The sirens are even more confusing to visitors, said Leander Lockes, who works a block away at the Tremont Plaza hotel. "I guess I'd just be confused," she said. (Actually, it was 1:15, the test was 15 minutes late.) Fishback knew the sirens were tested every Monday, but said she wouldn't know what to do if she heard them go off any other time. "It means it's 1 o'clock," Fishback said. Her fellow juror, Teresa Fishback, a warehouse worker from Hampden, jerked and waited 30 seconds to resume her conversation. She jammed her fingers into her ears to muffle the noise. On a recent Monday, Stace Jones, a day-care worker from Highlandtown, was sitting on the edge of the fountain with two fellow jurors when the siren, located atop the courthouse, went off. or thereabouts - the serenity is shattered by what starts as a low-pitched whir and builds into whiny howl that drowns out all other sounds. Jurors and office workers sit at tables to eat lunch, talk on cell phones and read books.īut every Monday at 1 p.m. Courthouse in downtown Baltimore is a peaceful spot, and a popular one at lunch hour. The shaded courtyard across the street from the Clarence M. "But there is nothing as quick to get its attention as a siren." "There are a lot of ways to alert the public," said Rich McKoy, Baltimore's emergency-management director.
Today, citizens can be warned through television (the emergency alert system), telephones (Reverse 911 and similar software), through e-mail, faxes, pagers and weather radios that turn themselves on.īut amid all that technology, the lowly siren - shrill, annoying, old-fashioned and misunderstood as it may be - still has its place, or so at least some cities have concluded.
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