Tides Like Titles Come and Go

Like the old watermen of Saint Mary’s Island, Davis’ pub remains stuck in the past. Its walls are adorned with fading photographs of tall ships, wooden boats, log canoes and skipjacks. Across the street the intoxicating smell of seaweed, salt air and brine mix with the fresh varnish on a yacht anchored nearby.

Davis’ pub in Eastport, Annapolis reminds me of what the Bohemian Flats must have been like on the West Bank of Minneapolis back in the 1940s.The pub has been around since the ‘40s and their clientele hasn’t changed much since then. There are the usual neighborhood relics, a few old watermen, the hangers-on, and now the ever-present tourists drawn by concierges and travel blogs.

As I sat safely ensconced in a corner booth, it was all coming back to me. The dark dank inner harbor of Baltimore before redevelopment brightened its shoreline. My job at the Maryland Center for Public Broadcasting in Owings Mills, our first tiny house in Reisterstown and weekend jaunts to the Chesapeake Bay and around the state.

Many of my changes started there. From 1972 through 1977, I sold video programming during the day, wrote out my western adventures at night and toe-stepped the Chesapeake on weekends. Our family started there and real estate first began to pique my curiosity. It was a most audacious start to something great…the rest of my life.

MCPB is celebrating its fifty-year anniversary this summer. Dr. Breitenfeld, as well as so many of the founding fathers, are gone now. What remains is a small cast and crew from those Camelot years.

They’re scattered around the country now, each with their own satchel of memories of that time. Facebook is about the only link many of them have back to that period in the early to mid- 70s when everything was new and venturesome and sometimes scandalous.

Back then I had long harbored great fantasies of sailing the Chesapeake Bay. A boat ride on our friend’s runabout brought back a rush of old mental images. The air is clearer on the water and there is a nautical language reserved for the fleet of foot and strong of stomach. My friend spoke of new moons and dark skies. He waxed on philosophically about the Orionids, the Leonids, North Taurids, and Geminids; all meteor showers reserved for his patch of moonlit sky.

The houses seemed to have gotten bigger and the sea lanes more crowded since our last visit. But the inlets and bays were still nature’s nurseries. The Chesapeake Bay supports more than 2700 species of plants and animals, including 348 species of finfish and 173 species of shellfish. Approximately 284,000 acres of the Chesapeake Bay are tidal wetlands.

The Bay and its tidal tributaries have 11,684 miles of shoreline, more than the entire United States West Coast. Estuarine science and research is relatively young. Only in the last several decades has there been a good understanding of estuaries and fisheries.

Back in the seventies MCPB (Maryland Center for Public Broadcast) was one of the best public television stations in the country. It was my Camelot existence for almost five years.

My job distributing television programming was a precursor to my own business ventures born several years later. Our home was the first of a number of real estate investments. My first published article for The Library Journal kick-started a new focus on writing as a second career. Two western novels were written, edited and then shelved for almost forty years before my new career as a writer finally took off. It was in Maryland where I attempted the JFK Fifty Mile Race on the Appalachian Trail but only got twenty-four miles before hypothermia brought me to my knees. That failure propelled me to a lifetime of running.

At the Maryland Center, our General Manager, Dr. Frederick Breitenfeld was a brilliant yet incredibly personable leader. He had an enormous influence on my fantasies of becoming a writer. I’ve referenced one of his early research papers on educational television in my latest play ‘PTV.’

It’s come full circle now. Sailing the Chesapeake, revisiting old friends through the MCPB Facebook page and writing as my new water pail to carry. I’d like to believe it all began there when a young sprout came up from Tennessee to test the waters of fledging television, tiptoed the bays and inlets, and drew in the fresh ocean breezes.

It was nice to be home again…if only in my imagination.

From the Shores of Camelot

‘There are Places We Remember…’

-Song by the Beatles

Memories have a strange way of playing tricks inside our head. We hold on to the good, distill the unpleasant until it becomes vague and vapid and we usually forget the bad entirely…over time. What remains at the bottom of that reflective memory pond is a residue of time well spent among family and friends, acquaintances and associates. We usually embellish the good times with a glossy coating that has come to define those unplanned, unexpected events that highlight a certain period in our lives.

Maryland Center for Public Broadcasting Headquarters circa 1970s

I’m not sure why it was that my time spent at the Maryland Center for Public Broadcasting from roughly 1972 through 1977 turned out that way… a simmering cauldron of fleeting moments, events and faces that marked a very pleasant period in my life.

Coming off an unpleasant stretch down south at a very dysfunctional TV station, it was eye-opening and comforting to feel welcomed by so many initial strangers. There were certainly some good times before MCPB and even better times after it. But that particular time period will forever remain a smile on my face and a pleasant return journey inside my head.

What was it about the Maryland Center for Public Broadcasting back in the 70s that many people remember so fondly after all these years? The list of outstanding programs and series could fill a volume of ‘How to do it right’ in terms of public television programming. From ground-breaking series such as ‘Wall Street Week,’ ‘Consumer Survival Kit,’ ‘Hodge Podge Lodge,’ ‘Maryland News wrap,’ and ‘Critics Place’ to regional hits like ‘Duck Carvers’ and historical dramas. ‘Love Letter to Maryland was one of my favorites.’

An article featuring myself

The list goes on and on. All done with creativity and dedication and a thirst for storytelling. That programming was unique among PTV stations and I was proud to be a small part of the action. My own Program Circulation Department was among the first of a long line of entrepreneurial endeavors that MCPB pursued.

Sharon and I in Annapolis

Bob Harrison and I

Sharon and I in D.C.

