Civic Legacies: An article series celebrating individuals who positively affected our communities
The Legacy of Paul Pearson, a visionary who ushered the new era of Annapolitan social status, entertainment, and commercial success
It was the 1980s and, for Annapolis, the best of times. The city was on a roll entering its second Golden Age since the 1760s, when it was the cultural center of the colonies. Annapolis’ treasured icon, The Maryland Inn—that had stood at the top of Main Street since it was built as a home and house of entertainment by civic leader Thomas Hyde in 1772—had been fully-restored to its previous glory. “The Inn,” as it was colloquially known, boasted an exciting jazz club in its downstairs King of France Tavern, which was visited by the nation’s great jazz artists including Dave Brubeck, Earl “Fatha” Hines, Monty Alexander, Teddy Wilson, Ethel Ennis, Charlie Byrd, The Hard Travelers, and more. Meanwhile, popovers and caviar were favorite staples in The Inn’s elegant first-class restaurant. Legislators and town leaders often chimed “meet me at The Inn” to gather in its intimate but busy bar. In the 1970s and ’80s, The Inn came to symbolize a new vitality that spurred economic benefits for the whole city; a city that came alive with music venues and festivals, and generally good times up and down Main Street and toward Eastport too.
How did this happen? Anne St. Clair Wright and Mayor Roger “Pip” Moyer had sparked hometown pride and led the city’s residents, in 1965, to vote for Annapolis to be designated a National Historic Landmark District. But the boom times were the work of a man, a visionary businessman who had a passion for preservation and of jazz, who “made his work into art” with an elegant style. He would transform the city center with five restored historic inns and newly built condominiums in blue collar Eastport. Fifty years ago, farmer-athlete-entrepreneur-developer Paul Pearson bought, built, restored, and changed the face of the city. Yet, in this historic city that has a reputation for eating its own, Paul Pearson, who helped usher a city-wide renaissance, is a name no longer recognized.
When Paul died in 2001 after suffering six years of debilitating strokes that left him unable to talk or walk, the music died with him. Despite the efforts of Elana Byrd to rekindle the jazz club at The Inn, the owners said no thanks. Today, gone are the once-renown popovers and first-class restaurant. Gone is the high-class jazz club and King of France Tavern that energized this capital city. The music of life—the excitement and the magic generated by the visionary work of Paul Pearson at The Inn, so important to the city’s economic vitality—is quiet.
Photography Courtesy of Celia Pearson
(Left) Paul and Nicole Pearson at the Tex and Jinx radio show farewell party for Paul in New York City, 1958. The couple would move to Maryland to pursue Paul’s dream of farming. (Right) Pearson’s wife Nicole dances with daughter Celia in a photo by Elwood Baker for the article, “From Asphalt Jungle to Maryland Farm,” that appeared in the January 26, 1958, issue of Sunday Star Magazine.
So, who exactly was Paul Pearson?
Paul was born in 1925 in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, to a Quaker family that had a history of transforming generations around them. He is named for his grandfather, a teacher of oral English at Swarthmore College and a founder of Chautauqua, the educational, social, and entertainment movement of the 1800s. His uncle was syndicated columnist Drew Pearson, who wrote the popular Washington Merry Go-Round. His father, an English professor at Haverford College, also joined the writing of Washington Merry Go-Round.
Energetic from an early age, Paul developed an interest in soccer that landed him on the Exeter High School and Harvard University teams. In his 40s he would transfer his athletic interests to polo—an intense, competitive, elegant, and graceful athletic sport; qualities that fit his personality. He was also an accomplished sailor learning the sport in Kittery, Maine, where, at age 16, with his brother Tom, he built Lightning class sailboat. With an interest in agriculture, he graduated from Harvard with a Degree in the Economics of Agriculture. Paul
managed his Uncle Drew’s Montgomery County Farm until securing 256 acres of his own. Always an innovator, he won conservation awards for using contour and no-till planting methods. He was as comfortable on a tractor as he would be managing The Maryland Inn.
