Much of his collection resides throughout his rambling stone manor home perched on a Lutherville hilltop where leaded-glass windows overlook a sea of McMansion roofs. It's a veritable museum of Maryland whiskey, with signage, antique distilling apparatus, and, of course, bottles. His glass-fronted kitchen cabinets, where one might expect dishware or Rice Krispies boxes, brim with dozens and dozens of dusty rye bottles with names that are but barroom ghosts: Lorely, Rennert (after the hotel), Ryebrook, Wight's, Monticello, Hunter, and Old Henry. (Alas, many of the seals seem broken so the contents might be bad.) One label I see a lot reads BPR, and Wright explains it stands for Baltimore Pure Rye (whose long-abandoned Dundalk distillery is on the cusp of being demolished). Fans of the brand, he adds, used to affectionately ask bartenders for some "Baltimore Paint Remover." Wright even has a crazy-rare bottle of Pikesville from Prohibition when it was made in Canada and imported back for "medicinal use." Cool as the collection is, I'm more interested to hear about his decision to take out a distilling license.