Tag Archives: steward manor

Laurel’s Safeway(s)

While I was growing up at Steward Manor during the late 1970s and early 80s, grocery shopping was never really a problem. In just a matter of minutes, if my mom and I were so inclined, we could walk to and from Safeway—which, at the time, was just around the corner from us on Bowie Road. In fact, during the one year that we lived at 2 Woodland Court, it was literally just across the railroad tracks. For more extensive shopping, of course, my dad would drive us there (or more likely, to one of the bigger and/or cheaper stores in the area: Giant, Pantry Pride, or Basics). But on any given day, my mom might have decided to bake a cake or something; and needing only a few select items, she and I would take a quick walk over to Safeway.

Until this past weekend, I hadn’t been able to find a single photo of the Safeway that I so vividly remember from childhood—before it relocated to a new and larger space at Laurel Lakes in 1985 (where it remains today).

For me, the old Safeway was the real Safeway; and when it left, it was like losing an old friend. To this day, I occasionally have dreams in which I’m back in that store—perusing the Cragmont soda aisle and noting the vintage cash registers at the checkout counter, amongst orderly stacks of weekly magazines featuring the likes of Diff’rent Strokes and President Reagan on their covers.

So in the course of my research, when I turned the page in the April 21, 1966 issue of the Laurel News Leader and came to this photo—I smiled at an old friend.

There it was, just as I remembered it. But even newer, because it had just opened. From this angle, (taken from the adjacent shopping center, which had also just opened) you can even see that awesome roller track/conveyor belt thing, which transported your groceries from the checkout counter, outside, around a hairpin curve, and to your awaiting vehicle beneath that covered driveway. (This, of course, was the only downside to walking over to Safeway with my mom—I didn’t get to use that thing nearly as often as I would have liked, but I digress).

Admittedly, I suspected that I might actually find a photo of the store; in an earlier newspaper, I had come across this bold announcement, which included a stock illustration of a similar Safeway store (but without the aforementioned awesome roller track/conveyor belt thing).

Laurel Leader, January 27, 1966.

So, a question I’d often wondered about was finally answered. The Safeway on Bowie Road first opened its doors in January 1966. The adjacent shopping center, which included Market Tire, Arundel Furniture, and Chicken Roost, among others—also another story for another time—opened in April.

But the photo also raised an interesting question, because conspicuously absent in all this was my other beloved store—Dart Drug. I had always assumed that Dart Drug was the original tenant beside Safeway; that they had been built together. Evidently, that wasn’t the case at all.

As I continued through the 1966 newspapers, I spotted the following ad in an August issue—which references the mysterious “Super S” store noted in the photo caption above.

Safeway Super S? I’d never heard of or seen such a thing, but there it was, in the proverbial black and white.

It also immediately struck me as rather ironic that Safeway had actually occupied this entire, massive structure—yet would ultimately move to Laurel Lakes nearly 20 years later in need of more space. What happened there? What exactly was Super S, and how (and when) did it eventually become the Dart Drug that we all knew and loved?

The Super S story turns out to be a super-short one, actually. By April 1967—a mere eight months after its grand opening, ribbon-cutting ceremony with then-Mayor Merrill Harrison, the store was closed.

Laurel Leader, April 20, 1967

Super S, according to the fantastic vintage retail blog, Pleasant Family Shopping, was an early (and ultimately unsuccessful) attempt by the supermarket to parlay its brand into an ancillary store; one which offered the types of non-food items you wouldn’t find in the Safeway proper: small appliances, sporting goods, toys, outdoor accessories, and more. Basically, like what Dart Drug would become. In retrospect, it’s a bold idea that, frankly, seems ahead of its time. Who knows.. with a little tweaking of the Super S business model here and there, Safeway could’ve very easily hit the jackpot. (Not that they haven’t been successful enough on their own, but again I digress).

It’s not yet clear if the old Super S building hosted any interim tenants, (my guess is no) but in February 1969, Dart Drug officially took up residence. It would remain there until the company went bankrupt nearly 20 years later.

Laurel Leader, February 6, 1969.

 

Here’s another view of the Safeway Shopping Center (as it came to be known) from across Route 1, in what was at that time the Food Fair parking lot. Food Fair, of course, would eventually become Frank’s Hardware, which in turn would eventually become Frank’s Nursery and Crafts—but that’s yet another story or two, as well.


