Beehive

Ann Richards, whose "Where was George?" keynote speech at the 1988 Democratic convention made her a political celebrity, brought her stem-winding, barn-burning road show to Baltimore County last night.She delighted a crowd of several hundred that jammed the steamy Dundalk Armory for a rally on behalf of Democratic candidates.The Texas governor was introduced by Sen. Barbara A. Mikulski, who is running for re-election."I told Ann, They're going to love your hair in Dundalk!" the senator said, to whoops and cheers.

Jacqueline M. "Jackie" Zajdel, a popular Canton cosmetologist who was a maestra of the shag, beehive, French twist and teased hair for decades, died Aug. 24 of cancer at Mercy Medical Center. The longtime Highlandtown resident was 67. Jacqueline Mary "Jackie" Zajdel was born in Baltimore and raised on Old North Point Road in Dundalk. She graduated in 1962 from Sparrows Point High School. "When she got out of high school, hairstyling was what she wanted to do, and she worked in a couple of shops in Dundalk," said her brother, Edwin "Zip" Zajdel, who lives in Joppa.

Anyone who believes the Baltimore "hon" is merely a throwback to an era of beehive hairdos, cat glasses and leopard print spandex hasn't met Noelle Mack and Jennifer Blom. The 20-somethings, both finalists in Saturday's first round of Baltimore's Best Hon Contest in Hampden, are determined to do their part to carry on the hon tradition. "The young 'hons' are bringing it back," said Mack. "Once everything fades away with the older hons, we want to keep the tradition going." The two friends strutted on stage with other women decked out in feather boas and pink eye shadow for the contest, a highlight of the annual Honfest that runs through Sunday and celebrates Baltimore for its melting pot heritage and unique term of endearment, "hon," short for honey.

Every weekday morning, at about the same hour that dozens of young teachers are finishing their coffee and heading off to classrooms, construction workers arrive for the day at the hillside campus where the educators live. The construction workers are putting the finishing touches on the sprawling Union Mill, a 19th-century loft building once occupied by a textile company and then, for many years, by a firm that made miniature toys for Baltimore's beloved Christmas gardens. Located along the banks of the Jones Falls in Hampden, the once-dormant industrial address has been transformed over the last year into a self-contained, $20 million beehive of residences, offices and meeting rooms that also includes a gym and a small restaurant.

Adorned in an Amy Winehouse-inspired black wig and dressed in a neon pink mermaid skirt, a matching feather boa, a pink-sequinedT-shirt and dusty pink house slippers, Robert Glick stood out yesterday among the thousands of people crowding The Avenue for the 15th annual Honfest in Hampden. Glick, a 43-year-old nurse from Pikesville, ditched his usual hospital garb for the over-the-top outfit in an attempt to be crowned Baltimore's Best Hon, a main staple of the festival where contestants dress in authentic "Hon" attire.

Please send old photos of people with beehive or pompadour hairdos, within the next week, to Way Back When, Sun Magazine, 501 N. Calvert St., Baltimore, Md. 21278. You must include caption information and your daytime phone number. Also, enclose a stamped, self-addressed envelope if you'd like your photo returned. If your photo is your only copy, please send a good-quality duplicate, not the original. No faxes or newspaper clippings, please.

At Beehive Baltimore's still-spartan office in Canton, about a half-dozen intense people huddled recently at laptops, with cell phones, Coke cans and power cords scattered across tables. But they aren't employed by the same company; they're software developers, entrepreneurs and freelancers busy with their own projects - part of a trend called "co-working." All have one thing in common: They're tired of working from home alone. The Beehive was formed for independent workers "tired of talking to their dogs," says co-founder Dave Troy, a software developer who's been involved with the local technology scene for years.

"My favorite book was really good. The title is The Magic School Bus Inside a Beehive by Joanna Cole. It teaches me about bees, and it is exciting - a bus changes into a beehive. I really like the book."- Christian Rivas, Marley Elementary "Harriet Tubman by David Adler tells us how she escapes from slavery by traveling on the Underground Railroad. After she reaches freedom, she goes back 19 times to lead 300 other slaves to freedom. I liked reading this book because Harriet Tubman was brave."

Funky Beehive 906 S. Charles St., Federal Hill Hours: Noon-8 p.m. Thursday and Friday, 11 a.m.-8 p.m. Saturday, 11 a.m.-3 p.m. Sunday. Closed Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. 410-685-4483 Breast cancer survivor Kara Hanson wanted a life change, so she left behind careers in both commercial real estate and the law to open a charming gift shop in December. On a Federal Hill block burgeoning with retail activity, Funky Beehive offers creative items at a variety of price points - for bachelorettes to babies to Baltimoreans who appreciate presents with local roots.

For decades, it was Baltimore's beehive -- a place where people celebrated weddings and bet on horses, schmoozed with politicians and spotted stars, munched on pickles and devoured chicken lo mein.But the Pimlico Restaurant plans to close its doors for the last time on Sunday, ending 55 years of quirky Baltimore tradition and putting 110 people out of work."It's time," said Al Davis, the 62-year-old owner, whose father-in-law, Leon Shavitz, founded the restaurant. "We've had a long, glorious, successful run, but nothing lasts forever."

