My mainstay was an IBM Selectric typewriter. Soon after I moved to Baltimore, my Selectric broke down: I could not fix it and these were expensive to have repaired. I went to bed that night repeating, “I must have a typewriter!” A knock at my door early the following day was my next-door neighbor Kenny Shock with a Smith Corona electric. “Need a typewriter?” he asked. “I know you’re a writer.” I used Kenny’s Smith Corona until I got a computer.
Kenny—a Fells Point eccentric who called himself “The Troll”—introduced himself when I moved in. He captained our enclosed half-block on Portugal Street, which at the time was half working garages, half rowhouses occupied either by single young men or women seniors. He enlisted me to help him keep our area swept and neat, organized the trashcans on trash days, hunted rats with a pellet gun, and fought with the funeral director who kept his hearse in a garage at the end of the block. Visitors occasionally parked in front of garage doors despite clear postings. The funeral director would throw a fit if his garage was blocked when he needed to get his hearse out. He called Kenny “The Mayor of Fells Point.” Both liked to bark and seemed to get satisfaction letting off steam on each other.
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