Coincidentally, just a few miles west along Route 198, another Safeway opened in mid-February 1966. With a Peoples Drug at the opposite end of the Burtonsville Shopping Center, I guess the builders wisely saw no need for a Super S.

Last, but not least, I’d heard many a story about Laurel’s original Safeway—a location just off Main Street that, like its successor, was eventually deemed too small. That store was located on C Street, in the little building that would actually become City Hall and the Laurel Police Headquarters in 1972. Apparently, it continued to briefly do business even after the larger, new store opened on Bowie Road. In fact, according to this amusing snippet from September 1969, customers were still showing up even after it had closed.

Laurel Leader, September 25, 1969.

I can relate. They, too, must’ve felt like they’d lost an old friend.

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A Neighbor’s In Need: Let’s Help!

Last Fall, I was researching the history of Steward Manor Apartments when I stumbled across a photo on eBay.

Photo: John Floyd II, 1974.

It was part of a set of ten original prints being offered, which documented various vehicles from the Laurel Volunteer Fire Department and Laurel Rescue Squad in the 1970s. This particular image featured Laurel Rescue 19 (also known as “The Heavy”) leaving its quarters and turning onto Lafayette Ave.; and there in the distance was the familiar southwest corner of my old neighborhood—Steward Manor Apartments. Even the old red Volkswagen Karmann Ghia I remember walking past so many times en route to 7-Eleven, Dart Drug, or the mall was captured—parked right there where I remember it always sitting.

I eagerly bought the photos; and having noticed several other sets for sale, I messaged the seller, John Floyd II, who manages a wonderfully eclectic eBay store—Blackpool Bertie’s Railway Shop. I wondered if perhaps he had any other vintage photos of Steward Manor in his collection. We chatted back and forth, as I explained the premise of my research. I learned that John was a former fireman, and over the years (both before and after his tenures with volunteer fire companies in Laurel and New Jersey) he had diligently photographed firefighting apparatus, training exercises, and countless fires and accident scenes. Aside from this one photo, he didn’t recall having any others of Steward Manor; because as he explained, the old complex was virtually fireproof. He promised to take a look through his archives, though, and would let me know if he came across anything.

In the meantime, I began to take note of some of the other photos he was selling—photos that in a roundabout way, captured images of the Laurel, MD I used to know. Behind the firetrucks were long-gone storefronts from Laurel Shopping Center… the old Fair Lanes bowling alley sign… and a number of stunning photos from the very first Main Street Festival in 1981. I eagerly bought these, as well; and in effect, they turned out to be the inspiration for starting Lost Laurel. You’ve undoubtedly seen these photos throughout the blog and Facebook page.

Over the past several months, John has not only contributed more invaluable photos and historic information, he has become a good friend.

He’s also a bit of living Laurel history, himself. As a young lad, (as he might say in his subtle British accent) he and his mother came to America in 1957, settling in Laurel in 1964. Not long thereafter, his mom met and wed Mr. Harry Fyffe, co-owner (with his brother Walter) of the legendary Fyffe’s Service Center that stood at Montgomery and 10th Streets for so many years. By his early teens, John was helping out behind the bar, eagerly pulling pints for the regulars!

Still living in Laurel, (he’s lived in the same modest home since childhood—going on 50 years) he’s an active civic booster for the community, and for the nearby Laurel Police Department in particular. He’s also a fine horn player, as well. That was him you may have seen carrying the big antique silver Sousaphone, marching along with the West Laurel Rag Tag Band in this year’s Main Street Festival parade!

John has already shared with me a wealth of knowledge and photos of vintage Laurel—the likes of which I could not possibly have come across on my own. In fact, I’ve merely scratched the surface in terms of curating his vast contributions for Lost Laurel. Wait until you get a load of some of the treasures he’s shared from the 1960s and earlier—who knew Pal Jack’s was once a Bendix and Philco radio shop?!

Main Street in the 1940s… (Photo courtesy John Floyd II, from the collection of Harry Fyffe)

…and the same spot in 2007. (Photo: John Floyd II)

I can say with certainty that without John’s help, there wouldn’t be a Lost Laurel.

