Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

In Key Bridge collapse, Baltimore lost a piece of its cultural identity

- By Lea Skene

BALTIMORE — Generation­s of Maryland workers — longshorem­en, seafarers, steelworke­rs and crabbers whose livelihood­s depend on Baltimore’s port — watched in disbelief last week as an iconic symbol of their maritime culture crumbled into the Patapsco River.

The deadly collapse of the historic Francis Scott Key Bridge has shaken Baltimore to its core.

“Whathappen­ed was kind ofa travesty,” said Joe Wade, a retired port worker who remembers fishing near the bridge as a child. “I’m not a crier, but ... I got emotional.”

Baltimore was a port long before it was incorporat­ed as a city — and long before the United States declared its independen­ce from Britain. Many of the city’s brick rowhouses were built to house fishermen, dockworker­s and sailors. They earned a reputation for being pioneering and tough, unafraid of rough seas and long days.

It’s a cultural identity that persists among modern-day watermen like Ryan “Skeet” Williams, who makes a living harvesting crabs from the Chesapeake Bay.

“We’re rugged and salty,” he said. “You build your own life.”

Mr. Williams relied on the Key Bridge to connect his small maritime community outside Baltimore with Maryland’s Eastern Shore, the lifeblood of the state’s robust seafood industry.

Scott Cowan, president of the Internatio­nal Longshorem­en’s Associatio­n Local 333, said the union represents about2,400 people whose jobs now hang in the balance. Shipping traffic through the Port of Baltimore can’t resume until the underwater wreckage has been cleared.

“They always say it’s the port that built the city,” said Mr. Cowan.

The disaster marks the latest blow to a city whose storied history often gets lost in conversati­ons about its more recent struggles: poverty, violent crime and population loss.

Six members of a roadwork crew plunged to their deaths after a 985-foot cargo ship lost power and crashed into the bridge, eliminatin­g a key piece of Baltimore’s skyline and halting maritime traffic to one of the East Coast’s busiest ports.

Officials have promised to rebuild the Key Bridge, but that could take years.

“This is no ordinary bridge. This is one of the cathedrals of American infrastruc­ture,” U.S. Transporta­tion Secretary Pete Buttigieg said during a news conference in Baltimore. “So the path to normalcy will not be easy. It will not be quick. It will not be inexpensiv­e.”

Baltimore became a global leader in shipbuildi­ng early its history. It later became a major transporta­tion hub with the addition of a railroad line connecting the East Coast to the Midwest and beyond.

During the War of 1812, British forces attacked Baltimore in hopes of weakening its industrial and maritime prowess. But American troops defended south Baltimore’s Fort McHenry, and the invasion inspired Francis Scott Key to write the national anthem after he witnessed an American flag flying defiantly overhead following a night of heavy bombing.

More than 150 years later, constructi­on began on a bridge that would be named in his honor.

The Key Bridge opened in 1977, spanning 1.6 miles at the entrance of Baltimore’s harborand allowing residents to traverse the waterway without driving through the city. It provided a direct connection between two working class, water-oriented communitie­s that formed during WorldWar II — when nearby steel mills produced hundreds of massive warships to aid in the defense effort.

Baltimore’s history is rife with iconic characters, from pirates and corrupt politician­s to the treasured poet Edgar Allan Poe and jazz legend Billie Holiday. Through it all, the port was a relative constant.

It has remained an economic engine, adapting and evolving even as other local businesses have shuttered amid declines in industrial production.

It currently processes more cars and farm equipment than any other port in the country. Last year alone, it handled $80 billion of foreign cargo, Maryland Gov. Wes Moore said last week.

“The collapse of the Key Bridge is not just a Maryland crisis. The collapse of the Key Bridge is a global crisis,” he said. “The national economy and the world’s economy depends on the Port of Baltimore.”

The men who died in the collapse were filling potholes during an overnight shift. While police quickly stopped traffic after the ship sent a mayday signal, they didn’t have time to alert the constructi­on crew — a group of Latino immigrants.

Two survivors were immediatel­y and divers recovered two bodies the following day. The remainingf­our victims are still missing and presumed dead.

Advocates say their deaths takeon larger significan­ce in the context of the myriad challenges facing immigrants in the U.S. The men were performing a physically grueling job for relatively low wages. They were laboring during nighttime hours to avoid inconvenie­ncing Maryland commuters.

It comes as little surprise that these already disenfranc­hised workers are the ones who ended up paying the ultimate price, said Krish O’Mara Vignarajah, president of the Baltimore-based immigratio­n services nonprofit Global Refuge.

The workers came to Maryland from Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras, seeking higher wages and better opportunit­ies.

Between the Civil War and World War I, Baltimore became one of the country’s largest points of entry for European immigrants. In 1868, an immigratio­n pier opened in south Baltimore.

Many immigrants passed through the city on their way to the Midwest, but others stayed and put down roots. Those without specialize­d skills or advanced education worked on the docks and in the railroad yards, often alongside African Americans who came north to escape slavery.

“Baltimore became a real melting pot of cultures,” said historian Johns Hopkins, who directs the nonprofit Baltimore Heritage.

In more recent decades, Latino immigrants have settled in and around Baltimore. CASA, an immigrant advocacy group, has been in contact with two of the families whose loved ones are among those still missing.

Both men — Maynor Suazo Sandoval and Miguel Luna — were husbands and fathers who left their home countries over 15 years ago.

“These constructi­on workers are absolutely essential ,” said Gustavo Torres, the organizati­on’s executive director. “In a time when there is so much hatred against the immigrant community, we lookto the quiet leadership of May nor and Miguel and appreciate­how they up hold our society so that Americans can live comfortabl­y.”

Many port workers and thousands of others used the Key Bridge on a daily basis.

Along with their neighbors, they awoke Tuesday morning to news of its demiseand quickly logged onto socialmedi­a, still in disbelief. They watched video footage showing every detail of the catastroph­ic collapse, re playing the horrific sequence until it finally seemed real.

“It was always there. It was a landmark ,” said Niki Put in ski, spent years living in a small residentia­l neighborho­odat the base of the bridge. “I just didn’ t think something could bring it down like that.”

Mayor Brandon Scott, whose father moved to Baltimore as a young man to work at the port, said there’s a reason Baltimorea­ns are known for their grit and perseveran­ce.

“You can’t talk about Baltimore — past, present and future — without talking about the port,” he said. “And this will be the latest example of Baltimore bouncing back. That’s really ingrained in us here. We don’t give up, we ignore the noise and we keep that gritty chip on our shoulder.”

 ?? Matt Rourke/Associated Press ?? A view of the collapsed Francis Scott Key Bridge and the container ship that struck it, from Fort McHenry in Baltimore late last month. Six people died when the bridge fell.
Matt Rourke/Associated Press A view of the collapsed Francis Scott Key Bridge and the container ship that struck it, from Fort McHenry in Baltimore late last month. Six people died when the bridge fell.

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