Once an agricultural wonderland Curtis Bay now stands as an enduring testament to Baltimore’s industrial heritage. You might not see sailboats here. Many a wreck lies along the waterfront shoals where ships were sent to die.
Curtis Bay has a story etched in time. It began with William Hall. He was a formerly enslaved man. He transformed nearly one hundred acres into a prosperous farm. The early homes were on streets named alphabetically for trees. Woods surrounded them. The soil was rich with mushrooms.
Then came the Coast Guard yard in 1899. Hall sold 36 acres to the government. This marked a significant turn for Curtis Bay.
The American Century ushered in heavy industry. Shipyards chemical plants and mountains of coal sprung up. The B and O Railroad serviced foundries. Jobs were plentiful. The deep water became thick with oil and grease. It even caught fire.
Patriotism thrived. The athletic club fielded baseball and football teams. They competed against other ethnic villages.
Jeanne Stumpf Zaruba was born in Curtis Bay in October 1933. The Coast Guard was auctioning patrol boats. These were relics of the First World War. The neighborhood’s most dramatic landmark went up the year before. It was a water tank at Filbert and Prudence. It featured colored gravel and bricks.
Frank O. Heyder designed it. He was a Baltimore architect and bibliophile. He also worked on Memorial Stadium.
Jeanne is a member of the Zaruba family. They held a reunion each fall at the Coast Guard Yard. Her husband Edward was a naval architect. He was descended from shipbuilders.
Jobs in Curtis Bay’s plants were within reach if you were connected. Churches and neighbors helped. Names like Zaruba and Hajek resonated. They shopped at Curtis Bay Variety.
The store offered everything. A gleaming red metal fire truck once awaited Santa there. Czech Bohemians Ukrainians Lithuanians and Poles lived here. Some American families were sprinkled in.
Engine No 57 firehouse remains. Curtis Bay Variety is gone. Joan Zaruba White remembers her grandparents’ store. They lived over it. The store stocked knitting yarn garden hoses and candy.
The lure of the suburbs emptied Curtis Bay of its legacy families. Joan stopped driving through. It was too sad for her.
Frank Hajek Jr ran a printing press. He printed calendars church bulletins and marriage announcements. Joan helped him hang the paper to dry. She remembers those good happy times.
Since 2015 the century-old Polish Home has been Fair Havens A.M.E. Church. It is a vibrant African-American congregation. The neighborhood was once white.
Near Pennington and Church is The Well. It ministers to women. They offer practical guidance and healing.
St. Athanasius predates the Coast Guard Yard. It is a steady jewel. Its parishioners are generous in their outreach. They donate to the Well.
Curtis Bay Variety may have stocked novelty ships. The Army kept tugboats at their depot near the U.S. Gypsum pier.
George Viehmeyer Jr worked on an Army tug. It carried a crew of seventeen. They would sail to Pratt Street and carouse at Connolly’s. It beat being in the infantry.
By the mid-1970s Curtis Bay was becoming a rough area. The last time Viehmeyer was there was for a funeral.
Curtis Bay’s story is one of transformation industry and community. It is a story of enduring spirit. It is a reminder of the past and a call to remember the people who lived here. Their lives shaped Curtis Bay.