Editor's Note
March 14, 2008
A Real Smile
Phil Jacobs
Executive Editor
There was “Bull” Losover, who was so tough that he once beat up a car. Or Pete Tringoly, who had such strong hands from working his fruit and vegetable market that he could squeeze a softball into a piece of mush while pitching. Then there was Earl Magid, who won bets by eating every entrée on the dinner menu at Brice’s Hilltop Diner; he once ate 85 Little Tavern hamburgers, and another time dinner for five at the Lotus Inn.
These were just some of the characters Howard “Chip” Silverman carried around as part of the colorful fabric of 1950s Northwest Baltimore. The author, coach, teacher and former director of the state Alcohol and Drug Abuse Administration died March 6 of cancer at the age of 65.
If there was a core phrase I’ll always remember him for, it was his describing something as “a real smile.”
In March of 1989 just prior to the distribution of his book “Diner Guys,” he was being interviewed by the national media. But Chip called me at home one night to tell me one of his favorite stories.
It went something like this:
“Phil, when the story came out about the book in the Washington Post, I called my mother all excited and told her. She was like, big deal.
“Then, when I was on Larry King, I called her again. Same reaction.
“But when I was on the cover of the Jewish Times, she called and said, ‘You were on the cover of the Jewish Times. Now you’re a mentsch.’”
And that’s what so many people remember Chip as, a mentsch. Think about his life. His work with the then-Schaefer administration in drug abuse was ahead of its time in saving lives.
He took black college kids, some of whom had never held a lacrosse stick before, and had them playing at the elite level of the Johns Hopkins University’s of the sports world. His book, “Ten Bears,” co-written with Dr. Miles Harrison, chronicles those achievements. In 1991, Morgan State inducted him into its Hall of Fame.
It is hard to believe that we are referring to Chip in the past tense. Every time I’d see him, I’d walk away feeling better about myself.
Chip was a true son of Baltimore. He grew up on Queensberry Avenue in Pimlico. He lived that legendary life of the playgrounds, Queensberry or Towanda. His crew growing up and attending Forest Park High School included names such as filmmaker Barry Levinson, Merry-Go-Round founder Leonard “Boogie” Weinglass and former county councilman Gary Huddles.
“What happened at that one little school in Northwest Baltimore was unique,” he wrote in “Diner Guys.” “It was a little enclave at Eldorado Avenue where an unusually large number of graduates excelled in sports, political science and especially the performing arts. These were the Eisenhower years when the energies of the young turned inward and were less involved with social issues. The competition among the crowd was to be smart and funny.”
But there was also the playground affiliation, which Mr. Silverman wrote was a kid’s first “experience with social responsibility.”
As state drug czar, Chip once told me that in the 1950s the kids hated the way their parents disciplined them. But, he added, “We ended up thanking them the older we got. Kids weren’t walking around with gold chains and guns like they are today.”
The best weapon, the best way to be “cool,” he told me, was to be funny, to be able to “knock” someone else the best.
His favorite Diner meal: soda with French fries and gravy, of course. That, Chip would have said, “would have been a real smile.”
Most recently in November, 2002, Chip was quoted as part of an article concerning a Pikesville methadone clinic. His name would show up in reviews of his eight books. He also appeared in the TV show “Homicide,” and movies such as “Diner,” “Tin Men,” and “Liberty Heights.”
His real smile will never fade.