I frequently reminisce with my mom, who will be turning 80 this September, about my childhood in Laurel in the 1970s and 80s. And until recently, she would often lament the fact that we lived in apartments until she and my dad bought their first home in 1987. In her mind, life would’ve somehow been better for me (for all of us, of course; but like all great parents, my mom and dad have always had the habit of putting me first) if they’d somehow been able to afford a nice single family home somewhere with a big yard when I was younger. She’s always been especially fond of those split-level houses with carports, so many of which dotted the landscapes of Montpelier and West Laurel. It’s taken many conversations over the course of many years, but I think she finally understands that I’m telling the truth when I say that I wouldn’t have changed a thing about my childhood.
Steward Manor Apartments was, to a kid like me, an absolute wonderland. I literally don’t have the space here to list the countless activities my friends and I had at our disposal on any given day. It was like a small city within itself, as each street had a character and aura all its own. Not only did we have an Olympic-sized pool, we had a basketball court, a football field, three unique playgrounds, a small creek, railroad tracks, and we were just a moment’s walk from 7-Eleven, Dart Drug, and Laurel Centre Mall.
Then there were the buildings themselves, most of which are actually connected via their basements. On particularly hot or cold days, we would often opt to play cops and robbers in there—hiding and chasing one another throughout the labrynth. Those basement mazes were also tremendously convenient when being chased by the occasional angry Route 197 motorist whose car may or may not have gotten pelted by snowballs, but I digress.
If we found an unlocked basement storage room, it was an opportunity for our little group to tell ghost stories in the pitch black—and the threat of accidentally getting locked in the windowless room only added to the thrill.
When I was a kid, BMX bikes were the thing. And kids in Steward Manor had the whole neighborhood under our wheels. Speed bumps only enhanced the ride, and cruising around the streets and sidewalks never got old. If you didn’t know where your friends were at any given time, all you had to do was ride around looking for the collection of bikes parked outside a particular building.
By the time I was attending Eisenhower Middle School, I was fortunate to make friends from practically every neighborhood in the school district. But that’s also when I remember first noticing how some of the kids whose parents did own those nice single family homes in Montpelier had a way of looking down their noses at those of us who lived in apartments. Certainly not all of them, mind you—some were among the nicest kids I’d ever met. But there were a few. They never came right out and said anything, but the air of superiority was unmistakeably there. It wasn’t just me and my Steward Manor friends—I saw it directed at the kids who came from Laurel Pines, Milestone Manor, Kimberly Gardens, Pumpkin Hill, and other apartment communities, too. If Eisenhower had been the Titanic, those Montpelier kids seemed to think they were first class passengers, while we were from steerage.
But even then—and even more so now, as an adult—I have no doubt that if anyone was missing out on an incredible childhood, it certainly wasn’t a kid from Steward Manor Apartments. In fact, the older I get, the more I appreciate the childhood I was so fortunate to enjoy there.
Learning and Sharing the History
Steward Manor was and remains a unique mid-century apartment complex that offers what I’ve always felt was a magical little ecosystem to grow up within. Built in three phases between 1958 and 1960, the streets and buildings throughout the complex each have their own subtle differences—almost like little neighborhoods in their own right.
My parents and I moved away from Steward Manor when I was 14 years old and had just finished my freshman year at Laurel High. I’d lived there since the first grade, and leaving that neighborhood was, in hindsight, a watershed moment for me. It literally was like leaving my childhood behind. Soon, I began working part time at the Laurel Library, and before I knew it I’d graduated from Meade Senior High and later from the Corcoran School of Art.
It was only about a decade later, in 1998, when I first began to reflect on how much I’d enjoyed growing up there. My Steward Manor days seemed much more distant than just ten years. Living in Northern Virginia by that time, I drove through the old neighborhood and took photos to document what had changed, and what had stayed the same. The basketball court was gone, sadly. But the rest was remarkably the same as it had always been, and full of memories.
I started toying around with the idea of writing and designing a little book—just for my immediate circle of Steward Manor friends—a magazine of sorts that I could print and assemble that included stories of the times we’d shared growing up there. Life has a way of interfering, though, and having just started a busy career in graphic design didn’t exactly afford me the time I wanted to devote to that project. And so the years continued to pass, and pass quickly. In fact, another full decade flew by before I had a chance to finally dig into this passion project in earnest. What was originally going to be a publication became a blog I named Steward Manor Days—a recollection of growing up at this special place.
A Rental Office Reunion
In 2010, I had the idea to reach out to Southern Management, the company that owns Steward Manor and several other residential properties, to see if they might have any old photos of the neighborhood they’d be willing to share. They recommended I contact the Steward Manor rental office, and when I did, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Mrs. Jutta Heidelberger was still working there—she had been the manager when I was growing up. She invited me to stop by to take a look at several photo albums they did indeed have in storage, and I spent a wonderful afternoon with her and Paul Blair—a maintenance man who’d also been there since I was a child—reminiscing over photos they hadn’t seen in decades.
Within the albums were faces from the past of both employees and residents alike. We saw pictures of familiar vehicles, including the various maintenance vans that Paul and his colleagues once drove around the neighborhood. He enjoyed a good laugh when I told him that I remember even painting a couple of my Hot Wheels cars as a kid to look like their maintenance vans.
In addition to the blog, I’d started a Steward Manor Days Facebook group, and the growing number of members came up with a fun idea: hosting an actual reunion of former and current residents. We planned a potluck gathering at the picnic area by the swimming pool, and a nostalgic walking tour throughout the complex. The first one was such a hit that it became an annual event drawing dozens of people each year, including many who hadn’t seen each other in decades. It also sparked new friendships, with former residents traveling from as far away as Florida and California to attend. Some who’d only lived at the complex for a very short period were there; and some whose Steward Manor days were in the early 1960s were just as eager to share their fond remembrances as those of us who were there in the 1980s. There were even some whose families had moved from Steward Manor to single family home communities like Belair at Bowie. Still, something about this apartment complex drew them back, and a cosmic bond was forged that connects us as neighbors for all time.
The Steward Manor Reunion became an annual event, and the year that Mrs. Heidelberger retired, she surprised us by actually having platters of gourmet sandwich wraps, cheese, crackers, and veggies delivered to our picnic. It was a wonderful gesture, and really confirmed how special this community is. Think about it—most people consider apartment living to be a transient period. In fact, many can’t wait to get out of their apartment and into that nice single family home with the big yard. I can’t imagine that there are many—if any—other apartment complexes in the country that have spawned what is essentially a proud alumni group like we’ve become.
We enjoyed ten consecutive reunions before the pandemic interruped things in 2020. Walking through the neighborhood and visiting the buildings that we once lived in is always an emotional experience. I often think of a quote from the movie, Field of Dreams, where James Earl Jones says, “This field, this game: it’s a part of our past. It reminds us of all that once was good and it could be again.” Steward Manor is that field for me—that inexplicable place where, as soon as I set foot on the grounds of the complex, I’m 12 years old again and surrounded by the best friends I’ve ever had.
After this four year hiatus, I think it’s time that we get the reunion going again this September. As that Field of Dreams monologue continues, “Oh, people will come, Ray. People will most definitely come.”
Richard Friend is a founding member of The Laurel History Boys, and creator of LostLaurel.com.
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