Babe

THIS ALL starts with that incorrigible kid from the rowhouse at 216 Emory St., George Herman Ruth Jr., whose parents kiss him off so completely that he makes all of America embrace him. The kid goes to New York and becomes the Babe of baseball, while the rowhouse on Emory Street goes to ruin. Then, generations later, along come Hirsch Goldberg and Theodore McKeldin, and Mike Gibbons, too. Goldberg and McKeldin save the Babe's birthplace from demolition. Gibbons stumbles in later and finds an undernourished insult to history.

Putting Babe Ruth's bronze memorial tablet high on a wall outside the right-field fence, next to a latrine, isn't in keeping with the accomplishments of the man or his renown as the most famous of all Marylanders and link to the Baltimore Orioles.He was the Orioles' foremost discovery. The Oldtimers' Baseball Association, which conceived the plaque idea in 1956, erected it in the Memorial Stadium lobby. It was unveiled yesterday in its new location, the downtown ballpark, and the organization is annoyed over the treatment it has been given.

Pigs can't fly, but on movie screens this summer, one sure can talk."And they philosophize. And they make a difference," claims Christine Cavanaugh of Studio City, Calif.She should know. Ms. Cavanaugh is the voice behind the swine who wants to be a sheep dog in "Babe," the live-action film that opened Friday about talking barnyard animals and their endearing relationship with a farmer.The croaky-voiced actress with an angel's face is part of a suburban San Fernando Valley duo who make good in the present-day fairy tale.

Hawthorne, N.Y.-- To a hillside 20 miles north of Yankee Stadium, fans still come to see the Babe. They park their cars by the curb in section 25 of the Gate of Heaven Cemetery and climb a gentle slope to the grave, where a sculpted block of gray granite rises 10 feet from the ground, surrounded by low bushes. Winter, autumn and especially spring and summer, they come to stand for a moment, indulge their nostalgia, perhaps leave behind a baseball cap, bat, ball or pennant." You see grandfathers bringing grandsons," says Bill Lane, supervisor of outside employees at the cemetery in Westchester County operated by the Catholic Archdiocese of New York.

All the movie-maker had to do was tell the story as Babe Ruth lived it. Fiction wasn't needed because his accomplishments on the field, and off, set him apart. A singular identity. There was never anyone to compare to the "Babe", the title of the latest film that takes enormous liberties with the facts. Historians deserve to be indignant.We never knew the "Babe" and that's our loss. His wife, Claire, we interviewed on three occasions. She was filled-up with her importance and for no other reason than she was married to probably the most talented and colorful athlete the world has known.

At the Babe Ruth Birthplace Museum and Baseball Center, you can see the score card from Babe Ruth's first professional game, and uniforms worn by the Baltimore Orioles at the last game at Memorial Stadium. There's memorabilia from the Baltimore Elite Giants, the great Negro League team of the 1930s and '40s and, for 19th century baseball buffs, score cards with magic names of McGraw, Keeler and Jennings.Baseball celebrates the past, but Michael Gibbons, the museum's executive director, wants the present and the future to be considered as well.

For the first time, a panel of Baltimore sportswriters and broadcasters tomorrow night will sit in judgment of Babe Ruth and his controversial "called shot" home run during a special ceremony at the only alma mater he ever knew, St. Mary's Industrial School, now Cardinal Gibbons High.The public is invited for the event (adults $5, senior citizens $3, children $2) that begins (5:30 p.m.) at the DeSoto Road parking lot for a tour of the field where Ruth first played baseball. An hour later comes adjournment to the auditorium to view an actual film taken on the day in 1932 at Chicago, when Ruth delivered one of the game's most debated and historic home runs.

I FIGURE WE might as well start at the beginning. So there I was last week, in front of a modest brick building where Babe Ruth was born 110 years ago. When I was a kid, I couldn't fathom baseball existing before the Babe and therefore no other sport really existed either. Even now, we can at least agree that the sporting world was flat until the Babe showed us what it meant to be round. I stood there last week because this seemed as good a spot as any to begin my career and life in Baltimore.

Picture a spring afternoon in 1914. It's baseball weather. Baltimore has two franchises, the Terrapins and the Orioles. A young Babe Ruth has been signed by the second-rate team -- the Orioles.Waverly's 29th Street is not yet paved and won't be for several more years. It doesn't matter. Nearly everyone arrives by the Greenmount Avenue-York Road streetcar line, the No. 8. The newest cars had varnished wood seats, their bodies smartly painted in red and cream and detailed with fancy gold stripes.

We have a Babe in Baltimore. 33-year-old Lisa Ponzoli, Timonium native and owner of the trendy Fells Point boutique, has been involved in the apparel and fashion industries since college. After working in the buying offices at Nordstrom and Hecht's in D.C., she decided it was time to come back to her home city. In 2007 she opened Babe, which carries hand-picked clothing and accessories from popular brands such as BCBGeneration and Ella Moss, and even items from obscure labels such as Vintage Havana and Wooden Ships.