Queer Cinema World Tour is our regular feature taking you to destinations behind your favourite LGBTQ2S+ film moments. This week, we visit Baltimore, Maryland, the setting for 1972’s Pink Flamingos.
Yes, the infamous vacant lot where Divine chowed down on doggie doo is still there, as gritty and unappealing as it ever was, right next to 892 Tyson Street, just off West Read Street. But you might not want to start your Pink Flamingos tour of Baltimore, Maryland, at this ersatz parking space. Attempts to have a monument erected there, to celebrate the icky cinematic moment, have been unsuccessful.
Instead, start with a scene near the beginning of the 1972 cult classic, which has made audiences laugh with shock and disgust for the last 52 years. Just like Divine, director John Waters’ long-time collaborator, you can ascend the stairs at East Montgomery Street and Battery Avenue. Divine does this immediately after buying some meat at a deli and tucking it between her legs—it’s your decision if that’s the way you want to do it.
The stairs take you up into Federal Hill Park, a signature Baltimore landmark and the focus of the surrounding historic (and trendy) Federal Hill neighbourhood. Federal Hill Park is a groovy place to wile away a sunny afternoon; it has excellent views of the harbour and the Patapsco River. Following in Divine’s footsteps through the park, the panorama is, these days, much more vibrant than it was when Pink Flamingos was made. There’s been a lot of development over the last few decades. While there are still messy and distressed parts of Baltimore, the Inner Harbor has become a real tourist attraction, and there are many charming neighbourhoods to visit.
But Waters’ version of Baltimore, whose metropolitan population is about 2.8 million, is not so shiny. And Pink Flamingos, in particular, is dedicated to pure filth. The film isn’t beloved for its plot, which focuses on a rivalry between Divine and an outrageously criminal couple, the Marbles (David Lochary and Mink Stole). The perverse joy of it lies in wondering what shocking thing Divine and the rest of the cast will do next. Wink their butt hole at party guests? Tie a sausage to their penis? Smear eggs on their face? Try to jam each other’s feet into each other’s mouths?
After wandering through Federal Hill Park while “The Girl Can’t Help It” plays on the soundtrack, Divine attracts puzzled looks walking through city streets. Then she answers nature’s call on the front lawn of a decaying mansion, a foreshadowing of the film’s feculent final scene.
We were unable to figure out where this defiled mansion is located or whether it still exists. We were also unable to determine the exact location of the trailer where egg-loving Edie (Edith Massey) lives, though it’s said to have been a hippie commune on the outskirts of Phoenix, Maryland, maybe at 14620 Philpot Road—that’s about a half-hour drive from downtown Baltimore. We also drew a blank on the location of the pit in the basement where so much baby smuggling, molestation, masturbation and vomiting occurred. Some things in life must remain a mystery.
But you can, from the street, see the house where Connie and Raymond Marble lived, and where Divine gave her son, Crackers (Danny Mills), a blowjob: 3900 Greenmount Avenue at East 39th Street, Baltimore. At the time the film was made, Waters and Stole lived there together. Considering Waters made the film for $12,000, it must have been a cost savings to use his own home as a location. Perhaps that was also where the pit in the basement was?
Divine, also known as Harris Glenn Milstead, died in 1988. He’s buried in Prospect Hill Cemetery (701 York Rd., Towson), about a 20-minute drive outside Baltimore; the gravestone attracts a lot of vandalism, which, in Divine’s case, seems more like a compliment than an insult. In an alleyway between 100 and 106 E. Preston Street, there’s a huge mural paying tribute to Divine, emblazoned with the title of her 1984 single “I’m So Beautiful.”
Visitors who are somewhat less depraved may choose to substitute reenactments of scenes from Pink Flamingos for trying to “accidentally” run into Waters, native son, civic booster, cinematic auteur and object of pop-cultural fascination. (Note: we do not approve of stalking, no matter how badly Waters’ characters behave.) A good place to start is Atomic Books (3620 Falls Rd., Baltimore). The emporium of comics and books on design and art is where Waters picks up his fan mail. He makes occasional appearances, formal and informal, at the store.
Waters is on the board of the Baltimore Museum of Art (10 Art Museum Dr., Baltimore), an institution to which he has bequeathed 375 artworks and other objects from his personal collection; and he’s sung the praises of the American Visionary Art Museum (800 Key Hwy., Baltimore), an “outsider art” gallery dedicated to self-taught artists.
Waters has also been spotted at long-running dive bar Club Charles (1724 N. Charles St., Baltimore), which is all red-lit and speakeasy-like—not to be confused with the more sparkling Charles Bar & Grille (1110 S. Charles St., Baltimore), which we could never picture Waters having a drink in. There are regular Waters sightings at Mt. Royal Tavern (1204 W. Mt. Royal Ave., Baltimore) and the retro sensibility of Rocket to Venus (3360 Chestnut Ave., Baltimore) is complete Waters bait.
Want something more explicitly gay, but not explicit-explicit? Not far from the infamous vacant lot is The Drinkery (203 W. Read St., Baltimore), a bar that was established in the same year Pink Flamingos was released. The rainbow-festooned watering hole has a reputation as one of Baltimore’s best alternative bars, where “everyone is welcome and no one is excluded… regardless of race, religion or sexual orientation.”
Just a two-minute walk—three minutes in heels—from The Drinkery is Leon’s of Baltimore (870 Park Ave., Baltimore), which is the city’s oldest gay bar, taking that title in 1957. But the establishment’s history goes back to the 1890s, when it was called Georgia’s Tap Room. These days, they host karaoke, movie and Drag Race nights; it’s a fun place to stop by any time.
In contrast with these venerable establishments, the Baltimore Eagle (2022 N. Charles St., Baltimore) looks like a spring chicken, with a history in the city dating back to 1991 (though of course, the Eagle leather bar legacy goes back to 1970s New York City). They host assorted dance parties and shows, including drag and porn stars. Leather or fetish gear is required in order to enter the Toolbox area of the club. Some of what was taboo in 1972 is mainstream now—though probably not sex with live chickens.
If you don’t have your own mobile home to live in—and Waters doesn’t invite you over—you’re going to need a place to stay in Baltimore.
The LGBTQ2S+-friendly Hotel Brexton (868 Park Ave, Baltimore) is a colourful and historic indie boutique hotel right in the middle of one of Baltimore’s four arts and culture districts. (This district is where the gay bars and the infamous vacant lot are located. Coincidence? We think not.) Hotel Indigo Baltimore Downtown (24 W Franklin St., Baltimore) and Hotel Revival (101 W. Monument St., Baltimore) are also LGBTQ2S+-friendly options.
Don’t pick up any hitchhikers during your visit, and take it easy on the eggs.