Sharon and I in D.C.

But for me MCPB was more than just television. It was discovering the narrow cobblestone back streets of Annapolis, the vast plains of undeveloped Westminster, the battlefields of Gettysburg, Intercourse, Pennsylvania, Amish cooking, the Smithsonian, the Capital mall, the Eastern Shore, Chesapeake Bay, Ocean City and all those various weekend jaunts up and down the Eastern Seaboard.

Maryland was where my son, Brian, was born at GBMC along with two western novels that didn’t see a life of publication until some forty years later. Our home was the first of several real estate ventures. Maryland was where I began a lifetime of running (attempted the JFK 50 miler and only got half way) and writing and pondering and growing hungry. And I don’t think I was alone.

MCPB Group on Facebook

It’s become quite apparent that a number of alumni of MCPB feel the very same way. There’s a very popular Facebook group page for sharing memories. There are collectively quite a few.

On Location with FRU

Was it because of management? Most would agree that Dr. Frederick Breitenfeld, Jr. ran a tight ship but a good one. He created an atmosphere of creativity and exploration. There were new avenues to explore in public television production and programming and producers took advantage of many of them. Live drama, events in the field, environmental and consumer issues and craft projects were just the tip of the proverbial programming spear. Producers, directors and department heads weren’t afraid to try new things and found encouragement even after the occasional failure. It seemed to be the mantra of the times.

Back then I always felt as if I was living on the shores of Camelot. My job was to distribute the fine programming that others had created. I could only observe and envy the skill of the directors and conceptual visions of the producers. But living on the edge of all that creativity began to rub off in my own story-telling at night and wishful plans for my own production/distribution business in the future.

Like one of those spur of the moment gatherings; unplanned, unprovoked and unscripted, many of the events at MCPB just seemed to happen when creative people bumped into one another in the halls, at the local tavern or a friend’s house.

It was five years of unplanned, seldom solicited creativity slowly simmering far back in the recesses of my mind. It was concepts and images and ‘what if’s’ that gradually leached their way to the surface of my consciousness. Once back in the old familiar confines of Minnesota those ideas and concepts slowly began to take shape and blossom into fruition. I have the good folks at MCPB to thank for that.

I didn’t realize it back then but time spent at MCPB was my graduate education into a world of possibilities. Even today I’m still learning and growing and failing and starting up again. Just like all those folks I watched and envied and wanted to emulate as I stood on the shores of Camelot.

Love Letter to Maryland

Davis' Pub - Eastport, Annapolis

Davis’ pub in Eastport, Annapolis reminds me of what the Bohemian Flats must have been like on the West Bank of Minneapolis back in the ‘40s.The pub has been around since the ‘40s and their clientele hasn’t changed much since then. There are the usual neighborhood relics, a few old watermen, the hangers-on and now the ever-present tourists drawn by concierges and travel blogs.

Like the watermen of old, Davis’ pub remains stuck in the past. Its walls are adorned with fading photographs of tall ships, wooden boats, log canoes and skipjacks. Across the street the intoxicating smell of seaweed, salt air and brine mix with the fresh varnish on a yacht anchored there.

 It was all coming back to me. The inner harbor of Baltimore before Freddy Gray’s shadow darkened its shoreline. My job in Owings Mills, our home in Reisterstown and weekend jaunts up to Westminster and around the state.

 

Many of my changes started there. From 1972 through 1977, I sold programming during the day, rode out West at night and toe-stepped the Chesapeake on weekends. Our family started there and real estate first began to pique my curiosity. It was a most audacious start to something great…the rest of my life.

This time around Sharon and I were only in town for a day or two before amtraking it up to New York City and several plays there. My return to Maryland brought back a lot of great memories.

Back then I had long harbored great fantasies of sailing the bay. A boat ride on our friend’s runabout brought back a rush of old mental images. The air is clearer on the water and there is a nautical language reserved for the fleet of foot and strong of stomach. My friend spoke of new moons and dark skies. He waxed on philosophically about the Orionids, the Leonids, North Taurids and Geminids; all meteor showers reserved for his patch of moonlit sky.

The houses seemed to have gotten bigger and the sea lanes more crowded since our last visit. But the inlets and bays were still nature’s nurseries. The Chesapeake Bay supports more than 2700 species of plants and animals, including 348 species of finfish and 173 species of shellfish. Approximately 284,000 acres of the Chesapeake Bay are tidal wetlands. 

The Bay and its tidal tributaries have 11,684 miles of shoreline, more than the entire United States West Coast. Estuarine science and research is relatively young. Only in the last several decades has there been a good understanding of estuaries and fisheries.

Back in the seventies MCPB (Maryland Center for Public Broadcast) was one of the best public television stations in the country. It was my Camelot for almost five years.

My job selling programming was a precursor to my own business ventures born several years later. Our home was the first of a number of real estate investments. Two western novels were written, edited and then shelved for almost forty years before my new career as a writer took off. It was in Maryland where I attempted the JFK Fifty Mile Race but only got twenty-four miles before hypothermia brought me down. That failure propelled me to a lifetime of running.

Our G.M. was a brilliant yet incredibly personable leader. He had an enormous influence on my fantasies of becoming a writer.

It’s come full circle now. Sailing the Chesapeake, revisiting old friends through the MCPB Facebook page and writing as my new moniker to carry. I’d like to believe it all began there when a young sprout came up from Tennessee to test the waters of fledgling television, tip-toed the bays and inlets and drew in the fresh ocean breezes.

It was nice to be home again…if only in my imagination.