Pulaski Highway.
Pulaski Boulevard.
Highway?
Boulevard?
Let's drag out Webster's New World Dictionary, which defines highway as a main road; thoroughfare. Boulevard is a broad, well-made street, often one lined with trees, grass plots, etc.
Baltimore City Councilman John Cain wants to change the name of Pulaski Highway to Pulaski Boulevard to change public perception of this interminably long and commercial street. Council President Mary Pat Clarke, co-sponsor of the urban-renewal measure, says highway connotes a place you travel through. Boulevard is "residential-friendly," she says.
Ms. Clarke expects the council to change Pulaski's name in the next few months.
In the past several years, the press on Pulaski Highway has not been "positive." Consider these published story lines:
"Man With Cleaver Is Shot." "Man Accused of Beheading Gypsy." "Off-Duty Sergeant Killed in a Car Crash." "New Law Could Close Sleazy Motels." "77 Men Arrested in Crackdown on Prostitution." And those were some of the nicer stories.
Maybe there is something to this boulevard business. Maybe "boulevard" does sound classier, more uptown, even safer than dull ol' "highway."
" 'Boulevard' does make it sound more pleasant. It gives you a picture of a tree-lined community," says Baltimore County Council Chairman Vincent Gardina. Pulaski Highway runs through the county, too. The highway stops around Quebec.
A spot check of Pulaski Highway reveals no grass plots or trees but plenty of etc. It is, however, lined with an incinerator, the city's impoundment lot, adult video stores, welding shops, truck stops and gas stations. Prostitutes -- including one aptly nicknamed "Tooth" -- have thrived on this highway, although recent crackdowns appear to have been effective.
On the road trip to Pulaski Highway, we visited businesses on the city's side of the highway/boulevard.
"Changing the name won't do anything. Fix the potholes. Get the hookers off the street," says Dave Griffin, the burly manager at Gentlemen's Gold Club -- which offers what could be called adult interpretive dance.
"We got an incinerator, the impound lot -- how classy can you get when you're in that kind of a neighborhood?" Mr. Griffin asks.
Sister Bess' "Palm Reading" is another Pulaski Highway business. A lone, red BMW is parked outside, suggesting Sister Bess was in. But the woman opening the door says Sister Bess is on vacation. Still, what does the woman think of changing the name of Pulaski Highway?
"What's the difference?" she says, through the security bars. "I'm just the maid."
Pulaski Highway is known for its open pit beef -- or should we say Filet Over Open Fire? Sean Carmody has worked at Porky's Open Pit Beef stand for 10 years. He's only 28.
"This is what I think," Sean says, in the toasty roadside confines of Porky's. "The community needs straightening up. I don't think changing a name is going to do a whole lot -- except maybe make one or two people happy."
Across the highway, a hotel sign says "Single Rooms $29." The sign on the building says PILOTS MOTEL.
"Same thing happened here," says desk clerk Lee Worth. "Now, this is called the Regal Inn because it sounds better than Pilots Motel. We still get the same clientele."
Sure enough, another sign here does say REGAL INN. Photographs of the rooms are displayed in the lobby. The rooms have regal, heart-shaped bathtubs, cavernous hot tubs and the ceilings are checkered in mirrors. The rooms are not $29, but something like $160. Must have been a typo.
Michele Whitley, 28. of Baltimore doesn't like the sound of "boulevard." Ms. Whitley, fiance Larry, and her kids are staying the night at the Regal Inn. Pulaski Highway has always been Pulaski Highway and always should be, she says, asking Lee for another room because the front door won't lock on hers.
"To me, Pulaski Boulevard sounds like a place where you get prostitutes. Sounds like an invitation to me. Come on up to the boulevard!"
Pulaski Boulevard.
Pulaski Highway.
"I do think 'boulevard' has a classier sound," Mr. Worth adds. "I'm ashamed when I tell people I work on Pulaski Highway. It's embarrassing."
At a little strip shopping center on Pulaski Highway, a man in a stunning black tuxedo and top hat stares blankly at his bride-to-be. The mannequins deserve to work on a boulevard. Cecelia Podles, owner of Camelot Bridal & Formal Wear, wants the name change.
"Pulaski Highway leaves a bad taste in your mouth. People visualize trouble just from its reputation," she says.
Would changing the name to Pulaski Boulevard help your business? Her beseeching voice lowers. "Oh, I hope so."
Two doors down, no one was home at the "Democrats For Sauerbrey" office. But a night light has been left on.
GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS! was the next stop. Lil Caviness manages the girls, girls, girls at J.K.'s on Pulaski Highway. They should clean up the streets and not waste time or money changing any name, she says.
What's next? Key Boulevard? If you want to call this street anything, Ms. Caviness says, just call it 40 East like everybody else here.
Boring.
"Then I think they should name it Adventurous Highway," she says.
Final stop is the incinerator. Found amid the dive-bombing gulls and heaps of crumpled, twisted and stinking trash is Bill Anderson, 25, and from Baltimore. His job is to guard the incinerator but against what he's not quite sure.
Unlike many folks on Pulaski Highway, Mr. Anderson hasn't been following this name business.
"It makes no difference to me," Mr. Anderson says. "Just as long as I can still get to work."