One day last August, Thibault Manekin, the scion of a Baltimore-area real estate developer, got chewed out by a stranger on the shoulder of Falls Road.
Manekin’s firm, Seawall, which is active in the Remington neighborhood, had its eyes on a property occupied by Baltimore’s Sisson Street waste station. To make way, the city said it would move the station to a construction firm’s land below in the Jones Falls Valley.
Seawall’s proposal sparked a neighborhood firestorm, and as the dispute played out, Manekin sometimes ventured to that isolated part of Falls Road, between Station North and Hampden, sitting in his car and daydreaming about what this forlorn stretch could be.
So when a passerby — Manekin remembers him only as Tom — stopped to vent about Seawall, the developer confessed his identity.
“That was the beginning of the process of understanding how opinionated people were,” Manekin said. “He didn’t let me talk. He’s just screaming at me.”
Neighbors and environmental groups saw Seawall as one more threat to the Jones Falls, a beleaguered stream that cuts through the heart of Baltimore before disappearing into tunnels beneath Interstate 83 and downtown. Residents packed community meetings, forcing City Hall to launch a task force to consider alternatives.
The controversy became a learning experience for the developer, who’s now dreaming bigger than the waste facility.
This month, two things happened that gave advocates hope for fulfilling a long-held Baltimore dream to turn the banks of the Jones Falls into a linear greenway with running water, vibrant trees, trails and fields.
The city task force finalized a plan that rejects moving the waste station to Falls Road and recommends keeping it in place. It should close only if a long list of conditions are met, the group said.
Manekin’s firm also announced a deal to acquire the valley property from construction company Potts & Callahan and pledged to develop the desolate stretch, mostly flood plain, into a park. He later said he expects to include some mixed-use development, possibly a café or a small brewery.
Manekin was careful not to get too specific about his vision until hearing from the community. The developer will host a listening session Tuesday night at Remington’s R. House.
Seawall’s announcement has gotten a warm reception — even from longtime skeptics.
“It’s really exciting to me to hear a developer get excited about open space,” said Alice Volpitta, a water quality watchdog with the group Blue Water Baltimore.
Volpitta has spent years fighting sewage, stormwater and industrial threats to the Jones Falls. This corridor is notorious for illegal dumping and is near one of Baltimore’s worst sewage overflow sites — which smells of feces after storms.
Recently, the site was showered by flakes of lead paint from an overpass, a mess the city has left unaddressed.
Volpitta sees potential in the site, which borders the Jones Falls Trail bike path, the Baltimore Streetcar Museum and the historic — if dilapidated — railroad roundhouse that could become the museum’s new home.
Once people make their way there, Volpitta said, “they see that it really is worth protecting.”
Manekin seems an unlikely protector.
The son of local developer Donald Manekin, he enjoyed a privileged upbringing in the leafy Mount Washington neighborhood and attended the progressive Park School in Baltimore County.
After college, Manekin moved to post-apartheid South Africa and started a nonprofit that promoted racial integration through basketball. PeacePlayers drew the attention of former South African President Nelson Mandela’s foundation and now operates in 22 countries.
Today, Manekin looks more California surfer than real estate mogul, wearing gym shorts, a beaded necklace and bracelets for a recent visit to the site.
Seawall, meanwhile, has grown into one of Baltimore’s most influential developers.
Founded in 2007 by father and son, the company built a reputation on successful early projects including Miller’s Court in Remington and Union Mill in Hampden. In 2015, the company cemented its status with R. House, the buzzy Remington food hall, and the nearby Remington Row apartments.
A retro rehabilitation of Baltimore’s beloved Lexington Market in 2023 showcased the developer’s work even more widely.
Sam Horn, a Remington resident and officer with the Greater Remington Improvement Association, said Seawall listens before proceeding with projects.
Any green space would be an improvement over the heavy equipment occupying the Potts & Callahan property, Horn said. When she lets her imagination run wild, she envisions a funicular, a cable-driven hillside tram, carrying residents into the valley from Remington.
“I think getting people down there and making it feel welcoming and safe is my top priority,” she said. “I love the idea of walking down this trail to get to dinner in Station North.”
The dump fiasco sparked an “awakening for the valley,” said Matt Hugel, a board member with Midtown Baltimore and director of community development at Maryland Institute College of Art. Hugel sees the Jones Falls as Baltimore’s second waterfront and has helped to redesign an entry of the Jones Falls Trail in Station North. He hopes planners look to places like Philadelphia’s Schuylkill River Trail for inspiration.
Such a project likely would be expensive, and Councilwoman Odette Ramos, who represents Remington and chaired the Sisson Street Task Force, said city resources and other funding would be essential so long as Manekin fulfills his promises.
On the bright side, she said, the dump dustup brought new attention to the Jones Falls Valley.
Jed Weeks, a Remington resident and interim executive director of Bikemore, would have loved to see the city pursue redevelopment itself but sees Seawall’s move as the next-best thing. It could mark a turning point, he said, but ideas have fizzled before.
“There’s so many plans on shelves in the Planning Department or the GBC [Greater Baltimore Committee] or the Baltimore Metropolitan Council for that corridor,” he said. “All of them have remained on the shelf.”
In Baltimore’s early history, the Jones Falls ran from the county, through the city’s center and into the harbor. A thriving mill industry developed along its banks, making it a center of both labor and hazardous pollution — a problem so severe city leaders buried much of the stream in the early 20th century.
Manekin doesn’t appear in a rush to figure it all out. The Seawall team tries to think in “hundred-year increments,” he said, picturing what Baltimore could be for their grandkids. He insists he doesn’t see the project as a moneymaker and said Seawall could hand over the property to a nonprofit or the city.
Most of the land should be green space, Manekin said. Maybe he’ll include a stepped-down amphitheater to connect Remington to the valley. A recent visit to San Francisco has him imagining a climbing wall.
As for the man who dressed down Manekin in August, “Tom should be the happiest guy ever right now.”
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