North Balti-Lore: A Lack Thereof

Listen up, readers, don’t tell anyone I told you this, but you know that Masonic Temple on Charles Street? I heard from my neighbor that a secret order of lacrosse players keeps the body of Johns Hopkins cryogenically frozen in the basement.

Seriously.

Don’t believe me?

Well, heed my words readers. Never buy fruit from the Waverly Farmers’ Market. My aunt’s friend’s boss got a melon from there and there was a human skull inside. It had something to do with local gang initiation rights.

This really happened!

Oh, and you know what else?

Have you ever wondered why it’s called Druid Hill Park? Well, I once rode the light rail with a guy who used to work as a park ranger, and he said that Pagans used to sacrifice Scottish immigrants there. The city flooded their coven with the reservoir. That explains the statue of Scottish war hero William Wallace overlooking it victoriously.

Unfamiliar with these examples of North Baltimore urban legends? Well, that’s because I just made them up. I did this for the following capitalized and obnoxiously over-exclamated reason:

WE DON'T HAVE ANY GOOD URBAN LEGENDS OF OUR OWN!!!!!

Are we are too snobby to fabricate shock and awe stories to terrify our neighbors? I think that that is really lame.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from the world of reporting, it’s the following two things:

One: never let those meddling “facts” ruin good sensationalized fear mongering.

Two: nothing get’s people's attention like the threat of impending doom.

Talk trash all you want about other parts of Baltimore (suggested gripes include the frat boy bar scene, the corporate dominance of restaurants and shops, and the maddeningly arduous task of parking), but they do have us beat in the urban legends department.

They’ve got the various ghosts of the USS Constellation, the rumor of a mass grave beneath the square in Fells Point  and a whole slew of Edgar Allan Poe related tales. These stories include the mysteries surrounding his death and the Poe toaster, a shadowy figure who seems to have a really rough time finding a living person to drink with.

North Baltimore falls even further down the modern folklore flagpole when you consider the popularity of several nationally known urban legends that originate from relatively close regions.

People all over the country know the name of Black Aggie and of the various horrors attributed to her. We can thank next door neighbor Pikesville for this one. Black Aggie arose from the nickname of a menacing statue in Druid Ridge Cemetery who supposedly engaged in all manner of supernatural creepiness.

Another widely circulated, and widely varying horror legend, that of the malevolent “Bunny Man” can be traced back to Fairfax County in Virginia. Often this tale involves a lunatic in a bunny suit attacking people with an ax. This is one of those rare urban legends that is not too far off from its nonfictional source material. Shockingly the Bunny Man story is based on real events involving just such an ax-wielding, rabbit impersonator. And I thought the creepiest thing to come out of Virginia was Dave Mathews.

Perhaps the award for most outrageously escalated urban legend in history can actually be traced back to an attention starved, and/or mentally ill boy from Cottage City, MD. The widely sensationalized rumors surrounding his family seeking help from a Catholic priest have inspired franchises of movies, books, and other media, the most popular being The Exorcist.

Maybe the reason we don’t have any solid North Baltimore urban legends, is that we have enough real life scariness. I guess you don’t have to make up reasons to be distrustful of strangers, mindful not to venture into unknown locations, or be overly protective of your children when we have plenty of real ones. The media certainly does a good job of keeping us afraid to leave the house, but where is the creativity?

North Baltimore is one of the few local areas to have anything resembling it's own unique culture. We should have some urban legends to supplement this.

Lie to me North Baltimore.

Lie to me.