My parents Janet and Patrick, born in 1966 and 1965, were partygoers. They — especially my father — loved house music and dancing the night away with friends. Like any other young twenty something in the late ’80s in Baltimore, they frequented the clubs that were the go-to spots. For the brooding two-step dancing and low-key nights out, they would hit Cignel and Odell’s. They would go to Club Bunns and The Hippo for the hardcore house and club music. For a crazy night, it would be The Paradox, Club Fantasy, and The Last Stop (all in one night sometimes). They followed popular house music DJs like Tommy Davis to the clubs where they played. My parents made lifelong connections in these places.
My parents’ partying came to a significant pause after 1992, when I was born, but it still influenced my life. Every year on my birthday, my mom would tell me her labor story as a comedic recollection of my birth. She had been in labor for hours and hours. A host of family was present, and throughout the day, one clubhead friend after the other came by to congratulate my parents. The hospital birthing room had turned into its own let-out. As my mother tells it, the story goes that my dad took a break from the hospital with his friend. When he returned in the middle of the night, with more friends from the club, I was welcomed into the world amongst a party of people made up of my parents, family, and friends of the night.
I always joke that being born into a party is why I like to party. In my twenties, I found myself in the same position as my parents, wanting to hear music, dance and connect with others, but with no parallel to a legendary club like Odell’s. The Paradox was closed fully by this time, and the Hippo became a CVS. But The Crown — a hybrid restaurant, bar and performance venue — was there to take me through my raging twenties.
The Crown was a staple in the club scene in Baltimore and was shaped by its community. Situated on the block between North Avenue and 21st Street, along Charles Street, known for restaurant and bar businesses starting way into Federal Hill on South Charles Street and stopping short of North Charles and 25th street, The Crown sat at the end of the Station North Arts District. The Crown hosted residencies with musicians and artists that would draw in varying types of crowds. Some of these parties included Kahlon hosted by Abdu Ali, 808s hosted by BmoreAlien and OG Swooz, Blush and Brews hosted by Jacob Marley, and of course VERSION, hosted by DJ Trillnatured and Kotic Couture, which I documented through photography from 2018 to now. At The Crown, you could wear a trash bag with glitter on it and it would be avant-garde; no one would look twice at you. There was no space for the pretentiousness you found at posh night clubs. There was bad karaoke on Tuesdays and frequent late-night food runs.
A good night at The Crown would involve getting there around 11 p.m., IDs ready for the bouncer, Tony. Tony was the law in The Crown; you got out of line and you had to deal with him. He was the first person you saw coming in and the last person you saw going out. You would take the stairs up and find yourself at an impasse: the Red Room or the Blue Room? It depended on the DJ, the crowd and the line at the bar. You’d float between the two rooms until you settled in one room for the night. The Blue Room had this questionable leather couch you could sit on or pile your coats onto. There were tables in the back for your introverted extroverts and couples.
Summer was both the worst and best time because while there was always an event and a guaranteed crowd, the air conditioning was sparse. But we would take breaks from dancing in the crowd to cool off in front of the giant floor fan.
You always saw the same people. You had your first show there, met your worst situationship there, and got your drunkest there. Your drinks were cheap, the music was loud, and the wings and kimchi fries could not be beat. The night would end with last calls at 1:30 a.m. and a crowd outside until 2 a.m. — the let-out.
August 10, 2024, was the last party at The Crown. Gangreen Gardens x Midnight Club Collective presented a free farewell party on Saturday. The final hours of the party felt like the old days before quarantine when there was a greater sense of togetherness and cultural renaissance for the underground art scene in Baltimore. There was a collective knowledge that this was the end of an era. The stage was crowded with dancers, DJs including Trillnatured, Kade Young, Petty Penguin and DJ Beast, and MCs and musicians Kotic Couture and Eze Jackson, who carried the end of the night on the mic. There were back-to-back Baltimore club classics and songs. There was a reciprocal energy between the stage and the crowd, creating an excitable dynamic.
The Crown was not The Paradox, but it impacted a generation. Baltimore City has seen its fair share of businesses succumb to closings and buyouts since the beginning and continuation of the COVID pandemic.
The Crown was not The Paradox, but it impacted a generation. Baltimore City has seen its fair share of businesses succumb to closings and buyouts since the beginning and continuation of the COVID pandemic. Thankfully, Baltimore is a lively city with a rich arts and culture history. There may never be another club like The Crown, but there will always be a DIY space, there will always be club music, and there will always be talented artists with a vision and a need to dance.
Sydney J. Allen was the resident photographer of VERSION, a monthly dance party by and for Black, queer and trans folks.
You can support the staff of The Crown by donating to their GoFundMe.
Credit: Photo by Sydney J. Allen
Credit: Photo by Sydney J. Allen
Credit: Photo by Sydney J. Allen.
Credit: Photo by Sydney J. Allen.
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