Interesting things tend to appear when an old house is torn apart.
For example: we are now the proud owners of an 85-year-old beer bottle. It was found in the back bedroom wall, once the plaster was stripped off. Its contents obviously had been consumed shortly before it was bricked in, presumably forever, much as Fortunato in "The Cask of Amontillado."
The label reads, "The Geo. Gunther Jr. Brg. Co." and Baltimore, MD Registered," and there is a logo in the middle, of a "G" surrounded by leaves. Gunther was an old, old Baltimore brewery, operating on its own until 1959. The bottle has been traced, style-wise, to about 1915-1920.
Gunther Brewery was, of course, on Brewers Hill, along with Natty Boh. These old buildings have been wonderfully redesigned into multi-use residential, commercial, and business space. If it weren't for the unsightly (and hopefully, someday-demolished or renovated Crown Cork and Seal warehouse, we would be able to see Mr. Natty Boh, perched atop Natty Boh tower, from our to-be-built rooftop deck. (Plug for Robert McClintock, whose computer art you just clicked on.)
A minor bit of trivia: Ol' Natty broadcasts not only neon cheer, but wifi, as well, soon. Cool.
Here's a closer shot of the beer bottle, for you bottle collectors out there:
Also found in the walls: a few partial news clippings (too fragile to keep), as well as a small game piece and a playing card:
And an old Halloween mask:
The most wonderful find of all? We never got to see it.
One day, early in the demolition, we visited the house, and trouped upstairs to see the knee-high piles of old plaster. On a desk we'd left upstairs, I saw a small envelope, under the plastic dropcloth. I didn't know what it was, so I ignored it.
The next day, our contractor called me and asked if we'd found the "love letter."
"Um, what love letter?" I asked.
"The one I left for you upstairs, on the desk. I put it under the plastic to protect it," he said.
Oh.
Back to the house we went, but it was too late. The letter was gone. We spent the better part of an hour kicking around piles of plaster, looking for it. Ah, rats.
I don't know who wrote it, other than it apparently was pretty old. Our contractor said it was kinda "mushy."
Oh, well . . . it's now in a Baltimore landfill somewhere.
Moral: If you see a mysterious envelope, always check it out.
Next: real progress!
