In the 1990s, bandits went on a tear, stealing plastic chairs and lawn ornaments, to the point that police urged residents to lock down their patio furniture and put name tags on their birdbaths. One man broke into 86 homes and stole century-old cast-iron light fixtures, a Victorian-era baby carriage, ornate window grates and kerosene lamps. Bandits capped their crime spree by stealing two 300-pound solid brass doors off a side entrance of the city courthouse.
Dadds is offering a reward for the mantels' "undamaged return," which he concedes is unlikely. He praises city police for treating his burglary seriously, dusting for fingerprints and sending a half-dozen squad cars racing up Charles Street on Monday night after he called 911 to report a possible suspect. It was a homeless man sleeping out front.
There are two fewer antique marble fireplace mantels in Baltimore now, and you could argue so what, given that no blood was spilled. But it is a tragedy for Jerry Dadds, who cared for the house and for its history. In this dismal climate, he can sell the building for maybe just half of what it was worth 18 months ago, and he now fears the gaping holes left in the living room will make the property even less inviting. And we don't need any more vacant houses in Baltimore.