Much has happened in just the eight months since I’ve started this project. I’ve been interviewed by the Laurel Leader, and I’ve seen the Lost Laurel Facebook page grow to over 1200 fans. I’ve watched the blog soar to over 24,000 views. That was the good news. The bad news is that I’ve also seen more of the old Laurel fall—literally, in the case of the recent demolition of the blue American National Bank building. Also closing for good were my beloved Laurel Art Center, and even the Laurel Mall—something I never dreamed would’ve occurred in my lifetime, having grown up in its heyday.

Coincidentally, who walked over to the mall to photograph and share with Lost Laurel the very first photos of the “permanently closed for business” signs on the locked doors? John Floyd did.

Photos: John Floyd II

Unfortunately, there’s more bad news looming. This one isn’t about a longtime business closing, or an iconic building being razed. This one affects John personally; and for him, it could certainly be the toughest loss of all. He’s at risk of losing his home.

After missing a property tax deadline, I’ve learned that John’s home was actually SOLD at the county’s annual Tax Auction in May. He now has a very small redemption window in which to pay off the tax penalty, otherwise he’ll lose everything.

John would never ask for any kind of charity himself, so I’m going to pitch in and try to help. In fact, I’ve already gotten an earful from him for simply suggesting this little benefit idea. But I have to believe that at least a few of the folks who follow Lost Laurel will sympathize, and find it in their hearts to contribute whatever they can. And this is just too important to not at least try.

Without going into too much detail, suffice it to say that John has been in a very tight financial spot for quite some time now. He has been without a car for nearly a decade, which not only limits his general mobility, but effectively ended his regular occupation as a musician with various orchestras and dance bands, jazz and ragtime bands, brass bands, and other vintage-style musical ensembles. It was a career he enjoyed for 26 years, working several thousand gigs overall. But without transportation, that work dried up years ago. Likewise, he’s been unable to sell his wares at firemen’s conventions and trade shows—something else that once regularly supplemented his pay.
His eBay sales have become his sole means of income, making him entirely dependent upon the computer for all of his meager earnings.

And unfortunately, his sales have dropped dramatically (by over 60%) in the current recession. An emergency veterinary bill for one of his many cats set him back a hefty sum earlier this year, and that only added to the larger problem—trying to meet the overdue property tax bill to the tune of nearly $3,300. And if it’s not paid by June 30th, the amount will increase to over $7,000 when Prince George’s County adds the 2012 tax bill (along with interest and penalties, legal and court costs, as well as “advertising costs” for the Tax Auction that has put his home at risk). Finally, if the full amount isn’t paid by July 31st, his redemption window slams shut and the new property owners will be free to initiate foreclosure and eviction proceedings. It’s a process that’s every bit as harsh as it sounds.

There’s some irony here, too. As a homeowner, John isn’t eligible for any kind of public assistance—not that he’d willingly accept it. If he were to be evicted, however, he’d likely be free to receive any number of benefits. He doesn’t want those handouts; he simply wants to pay off his debts and remain in the only home he’s known for the past 46 years. I’m hoping we can help him do that.

Unfortunately, P.G. County isn’t flexible in the least. Nor are they interested in John’s or anyone else’s problems. There’s no negotiating with them on the amounts or the due dates. It’s literally all or nothing.

Knowing that most of us are so routinely asked to contribute to various charities—we donate to our kids’ fundraisers; we contribute to relay races for cancer research; we send money to groups who build homes for homeless families in foreign countries—I realize that the bombardment of solicitations can be draining; which is why I very rarely ask for such favors. But I’m going to ask an important favor now—on behalf of a good friend in a time of need who has done so much for Lost Laurel.

If you would, kindly donate whatever you can to John Floyd. His email address is royalbluelimited@aol.com, and it is set up to receive PayPal payments. It could be a little or a lot—every dollar adds up. Most importantly, you will know that your contribution isn’t going to some anonymous organization. It’s going directly toward helping a fellow Laurelite in need—and a genuinely good bloke, as John would say. It’ll literally help him save his home.

To help kickstart this benefit, I’m also going to be offering a few special Lost Laurel incentive prizes to those who donate the most.
• All
contributions of $25 and over will receive a full-size, double-sided reproduction of a classic Jack Delaney’s Irish Pizza Pub carryout menu from 1981.
• The first two contributions of $50 or more will receive an original 24″ x 36″ lushly illustrated poster map of Laurel from 1993.
• The first contribution of $100 or more will receive a limited edition Marian Quinn print of the iconic Cook’s Hardware building, matted and framed by the Laurel Art Center.
• And the first contribution of $250 or more will receive a framed 23″ x 30″ vintage 1990s illustration of Main Street businesses—which hung hidden for years in the Laurel Art Center.

