The noir master (and father of the detective story) was born in Boston on Jan. 19, 1809, and first came to Baltimore in 1829 to live with relatives, according to a timeline of the local Poe House and Museum. After a stint at West Point, N.Y., he returned here and lived on Amity Street in West Baltimore with his widowed aunt and other relatives. Poe wrote a number of short stories here, before moving on to Richmond, Va., and Philadelphia. He died in Baltimore in 1849.

Philadelphia blogger Edward Pettit has been clamoring to have Poe’s body disinterred from the Westminster Burying Ground and hauled north. He even had the gall to make that claim at a Bouchercon panel about Poe. The audience was unmoved. (See for yourself on a video posted on Read Street tomorrow.)

We all know Pettit’s argument is absurd. Poe belongs to Baltimore, where his memory is respected. Our pro football team is the Ravens; theirs is the Eagles. Our Sheraton hotel has a Poe Room; Philly’s has Salon 1. We’ve even named public housing — the Poe Homes — after him. And his passing is honored each year with graveside roses and cognac. In Philly, he might get a cheesesteak and some Yuengling. At best.