In his early adult life, Paul served in the Navy aboard the battleship USS Washington. After WWII, he loafed a bit in Paris with his father, who took a job as bureau chief for NBC. Here, he met and married his wife, Nicole Hargrove, a beautiful and graceful dancer. Moving back to the states, they settled in New York City, where Paul became a producer for the “Tex and Jinx” radio show—the “Today Show” of its day. And Nicole danced with Agnes de Mille, the choreographer for “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.”
The glitz and glitter of NYC was fun and appealing, but Paul missed the stability of the land he loved. When his Uncle Drew offered him an opportunity to manage his farm he jumped at the chance and credits his wife with agreeing to move to Maryland, near Washington, D.C. and an, altogether, very different lifestyle. Here, they raised three daughters—Karen, Celia, and Andrea—all artistically inclined. Annapolitan interior designer, Karen Fazekas, the eldest daughter, recalls her father as kind, gentle, loving, and always finding fun things and new challenges to do on the farm. “He had a string of polo ponies and a kennel where he trained hunting dogs,” Fazekas says. “Amplified by his sense of humor and charm, we always had interesting things going on at the farm.” Daughter Celia noted at his memorial service that, after his strokes, he showed great grace under the personal tragedy—the man with the magical voice couldn’t talk and the soccer player couldn’t walk—that marked the end of his life. And that he was a man of spirit and passion for life, and elegance in style that never failed him. This is the mark of the man that transformed Annapolis.
Calling time-out from farming, Paul came to Annapolis in 1968 to go sailing with a friend. He saw a beautiful city, a bit down on its heels, that challenged his imagination. With his passion to create something new, as was the pattern of his life, his own lifestyle was about to change too— from farmer to developer, and a restorer of great buildings from the city’s early Colonial days of glory. “I look at an old building and I see a challenge,” Paul once said when interviewed.
In Annapolis, one of America’s oldest cities, there were many old buildings to choose from. Even today, 120 eighteenth century buildings exist in this capital city. Paul would choose five: The Maryland Inn, Reynolds Tavern, and deteriorating homes that would be converted to inns—the Calvert House, the Statehouse Inn, and the Robert Johnson House.
Waterfront property sitting forlorn also inspired his imagination to what could be. His first investment in the city was a $110,000 purchase of an old boatyard on Spa Creek from Harry and Mary Lewis, grandparents of former Mayor Pip Moyer. With his partner contractor Richard Donohoe, he built the city’s first condominiums, named Tecumseh. Shearwater and The Point would follow, changing the blue-collar Eastport into an upscale community.
At about the same time, Donohoe and Pearson bought the Maryland Inn for $15,000 down on a $400,000 mortgage and proceeded to turn it “into a stylish doyenne of a chain of five historic inns” wrote journalist Joel McCord in the Baltimore Sun newspaper in 1989.
Renovations were costly at The Maryland Inn. Layers of cement and plaster board were stripped away from an employee locker room and beauty salon, revealing the original timbers and brick floors of Thomas Hyde’s first house of entertainment in the state. This space became the King of France Tavern and jazz club that would bring the city fame for more than 25 years.
Faced with the challenge to attract people to this new music venue, Paul discovered guitarist Charlie Byrd (already famous but unknown to Paul) at a City Dock festival. Doing the unthinkable, he somehow convinced Byrd to join the new, yet-to-open, jazz club. Paul’s maître de for the Treaty of Paris once said that Paul had a way with words that convinced you that anything you dreamed of could happen. In May 1972, Byrd opened the King of France Tavern to standing room only crowds for three weeks. The club was his home until he, himself, died in 1999.