An overgrown graveyard downtown, where some of Baltimore's early historical figures rest in walled isolation, buzzes now with new life. Just inside the locked gate of Old St. Paul's Cemetery on Martin Luther King Boulevard, honeybees zip in and out of a white hive perched on cinder blocks. They flit past weathered headstones for a signer of the Declaration of Independence, the hero of the 1814 defense of Fort McHenry, a Civil War general and other long-gone luminaries. The hive, put there by staff and students at the University of Maryland, Baltimore, is one of the latest — and certainly one of the more unusual — installments in the growing pastime of backyard beekeeping.

Cafe Hon owner and "hon" trademarker Denise Whiting wants Baltimore to know she's sorry. Not sorry that she trademarked the town's classic term of endearment. Just sorry that she spoke about it so clumsily that her adopted hometown came to think of her as greedy. And sorry that nobody seemed to be listening a month ago, when she said basically the same thing in a letter to The Baltimore Sun. The newest apology came Wednesday in the form of a news release. "I apologize to everyone in Baltimore for misspeaking," Whiting says in the release.

Howard County beekeepers are looking to the County Council for zoning relief after the planning board unanimously recommended denial of a proposal that would allow hives within 25 feet of an adjoining property. The board also concluded hearing testimony Thursday night on a plan to build 325 new homes on a portion of historic Doughoregan Manor but put off discussion of a recommendation on that issue until Feb. 19. Bees are now in the same zoning category as farm animals in Howard, which means the hives must be at least 200 feet from an adjoining property, a rule so restrictive it prompted an outpouring of support in November from beekeepers across the Baltimore area advocating for a change.

Anyone who believes the Baltimore "hon" is merely a throwback to an era of beehive hairdos, cat glasses and leopard print spandex hasn't met Noelle Mack and Jennifer Blom. The 20-somethings, both finalists in Saturday's first round of Baltimore's Best Hon Contest in Hampden, are determined to do their part to carry on the hon tradition. "The young 'hons' are bringing it back," said Mack. "Once everything fades away with the older hons, we want to keep the tradition going." The two friends strutted on stage with other women decked out in feather boas and pink eye shadow for the contest, a highlight of the annual Honfest that runs through Sunday and celebrates Baltimore for its melting pot heritage and unique term of endearment, "hon," short for honey.

At Beehive Baltimore's still-spartan office in Canton, about a half-dozen intense people huddled recently at laptops, with cell phones, Coke cans and power cords scattered across tables. But they aren't employed by the same company; they're software developers, entrepreneurs and freelancers busy with their own projects - part of a trend called "co-working." All have one thing in common: They're tired of working from home alone. The Beehive was formed for independent workers "tired of talking to their dogs," says co-founder Dave Troy, a software developer who's been involved with the local technology scene for years.

In Hampden, a beehive of activity Thousands of people donning beehive hairstyles and feather boas crowded The Avenue for the 15th annual Honfest in Hampden, days after Baltimore filmmaker John Waters criticized the overuse of the Hon image. Group marches for juvenile justice A group of about 120 marched to the state Department of Juvenile Services headquarters on Fayette Street, chanting "juvenile reform." The march's organizers said the state should spend money improving community-based services for juvenile delinquents.

In Hampden, a beehive of activity Thousands of people donning beehive hairstyles and feather boas crowded The Avenue for the 15th annual Honfest in Hampden, days after Baltimore filmmaker John Waters criticized the overuse of the Hon image. Group marches for juvenile justice A group of about 120 marched to the state Department of Juvenile Services headquarters on Fayette Street, chanting "juvenile reform." The march's organizers said the state should spend money improving community-based services for juvenile delinquents.

AFTER A NIFTY '50s make over complete with a Barbie doll in our beehive teased up by Studio 1612's Ken Saenz and chum Stephen Basel, hon, we strutted over to the first Hair Ball to benefit the Maryland Art Place Saturday night to butt hairdos with about 600 or so other zany hairhoppers."

Adorned in an Amy Winehouse-inspired black wig and dressed in a neon pink mermaid skirt, a matching feather boa, a pink-sequinedT-shirt and dusty pink house slippers, Robert Glick stood out yesterday among the thousands of people crowding The Avenue for the 15th annual Honfest in Hampden. Glick, a 43-year-old nurse from Pikesville, ditched his usual hospital garb for the over-the-top outfit in an attempt to be crowned Baltimore's Best Hon, a main staple of the festival where contestants dress in authentic "Hon" attire.

Suddenly, it's hard out there to be a Hon. Honfest, this weekend's kitschy celebration of beehive hairdos, cat's-eye glasses and pearls, may be the city's biggest neighborhood festival. But as Honfest grows, so does the backlash against it. Some Hampden dwellers, local fashionistas and even John Waters - who helped perpetuate the image of the Hon as a Baltimore icon - are fed up with the 50,000-strong festival that began as a simple beauty pageant. Waters frowns on all the Hon hype. He said he won't use the word or the image in any of his scripts these days, and he doesn't think the city should get behind it either.