Stephen Henderson, The Sun, Baltimore
Posted 1/28/2002 12:00:00 AM
2001 Distinguished WritingAward for Editorial Writing
Stephen Henderson, The Sun, Baltimore
O’Malley’spettiness shines through again — Jan. 5, 200
Taking over Baltimore schools — Feb. 3, 2000
A silence that kills — March 19, 2000
Capital case filled with doubt — June 4, 2000
Bill Struever, Marylander of Year — Dec. 17, 2000
O’Malley’spettiness shines through again
Thinkingsmall: Mayor uses school board appointments to pursue personal politics
Jan. 5, 2000
NOWcomes Martin O’Malley, taking his place in the pitiful queue of Baltimore mayorswho have thought small and acted smaller with regard to city schools.
Mr.O’Malley has wasted no time using his school board appointive power to exactpetty political revenge. He booted board member Edward J. Brody last week —basically because Mr. Brody worked vigorously on the mayoral campaign of CarlStokes, one of Mr. O’Malley’s chief rivals.
Itwasn’t possible to work with Mr. Brody, Mr. O’Malley said. Too much politicalhistory. Too many bad feelings.
Huh?Are we back in third grade on the playground?
Someadvice for His Honor: Grow up. There’s a reason they don’t let kids be mayors.
Themayor’s action might be more defensible if Mr. Brody were a slouch on the board.He’s not.
Ona board where everyone boasts some expertise and shoulders the work of fivepeople (pro bono), Mr. Brody is a standout.
Mr.Brody, founder of one of the city’s largest trucking companies, brings a businesssense to school matters. He engineered many of the labor negotiations that yieldedconcessions from city teachers. He led the search for the schools’ chief executive.
Itwasn’t uncommon for Mr. Brody — like other members — to spend upward of 30 hoursa week working on school matters. Even if Mr. O’Malley finds an executive withMr. Brody’s experience to replace him, how likely is he to unearth one who willgive so freely of his or her time
Mr.O’Malley made his tantrum even more juvenile by leveling absurd accusationsthat Mr. Brody had something to do with literature on zero tolerance that calledhim a racist during the campaign.
Ofcourse, Mr. O’Malley offers no proof. But on the playground, who needs proof?The bully always gets his way.
This isn’t the first timeMr. O’Malley has shown himself to be more petulant than mayoral. He offereddeparting police Commissioner Thomas C. Frazier a foot in the rear on his wayout. And as a member of the City Council, he built a reputation for making surehis “enemies” got what he thought was coming to them. The school system doesn’tneed a mayor like that. Neither does the rest of the city. If Mr. O’Malley can’tsee past political vendettas and act in the best interests of the people andinstitutions that can help save Baltimore, we’re in for a rocky administration.
Copyright © 2000, The BaltimoreSun
Taking over Baltimoreschools
Reform: Privatizing theworst ones is a good idea, but results will depend on state vigilance
Feb. 3, 2000
IT’SNOT the children. It never was.
Yearsof low test scores, hopelessness and frustration in Baltimore’s public schoolsaren’t the product of defective or dumb kids. They’re about principals and teacherswho don’t do their jobs, and a system that has repeatedly adopted and ditchedcurricula. They’re the fruit of a community that has woven a pitiful tapestryof excuses for its refusal to gird and nurture public education.
It’snot the children who are failing; it’s everyone else.
Sogetting everyone else out of the way to “reconstitute” the three worst cityelementary schools makes sense. Drastic as it may seem to clean house and turnthese schools over to private companies, the State Board of Education had noobvious alternatives.
Thethree schools that will be re-made — Furman L. Templeton, Montebello and Gilmoreelementaries — have been on the state’s list of low performers for four years.They’ve had a measure of help from the state’s reconstitution program and, moreimportant, they’ve benefitted like every other city school from the system-widereforms of the last three years.
Butwhere are their test scores? No fifth-graders at Templeton posted satisfactoryscores on the Maryland School Performance and Assessment tests last year, cappinga three-year decline in that school’s scores. Only a handful of third- or fifth-gradersat the other two schools met the standard.
Noone should believe these schools haven’t had sufficient time to show improvement.And the state — already under fire for not making good on its threats to reconstitutepersistently failing schools — had no more time to waste.
Thetrick will be to make sure that the three private interests that want to runthese elementaries can actually deliver on their promises. Two of them — Edisonand Mosaica Inc. — have decent track records running schools elsewhere. Thethird, Kennedy Krieger Institute, has only managed a special education schoolbefore.
