What's Old is New Again

Thought for the day:  Just because something doesn't do what you planned it to do doesn't mean it's useless.  [Thomas Edison]

Some people have a real knack for taking a bunch of seemingly useless odds and ends, and turning them into pieces of artwork... or into something new and useful. They often rescue items that were otherwise destined for the dump, clean them up, and turn them into something entirely different.

Some developers have the same sort of talent, but on a much grander scale. They see an area that looks like a dump, and picture its potential as a place of beauty. Let me tell ya, what developers did to transform Baltimore's Inner Harbor is nothing short of miraculous. Locals are still somewhat bemused to see tourist buses in town, but they're darned proud of their city's phenomenal face lift, too.

The Tin Decorating Company of Baltimore, or Tindeco for short, opened in 1900, and by 1914, was the largest tin decorating plant in the world. When the presses were running, all the windows had to stay closed, because a draft could mess up the images in the wet paint. So with all that heavy machinery running, not to mention giant ovens in use... can you imagine how beastly hot it must have been inside that factory in the middle of a sweltering Baltimore summer? Oh, and they also had an in-house surgical department, too. Those big sheets of tin they worked with weren't only slippery when wet with paint; they were sharper than razor blades. In other words, I'll betcha lots of guys who worked there had the nickname Stubby.

The factory changed hands a couple times over the years, but closed down for good in 1965, and quickly deteriorated into an eyesore. Then voila! Like magic, in 1985, it became repurposed as luxury apartments. Who'd a thunk it?  

And... it happens to be home sweet home for one of the characters in Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade:

Pearl turned onto Boston Street and followed it from Ida's neighborhood of want all the way to Luke's neighborhood of plenty. His apartment looked down its nose at the harbor from atop a converted seven-acre building that used to be Tindeco, the largest tin decorating company in the world. Now the former factory was called Tindeco Wharf, and in addition to upscale offices and shops, it offered high-dollar living at its finest. Much to the amusement of Baltimore's old-timers, the rich and trendy couldn't whip out their platinum cards fast enough for the privilege of living there.

Because I was curious about the old tinware and nouveau living quarters, I thought you might find it interesting, too.

Check this out. There's an Olympic-sized pool out back, right next to the harbor. I'll bet those guys who were shut up in that hot-as-hell factory would've gladly given up another finger or two for the luxury of being able to cool off in a pool. (Even a kiddie pool!)

This lobby sure doesn't look like it was ever part of a factory, does it? You can only see one in this picture, but there are actually two cabinets against the wall on the left, and they both hold spiffy samples of Tindeco tinware.

Here are some candy and cookie tins. Peter Rabbit was a popular design, as was Mother Goose.

Cigarette tins. Lucky Strike... no strike back! (Anybody remember that?)

Intricately painted containers for Christmas and Halloween are very popular with collectors.

How do you like these Roly Poly fellas? Each of them originally held about a pound of tobacco.

Dunno why, but I only took one picture of this other cabinet. Too bad, because some of this stuff was pretty neat, too. (We probably high-tailed it out of there to get some lunch.)

Here's a closer look at a couple Peter Rabbit tins. The first was produced in the '20s, and the second, in the '40s.

Animal crackers, anyone?

Uneeda has to be one of the best names ever for a brand of tea, dontcha think?









Pretty cool, huh? Have any old factories in your town turned into trendy places to live?

What's the most unusual case of repurposing you've ever seen... or done yourself? Smarticus pulled off a pretty cool one. (In addition to his repurposed-out-the-wazoo 1930 Model A ratrod, that is.) At a hamfest some years back, he bought a wooden shipping box full of vacuum tubes. Not that he needed the tubes; he already had a ton of them. What he did need was something handy-dandy to put beside his end of the love seat, and that box looked like the perfect size. It still has the old Ft. McPherson mailing address stamped into it, but with the addition of a couple pieces of wood (which secures the crate's lid.. I mean, table top... about six inches above the crate) and a coat of polyurethane, it makes a dandy... and very unique table/magazine rack.

As we like to say... it suits us!

                                Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.