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.
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."
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
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."
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 Enoch Pratt Free Library.
After the rear door of the black hearse was opened to reveal Schaefer's flag-draped casket, Bishop Denis J. Madden, the auxiliary bishop of Baltimore, offered a blessing. By his side stood Lainy LeBow-Sachs, Schaefer's longtime aide.
Just steps away from the hearse, Nina White wiped away tears as she remembered "Mayor Schaefer." White, an accountant assistant, had just finished work at a nearby office when she spotted the procession and rushed over to take photos to show her 27-year-old daughter.
"That's the only mayor I knew coming up as a kid," said White, who now lives in the New Northwood area. "He paved the way for everything … for people from other cities to come and visit. This city wouldn't be where it is without him. I'm grateful to be here. This is history."
Rev. Richard T. Lawrence, the pastor since 1973 of St. Vincent de Paul Church on North Front Street downtown, also recalled Schaefer's days as mayor. One time, he said, Schaefer sent city firefighters over to the church for "ladder practice," after hearing that the church had been unable to pay someone to climb to the top of its tall steeple and replace light bulbs.
"We worked together on many a thing," Lawrence said. "He was willing to beg people, encourage people, cajole people, browbeat people, break a rule when he had to, but make things happen for the people."
Lloyd Street Synagogue
Schaefer's ties to this area date back to the 1970s when he proclaimed it "Corned Beef Row." Today, to welcome him back one last time, organizers hung banners across the fence in front of the church: "William Donald Schaefer: A good name is better than fine oil, and the day of death more important than the day of birth. Kohlet 7:1."
Built in 1845, the Lloyd Street Synagogue — the nation's third-oldest surviving synagogue — was purchased and restored by the Jewish Museum, which Schaefer sponsored, according to media reports.
As mayor, Schaefer provided emergency funds to B'nai Israel Synagogue in 1981 to repair the roof and supported the full restoration of the building as part of the Jewish Museum. The synagogue plans to recognize the late mayor's contributions in a service held after the procession.
Martha Weiman, president of the Baltimore Jewish Council, was among those presenting a bouquet to the entourage. Afterward, she called it the end of an era.
"I'm a lot more emotional than I anticipated," she said.
More than 100 people stood along Eastern Avenue in Little Italy — but in two separate groups, typical of fractious neighborhood politics.
One of the crowds gathered outside Gia's Café, formerly Iggy's Sandwich King, where Schaefer had his election-day breakfasts for years. Another gathered at Dalesio's, a restaurant about a block away where Schaefer held regular dinner meetings with some of his closet aides.
The crowd at Dalesio's said the Gia group was a "fraud" because Schaefer didn't have a long history with that restaurant but rather with its predecessor.
"There are two camps here today," said Ted Kluga of Annapolis, who used to live in the neighborhood and traveled back to honor the man whom he once waited on at another restaurant in Baltimore. "I just wanted to see the mayor one last time."
Former Mayor Thomas J. D'Alesandro III and former Baltimore County Executive Ted Venetoulis were in attendance, diplomatically spending time with both groups.
In the end, the motorcade stopped in front of Gia, bypassing Dalesio's and disappointing the crowd at that restaurant.
"It was nice of them to wave as they drove by what was unquestionably his favorite restaurant," said Gene Raynor, a former city elections board director and longtime friend of Schaefer who owns the Dalesio's building.
Dalesio's owner Paul Oliver set tables of Schaefer memorabilia out on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, where Schaefer spent a lot of time dining, meeting with top campaign aides, and, occasionally, greeting customers at the door and answering the phone.
The display included old photos, official memos and even a thank-you note for the Calvin Klein cologne Oliver had given to Schaefer for Christmas in 2005.
"What a refreshing and thoughtful surprise," Schaefer wrote. "I'm sure I'll turn a few female heads when I walk into a room."
Casper Genco, executive director of the Lexington Market, began ringing the bell as the motorcade came around the corner of Lexington Street onto Paca Street. More than 50 onlookers lined both sides of the street to pay their respects.
Valerie James took a late lunch from her job at the Maryland Department of Human Resources to remember the former Baltimore mayor. James never met Schaefer but she said she appreciated his love and work for Baltimore.
"He was a big promoter of Lexington Market and the Inner Harbor," said James, 53, of Baltimore. "I wasn't going to miss this."
Bill Devine and wife Nancy Faidley, owners of Faidley's, presented a basket of African violets — one of Schaefer's favorite flowers — to longtime Schaefer aide Lainy LeBow-Sachs and other members of Schaefer's procession. Lexington Market representatives Darlene Hudson and Lena Sheubrook handed out a second basket of flowers. Hugs followed as Schaefer's friends and former aides thanked the crowd.
