. North Ave. Can somebody please tell me what’s up with people who roll themselves and their wheelchairs around with their legs? I associate it with the ghetto. And I just don’t get it.
Thanks to Konrad for taking (and bringing me!) these.
There aren’t too many streets with pretty trees. Alas, the trees don’t stop bullets. But the streets with trees tend to be less abandoned.