Little Castles : A Documentary on Baltimore's Architectural Trademark

“The Stone of the Ages,” “The World’s Finest Stone,” for those of us unfamiliar with Baltimore, these phrases make no sense to us, but for Baltimore natives these phrases may form the cournerstones of their lives, literally. Formstone, those ugly grey stone-like blocks plastered on to the front of many of Baltimore’s houses, has become a part of Baltimore’s claim to fame. Formstone can be seen on almost every block in Baltimore and in every neighborhood. Most passer-byers today tend to pay no notice to it, it’s grey, ugly, and unimpressive. What most people don’t know about Formstone is the significant role that it has played in Baltimore’s history. Formstone first came out on the market in the 1930s and was primarily advertised for use in basements or for constructing mantles. The traditional Baltimore rowhouses that had been built for the factory works were now occupied by Baltimore residents and were built with brick. The difficult aspect with the brick however, was that the red and white strip needed to be repainted every two years. Baltimore residents were becoming so fed up with the continuous repainting of their houses that one man made a groundbreaking proposal to the new Formstone company and said he wanted his house formstoned. Once the word got out of this quick and easy solution to painting that was cheap (approximately $620) and efficient, there was no stopping it. Formstoned houses became “Baltimore’s mark.” It essentially became Baltimore’s façade. Of course Formstone had its practical qualities; it kept the heat in and the dampness out. For many houses it made them livable, providing homes for those without. It also had its superficial qualities. During the 1940s, when Formstone really took off, the stone-like bricks were so popular in part because they resembled the stone of European castles, which were traditionally inhabited by noblemen. So by making Baltimore’s rowhouses look like “little castles,” coinciding with the actual title of the film, the residents felt like noblemen, and they didn’t mind showing it. The Basilica was even refurbished with Formstone to make it look as close as possible to the original stone. One young teen-ager even formstoned his car, leading to the motto, “In Baltimore when anything needs fixing or painting, you formstone it.” So Formstone became a Baltimore tradition and trademark, one that can still be seen today sixty years later, however people’s perspectives of it have changed and unfortunately Formstone’s downfall has already begun.

One elderly couple that lives in a Formstone house said, “It’s been on there for 46 years and it still looks nice…[we] think it’s beautiful and will last forever.” Unfortunately for many elderly couples, the time of Formstone is quickly coming to an end. That’s right, the castle is under attack. A geologist that examined a piece of Formstone for its inaccuracies to real stone said, “there’s no grain, no character, and no texture to the rock, it’s not natural.” John Walters, a film director, described the Formstone as “polyester brick.” He commented that, “People just don’t get it, they think it’s ugly…It’s a foreign taste.” So for many Baltimore residents Formstone was beautiful, it was European, it was high-status, but to out-siders it was just plain ugly. Today however, even Baltimore residents are changing sides saying it’s ugly but they wouldn’t pay to have it taken down. John Walters even said, “It’s so ugly it’s not ugly to me anymore.” The negative outcomes of these views are the tearing down of the façade of Baltimore, but at what expense are we throwing away our history? Our culture? Our trademark?

Eric Holocomb put it quite simply, “It’s a layer of history.” Formstone has been Baltimore’s history, however our history shouldn’t prevent future change from occurring. Driving through downtown I can even see the change occurring. Many of the new housing complexes are brick. This is natural, times change, tastes change, styles change. Considering that I have only been a Baltimore resident for eight months, my passion in the matter is quite trivial to some who may have lived in Baltimore for their whole lives. I can only imagine what this must be like for some who have always grown up with Formstone houses and now have to see people tearing it off their houses to replace it with brick. Change is hard, even if it may be for the better. What I think is the best solution to issues such as these, is to welcome the change, but to always remember the past. Although Baltimore is achieving a new identity with replacing the Formstone with brick, it can still remain honest to itself. Just because the architecture of the city may change, the people are still the same, the problems are still the same, and the history is still the same. Similar to in Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night Viola takes a new identity by dressing as a man, but she is still truthful to herself. She does not let her outward appearance affect her true self. Even though she is dressed as a man, her thoughts, feelings, and actions remain the same. Therefore, the external should not effect the internal, just how Baltimore’s new outward appearance should not effect what it means to be a true Baltimore native.