Unbuilt Part 1: How Baltimore Residents Saved Inner Harbor and Historic Neighborhoods from being razed
Images VIA The Urbanist and Gilbane

Unbuilt Part 1: How Baltimore Residents Saved Inner Harbor and Historic Neighborhoods from being razed

I've recently been on an "unbuilt" binge; basically what this means is researching projects and infrastructure projects that never came to be due to public opposition, economic barriers, or other obstacles that tend to kill projects. While there are many projects that unfortunately never got built, there are also several projects that, if got built, would have ruined the integrity and charm of a city. After doing some thorough research on these proposed or never built projects, I figured that I should start a new series documenting all the missing projects that could have changed a city, or even America, for better or for worse, and I hope that you dear reader enjoy this new series of Unbuilt.


Baltimore, MD. Once the 6th largest city in the US during the 1950s with a peak population of 949,708 (more than nearby Washington DC, which now actually has more residents than Baltimore in 2024), many in the city thought that the city was going to continue to grow in the coming decades. Thanks to the Interstate Highway System Act of 1956, billions of dollars were going into the construction of highways throughout the nation. The state at the time already started construction with funding from the Act on the Baltimore Beltline in 1954 (I-695), and there were fears that despite projections of continued growth, foot and car traffic would be led away from the inner city and into suburbs like Towson thanks to the new Beltline. As a result, Mayor Thomas D'Alesandro (D), father of former Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi (D), appointed city planner Phillip Darling to come up with a plan to bring business back into the urban core. Partly because of new federal funding the Act brought, the resulting plan released in 1960 was ambitious: three highways, I-70, I-83, and I-95, all conjoining into one giant interchange at none other than Inner Harbor, with highways extending through Federal Hill, Sharp Leadenhall, and Little Italy. Some parts of the highways would have extended out to 14 lanes on both sides, essentially splitting neighborhoods in half and robbing the city of its waterfront.


Here is an image of how the 1960 plan (then known as the East-West Expressway) would have looked like at build out. Note how I-95 (labelled as Jones Falls Expressway on the map) cuts straight through Sharp Leadenhall, how I-70 (labelled as East-West Expressway) runs throughout the entirety of the Inner Harbor and Waterfront, and how I-83 cuts straight through Little Italy.


Interestingly enough, this final plan was a revised plan from the original (image). The reasons why the original plan got revised was because the revised plan would have removed 3,187 dwellings, four businesses, and no churches compared to the more northerly aligned original plan, which would have razed 5,582 dwellings, 18 businesses, and six churches despite the revised plan costing $31 million more ($225 million vs $194 million). While the numbers do speak for themselves, perhaps there was some "behind the scenes" reasoning for the revised plan moving forward.


At the time, Inner Harbor and Sharp Leadenhall (where I-70 and I-95 were to have gone) were predominantly African African, Federal Hill was a mixed-race neighborhood with a diverse range of backgrounds and income levels living in a closely knit community, and Little Italy was home to thousands of Italian immigrants. Unfortunately, the convention of the time was for cities to seize low income and minority based neighborhoods, demolish them, and then build highways in the name of "Development" and "Urban Renewal", an ironic term for projects that ended up tearing hundreds of historic neighborhoods across America. In addition, waterfronts and riverfronts were not thought of in the same light as today, during the early 1900s most waterfronts were home to heavy industry, manufacturing, and shipping operations and were not valued heavily by cities.


Despite the obvious damage that this project would have done, the city moved ahead in seizing thousands of homes and businesses from 1965-1967 thanks to the power of Eminent Domain along the Inner Harbor, Sharp Leadenhall, Little Italy, and Federal Hill areas. By the late 1960s, Sharp Leadenhall saw a massive drop in population from 3000 to only 500 residents, most of whom already feared the worst for their historic neighborhood.


What makes this worse was that while the city was already seizing property, there was intense debate going on between residence groups trying to save their property and within the city officials themselves who were trying to finalize the expressway plans. The newly unofficial plans studied in the early 1960s (image here) and here were created not because of the concern of communities being destroyed, but rather because officials were unsure of if filling in Inner Harbor for the official plan was economically feasible. While it would have saved Inner Harbor, I-95 would have instead cut straight through Federal Hill, Hollins Market, and Carrollton's Ridge, all low income areas at the time during the 1960s. Despite the behind the scenes alternatives that were popping up, the official 1960 plan was still the official plan. This added uneasiness for many neighborhoods that heard different plans for the proposed project, fanning the flames even more for addition opposition.


Beginning in 1968, things began to change dramatically into what the plan that was eventually adopted. A study done by the city would show that contrary to what Darling thought 10 years ago about 43% of traffic on the previous plans would have been considered "through" traffic, meaning that they had no origin nor destination located downtown, unnecessarily increasing traffic for locals and workers downtown. This put serious doubt into the official plans dating back from 1960, the goals of bringing business and commuters back into the inner city would have failed had the city gone through earlier without the results from the study.


