The death of William Donald Schaefer on April 18 did not make City Paper’s annual list of the top 10 news events of 2011. It was certainly newsworthy, at least by certain measures: The number of screen pixels, radio airwaves, and gallons of ink devoted to the former Baltimore mayor, Maryland governor, and state comptroller’s life, passing, and legacy put it up there with many of the top items on our tally. And indeed, we here at Baltimore’s Most Contrarian Alternative Weekly devoted a sizeable amount of pixels and ink to Schaefer, including Edward Ericson Jr.’s feature on Willie Don’s true legacy (“Saint or Sinner?” May 11). But what we hope can be the real news going forward from Schaefer’s death is that Baltimore can be what it wants to be. Yes, many of Schaefer’s policies (e.g., developing our way out of our troubles) still shape our city today and will for many years to come, but we hope now that he’s gone on to that big Ocean City in the sky that those of us here, now, will feel less beholden to his spirit and his influence and truly start to think about what sort of city we want of Baltimore. Not that politics-as-usual are no longer a factor (this is Maryland, after all), but that somehow we can take this as a new day, build on what’s positive (our dropping murder rate), face our most serious problems (rising homelessness, lingering lead problems, our faltering infrastructure), and consider how to do both in new ways. So think of the following 10 items not only as a recap, but as inspiration. Let’s get to it. (Lee Gardner)

1 Political corruption The seeds of 2011’s sagas of political corruption in Maryland were sown last year—or even earlier—but they continue to bloom, providing guideposts as to what is and is not acceptable political conduct in the Free State. A Baltimore City jury decided that Paul Schurick, former Gov. Robert Ehrlich’s campaign manager, committed crimes when he conspired with consultant Julius Henson (whose trial starts early next year) to suppress votes in the 2010 gubernatorial election by sending more than 112,000 “robo-calls” urging predominantly urban, African-American voters to “relax” and not vote on Election Day. Also not permitted are pay-to-play schemes involving developers, which former Prince George’s County Executive Jack Johnson admitted to when he pleaded guilty in federal court—and neither is obstructing justice, to which Johnson’s wife, former County Councilmember Leslie Johnson, also pleaded guilty. But a federal jury, in acquitting state Sen. Ulysses Currie (D-Prince George’s) of charges that he used his official position to benefit a supermarket chain whose payments to him remained undisclosed, apparently decided that Currie was more a knucklehead than a criminal. Seeing a jury buy Currie’s stupidity defense will likely give prosecutors pause before coming after others. (Van Smith)

2 Occupy Baltimore Occupy Baltimore got rolling a couple of weeks after Occupy Wall Street, and it did so with a bang. Around 200 people attended the initial meeting, and the tent city that subsequently arose in McKeldin Square lasted longer than those in many other cities. (Baltimore police evicted the occupiers in the early morning hours of Dec. 13, as this issue was going to press.) The Occupy movement has faced criticism that its goals are amorphous, but economic injustice is on everyone’s lips these days, and hundreds of thousands of people have moved their money from banks to credit unions, partly because of Occupy. And disorganized it is not. Occupy Baltimore featured a General Assembly complete with committees, a highly organized web site with a calendar of workshops and protests, a 24-hour “information zone,” daily hot meals, and a methodical, patient approach to the logistical problems direct democracy presents. Occupy’s tents may have been razed, but we doubt the movement is going anywhere soon. All else aside, it’s been a grand social experiment. (Andrea Appleton)

3 Baltimore Grand Prix The inaugural Baltimore Grand Prix was better than its most fervent boosters had hoped. The New York Times reported 75,000 fans for the main Indy race on Sunday; the total three-day paid attendance was said to be well north of 100,000. The races—held Labor Day weekend under perfect skies—were exciting and safe, with just a few crashes and no injuries. Then the illusion of competence crashed. The race’s founder, an enigmatic wheeler-dealer and sometimes crack addict named Steven Wehner, sued to recoup more than half a million dollars he says he was promised in a buyout. Other suits followed and, by November, Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake, who had wholeheartedly supported the race and its corporate manager, Baltimore Racing Development, was openly sniping at now former BRD CEO Jay Davidson. BRD was insolvent, owing the state’s Stadium Authority several hundred thousand, the state about $24,000 in unpaid sales taxes, plus another $1.5 million to the city itself—not to mention hundreds of thousands in other debts claimed by private creditors in their court filings. The race brought only between a third and two-thirds of the expected economic impact. “We have always anticipated that we wouldn’t make a profit in the first year,” Davidson told the Times in August. Well, OK. But that’s not the same as saying, “We never expected to actually have to pay the guy who set up the grandstands.” (Edward Ericson Jr.)

4 Police corruption So far, 12 of 14 Baltimore City Police officers charged have pleaded guilty to an extortion conspiracy, uncovered by the FBI with help from the BPD, for getting paid to send business to a non-authorized towing company to haul vehicles from accident scenes and repair them. It may not be on par with cops lying to steal informant money or selling drugs stolen from dealers—which have happened in past Baltimore police scandals—but the scale of the towing conspiracy is staggering. Plea agreements in the case state that more than 50 officers were part of the scheme, which suggests a widespread look-the-other-way culture on the force. A much smaller matter, but more grave than the prosaic towing scandal, is the federal indictment of BPD officer Daniel Redd as part of a five-member heroin conspiracy. Among Redd’s alleged deeds is a heroin deal done in a police parking lot. This case, too, taps into concerns that the force tolerates bad actors; Redd, despite years of suspicion among his fellow officers, socialized with the department’s top internal-affairs investigator, who was rotated out of the job shortly after the indictment. (VS)