Pieces of column too short to use:
During his 27 years on the bench, Carl W. Bacharach, the colorful Baltimore City District Court judge who died yesterday, presided over thousands of cases of assault, robbery, drunkenness, drug possession, shoplifting, glue-sniffing, and dozens of other offenses. He fined thousands of defendants thousands of dollars and sentenced them to thousands of days in jail.
Remembered fondly is the day Bacharach, seated in the old Southern District on Ostend Street, was presented with the case of a kissing bandit. A South Baltimore deviant, visiting a bar with friends, was issued a challenge: If he kissed -- full and on the mouth -- the first person, male or female, to walk through the barroom door, he would receive $50. Accepting the dare, the contestant sprang to his feet when the barroom door swung open, grabbed at the large and masculine figure crossing the threshold, and kissed him -- full and wet, on the mouth. It turned out that the kissee was a 6-foot-3 Southern District sergeant making a regular stop in his sector.
"Why do I get all the nuts?" Bacharach was heard to sigh, slapping then rubbing his face as he listened to the statement of facts. Bacharach set the going rate for the unauthorized kissing of a uniformed Baltimore City police sergeant at $50. We never got to ask what the fine would be for lieutenants. RIP, your honor.
The Schmoke administration wants to change procedures in the handling of evictions. Instead of storing evicted chattels in a warehouse for 30 days, the city wants to take them to the Pulaski Highway incinerator. The vast majority of evicted tenants never bother to pick up their belongings from the warehouse, so why bother? It's claimed that this move will save the city about $1 million annually.
I've received a couple of interesting letters on this subject. Tim Watts wrote: "As soon as the truck picks up your stuff from the street, [an evicted tenant] is charged $107, plus $1 a day after that. I would say that, if one has just been evicted, one would not be able to pay $107, wouldn't you?"
Fred J. Winer, of Adams & Winer Auctioneers, wrote: "Even if the city picks up the evictions and takes them directly to the dump, the legal process doesn't change, and the eyesores will still be there, and as our federal government seems less responsive to social problems, our local problem only promises to worsen."
Recent conversation -- not an exact transcript but very close to iwith a 20-something guy named Scott:
"Scott, how've you been?"
"Nice shirt you're wearing."
"It's not mine."
"It's a fake. I can't afford a real one."
"How's your job?"
"I love it."
"Nah. I just tell myself that to forget about the long hours, low pay and lack of respect."
"How's your love life?"
4 "I thought you were seeing someone named Julie."
"I saw her yesterday. She was walking down the street with another guy."
"Did you say something?"
"I told her I loved her."
"What did she say?"
"Nothing. She was on the other side of the street."
"Well, what about that Towson State girl, Mary."
"I stopped seeing her."
"She found out I liked her."
"Come on, Scott. Cheer up. Let's go get a pizza."
"OK. I don't have anything else to do."
Today is William Donald Schaefer's birthday. He was born on this date in West Baltimore in 1921. Today, the governor is scheduled to attend a birthday party in his honor at a McDonald's in Hagerstown. (Some kids have all the fun!)
Curious about the horoscopic dynamics of this day, I checked with Sydney Omarr to find out what kind of personality traits a person born today is supposed to have. Being born on Nov. 2, according to Omarr, means "you are emotional, forceful, stubborn, passionate and will fight when cause is right." (That's our Guv).
There was hope for the state deficit: "Within one month financial dilemma will be resolved." And here was the most intriguing part of Schaefer's horoscope: "In 1991, you make major domestic adjustment that could include actual change of residence or marital status." (All I can say to that is: Woo! Woo!)