In addition, fierce opposition from residents of Federal Hill and other neighborhoods in danger of demolition paid off; thanks to the counterculture movement of the 1960s and heightened distrust of government officials, residents of Baltimore rallied throughout the decade to stop the highways from being built. According to the book Stop the Road, Stories from the Trenches of Baltimore's Road Wars via South Baltimore Peninsula Post, activists and groups around the proposed areas of demolition rallied together to create historical societies for Fell's Point and Federal Hill with the hopes of getting these neighborhoods historic status, thus preventing them from being subjected to demolition. By 1970, thanks to the efforts of activists such as Bob Enay and Jack Gleason, these two neighborhoods got National Register status, putting a corkscrew into the official plans for the highway.


The city of Baltimore, to their credit, implemented many firsts in city planning. Prior to this specific project, cities often had final say and went ahead with their plans to demolish low income and historic neighborhoods, not matter what opposition they faced. According to DC Roads, Baltimore learned that highways' impacts on cities were often grossly understated and that their full impacts were not seen until they were complete. To try and mitigate this, Baltimore established a committee of urban planning and highway experts called the Urban Design Concept Associates (UDCA) to guide the city in deciding the best path for their plans and began to hold public hearings and comments during planning meetings, which helped give activists such as Enay and Gleason voices that ultimately led to an unexpected surprise.


Mayor Thomas D'Alesandro (D), eldest son of his father the former Mayor, announced an official rework of the 1960 plan. The new 1968 plan (image) avoided Federal Hill and Sharp Leadenhall entirely, with the exception of a small sliver of the western side of these districts which would host I-395 (which in this plan saw its lane size decrease from 8 to 6 and avoided Leadenhall Street, sparing four entire blocks). In addition, some 1400 homes would be saved with the new proposals and the city would have saved $60 million in construction costs for a final bill of $600 million, with $500 million would have been funded federally. Finally, I-70, which was supposed to cut through western downtown and was part of the original Inner Harbor plan, would instead be a city boulevard. Despite all the changes, I-83 was to still be constructed along a majority of the waterfront and be built above water, a catastrophe for the waterfront.


Most contentious though was the plan to build a 180 ft., 8 lane double deck suspension bridge right next to Fort McHenry. Fort McHenry was the site of the infamous Battle of Baltimore during the War of 1812 where Francis Scott Key wrote our country's national anthem. Despite the historical designation that the Fort was given in 1966, the new plan still hoped to build the suspension bridge, angering many veterans and residents of Locust Point, the neighborhood adjacent to the proposed bridge. Two residents of Locust Point, Victor and Shirley Doda, were the leaders of this movement. These locally famous activists were known for their unique protesting tactics such as marching into council meetings with Uncle Sam themed hats and sitting behind then Mayor William Schaefer (D), a longtime resident of Baltimore.


Unwilling to anger the veteran and local community, in addition to a study that indeed proved the disastrous consequences of the proposed bridge, Mayor Schaefer announced in 1974 that the Fort McHenry Tunnel would be constructed south of the historic Fort (rather than directly underneath as originally planned) at a cost of $350 million, which saw completion in 1985.


In the end, I-83 and I-70 were never built out to its full length across the Inner Harbor and the Waterfront towards Canton. In fact, one can drive onto the terminus of I-70 and find that it awkwardly ends west of the city, thanks to the efforts of the Sierra Club, federal district judges, and local activists from preventing city planners to tear through over 150 acres of Leakin and Gwynn Falls Park (image). Even though city planners attempted to offset this with a complete overhaul and renovation of both parks, paid for by the federal government themselves, this project ended up being nixed completely by Mayor Schaefer in 1980.


Today Inner Harbor is one of the biggest tourist attractions and growing districts in the United States. Home to the National Aquarium, the 4th largest aquarium in the United States, hundreds of apartments, hotel rooms, and condominiums, and multi-billion dollar projects such as Harbor East and Harbor Point, the Inner Harbor sees about 1.2 million visitors annually in 2021 and is a massive economic driver for a city that has seen increased visibility and development from the private sector. In addition, Federal Hill, Sharp Leadenhall, and Little Italy remain as some of Baltimore's most historic neighborhoods, having seen an influx of growth while retaining each respective district's charm and history.


Thanks to the efforts of the City of Baltimore and its residents, not only was city saved, but also hopes to inspire cities all across the US and globe to realize the dangers of highways and road construction on their people as countries all across the world look to a greener and happier future for all.

Thrilled to see such deep dives into the intersections of urban planning and community resilience ???. It reminds us of Jane Jacobs' wisdom - Cities have the capability of providing something for everybody, only because, and only when, they are created by everybody. Your exploration into Baltimore's history and what could have been is not only fascinating but a powerful reminder of the strength within communal unity and action ??. Keep illuminating these untold stories! ????

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