These are but a few things that I can offer for what I would consider substantial donations, but I would strongly encourage everyone who reads this to consider sending any amount they can, no matter how small. It truly will help. Imagine if each one of our 1200+ Lost Laurel Facebook friends sent just a dollar or two—John’s crisis could be averted.

There are other ways that you can help, as well. Please visit John’s eBay shop (http://stores.ebay.com/blackpoolbertiesrailwayshop) and buy his stuff! If it’s not your proverbial cup of tea, perhaps you know someone who is a railroad buff, a firefighting enthusiast, and/or a brass band, vintage jazz, and big band music connoisseur—trust me, you’ll find something they’ll appreciate! It goes without saying that John’s eBay record is a spotless one—100% with over 4,350 positive feedbacks. He takes great pride and care in shipping his items quickly and securely, too, as I can attest.

Conversely, perhaps you have some items that you could donate to John’s store that HE may sell. That would also be a major help. Please message me, or feel free to contact John directly (royalbluelimited@aol.com) to make arrangements. Those who donate the amounts listed above can also request that I give their award items to John instead, so that he may sell them.

We’ve all come to accept that Laurel is an ever-changing landscape, and a far cry from the town we once knew. Businesses and residents alike have come and gone—some of their own accord, and others due to various hardships. This, however, is a uniquely tragic situation that I believe we can actually help prevent. Please join me and pitch in what you can. Let’s make sure Laurel doesn’t lose one of its truest citizens.

John Floyd II outside the Laurel Art Center in April, where he also went to photograph the closing of another Laurel icon.

Please donate via PayPal directly to royalbluelimited@aol.com

Many thanks!!

~ ®

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Time-Out Family Amusement Center

Laurel Centre, early 1980s (Photo: timeouttunnel.com)

Like countless Laurel kids who grew up in the 1980s, there’s never been any hesitation in my reply when asked what my favorite place was at Laurel Centre. It was and always will be Time-Out.

The small, crowded, video game arcade on the upper level near center court was a constant cacophony of digitized noise. Even before entering, you could recognize specific sounds over the din: Pac Man gobbling ghosts, a lost life in Donkey Kong, pinball paddles flapping, and quarters being dispensed by a Rowe bill changer.

I can’t begin to estimate how many games were actually in use at Laurel’s Time-Out; I’m sure it changed over the years. Pinball, obviously on the wane with the ascension of video games, was gradually relegated to the back wall of the arcade. The arcade cabinets multiplied over the years, until gamers found themselves practically elbow to elbow.

If I recall correctly, the more popular games (and new arrivals) were typically housed near the front of the arcade. There may have even been two Pac Man machines to accommodate the frenzy (or dare I say, the Pac Man Fever) in 1980–81. I remember Pac Man being on the left of the room, near the front. I think I ultimately spent more time on the right side of the arcade, however; playing a selection of games that—at the time—seemed to be setting unprecedented standards for graphics.While late 1970s games such as Asteroids, Space Invaders, and Galaxian were established classics and remained popular, 1981–82 marked a dramatic change with the arrival of Donkey Kong, Donkey Kong Jr., Pole Position, Tron, Xevious, and others. Q*bert was another fan favorite at Time-Out around this same period, as was Popeye, which sat just a space or two away in a Nintendo cabinet very much like that of Donkey Kong.

Pole Position (and Pole Position 2, the following year) were always popular driving games—complete with steering wheel and gas pedal controls—but Spy Hunter was, in my humble opinion, better than both combined. I can’t remember if Time Out had the stand-up or sit-down model (or both, at some point), but either was well worth a few quarters.

Of course, the games didn’t only take quarters—they took tokens. Official Time-Out tokens, which were like gold to kids—especially if we found coupons for free tokens. Every so often, a free newspaper would be distributed throughout Laurel. (Ad Bag, perhaps?) And occasionally, inside this publication would be a coupon for one free Time-Out token. Needless to say, those of us who grew up in apartment complexes like Steward Manor saw the stacks of these Ad Bags in hallways as a literal gold mine of Time-Out tokens. Naturally, cashing them in was the tough part—as the attendants quickly began to recognize the kids coming in with more than one coupon…

 

 

To date, I’ve only found the one photo of Time-Out at Laurel Centre. Surely, someone thought to bring a camera inside at some point; but then again, who had time to take pictures when games like Track & Field or Yie Ar Kung-Fu became available? One had to be ready with one’s quarters (or tokens) when the games opened up.

