A WORD ABOUT THE POE HOUSE IN BALTIMORE
P
oe fans, literary geeks, and artistic intellectuals, take note: at 203 Amity
Street in Baltimore, there is an old house—originally built in 1830—that is historically significant for being Edgar Allan Poe’s place of residence for several years of his life. There is a museum in the house, featuring artifacts and walk- through art displays. The Poe Society of Baltimore also hosts several events a year at the museum. Now, however, the very existence of that museum is in peril. Cash-strapped Baltimore has cut off the museum’s $85,000 annual budget, and unless a lot of Famous Monsters send a lot of money, its doors may close forever. The Poe House is still accepting donations. Heed the call. Send a few bucks. Help Jeff Jerome, the curator of the Poe House Museum, keep the faith. Checks and money orders should be made out to the Director of Finance and sent to Jeff Jerome, Department of Planning, 8th
Floor, 417 East Fayette
Street, Baltimore, MD, 21202. Even a letter or call to the mayor in support of the Poe House can help! Send an email message by logging on at
http://www.baltimorecity.gov/ OfficeoftheMayor/ContactTheMayor. asp.
of the old man with the roaming eye whose heart kept beating after death, the nightmare of the pendulum that would slice a prisoner in half as he lay chained in the pit—or the premature burials and those who awoke from death—even the Masque of Red Death itself…. they all led a dark and macabre existence in your mind and on your pages. You live today in the public imagination because no one else could delve into horror the way you did. For that you are remembered. As for your literary skill, it is debated
still. Mark Twain thought your writing mediocre and dull. Baudelaire, who translated your works into French and wrote introductions, thought you were a literary genius of the highest order.
The circumstances of your death
remain an unsolved mystery. Some still suspect foul play. There is a theory that the angry brothers of one of your lovers beat you up, forced you to drink a lethal amount of alcohol, and left you for dead in a Baltimore alley. No one can explain how you were found wearing clothes not your own, or what you meant as you stammered incoherently for a few hours before you passed away. But regardless of the cause of your death, or the fact that only a handful of mourners showed up when you were buried, there are many who now worship you as a literary god. Those of us at FAMOUS MONSTERS praise your courage and your gifts of literary treasures that forever endure.
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FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND • MAR/APR 2012
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