William Donald Schaefer — the former mayor, governor and comptroller who left an indelible mark on Baltimore — is back in the city for one last tour Monday afternoon.
His body was being driven by motorcade past old haunts and spots significant to his life, from his home to City Hall.
City Hall
A huge American flag was hoisted by two ladder trucks in front of City Hall as more than 150 people waited for Schaefer's motorcade to arrive.
City workers stood in front of a row of gleaming trucks and other pieces of gleaming equipment parked along Holliday Street, which was closed to traffic.
The Ravens marching band played as the city police and fire department honor guards stood at attention to welcome Schaefer as he made his final entrance into Baltimore City Hall.
The bells of Zion Lutheran Church tolled out over the plaza in front of City Hall as the vanguard of Schaefer's motorcade arrived.
The hearse rolled up in front of City Hall as Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake, escorted by a member of the Baltimore Police Honor Guard.
In clipped, precise movements, members of the honor guard lifted the casket, draped in an American flag, and carried it over the cobblestones as Schaefer's body entered City Hall one last time.
As she walked into City Hall, U.S. Sen. Barbara Mikulski, a former city councilwoman, recalled her longtime friend.
"He was one of my diner pals. We were diner Democrats," she said. "We never met a calorie we didn't like and a hand we didn't want to shake."
She added, "He had the verve and the vision. We'll never see another William Donald Schaefer."
Schaefer's casket was laid inside the marble atrium on the first floor of City Hall as a host of current and former city and state leaders, including Mikulski, U.S. Sen. Ben Cardin and U.S. Rep. Elijah E. Cummings, looked on.
The Rev. Frank Reid, pastor of Bethel A.M.E. Church, offered an invocation. Reid thanked God for Schaefer's work in the city.
"We thank you for how much he loved this city and how much this city loved him," he said.
Rawlings-Blake described Schaefer as "one of Baltimore's greatest citizens."
"His deep emotions and passion for Baltimore drove him to accomplish greatness not for himself, but for the city," Rawlings-Blake said.
Schaefer's spirit and aspirations for the city would live on, she said.
"Some see a city filled with landmarks, public investments and buildings that William Donald Schaefer made possible," she said. "But Mayor Schaefer saw things differently. He saw a shining city made of people who made the unrealistic become a reality and the impossible become possible."
The citizens who were waiting outside City Hall "know that William Donald Schaefer defined the word 'mayor.' He will always be our mayor," she said.
"William Donald Schaefer is watching, waiting and wanting to see what the people of Baltimore will do next to achieve greatness," Rawlings-Blake said.
Rawlings-Blake placed a wreath of yellow roses and Black-eyed Susans by the casket as the voices of the Maryland Boy Choir echoed through the atrium.
Outside City Hall
A line stretched down East Fayette Street east of City Hall as residents and city workers waited to bid Schaefer a final farewell. Standing about halfway down that line, John Waters chatted with other residents as he waited to clear security into the building.
"He was always great to me, even when everybody else thought my movies were obscene," the Baltimore filmmaker said. "He used to say, 'I don't care what they are, just keep making them,'" Waters said, adopting a gruffly official's voice.
"I think it was just to keep the name of Baltimore out there," Waters said. "He knew they were playing around the country."
--John Fritze
Health Care for the Homeless
The Schaefer cortege was about a half-hour late by the time it reached the new, $15.5 million Health Care for the Homeless service center at Hillen and the Fallsway. More than three dozen staff members, clients and old friends of Schaefer stood on the sun-soaked steps and sidewalk and applauded as the hearse pulled up to the curb behind a squadron of motorcycle police.
Longtime Schaefer aide Lainy LeBow-Sachs stepped from the following car and accepted a large pot of African violets from the organization's CEO, Jeff Singer. She then thanked the staff for their work for the city's homeless before the hearse moved on to City Hall.
As governor and comptroller, Schaefer took a strong personal interest in the agency's work. After convening a cabinet meeting in the organization's former building at Liberty and Saratoga streets in Baltimore, he saw to it the group got an annual state grant. That provided the stability it needed to raise more foundation and corporate money for its work. Schaefer's connections and influence were also put to use in the agency's fund-raising and capital development efforts.