While the following images are almost certainly not from the Laurel location, they do convey the essence of Time-Out that most of us remember—the brightly-colored wall graphics contrasted with the dark ceiling that seemed to disappear into a night sky; the ambient lighting creating a perfect environment for the gaming experience.

These interior photos were found at a fantastic site called TimeOutTunnel.com—a virtual museum curated by Peter Hirschberg, who has gone more than a mere step beyond. His tribute site not only houses a tremendous repository of Time-Out photos and artifacts, but Peter has painstakingly recreated a number of details—such as the iconic signage within most locations, and wickedly sweet 3D renderings of store fronts and games themselves. Seriously—prepare to be amazed.

Yes, he got the details right all the way down to the trash cans!

Remember the High Score of the Week cards that sat atop each game? Peter has even recreated them—in all the correct colors. Didn’t I say you’d be amazed?

It’s always been a dream of mine to have a basement full of vintage 1980s arcade cabinets. Or even one, for that matter. I don’t even care if its something like Root Beer Tapper—it doesn’t have to be the top of the line, most popular game of all time. But realistically, space (or lack thereof) and the fact that the Xbox 360 has done the unthinkable—made video arcades irrelevant—have pushed that goal quite far to the back burner.

But in the meantime, I have indulged my old school arcade affinity on a much smaller scale. My miniature arcade, built by the incredibly talented Justin Whitlock, sits on a shelf in my studio above my desk—a constant reminder of Time-Out and the countless hours of entertainment it provided. If you have quarters, you’re welcome to come by anytime. Just don’t expect to play Spy Hunter. Boba Fett—not the most considerate of action figures—tends to hog the machine all day.

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Safeway + Dart Drug, together again

Awhile back, I found this wonderful little Dart Drug truck on eBay—remarkably, still in its original packaging. For me, it was a perfect reminder of one of my all-time favorite stores while growing up in Laurel. In fact, I grew up just around the corner from it at Steward Manor; and made at least as many candy and magazine trips there as I did to the 7-Eleven directly across Laurel-Bowie Rd.

At that time, (this being the early-to-mid-1980s) Dart Drug was situated beside Safeway—before the latter relocated to the new Laurel Lakes shopping center in 1985. And when I was a kid, I could simply cross Lafayette Avenue and the railroad tracks and already be in the parking lot. So, yes—in the context of Dart Drug and Safeway, I literally grew up on the other side of the tracks. But I digress.

As cool as my new (old) toy was, it just didn’t feel complete without a Safeway item to balance it out. For me, the two will always be inseparable. To this day, I can’t think of Safeway without thinking of Dart Drug, and vice versa. I had considered a Safeway railroad car, to represent the fact that “my” Safeway will always be associated with the aforementioned railroad tracks.

But, lo and behold, I eventually tracked down a matching vintage toy truck. They seem to like each other. Once again, all is right with the world.

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IHOP’s Big Boy?

The end of Laurel's original IHOP, 1995. (Photo courtesy of Eric Ziegler)

As a kid, I walked from Steward Manor to the mall at least once a week. Under the railroad overpass on Bowie Road, up past the Fair Lanes bowling alley on Marshall Avenue, and on beyond the Ponderosa/Sizzler Steakhouse before crossing Route 1—cutting through the Bob’s Big Boy parking lot along the way.

Then, upon entering the Laurel Shopping Center grounds, I’d find myself beside the tall, imposing A-frame structure with the blue roof—the International House of Pancakes.

A 1970s postcard featuring an out of state, but remarkably similar setting.

Laurel’s IHOP was originally located in the iconic building for which it was designed, and situated just beside what was originally the Hecht Co. building (then Woolco, and then Jamesway…and soon to be L.A. Fitness). It occupied the space now being used by the extended strip mall parallel to Washington Blvd. In fact, when you go to that Starbucks and await your beverage,  you’ll be standing approximately where you once would’ve been eating pancakes. The entire left side of this shopping center (including Starbucks and Petco) sits on what was originally the IHOP grounds; as throughout the 1980s, only Radio Shack, Long & Foster Real Estate, and the Grecian Spa were housed there. Amazingly, Radio Shack is still in that same location on the corner beside Marshall Ave.