All the while, the bell kept ringing as onlookers clapped and took video and photos with their cellphones.
Tina Boone remembered escorting Schaefer and his longtime companion, Hilda Mae Snoops, to their seats at several performances at the Mechanic Center. That was nearly 15 years ago, when Boone was an usher there.
"He sat in G102, G103," recalled Boone, who is now a house manager at the Hippodrome.
"He was friendly. He always had something funny to say to you," she added.
As Schaefer's motorcade left Lexington Market, Bronwyn Mayden recalled working for Schaefer from 1978 to 1984, when he was Baltimore mayor. It was Mayden's first job after graduate school and as she described it, it was a "baptism by fire" working with Schaefer. But she worked hard and learned a lot, eventually being promoted as his deputy director of human development.
Mayden credits her time with Schaefer for solidifying her career path in working with communities and empowering them. Mayden is now assistant dean of continuing professional education at the University of Maryland School of Social Work. She attributes the skills she gained, such as a strong work ethic and an ability to take calculated risks, to her time with Schaefer.
"His heart was in the city, and I wanted to say goodbye," she said.
About 100 people gathered in Federal Hill to see Schaefer's procession.
At each stop along the way, the motorcade was expected to be presented with a gift, but Michael Baker — outreach director for U.S. Rep. C.A. "Dutch" Ruppersberger and a former city employee in the Schaefer administration — noticed that no group was on hand to present one. So, he approached Mikai Pollard and asked the 6-year-old if he would present his kite to the entourage.
"Schaefer loved kids, he loved the park, he loved recreation," Baker said.
Mikai said he was happy to give up his kite. "Mayor Schaefer is a nice person," he said. Plus, Baker promised to buy the boy ice cream later — a fair trade.
George W. Della Jr., a former state senator and city councilman, was in the crowd.
"What a relationship we had," said Della. "It was wild. The guy had so much energy; it was endless."
Health Care for the Homeless
About three dozen staff and clients of Health Care for the Homeless were waiting on the center's porch off the Fallsway for the procession.
Since 1987, Schaefer was a steady source of support and guidance, said CEO Jeff Singer. Schaefer was instrumental in helping the agency grow from seven employees and less-than-half-a-million-dollar budget to 150 employees and a budget of $13.5 million, Singer said.
"He was a complicated person and I can't say I would've supported 100 percent of what he did, but his heart for our work was true," Singer said.
--Frank D. Roylance
Baltimore School for the Arts
Few people who stopped for a brief rest on the Cathedral Street benches in front of Baltimore School for the Arts knew about the final tour of former mayor, governor and comptroller William Donald Schaefer.
Meg Powell came out of her Cathedral Street apartment to find out why the helicopters were circling overhead, and a motorcycle patrolman told her about the Schaefer tour, so she stayed to watch it pass the Baltimore School for the Arts.
She grew up in Arnold and remembers going to an event when State Circle in Annapolis was re-bricked. She still has a brick with signatures of the former governor and former comptroller Louis Goldstein, and was glad they gave the public a chance to pay their respects.
The 45-year-old remembered his reaction to workers at an Anne Arundel County McDonald's with poor English skills. "He had a strong sense of patriotism that came out in strange ways," she said.
--Liz F. Kay
The former governor got the red-carpet treatment — and a standing ovation — when the motorcade pulled in front of the Hippodrome Theater on Eutaw Street in the midafternoon.
Flowers, a tiny replica of the marquee, postcards of the theater and a thank-you note were waiting on a section of red carpet outside the theater doors.
"Outside of the fact that he had a love for theater and entertainment," said Jeff Daniel, president of the Hippodrome, "he demanded the best for Baltimore. He believed in world-class development for Baltimore and the Hippodrome is the result."
The sidewalk outside the theater was crowded with both Schaefer and Broadway supporters. "He was such a fan of Broadway and he wanted to it see it here in Baltimore," said Olive Waxter, head of the Hippodrome Foundation.
Alvin Levy, president of the Downtown Merchants Association and one-time chairman of the Better Business Bureau and Maryland Retail Association, was there holding a basket of the former governor's favorite flowers, African violets, as he waited for the arrival of the motorcade. "The governor and I go back a real long way."
Helena Hicks of Baltimore Heritage Preservation Association was holding her violets, too, and a sign that said the Hippodrome deserved historical recognition. "We proved that if you can renovate this theater, you can renovate anything."