Noprivate operator should be let off a tight leash. Results — not excuses-- arewhat the state should accept from these companies.
It’snot the children who are failing. It never was. Now that state officials aretaking responsibility for the three worst city schools, any future failureswill be theirs.
Copyright © 2000, The BaltimoreSun
Asilence that kills
Action: Time for Baltimoreresidents to speak up about travesties in criminal justice
March 19, 2000
Keepquiet about the 4,000 recidivists who run city streets, committing crimes withincreasing bravado and little fear of punishment. Keep quiet when probable murderersslap hands and embrace in court after they walk free.
Saynothing about a police department that can’t solve more than half the 300 citymurders each year. Or homicide detectives who trash important evidence beforetrials. Or prosecutors and judges who can’t or won’t stop the delays that sooften set criminals free.
Keepquiet, Baltimore, because you’ve got other things to think about. Like the upcomingbaseball season. Or which weekends you’ll spend in Ocean City this summer.
Keepquiet if you will, but know that your silence and your lack of outrage overthe pathetic state of this city’s criminal justice system make you an accompliceto the mayhem. Your silence kills.
Theseare your courts. They’re your cops. They’re your judges and your prosecutors.Until you stand up, tell them you’ve had enough and demand a system that worksfor citizens instead of criminals, the nonsense will continue.
Thugswill walk the streets undeterred — maybe in your neighborhood. They’ll rob andrape and kill — maybe they’ll do it to people you know. And the slow rot that’seating at this city’s core will become a ravenous decay, leaving no neighborhooduntouched, no life unscarred.
Howmuch more will it take for the city to raise its collective voice in protest?
Whenwill Baltimoreans shout, like the television anchor in the 1976 movie Networksuggested: “We’re mad as hell and we’re not going to take it anymore!”
AtThe Sun, we’re already there. For more than a year, we’ve been writing (in editorialsand news stories) about the continuing violence and how screwed up justice hasbecome in Baltimore. We’ve pleaded with the governor, the mayor, the state’sattorney, the chief judge of the Court of Appeals and others to fix it.
We’veadvocated changes in the city prosecutor’s office, which is overworked and understaffedbut also suffers from a lack of direction and an unacceptable level of incompetence.
We’vepushed for reform at the city’s Central Booking and Intake Center, where theabsence of a judge to hear bail reviews has helped to clog the system with frivolouscases.
We’veasked city and state officials to shelve their turf squabbles in favor of aunified approach to curbing the city’s crime epidemic.
Someof what we’ve suggested has been enacted: The prosecutor’s office will get moreattorneys, prosecutors took over charging of criminals from the police departmentand the police department’s rotation policy has ended, among other developments.A Criminal Justice Coordinating Council has been resurrected.
But much more has to bedone. State’s Attorney Patricia C. Jessamy still offers more excuses than answersor solutions to her office’s pitiful performance. Judges who make upwards of$103,000 (some as much as $110,000) a yearstill roll their eyes at the mere suggestion of weekend or holiday duty at theclogged Central Booking facility. And despite Mayor Martin O’Malley’s electionon a platform of “zero-tolerance” of criminals, thugs still know that justiceis a joke in Baltimore.
Justask Jay Anderson, William Harrison and Stacey Wilson. That trio walked lastweek — for the second time — on charges they murdered Shawn L. Suggs in 1995.
Thecase against them seemed promising when it was filed five years ago, but whathappened in the intervening time made it easy for the defendants to beat thecharges.
Prosecutors,judges and defense attorneys delayed the trial 12 times between 1995 and 1999,which violated the defendants’ right to speedy justice. So in 1999, aCircuit Court judge threw out the charges.
Anappellate court later reinstated the charges and ordered the defendants to standtrial. But by then one key witness was dead and another — a heroin addict —had changed her story. Moreover, homicide detectives admitted that they haddestroyed key evidence against the defendants. (Just Friday, The Sun releaseddetails of a report on the homicide squad suggesting that lost evidence, incompletecase folders and other inexcusable dysfunctions may be the norm.)
Notsurprisingly, a jury returned not-guilty verdicts for all three in the Suggscase, and they walked out of court free men. But is that justice? Did the processfairly serve either the defendants or the victim’s family?
Thesekinds of screw-ups should make Baltimore want to scream with anger and frustration.Judges’ and prosecutors’ phones should ring off the hooks and the mayor shouldbe bombarded with complaints. But do you think that happened? Want to bet thatit didn’t?
