In any other neighborhood, Wayne Robinson would be a civic hero.
His story of buying a dilapidated rowhouse, gutting it, then painstakingly renovating it would be pointed to as an example of the kind of gutsy spirit Baltimore needs.
But Robinson's century-old home sits on the south side of the 800 block of Edmondson Ave. About 70 percent of the block's houses are vacant, and that, say city officials, makes it eligible for demolition. In a city with dozens of such blocks, though, there is another, perhaps more compelling, reason driving the city's interest.
Robinson's block borders the $65 million Heritage Crossing development. Right behind him, nearly 300 homes are being built on the 32-acre site where the old George B. Murphy Homes stood. There will be curving, landscaped walkways; a fountain and gazebo; and a view of downtown Baltimore to the south.
The problem is the view to the north, where Robinson lives. Instead of downtown, Heritage's homeowners, who will pay around $80,000 for their homes, will see the backs of old rowhouses, many of them vacant and worn out, their lots overgrown and neglected.
Possible plans include demolishing those houses and turning the land into a graceful, tree-filled green space that will provide a northern border for the new development.
No definitive city plans
Though a city housing official told residents at a recent community meeting that the block is coming down, John M. Wesley, spokesman for the Department of Housing and Community Development, contends there are no definitive plans for Robinson's block. However, acquisition letters went out this week to homeowners, the city is preparing to negotiate, and at least $500,000 has been set aside for acquisition and demolition.
"The only decision that has been made is that the area will be redeveloped," said Wesley. "Some of that may be green space."
Robinson, a carpenter by trade, estimates he has put at least $60,000 into the renovation of his home. He does not intend to leave.
"I've been here since the drugs was here, and the high-rise was here. Why should I leave?" he asked, standing in a third-floor bedroom nearing completion. "Hell or heaven, I'm staying right here."
Almost every block in the West Baltimore neighborhood to the immediate north and east of the development has a vacant house. Here and there a burned-out, smoke-blackened frame sits in the middle of a block, defying any attempt at renovation. In the 1200 and 1300 blocks of Argyle Ave., abandoned homes and vacant lots outnumber those occupied. The same is true for the north side of the 800 block of Edmondson Ave.
Neighborhood fears
Area homeowners fear Robinson's block is not the only one threatened by the wrecker's ball.
"They want to gentrify us right out of here," said Joyce Green, vice president of the Upton-West Community Association.
"They want to clean-sweep right on back to Mosher," added Robinson.
Yet, amid the idleness and poverty in the neighborhood, there are pockets of strength and hope.
The Upton-West association has put in a series of community gardens on Shields Place off Dolphin Street, a short walk from Robinson's home. Bank of America has been considering rebuilding an 18-block swath a few blocks up Edmondson Avenue in Harlem Park where, according to the 1990 census, a typical rowhouse sold for $25,000 and rents averaged $200 per month.
The area's biggest changes have been the destruction of the two high-rise public housing complexes that straddled Route 40. Lexington Terrace became a community of new rowhouses named The Townes at The Terraces. Murphy Homes is becoming Heritage Crossing. For the past year, bulldozers, graders and construction crews have swarmed over the site.
A labor of love
Meanwhile, Robinson forged ahead with his plans, even as rumors began to circulate that something might be done to the 800 block of Edmondson. Not too long ago, residents were surprised to find out they could not get any permits for work on their block.
"It would make very little sense to allow permits in that area in which we are preparing to do development," said Wesley. "That does not make a good deal of business sense or financial sense."
Two months ago, residents learned of the probable demolition. Most were caught off-guard. Wesley suggests they could have been more attuned to what was on file at the city Planning Department. Still, he stresses that with the impending changes, the city is going to work with residents and homeowners.
"The city will make available to them any assistance that is legally within our power. That's what 'making them whole' means," he said. "We're gong to work with them; this is a holistic process."
But with city houses selling at high prices, Robinson and others wonder whether the city will adequately compensate them in a way that will give them enough to buy homes of equal size and quality.
Among the doubtful is Cecilia Dorsey, who has lived at 819 Edmondson Ave. since 1965. She raised three children and five grandchildren in her three-story home and well knows a house has more than a dollar value.
"They can't give you the years, what a house means to you," she said as a workman repaired a windowsill on her house. "I think the main thing here is just the greenery for Heritage Crossing. They're more concerned about the new development and not the people who have lived here."
A dream home
Robinson bought his house in 1992 for about $3,000. Since then, he has been working in fits and starts, saving money for each phase of work.
It has been a monumental task. The entire back wall, worn with age and weakened from water damage, collapsed one day. The floors, stairwells and interior walls were rotted and not worth saving. All had to be taken out.
"This house was supposed to be a model of what houses on this block should look like," he said. "There's nothing kept here. The only thing kept is the front door. Everything else is brand spanking new."
A few years ago, the house was mistakenly condemned. Robinson said he spent two years clearing up the mistake. Few people knew what was going on behind the boarded-up windows.
"For the longest time, I thought it was vacant. Then somebody told me, 'Oh, no. Wayne is doing something to it," said Green. "When I went through here the first time, my mouth was open. I was just amazed."
There were new rooms, floors and staircases. The plumbing and electrical systems had been modernized. A Jacuzzi had been set up in a third-floor bathroom. What had been just another wrecked rowhouse was on its way to becoming a dream house.
An uphill battle
Robinson does not expect an easy fight.
"In a perfect world, I would be right here. But in a political world, anything is possible. It's the city we're talking about now. We're not talking about some little joker. We're talking about government, and they have the resources to make you buckle under," said Robinson, whose mother has lived on the block for 20 years. "I ain't going nowhere. I don't want nobody buying me out. Nothing. One man asked me, 'Well, what do you want to do?' I said, 'Just leave me alone.'"
Robinson hopes he'll be able to complete his home. He believes that once his showpiece is finished and people see what can be done on this block, other investors will come into the area and remake the once-grand homes.
The block can be saved, he said, the same as blocks in Butchers Hill and elsewhere have been saved.
"If that is something they are seeking, then I think they can make a compelling argument; but that argument has to be based on more than emotion," said Wesley. "We have to keep in mind the greater good. ... There is that possibility that that block will be sacrificed for the greater good."