When I first saw that diamond-shaped monstrosity that appears as the centerpiece in the rendering for Baltimore’s proposed Inner Harbor redesign, it reminded me of the Vessel in New York City, that ugly structure of connected staircases leading to nowhere — an architectural metaphor for futility if there ever was one. I guess it’s become a popular selfie pit stop for tourists to New York because people think it’s hip. Likewise, I can hear fans of Baltimore’s Inner Harbor redesign saying things like “cutting-edge!” “way cool!” and “great for Baltimore!” in support of that proposed diamond-shaped behemoth of a building its designers call The Sail. Alas.

I suppose even a small city like Baltimore is entitled to its big-city aspirations for kooky architecture that the movers and shakers find impressive. But can we please not neglect the stuff that’s been here for centuries? From its cobblestoned streets to its quaint rowhomes and elegant townhouses to its unique architectural adornments like the Washington Monument and MICA’s clock tower, Baltimore is steeped in history and rich in beautiful old buildings.

Sadly, many of them sit amid a swirl of trash. Yes, this town is filthy.

I frequently ride my bike through midtown and downtown Baltimore on my way to and from work and on errands, and I am continually disheartened by the amount of urban detritus I see in high-profile pedestrian thoroughfares. I’m not talking about remote corners of the city; I’m talking, for instance, about St. Paul Street just north of Harborplace. On my last ride there, I lost count of the number of discarded bottles, cigarette butts, squashed paper cups and the like strewn randomly about. All this a mere block or two away from City Hall and the Inner Harbor. Venture just a little further east to Fallsway or west to Howard Street, and the amount of trash and sense of abandonment by city services intensifies.

As with the squeegee kids, it seems Mayor Brandon Scott just doesn’t get it. After one of them shot and killed a motorist, there was a general clamor for squeegee work to finally be banned from our city’s streets after decades of trouble at squeegee corners all over town. It took six long months and one dubious “Collaborative” before Scott gave tax-paying citizens a small measure of relief from the too-frequent harassment by squeegee workers. Scott kept promising that squeegee worker crimes would be prosecuted, completely missing the point that citizens understandably did not want to be exposed to those crimes in the first place.

And we don’t want to be exposed to all this trash either. Duh!

A great city is a clean city and a safe city. And Baltimore fails on both counts. I know, I know — Mayor Scott has been ceaselessly touting a recent drop in violent crime as his doing. But violent crime is down in many cities nationwide, suggesting it’s a national trend and not necessarily attributable to any one mayor’s initiatives. And even with that drop, Baltimore is still one of the most violent and scariest cities in the country. You wanna brag? Save it until Baltimore matches Boston’s success — 37 murders in 2023 compared with Baltimore’s 263.

While I’d love for Baltimore to become less violent overnight, I’m afraid it won’t be that easy, especially in a city where it seems like every other person is carrying a gun and quite ready to use it. Cleanliness, on the other hand, is a no-brainer.

In fact, the Scott administration could have easily tackled two problems with one solution by handing each of those enterprising squeegee kids a safety vest, a broom, a dustpan and a paycheck. It could have touted them as Baltimore’s Clean Crew and hailed them as heroes in the effort to beautify our city. Suited corporate workers would have thanked them for their hard work and good job and probably even tipped them in gratitude. And — for real — making our tired and dirty-looking city sparkle again would have imparted a much greater sense of pride and accomplishment than wiping some random windshield of some annoyed motorist.

Yes, “Charm City” was a concept cooked up by some swanky advertisers nearly 50 years ago. But it stuck. As an advertising scheme, it was a good one. And Baltimore, at its best, is charming. But crime and grime have sent charm fleeing for cover. Let’s coax it back, starting with a broom and dustpan. That’ll go much further than some fancy new building toward ameliorating Baltimore’s bad reputation.

Louis Balsamo (louisbalsamo@gmail.com) is a freelance writer.