A Locust Point Memory: ‘Stay Out of Their Alley!’

I was ten years old in 1947, and one of my fondest memories was how the business agent for the International Longshoremen’s Association, (ILA), Local 829, Pete Rossbach, would bark through a loudspeaker the work orders for the stevedores just after daybreak. His blast went something like this: “Gassie & 21 men for Pier 3, Locust Point; Iggy & 20 men for Canton, Pier 1; and Swankie and 21 men for Davison Chemical, Curtis Bay.”

This process was known as the “shape-up” on the Baltimore docks, a day when men showed up for unknown assignments, if any. This pre-dated its wider notoriety in the 1954 movie, “On the Waterfront,” that made the actor Marlon Brando a household name. Little did I know then, waking up in the back room of our house that faced an alley, that in eight short years, I myself would become a member of that fabled ILA local. (It was later superseded by ILA Local 333.)

The union hall was located in Locust Point in the 1200 block of Hull Street, directly across the street from Buck Krepp’s Saloon, nka “The Hull Street Blues Cafe.”  Buck’s wife, Marie, was a Krueger and a sister of my uncle, Herman “The German” Krueger. At that time, my family was residing at 1237 Haubert Street, in a two-story row house.

The centerpiece of this commentary is a long alleyway that separated Haubert from Hull Street (see photo). Beason Street was at the southern end of the alley, only a few blocks west of the then B&O R/R’s Grain Elevator, nka “Silo Point,” and about a mile or so from historic Fort McHenry. Marriott Street, which had a railroad track running through the middle of it, was the alley’s northern boundary. The Locust Point (formerly Whetstone Point) neighborhood was itself surrounded by the rail tracks of the legendary B&O Railroad. (It was replaced by the CSX Railroad.)

I’m pleased to note that we never had any significant rat problems in our alley. But, you couldn’t say the same for the alleys near the Grain Elevator. They had rats there the size of a full-grown cat! If you spotted one while walking home with half-a-load on, you would sober up in a hurry.

In those early days, each home’s toilet was located in the back yard, enclosed in a crude wooden shed. Just imagine going to the “head” in the middle of snowy January night!

I remember my father, Richard “Dick” Hughes, who was a boss on the waterfront for the Alcoa Steamship Company, going outside to use the toilet one wintery night. We found out later, that he had made his way over to Krepp’s saloon to have a few beers. It had a back door entrance, which faced the alley. When dad came home much later that night, we were in bed, but I could hear my Irish mother reading him the riot act. There were seven kids in our family one of whom was my fraternal twin brother–Jim.

Before air conditioning, the doors and windows for the saloons – there seemed to be one on every block in Locust Point – would be left wide open during the dog days of summer. I recall once listening to a neighbor, Eddie King, a natural talent and fine tenor, belting out a ballad in Krepp’s saloon.

Day and night, the sounds from the coal-burning engines on the freight trains; the ocean-going vessels, assisted by the tug boats, whistles blaring away, entering and leaving the harbor; and the loud-banging noise from the cargo, especially the steel pipes made locally at the Bethlehem Steel’s Sparrows Point plant, as they were loaded onto the ships, reverberated up our alley. It was like a symphony, orchestrated not by a Mozart, but by a then-vibrant nation showing off its immense industrial might.

Next to us on Haubert St., at 1235, was the Bloom family. The father, Thomas, was Jewish, and the mother, Mary McHale, was of Irish stock. I think they had seven kids!

Billy Bloom, one of their children, was one of my main childhood buddies. We learned how to swim in the harbor together at the foot of Hull Street. His nickname was “Porky.” He had a problem, however: wetting the bed! His older brother Jerry would enjoy breaking his chops about it by bellowing out for all the world to hear: “Listen, the pig’s a-pissing!” Sometimes, it wasn’t easy being a kid.

Later, our family made a mini-move up the alley and over to 1238 Hull Street – a three-story row house. Joe Presti’s barbershop was on one side of us, and the home of Joe Wojciechowski, a stevedore foreman, was on the other.

Once a week or so, mainly in the spring and summer months, an “Arabber,” pronounced “A-rabber,” would show up in our alley. This was the name given to the street merchant, who would ride a horse-drawn cart from which he would hawk his fruits and vegetables. Mostly all of the vendors were native to South Baltimore. You could tell he was headed down the alley because he would give a loud holler-out about what fruits he was peddling that day.