This week’s judicial miscarriagewas only the latest example of what goes on every day in Baltimore, the mostrecent in a long line of debacles that allow criminals to do whatever they wantand not fear reprisal. But there’s stillno palpable outrage, no sense that city residents are gut-sick about what’sgoing on.
Somethinghas to change. There must be a groundswell of public opinion that forces theimportant fixes we need in the criminal justice system. It would be no lessimportant than was the civil rights struggle or the push for women’s suffrageat the beginning of the early 20th century.
Anyonecan lead this movement. Mayor O’Malley has a perfect platform from which todo so. Gov. Parris Glendening — an influential two-term governor with fewerthan two years left in office — also has a position of advantage.
Butyou, Baltimore, must do your part. Your anger and persistence could be the fuelthat feeds this effort. Phone your leaders. Pressure them to change. Do something.
Noone in this city can afford to keep quiet anymore.
Letthem know
Callthese people to demand change in Baltimore’s criminal justice system:
State’s Attorney Patricia C. Jessamy 410-396-4996
Police Chief Ronald L. Daniel 410-396-2020
Chief District Court Judge Martha F. Rasin 410-260-1525
CircuitCourt Judge David B. Mitchell (who heads the criminal docket) 410-396-5052
Mayor Martin O’Malley 410-396-4900
Maryland Gov. Parris N. Glendening 410-974-3901
Copyright © 2000, The BaltimoreSun
Capitalcase filled with doubt
Clearly, the state cannotput Eugene Colvin-el to death when such uncertainty remains.
June 4, 2000
NOEVIDENCE proves Eugene Colvin-el ever held the knife used to kill 82-year-oldLena Buckman at her daughter’s Pikesville residence 20 years ago.
Nofingerprints matching Colvin-el’s were found in the room where Buckman was stabbed28 times, in the bedroom ransacked after the murder or anywhere else in thehouse.
ButColvin-el is sentenced to death because his prints were found on broken glassoutside the home.
Heis going to die because he pawned two watches that could have been found amongjewelry strewn across the lawn.
Heis a condemned man, awaiting execution at the Maryland Correctional AdjustmentCenter in Baltimore, because he had a lawyer who put on no defense at trial,and because his appeals never adequately remedied that injustice.
Sometimeduring the week of June 12, state officials plan to strap Colvin-el to a gurneyand fill his veins with drugs to stop his heart, making him the fourth Marylandprisoner executed since the death penalty was reinstated in 1978.
Butto let him die would sanction the worst kind of premeditated killing.
Thefacts of Colvin-el’s case simply don’t lead to a moral certainty that he wasBuckman’s principal murderer, or that he received the “especially vigilant”attention to due process that the Supreme Court expects in capital cases.
Hiscase doesn’t meet the common-sense standard that death is reserved for the worstof the worst, convicted by the strongest evidence.
It’snot even close.
Themoral arc of Colvin-el’s case bends toward injustice. It bends toward unfairnessand a perilously low standard for state-sanctioned killings. Whether Colvin-elis “innocent” is not at issue. Whether the state has established his guilt asa killer with unwavering affirmation and probity is.
Gov.Parris N. Glendening — who has a petition for Colvin-el’s clemency awaitinghis attention — must stop Maryland from passing final judgment on Colvin-el.He should commute his sentence to life in prison.
It’sthin.
Digthrough the reams of paper that constitute Eugene Colvin-el’s 20-year case file,and this is the conclusion that jumps out regarding the prosecution’s case.
Overwhelminglycircumstantial, with a distressingly small amount of evidence to connect Colvin-elwith the murder, the file makes for unsettling reading.
Prosecutorssay most criminal trials turn largely on circumstantial evidence — though Colvin-el’scase sets a new low in that regard.
Prosecutorsalso say jurors were able to draw “reasonable inferences” from the evidenceto conclude that Colvin-el wielded the knife. But those “inferences” seem morelike great leaps.
Thestate says it happened like this:
OnSept. 9, 1980, between 1 p.m. and 2:45 p.m., Colvin-el broke into the houseon Cherokee Drive in Pikesville where Lena Buckman was visiting her daughter,Marjorie Surrell, and her family.
Theysay he broke a pane of glass in an exterior basement door, entered and stabbedBuckman 28 times with a knife he found in the kitchen. He wiped his hands andthe knife with a kitchen towel. Then he rummaged through the master bedroomand stole several thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry.