From seven employees and a 1987 budget of $500,000, Health Care for the Homeless has grown to employ 150 people, with an annual budget of $13.5 million, Singer said. More than 80,000 patient visits are expected this year, up from 5,000 in 1987. And because homelessness and its attendant problems are not unique to the city, the organization now has sites in Montgomery, Frederick, Baltimore and Harford counties.
"He certainly had a significant positive impact on Health Care for the Homeless, and on our work to end homelessness," Singer said. "We really believe we would not be in the strong position we are in today without his intervention, in the previous century, in our work."
The organization expects to serve its 100,000th client sometime later this year.
As governor and as mayor, Schaefer had an enduring concern for the problems of the homeless, a sensitivity born of his experience as an Army hospital supervisor in Europe during World War II.
"I think he was always very sympathetic to the notion that people shouldn't have to live in the streets," said Singer.
"He did seem to have a real sympathy for people experiencing homelessness," Singer said. "He would often talk about it … He reflected on his experience in the war and the conditions he saw … people sleeping on the floor, people with scabies and lice."
Schaefer told Singer people living in a wealthy country in peacetime should not have to live in such conditions.
Health Care for the Homeless
Fontaine Sullivan is careful to say she worked "with" Mayor Schaefer, not "for" him.
Now 76, Sullivan was the mayor's volunteer coordinator at City Hall for 10 years, dispatching as many of the 16,000 Schaefer volunteers attached to city departments as were needed to act on the mayor's ideas. She was on the steps of Healthcare for the Homeless to say goodbye Monday.
"One Good Friday he came to me, reached into his pocket and said, 'Here,' and gave me $50," she recalled. He told her he'd gotten word about a family in East Baltimore with no food in the fridge and no Easter baskets for the kids.
Schaefer sent Sullivan to Read's Drug Store for some Easter baskets.
"We brought them up, and he had somebody take them over," she said. But not before ordering officers in the family's police district stop by the house to make sure the family was really in need.
"The officer called back and said, 'Mr. Mayor, it's true. They don't have anything.'" Sullivan said.
--Frank D. Roylance
Fells Point
By 4:45 p.m., the crowd outside Jimmy's had grown to 200 people or so, flanking both sides of Broadway.
They carried posters and old campaign signs. Among them was U.S. Sen. Barbara Mikulski, who butted heads with Schaefer in the 1960s over a 16-lane expressway that would have cut through East Baltimore but eventually came to see him as a partner.
"I just wanted to stand here when Schaefer went by because this is where we had some of our biggest battles and our biggest kiss-ups," she said holding a reproduced blueprint of the highway, which Schaefer initially championed.
When the motorcade came by, the crowd saluted it with cheers of "hip, hip, hooray" and "he's a jolly good mayor."
Toni Holter moved to Baltimore in 1977 while Schaefer was mayor. "He had an enthusiasm for the city that moved me to stay here," she said.
She would often see him at Jimmy's or Oktoberfest and appreciated how approachable he was. When the neighborhood ladies invited him to tea, he would come, she said.
"That's the kind of person he was," she said. "I wish we had more politicians like that now."
The motorcade had left by 5 p.m. on its way to Lloyd Street.
The National Aquarium
Paying tribute to the man who made a Baltimore institution possible, nearly 100 employees and volunteers tipped straw boater hats as Schaefer's motorcade rolled past the National Aquarium — mimicking the image that came to define the former mayor's love for his city.
Marie Burke, an Anne Arundel County resident who has volunteered at the aquarium for seven years, said the iconic image of Schaefer's dip in the seal pool hangs in the volunteer lounge "as a constant reminder." The aquarium, she noted, has become "a cornerstone down here."
Schaefer's hearse drove up to the site, followed by more than a dozen police vehicles. Dave Pittenger, the aquarium's executive director, was on hand to meet Schaefer's entourage, including Lainy LeBow-Sachs. The aquarium workers, all in blue shirts and holding a sign that read, "We tip our hats to you, William Donald Schaefer," applauded as the motorcade arrived. Then they lifted their hats.
"Schaefer really put this city on the map," said Pittenger, who arrived from Philadelphia in 1979 as the aquarium was under construction. "It's just nice to know people recognize the contribution that he made."
--John Fritze
Basilica
At about 3:38 p.m., the motorcade headed down Cathedral Street and stopped in front of the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the oldest cathedral in the United States. A crowd, including city pastors and other clergy members, had gathered in front of the cathedral and across the street outside the