Jay Perman, president of the University of Maryland, Baltimore, Johns Hopkins officials and Will Backstrom of Baltimore Heritage were also on hand to pay respects, as were Hippodrome employees and Baltimore residents, several of whom reached out to touch Schaefer's hearse as it began to pull away toward Camden Yards.
After a week of crummy weather, the sun came out for Schaefer's last tour of Baltimore.
"Well-deserved," said Jimmy Filipidis, co-owner of Jimmy's in Fells Point, a regular spot for the former governor.
Filipidis said Schaefer used to come in "all the time."
The last time was a year ago, when Schaefer arrived with several friends.
"He was a little older but everybody recognized him," Filipidis said. Staff and customers "knew his face, demeanor, where he sat," always beneath a poster of his likeness next to the kitchen entrance.
Filipidis said the restaurant is commemorating Schaefer's passing with a poster by his regular seat and taking two African violets to the motorcade that is scheduled to come by Fells at 4:25.
The governor's old poster reads: "Nothing beats old fashioned hard work."
Outside the restaurant, a small crowd of some 20 people gathered to wait for the motorcade.
Inside, a waitress was getting ready for a crowd.
"I'm ready," said Jean. "I hope we do get slammed."
More than 50 National Aquarium employees lined the Inner Harbor to pay tribute to the man who made the Baltimore institution possible -- and who, through his promotion of the site, created a defining image of his tenure.
To remember the day Schaefer jumped into the seal pool, the employees donned straw boaters' hats, which they prepared to tip as the former mayor's motorcade rolls by. One man held a blow-up Donald Duck that resembled the one Schaefer held in the now-famous shot.
"This wasn't done anywhere before," said aquarium spokeswoman Molly Sheehan, noting that Schaefer took a big risk pushing so hard for the project. "He was a visionary."
About 150 people flocked to the statue of William Donald Schaefer, including members of many organizations that had worked closely with the former mayor and governor.
Executives and employees of the convention center presented a placard with pictures depicting the stages of construction of the complex and Schaefer championing it from his podium.
The co-captains and executive director of the Pride of Baltimore II brought a wreath of Blackeyed Susans, the state flower, and African violets, Schaefer's favorite flower.
They fired three volleys of shots from their cannons — a traditional memorial three-gun salute that also represented the Pride of Baltimore I, the current ship and the Chasseur, the ship that inspired the later vessels.
Laurie Schwartz, executive director of the Waterfront Partnership, brought along a Schaefer campaign T-shirt emblazoned with images of rowhomes and the words "vote for Baltimore."
Curtis McNeil, who has lived in Baltimore nearly all of his 59 years, arrived early to pay his respects.
"People said he was bullheaded, but we need guys like that to put you on the map and make sure you stay there," he said.
The city Office of Promotion and the Arts presented the procession with a replica of the Schaefer statue in a clear presentation case and the first print of the new Artscape poster, celebrating all 30 years of it.
Rodney Carroll was the sculptor; he made the replica, as well. He was also there, and said it was harder to make the small replica, but he hopes he was able to capture the outsized personality.
A crowd of about 100 people gathered near the Washington Monument to catch a last glimpse of Schaefer.
Carol Purcell, chairwoman of Flower Mart, an annual event that Schaefer supported, held a sign that read: Schaefer "Little Girl" and Proud of it!
"I'm here to show respect, reverence — all the R's you can think of," she said.
Purcell, whose navy jacket and metallic black hat were adorned with flowers, said Schaefer had been a longtime supporter of her event.
"I thought the procession was wonderful," she said. "It was a fitting tribute."
Tom Gerber, 57, who has lived in Federal Hill for 38 years, joined about 50 people in the neighborhood's eponymous park to pay his respects to the man he credits for changing the neighborhood.
"I look down this hill at this place is called Harborplace. It should be called Schaefer-place," he said.
Gerber said he and other residents initially opposed the Harborplace project, fearing it would raise taxes. Ultimately, Harborplace improved the neighborhood, and encouraged others to fix up their houses, he said.
Joe Finnerty, 74, a retired trial lawyer, came from North Baltimore to get a better view of the motorcade.
Schaefer "had strong views and many people disagreed with him sometimes," he said. But, he added, Schaefer "always voted his conscience."
Schaefer's longtime West Baltimore home
About an hour before the scheduled 3:09 pm arrival time, two city police officers stood at the head of Edgewood Street. About 25 people were milling about, mostly neighbors enjoying the attention and eager to help give the former mayor an appropriate sendoff.
