Evan Woodward was just another guy with a strong magnet and a love for fishing—not for fish, but for whatever the murky waters of Baltimore’s Inner Harbor might cough up. On April 24, 2025, he got more than he bargained for. His high-powered magnet, slung into the harbor’s depths, didn’t pull up the usual rusted bike frames or bottle caps. Instead, it snagged a trove of historic artifacts—items now being studied by archaeologists for clues to the city’s past.
Woodward, a 34-year-old mechanic by day, founded Baltimore’s Magnet Fishing Club three years ago, blending his knack for treasure-hunting with a mission to clean up the city’s waterways. He’s no stranger to odd finds: old tools, Civil War-era bullets, even a sunken shopping cart or two. But this haul was different. The magnet, rated at 1,200 pounds of pulling force, latched onto a cluster of objects buried in the silt. After a sweaty, 20-minute tug-of-war with the harbor’s grip, Woodward dragged up a rusted metal box, a handful of coins, and what looked like a small, tarnished silver medallion.
The box, about the size of a cigar case, was sealed tight by decades of corrosion. Inside, archaeologists later found fragments of documents—possibly shipping records from the early 19th century, though the ink had long bled into illegible smears. The coins, a mix of copper and silver, bore faint engravings, some dating to the 1830s, when Baltimore was a bustling port for tobacco and grain. The medallion, etched with a crude anchor, might’ve been a sailor’s keepsake, though experts are still piecing together its story. Each item was caked in mud, smelling of salt and time, but intact enough to spark a flurry of interest from local historians.
City officials got wind of the find within hours. Baltimore’s Department of Planning, which oversees archaeological discoveries, sent a team to Woodward’s usual fishing spot near the waterfront. They cordoned off the area, a gritty stretch of dock where seagulls squawk over scraps and the water’s more brown than blue. Divers went in the next day, April 25, combing the harbor floor for more relics. So far, they’ve recovered a broken pocket watch and a ceramic bottle, both likely from the same era as Woodward’s haul. The artifacts are now at the Maryland Historical Society, under careful scrutiny. Tests are ongoing to pinpoint their age and origin, with early estimates tying them to Baltimore’s maritime heyday, roughly 1800 to 1850.
Woodward’s no scholar—just a guy who likes the thrill of the pull. He handed over the artifacts without a fuss, though he admitted to snapping a few photos first. His club, now 40 members strong, has yanked tons of junk from the harbor over the years: car parts, fishing nets, even a soggy mattress. But this find’s got them buzzing. They’re not in it for profit; Maryland law requires turning over anything historically significant to the state. Still, Woodward’s got bragging rights, and the city’s talking about a plaque for his efforts.
The harbor’s no stranger to secrets. It’s been a dumping ground for centuries—everything from shipwrecks to lost cargo. Magnet fishing, a niche hobby that’s gained traction in recent years, uses heavy-duty magnets to snag metal objects from rivers, lakes, and harbors. It’s messy, sometimes dangerous work, with risks of sharp edges or unstable banks. But for guys like Woodward, it’s a way to touch history, one rusty relic at a time.
The artifacts are still being cataloged. The box’s documents, if decipherable, could shed light on Baltimore’s trade routes. The coins and medallion are being cleaned and analyzed for mint marks and craftsmanship. Divers will keep searching the site through May, weather permitting. Woodward’s back at the harbor, magnet in hand, chasing the next find.