Attrial in 1981, the prosecution presented evidence that fingerprints found onthe broken glass near the basement door matched Colvin-el’s. Evidence was alsopresented that showed Colvin-el pawned two watches reported stolen from theSurrell home on Sept. 9.
Thestate’s case raised more doubts than it erased:
- Investigators were unable to find any “comparison value” fingerprints (prints complete enough to use for identification) on the knife used to kill Buckman. Did Colvin-el handle it? Prosecutors could not say conclusively that he did. They asserted — without any supporting evidence — that the presence of the bloody towel proved Colvin-el wiped his prints off the knife.
- Of the three comparison-quality fingerprints found inside the house — including a bloody partial palm print on the refrigerator — not one matched Colvin-el’s. Police found the broken glass with Colvin-el’s fingerprints outside the home.
Was Colvin-el in the house or just at the scene? Prosecutors offered no conclusive evidence. Were there other people in the house at the time of the robbery and murder? The unidentified bloody palm print on the refrigerator suggests that’s possible.
- In written reports, Baltimore County police investigators said the basement door Colvin-el used to gain access would only open “approximately four inches,” because a cabinet placed against the basement wall blocked part of the door.
Colvin-el was approximately 5 feet 7 inches tall and 140 pounds at the time of the murder. Could he have slipped through such a small opening? Prosecutors did not offer conclusive evidence.
They found no fingerprints on the door or on items in the basement. The cabinet that partially blocked the door had not been moved.
- Pieces of jewelry were found on the driveway outside the Surrell home after the crime. Did Colvin-el obtain the watches he pawned from somewhere other than inside the home? The prosecution’s evidence did not rule out that possibility.
Colvin-el’s lawyer shouldhave had an easy time challenging the evidence.
Evenif he did not question the idea that Colvin-el was present at the scene, hehad several avenues for assailing the prosecution’s assertion that Colvin-elmurdered Buckman. Only that assertion made the defendant eligible for the deathpenalty under Maryland law.
Questioningthis assertion was especially critical in a case that dealt with a crime inBaltimore County, where prosecutors seek death in any eligible case, regardlessof the circumstances or the weight of the evidence.
Sowhat went wrong?
Enterthe shortcomings of the legal system.
Let’sstart with Colvin-el’s first lawyer, Robert W. Payne, a private-practice attorneyappointed by the public defender’s office to represent Colvin-el at trial in1981. Payne, who is now deceased, had handled only two murder cases before beingassigned Colvin-el’s case. He had never dealt with a death-penalty defense.
BaltimoreCounty prosecutors and Colvin-el’s current attorneys have different views abouthow well Payne represented Colvin-el. But certain things are clear in the courtrecords.
Paynedid very little pretrial preparation because he was “frustrated” by Colvin-el’srefusal to cooperate. Colvin-el wouldn’t allow Payne to put on the case he wanted,according to Payne’s testimony in a 1985 post-conviction hearing. He wouldn’tanswer Payne’s questions or respond to his requests.
Inturn, Payne didn’t inspect the prosecution’s evidence until a month before trial.He didn’t interview any witnesses Colvin-el asked him to interview, includingat least one who Colvin-el said might offer an alibi.
Colvin-elhimself entered pretrial motions, including one at the case’s first hearingthat got the trial moved from Baltimore County to Anne Arundel County.
Atthe same hearing, he filed a motion for a change of attorney; Payne concurredwith an oral motion to remove himself from the case.
Bothsaid Colvin-el was dissatisfied with Payne’s work and that, because this wasa death-penalty case, attorney and client needed a close working relationship.These motions were denied. The judge said there was insufficient cause to changeattorneys.
Payne’spoor preparation hobbled his performance at trial. He called no witnesses andintroduced no evidence.
Heput no questions to prosecution witnesses that exposed the lack of identifiablefingerprints on the knife or the absence of Colvin-el’s fingerprints insidethe house.
Thetrial lasted two days. The jury deliberated three hours and returned a guiltyverdict.
Atsentencing, the jury was asked to answer two questions: whether Colvin-el wasthe “principal” in the murder — the knife-wielder — and whether his crimes warranteddeath.
Lackingstrong evidence, prosecutors attempted to prove Colvin-el was the knife-wielderby detailing his past convictions. Especially damaging was testimony about aneerily similar 1972 robbery incident, during which he threatened a woman witha knife while stealing jewelry from her home.