(historicaerials.com)

In the summer of 1993, an unusual move took place. IHOP decided to leave its building, and move into a slightly larger one just across Washington Blvd.—in the building that had recently been vacated by Bob’s Big Boy—where it continues to operate today.

But while highly successful, today’s modern IHOP doesn’t have nearly the same nostalgic aura that it had in the old building. Case in point, here are a few vintage pieces that represent that era quite well—including an actual menu from 1974 that will totally have you craving pancakes.

Before the building was demolished in 1995, it briefly saw new life as a Christmas decoration shop called “Santa’s Cottage”. The most notable change was the roof, which went from IHOP blue to Santa red. Still, passersby continued to mistake the building for what it originally was. According to a November 21, 1993 Washington Post article written by popular Laurel Leader columnist, Tony Glaros, “the old place still attracts creatures of habit in search of oatmeal, not ornaments.” Santa’s Cottage manager Carter Hoyle added, “It took about a month and a half to get the pancake smell out of here.”

For many Laurelites, myself included, there will always remain a connection between IHOP and Bob’s Big Boy. I can’t think of one without remembering the other. I’m sure there are other former Bob’s Big Boy locations that were eventually taken over by IHOP, but I don’t believe it was a universal change. So it was rather ironic—yet quite fitting—to come across an eBay listing for these vintage glasses, being sold as a pair. I doubt the auction will last until Christmas, but if it does, perhaps I’ll ask Santa for them—thus completing the trifecta.

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Laurel Leader finds Lost Laurel… by way of Steward Manor!

On Monday morning, I had the pleasure of meeting writer Kevin Rector and photographer Sarah Pastrana of the Laurel Leader. Just a few days earlier, Kevin made my day with a request to do a story for the paper about Lost Laurel and Steward Manor Days, and how these projects came to be.

Naturally, he suggested we meet at Steward Manor, where Sarah took photos right behind my old building at 100 Bryan Court. See those second floor windows directly above me? From 1979–87, that was home to me.

Just behind the largest window was our living room, where a total of eight Christmas trees stood throughout my happy childhood. And on the other side of the tall, single window to the right was our dining room. At that table, I did most of my homework between 2nd and 9th grades—frequently referencing the incomplete sets of second-hand encyclopedias on our ancient particleboard bookcase between said windows. This was Steward Manor in the 80s for me; my starting point for all those innumerable trips to the mall, to Zayre’s, to Dart Drug—and all the other long-lost places we’re now revisiting. As you can see from this old Super 8 home movie still, a happy kid lived on the other side of those windows, in spite of the modest surroundings. It’s safe to say, though, I never expected to be standing outside those windows some 30 years later, talking about it all with anyone from a newspaper, including the Laurel Leader.

We spent a good 45 minutes in the old neighborhood, cutting through the building to walk up to the playground behind 106 Sharon Ct. Here, Sarah took another photo—this time with me holding a photo submitted by one of our Steward Manor Days Facebook fans.

Oddly, it was probably the first chance I’ve had to really explain the premise behind both projects to anyone—aside from my immediate circle of friends and family. As the article makes clear, I’m still blown away that so many people share the sense of nostalgia I’ve developed for this old apartment complex—as well as the countless stores, restaurants, and other defunct establishments that make up “Lost Laurel”. And it’s an honor and a pleasure to shine a long-overdue light on both.

So yesterday was an absolute blast—not only walking through Steward Manor again for an article in the Laurel Leader, but finding the story on their website before the end of the day! Wow—news travels (and gets written) fast! I want to give another big thanks to Kevin and Sarah for making the trip and for sharing the story this way. Now, even more people will be able to find Lost Laurel.

In the spirit of the blog, this post wouldn’t be complete without something to tie Steward Manor and the Laurel Leader together nicely, with a big red bow on top.

It just so happens that Mrs. Tina Pressley—the mom of two of my oldest and closest friends from Steward Manor—recently unearthed an old courtesy calendar from Citizens National Bank on Main Street. There, on the October 1987 spread, is a great shot of what was at the time the Laurel Leader‘s new offices at Patuxent Place.

1987, incidentally, was my last year at Steward Manor.

Read the complete article at LaurelLeader.com.
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