The King of France Tavern jazz club transformed The Inn into a popular nightspot and city economic generator. Businessman Buddy Levy credited the King of France with bringing a new vitality to the whole business district. Paul’s out-of-the-box thinking proposed a weekend with Count Basie in cooperation with Maryland Hall, and a gala dance party at the Calvert House. To see Dave Brubeck perform at the King of France Tavern cost fans $60 per ticket.
It wasn’t long before Paul met and joined Anne St. Clair Wright, then-president of Historic Annapolis, who had been transforming the City of Annapolis into the National Historic District. According to Wright, Paul showed people what could be done with these old buildings and the impact they could have on the whole economic fabric of the city. They joined hands on restoring the Calvert House on State Circle. The house had served the Calverts, founders of the Colony of Maryland, and many other entities since the 1700s. But it was a mess.
Paul was a perfectionist who cared about authenticity so much so that he labeled every brick removed to guarantee it would be replaced in its original place. As restoration advanced, a hypocaust—an early heating system dating back to Roman times but rarely used in the 1700s— was discovered. Paul insisted it be saved. Today, visitors can see it under a glass floor near the inn’s lobby.
Of course, the intense interest in perfect restoration meant cost overruns and increased debt. Paul’s final venture was Reynolds Tavern on Church Circle, a building he didn’t own, but would cost him and end his life as an entrepreneur, developer, and preservationist. The building dated to 1737 and had many stories to tell, as discovered by archeologists on site. Paul, ever curious, couldn’t let them go. As they continuously uncovered features in the basement and backyard, Paul was busily helping his daughter Karen find authentic period furnishings for the Reynolds restaurant-to-be.
The country was going through its own tough economic times. Interest rates were soaring. With Paul facing $2.5 million in debt, his new financial partners—less interested in preservation and archeology finds—proceeded to take over all five of the historic inns properties. The music and magic that brought new economic vitality to the city began to fade as Paul’s fortune, vision, and eagerness to take on new challenges died.
Annapolitan Anna Greenberg says, “Paul was a gift to Annapolis.” 49 West Coffeehouse, Winebar & Gallery owner Brian Callahan, who lived in an apartment next to Paul on East Street, agrees. “He was, indeed, a gift not only to the city but to those around him.” Brian claims Paul as his mentor, who encouraged him when his own dreams stalled at times. “Paul opened doors for opportunity; he was just incredible with people,” Callahan says. “Classy in his approach to everything. He sought out the best people and boosted them on their way.”
Photography Courtesy of Celia Pearson
Paul Pearson, Mayor Roger “Pip” Moyer, and Historic Annapolis Founder St. Clair Wright assess the King of France Tavern before its restoration. Photo attributed to M.E. Warren.
Paul shared ideas he had for the future with Brian. He visualized recreation and a new inn along Weems Creek at the city’s entrance—that idea angered environmentalists but is still under consideration, as the ailing forest that Paul hoped to improve needs help. Paul wanted to redevelop the old Trumpy Yacht Yard into a sophisticated high-class restaurant. He thought the downtown alleys offered exciting walking networks. He proposed a shallow pond at City Dock that would engage kids with miniature boats in the summer and freeze for ice skating in the winter. These ideas never happened but were the mark of a creative and visionary risk-taker that liked a little excitement in his life, shared ideas, and embraced others to help them on their journeys.
Paul shared his thoughts for a day and words to live by with people in his life. One of his post-it notes to his friend, Mary, was a quote by General MacArthur, “There is no security on this earth. There is only opportunity.” His favorite quote, she claims, and one that guided his life, was by the poet, playwright, statesman, and one of the most important literary figures of the modern age, Johanne Wolfgang von Goethe: “Whatever you dream, you can do. Begin it, because boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.”
At Paul Pearson’s life celebration in October 2001, Grandson Chris Fazekas spoke. “My Grandpapa was a big, handsome soccer player who possessed that rare quality of being in love with everything in the world. Everything around him he loved with such intensity. He possessed such a passion for life, such a passion for people.” Such is the man that transformed the capital City of Annapolis for one brief shining period.