Onthe witness stand, Colvin-el testified that he was a drug addict who committedburglaries for money for his wife and two children. He said he never hurt anyoneand offered wandering statements about everything from his faith to the prosecutor’snationality.
Theentire sentencing phase lasted less than a day. By sundown, the jurors had deliberatedagain and returned a sentence of death.
Inall of Colvin-el’s appeals, his lawyers have focused — with good reason — onthe inadequacy of his representation at trial and the grave doubts about Colvin-el’srole in the murder. Those are the primary issues that make his planned executionindefensible.
Fivejudges in three proceedings found these problems significant enough to lodgeserious objections to Colvin-el’s execution. But the courts never saw fit toremedy either problem with a new trial: in essence, to start again from thebeginning, presuming Colvin-el’s innocence and introducing all of the evidencebefore deciding his guilt.
The closest he came wasin 1992, when he was granted a resentencing after the Supreme Court found faultwith Maryland’s death penalty procedure. However, at the hearing, his guiltin a felony murder was not the issue. This wasnot a new trial, although it is often inaccurately referred to that way.
Evenworse, problems arose at the resentencing over how evidence was presented.
Jurorsfirst were supposed to decide if Colvin-el was the “principal” in the Buckmanmurder. If they found he was the killer, only then could they decide his punishment.
Butthe prosecution presented evidence for both questions at the same time. Thus, jurors heard damaging testimony about Colvin-el that they weren’t supposedto hear unless they decided he was the principal killer.
Theprosecutor talked about Colvin-el’s prior convictions in his opening statement.Yet those records had nothing to do with establishing what did or did not happenon Sept. 9, 1980.
Afteropening statements, the prosecutor called Buckman’s relatives to the stand andhad them talk about the impact of her death on their lives. None of that evidencecould be used by the jury to ascertain Colvin-el’s role in the killing.
Thejudge told the jurors to disregard statements about Colvin-el’s record and fromthe relatives in deciding if he was the primary murderer. The judge instructedthem to stick to the prosecution’s evidence against Colvin-el, as required bylaw.
Butthat’s like telling someone to forget an elephant in the room and concentrateon a mouse instead. It was unreasonable.
Afederal district judge said as much when he ruled that the resentencing violatedColvin-el’s constitutional rights. But even he didn’t find legal grounds togrant a new trial. He only ordered another sentencing hearing that separatedthe two questions and the evidence the jury heard.
Hisruling was overturned by the federal Court of Appeals in Richmond, which determinedthat Maryland law didn’t require separation of the proceedings. The SupremeCourt refused to hear an appeal.
Prosecutorssay they have met the legal standard for execution. They say Colvin-el has hadhis day in court, and has been condemned by two juries. His appeals were rejectedon the basis of the laws of this state and this country.
Butdo technical legal judgments assure that “especially vigilant” attention todue process and fairness was given? Do they assure that Colvin-el actually didwhat he is accused of doing?
No.
GovernorGlendening, with whom Colvin-el’s fate now rests, has an obligation to lookbeyond legal arguments to moral issues: Can the state end his life while seriousdoubts remain about his role in the murder and the fairness of his trials?
Thisprocess must be stopped before the state imposes the ultimate — and irreversible— penalty on Eugene Colvin-el.
Copyright © 2000, The BaltimoreSun
BillStruever, Marylander of Year
Development: His effortsto revitalize old buildings are reviving neighborhoods and entire city.
Dec. 17, 2000
FOURWALLS and a foundation are all he needs.
CarlWilliam Struever (everyone calls him Bill) adopts buildings that others havediscarded, neglected or marked for destruction. He sees what they want to be,what purpose these abandoned hulks might serve in the communities that surroundthem. And with single-minded resolve, he helps them fulfill that potential.
Youcan spot Mr. Struever’s work all around Baltimore — almost anywhere an old warehouseor industrial plant is thriving as a home or an office, a bookstore or a restaurant.
Andif you take a step back, you can see his impact. By restoring hope to buildingsthat everyone else has given up on, he’s also helping to restore hope to a citythat many people have forsaken.
Thisyear, Mr. Struever’s plans tocreate a “Digital Harbor” started to pay off, bringing high-tech jobs to bothsides of Baltimore’s harbor, from the American Can Co. in Canton to the newlyrestored Tide Point, site of the old Procter & Gamble plant.
His achievement has significantimplications for Baltimore’s waterfront, and by extension, the city. And itis the primary reason we’ve chosen Mr. Struever, 48, as our Marylander of the Year.