A Maryland flag was flying from the front porch of his boyhood home, number 620. Eighteen steps lead from the street to the home's front door.
Margaret McCloud, 50, has lived all her life in a house just two doors away from his former home.
"He was a nice person," she said from her porch. "He was a good governor and a good man. He did a lot for us."
The Schaefers, she said, were good people. She used to see them tending their backyard garden.
She laughed as she recalled the time her young daughter, Shakeya Hawkins, now 21, knocked on the governor's front door to ask for an autograph. Schaefer's guard detail let young Shakeya by, and she got it.
"She was just a little girl, I guess they figured that she wasn't going to do any harm," McCloud said. "I was trying to find it the other day. I've lived here so long, I've got so many papers. It's here somewhere."
Her connection to Schaefer went beyond the neighborhood, McCloud explained. For almost 11 years, she has worked at the Charlestown retirement community, where he lived his final years. As a cook, she prepared many of his meals. But he didn't really remember her, she said, and the two rarely spoke.
It's nice, she said, that Schafer will be returning home one last time.
"It's good, it's good," she said. "I left work early to be here."
By the time Schaefer's motorcade arrived about 2:50 p.m., more than 10 people had gathered. Several were waving American flags or displaying homemade signs expressing their gratitude to the man they knew as both mayor and neighbor.
The crowd broke into applause as the motorcade approached. It was preceded by a phalanx of about a dozen police on motorcycles.
Many crowded around the hearse, snapping pictures, sometimes posing, sometimes just wanting to get a shot of the casket inside.
"I'm here to support Mayor Schaefer," said Lou Bryant, who moved into the neighborhood with her parents in 1961. "If we could clone him, he would be the ultimate kind of politician we would want."
Dina Oliver, 46, lives across the street from the former Schaefer home. She praised the former mayor for never forgetting where he came from.
"Our playground was all dirt and trash," she said. "He turned it into a playground. He always cared about the neighborhood."
Iso Lee McCree, 59, has lived in Schaefer's old neighborhood for 30 years. She seemed to speak for just about all the former mayor's riends and neighbors when she said, simply, "I wish he was still alive. I really do."
Former Baltimore City Council Joe DiBlasi was one of about 30 people who stood outside the Basilica waiting for Schaefer's motorcade.
"I just thought it was appropriate to be here as part of the tribute because the blessing is the most important part of the tour," he said.
DiBlasi, who represented South Baltimore and parts of Downtown, recalled working closely with Schaefer to amend the city charter to allow the construction of Oriole Park at Camden Yards.
After the Colts left, he said, it became imperative to improve the city's stadiums.
"There was a fear that we would lose the Orioles if we didn't build a downtown ballpark."
As of 3:25 p.m., Orioles employees were streaming out of the B&O Warehouse and onto the court where the Hall of Fame numbers and the statue of Babe Ruth watch over the right field side of Oriole Park. Louis Angelos, the son of Orioles owner Peter Angelos, is expected to represent the Angelos family at this stop on the Schaefer procession. There's talk the motorcade will arrive a little earlier than the projected arrival time of 3:48 p.m.
Now there are two wreaths and other flower arrangements being placed on the sidewalk, basically in front of the Eddie Murray and Cal Ripken numbers.
Overhead, a helicoper hovered.
At Lexington Market, which Schaefer is credited with saving from financial ruin when he was mayor, a bell will be rung in his honor.
The bell, hoisted next to Faidley's restaurant, was rung to open and close the market up until the early 1970s, said Bill Devine, who owns the establishment with his wife, Nancy Faidley.
Now, it is reserved for special occasions, Devine said.
"We'll ring it vigorously in honor of a man larger than life," he said around 2:30 p.m. as he waited for Schaefer's procession to arrive sometime after 3 p.m.
Schaefer, who ate frequently at Faidley's, promoted Maryland's Chesapeake Bay and blue crabs around the world, Nancy Faidley said as she showed off the numerous photos of Schaefer posted on top of the restaurant's raw bar.
When asked about her favorite memory of Schaefer, Faidley said there are too many to pick just one.
Traffic, road closures
Motorists driving around the city this afternoon should be aware of these road closures related to the processional:
•Saratoga Street between Gay and Holliday streets, 3 p.m. to 6 p.m.
•Lexington Street between Guilford Avenue and Gay Street, 4 p.m. to 6 p.m.
•Holliday Street from Saratoga to Lexington streets, 4 p.m. to 6 p.m.
The motorcade might also cause delays on the Maryland Transit Administration's Light Rail, local bus and commuter bus services between 2 p.m. and 5 p.m., officials warned.