Retro Baltimore

The name Julius Salsbury might not ring any bells for most Baltimoreans in 2021, but there was a time when he was the talk of the town. His myth grew larger with each retelling of his story — a story that inspired books and movies.

Fifty years ago, the Orioles pitching staff was one for the ages with Dave McNally, Mike Cuellar, Jim Palmer and Pat Dobson each winning at least 20 games.

When the 1918 pandemic hit Baltimore nearly 5,400 persons died within a few weeks. The influenza landed lethally in October, prompting authorities to close schools, churches, synagogues, racetracks and theaters.

A sure sign that spring has arrived in Maryland with summer not far behind, is the annual running of the Preakness Stakes at the Pimlico Race Course, and it happens for the 146th time this Saturday.

Benjamin Banneker is among the first Americans who documented the lifespan of cicadas, researchers Asamoah Nkwanta and his wife, Janet Barber, found.

In the early 1960s (with a nudge from the government, which offered do-it-yourself pamphlets), homeowners began constructing bunkers made of concrete and steel in their basements and backyards. Never mind their slim chance of survival; shelters gave folks hope against unseen horrors.

Francis Xavier Bushman, one of Hollywood’s first superstars who was known as the “Handsomest Man in the World” and thrilled 1920s moviegoers with his performance in the famous chariot race scene from “Ben-Hur,” was born in Baltimore in 1883, and grew up in a rowhouse at Argyle Avenue and Mosher Street in the city’s Upton neighborhood.

A few years ago, Parkville resident Daniel Dean became fascinated with a site at Marshy Point Nature Center in Baltimore County.

A construction fence recently went up around the old Odell’s disco palace as a renovation began on this North Avenue landmark.

He’s 75 now, half a lifetime removed from his playing days, but there will still be a twitch in Jim Palmer’s right arm Thursday when baseball season arrives.

The Pullman porter, whose gentle manner, endless smile, and willingness to please, was once one of America’s most recognized and ubiquitous figures when it came to the traveling public, but behind that welcoming demeanor lay years of racial prejudice, pain, suffering and indifference.

More than 100 years ago, Baltimore health officials went door to door vaccinating city residents for smallpox. Those who refused to get “scraped,” or inoculated, could face fines, or even jail time.