Itmight be easy to view Mr. Struever as just another of Baltimore’s many developers— a rich guy who makes himself richer by putting up office complexes, storesor housing units.
Butthat view understates the development challenges Mr. Struever and his partnersat Struever Bros., Eccles & Rouse confront without blinking, and the gamblesthey take in the name of urban revitalization. What they do is all about risks.It’s about fighting through setbacks, headaches and environmental and financialconstraints to make something work where others have failed.
Anyonecan put up an office building on a pristine patch of open land in the suburbs.Not just anyone can bring life to rejected urban relics.
TheAmerican Can Co. in Canton is a good example.
Itsat unused for nearly three decades and was slated for demolition twice beforeMr. Struever got involved.
Thesite was polluted with lead and oil. The buildings had odd footprints that didn’tlend themselves cleanly to modern needs for office space or commercial ventures.
ButMr. Struever saw possibilities. Taking care of the pollution was just a matterof patience and money. And he knew if he could secure historic tax credits forthe property — again, with patience and money — he could make the numbers work.
Designwas a matter of vision: finding virtue in concrete industrial-grade columnsand old shop-floor layouts. Retail outlets and restaurants quickly bought in.Mr. Struever got office tenants by targeting high-tech companies whose employeesmight appreciate the site’s quirkiness. (He also persuaded DAP, an old-linecaulk company looking to jazz-up its image, to move in.)
Whenthe Can Co. opened in 1998, it was a rousing success. It has since become ananchor for Canton and helped produce a thriving real estate and commercial marketin the neighborhood. Across the harbor at Tide Point is Mr. Struever’s newesteffort. The abandoned Procter & Gamble plant had been bought by Korean investorswho planned to make sake there, but their financing fell through, and Mr. Strueverstepped in.
Afterconquering similar challenges to those he faced at the Can Co., Mr. Strueverhas turned the 400,000-square-foot complex into the centerpiece of his DigitalHarbor venture.
Hehas already attracted some big-name dot.coms to inhabit the office spaces. Andhe has some non-technology tenants, too: architectural firm Ayers Saint Grossand ad agency Gray Kirk/VanSant will soon move in. When Tide Point is finished,about 2,200 people will work there. In its heyday, Procter & Gamble neverhad more than 550 workers at that site.
There’slittle doubt the Can Co. and Tide Point would be empty or demolished if Mr.Struever had not revived them. The risks were too great for others, and thevision wouldn’t have been there for many.
Thecommunities these developments serve — Canton and Locust Point — might stillbe groping for ways to turn a neighborhood drag into a catalyst if not for Mr.Struever.
Thesame is true of other Struever developments: the old Bagby Furniture buildingat Inner Harbor East; Tindeco Wharf and Canton Cove in Canton; the planned redevelopmentof the once badly polluted Allied Signal site near Fells Point. He also hasplans under way to turn the long-closed National Brewery plant in East Baltimoreand the Munsey Building at Baltimore and Calvert streets into apartments.
Mr.Struever also lends his extraordinary vision to other people’s projects.
He’strying to resurrect the Belvedere Square retail complex on York Road.
Whenthe old Camden Yards warehouse was being redone to complement the baseball park,it was Mr. Struever who found a way to have office space on every floor of thegargantuan building, rather than mechanical equipment on half of them.
Whenthe Children’s Museum was looking for a new home, it was Mr. Struever who suggestedthe former Fish Market on the edge of downtown and helped inspire the idea forPort Discovery — one of the most cutting-edge experiential museums in the country.
Whenthe city school board was reconfigured in 1997 in the hope of massive educationreform, it was Mr. Struever — the only retained member of the old school board— who took the lead early in defining what was achievable.
Thatschool board involvement is just one aspect of his civic life: He has servedon more than 20 civic boards and committees over the past two decades and hasbeen honored numerous times for his volunteer work.
Hisassociates say he is driven to all of these things by an unswerving commitmentto rebuilding communities by capitalizing on what’s already there, and an equallystrong belief that this city should aspire to greatness.
Hebelieves in Baltimore’s promise. He works tirelessly to help realize it.
Maybethose are qualities that come with being the Brown University-educated son ofa Johns Hopkins professor. Or maybe they come from studying development at theknee of James Rouse.
Whatever the reason, thismuch is clear: Baltimore would be worse off without Mr. Struever. To see howtrue that is, you need only look at the many thriving places around town thatwere once no more than four walls and a foundation.
Copyright © 2000, The BaltimoreSun