On the love-your-neighbor front, I remember once, around age five, getting into a fight with a boy, who lived up the alley from us. He hit me with his toy gun over the meaty part of my right eye. It caused a bloody mess. My mother came out into the alley, as did the mother of the gunslinger, who angrily blamed me for starting the fight. My mother responded: “I don’t give a damn if he started it on not, your son had no right to hit him with that gun. And if you don’t get back into your house, I’ll sweep this alley up with your hillbilly ass!”  “Mom!,” I blurted out as I looked up at her in shock and awe. Score one for the Irish! The hillbillies retreated.

My father worked non-stop on the docks during those WWII and post-war years. Mostly, I was referred to by him as “one of the twins.” When he was feeling out of sorts, he would growl at me – “Hey, YOU!” My mostly overwhelmed mother would sometimes lament in my direction: “You’re WORSE than all the rest put together!” Ouch!

We lived only blocks from Pier 9, Locust Point, where my father worked, so he could walk to his job and come home for lunch. Dad never owned a car. (Years later, I would work for him on the docks after I joined the ILA union.)

Seamus Clarke and his wife (both Irish born) lived right across the alley from us. They were an older couple. My twin brother Jim and I were often invited into their small kitchen when we were around age four or five. The ritual went like this: Mr. Clarke would make a big deal about measuring us. He would get a ruler out, place us up against a wall and mark a spot at the top of our heads, and then exclaim, with a surprise: “Oh, you’ve grown taller, for sure!” We were delighted to hear the news. Then, Mrs. Clarke, bless her heart, would give us some candy as a reward. We were on top of the world!

Down the alley, on that same side as the Clarkes was the grocery store we used–“Sticky Buns” Baumann. Charley ran the business with his brother George. They were famous for their sticky buns and jelly donuts. On Sundays, George played the organ at the German Lutheran Church on Beason Street. On the side, he gave piano lessons. Charley’s only son Wilbert, and his brother, John, a lawyer, ran the Hull Street Building & Loan Association.

Next to “Sticky Buns” was a dry goods store owned by the Silverbergs. One of their children grew up to be a City Councilwoman – Rikki Spector. When I saw her recently at a public event, Rikki remembered fondly more people from the old hood than I did. She attended PS #76 on Fort Avenue.

“Red Line,” a hide and seek game, was the favorite kids’ group activity while growing up. At the north end of the alley, fronting on Hull Street, was a lineup of about 10 garages. I liked to hide on top of them with “Porky” Bloom during the game. Rarely, if ever, did we get “caught.”

The Radomskis lived further up the alley on the Hull Street side. Behind them was a dirt lot, which backed up to a garage and Martin Beswick’s Bar. Dirt on not, Mrs. Radomski, who couldn’t speak a word of English, repeatedly swept that lot clean with her broom as if it was the main ballroom at “The Belvedere,” getting ready for a big gig.

One of her sons, “The General,” liked to race pigeons as a hobby. Of course, the pigeons might not come back in if we kids were all playing loudly out on the lot. This led to my brother, Jim and I extracting a little bribe out of “The General.” He’d give us ten cents each to get lost until the pigeons came back safely to his back yard coop. This was usually early on a Sunday evening.

When Jim and I were really young–around three or four–my mom would walk us down to end of our block on Haubert Street to Marriott Street. A B&O R/R’s freight train came through it mostly every night around 6 PM to deliver and pick-up cargo from the huge Procter & Gamble plant. This was long before TV crashed the culture. We would sit on the curb and wait for train to come “cho-choing” by.

The train would blow its whistle as it approached Haubert Street. We didn’t find out till later that one of the reasons the train stopped at Haubert Street wasn’t primarily because of the street traffic, but because “Hudson’s Tavern” was located on the opposite corner! Some of the railroad crew would regularly belt one or two drinks down inside the bar before continuing on their way into the plant. Who knew?

Next to that dirt lot on the Haubert Street side, lived Bobby Undutch. His mother, Catherine, was a Clarke and a daughter of Seamus. Jim and I would frequently play marbles with him when we were around age five or six. He was a bit of a bully. Every time he lost, he would take “our” marbles. I told Jim, “The next time he does that we should both jump him.”

Sure enough, it happened. Bobby lost and snatched our marbles. When Jim got in his face about it, I whacked Bobby from the side. Jim then gave him a good punch to the head. I hit Bobby again hard with a right fist to the ear. And before we knew it, he quit the fight, dropped the marbles, and ran down the alley crying aloud about how we had both hit him!

After that incident, the word went out: Don’t mess with Bill and Jim – or they will “double-team your ass,” and, if you’re really smart – “stay out of their alley!”

Bill Hughes

Bill Hughes is an attorney, author, actor and photographer. His latest book is “Byline Baltimore.” It can be found at: https://www.amazon.com/William-Hughes/e/B00N7MGPXO/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1

www.amazon.com/William-Hughes/e/B00N7MGPXO/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1