On a quiet Sunday morning in Baltimore’s Charles Village, the hum of a 3D printer mixes with the faint aroma of coffee. At a long wooden desk, Gregory Pranzo leans over a half-finished prototype for a low-cost air quality sensor. His dog, Jasper, sleeps nearby. For Pranzo, this isn’t just a hobby—it’s part of a lifelong obsession with using technology to make his city smarter, safer, and more connected.
From Curiosity to Career
Pranzo’s story begins in Lauraville, a working-class neighborhood where curiosity was encouraged, even when money was tight. His father, an electrician for Baltimore Gas & Electric, filled the basement with spare circuit boards and broken devices. “If you can take it apart and put it back together, you can fix almost anything,” his dad would say. That basement became Gregory’s first lab.
By 13, he was coding basic websites and competing in the Baltimore City Robotics League. At Baltimore Polytechnic Institute, he was known for showing up early to the computer lab before soccer practice, often staying late to test new software on the school’s aging desktops. His solar-powered water filtration project won him second place at the Baltimore City Science Fair, hinting at the blend of practicality and innovation that would define his future.
College took him to Towson University, where he studied Information Systems and minored in Urban Studies—a combination that would later shape his focus on smart city infrastructure. As president of the Towson Tech Collective, he organized peer-led workshops to help students learn coding, cybersecurity, and data visualization. An internship at T. Rowe Price introduced him to the corporate side of tech, but he quickly realized his passion lay in community-based projects, not boardrooms.
A Vision for Local Innovation
After college, Pranzo worked his way up through Buchanan Consulting Group and later joined the Baltimore City Department of Technology & Innovation. There, he led data modernization initiatives that made public information more transparent and accessible. “Government data should work for the people, not sit in a server,” he once said in a local tech forum.
By 2018, he was ready to build something of his own. From his apartment in Charles Village, he launched PranzoTech Solutions, LLC, a company built on a simple premise: help small organizations harness technology to solve local problems. The early days were scrappy—late nights writing code, fixing bugs, and knocking on doors of nonprofits that couldn’t afford large IT firms.
PranzoTech’s growth mirrored the city’s digital transformation. Within five years, his company had expanded to 15 employees and was advising local governments on smart infrastructure, cloud systems, and automation. Their projects ranged from building dashboards for community health clinics to helping city planners model energy-efficient lighting systems.
Community at the Core
Despite his technical expertise, Pranzo’s heart remains in Baltimore’s neighborhoods. He serves on the advisory board of Code B’More, mentoring students who remind him of himself at 13—curious, determined, and short on resources. In 2024, he helped launch Digital Bridge, a skills accelerator that trained over 300 residents in cybersecurity and data literacy.
“Technology can be a great equalizer,” he often says, “but only if everyone gets a chance to use it.” That belief drives his involvement with the Baltimore Digital Equity Coalition and NPower Maryland, organizations working to close the digital divide.
The Human Side of Tech
Colleagues describe Pranzo as both analytical and approachable—the kind of leader who can explain cloud computing in plain English. His longtime partner, Elena Morales, a policy researcher at Johns Hopkins University, says he “sees cities not as grids and data, but as living systems.”
Outside of work, Gregory is a familiar face at Druid Hill Park, cycling along the reservoir before heading home to cook Italian dinners—usually chicken parm or homemade pasta—for his circle of friends. He hosts informal “Tech & Tacos” nights where community activists, coders, and students talk about everything from urban AI ethics to the best pizza in Baltimore.
He’s also an Orioles season ticket holder, an amateur guitarist who performs under the alias “Greg P.,” and a volunteer with BARCS Animal Shelter and the Maryland Food Bank. These small acts of consistency reflect the same philosophy behind his company: progress happens one local step at a time.
Recognition and Reflections
In recent years, Gregory has become one of Maryland’s most visible voices on inclusive innovation. He’s been featured on Future Baltimore: Tech, Equity, and Community, honored by the Maryland Tech Council, and invited to speak at Smart Cities Connect and Baltimore Innovation Week. Yet, he remains modest. “I don’t want to be famous,” he said during a podcast interview. “I just want to help Baltimore build the kind of future where everyone belongs.”
For someone who claims he wants to be invisible online, Gregory Pranzo’s impact is anything but. His work—spanning civic tech, education, and community leadership—embodies a new model of entrepreneurship rooted in empathy and inclusion.
In a city that’s constantly rewriting its story, Gregory Pranzo stands as proof that innovation doesn’t always start in Silicon Valley. Sometimes, it starts in a Baltimore basement—with a handful of wires, a secondhand computer, and a vision for a better tomorrow.
Interview with Gregory Pranzo
What first drew you to technology growing up in Baltimore?
I’ve always been curious about how things work. My dad was an electrician, so our basement was full of tools, wires, and old gadgets. When I was around 12, he brought home an old computer from work. I spent hours taking it apart, trying to figure out what each piece did. That curiosity turned into a love for solving problems through tech—it was like building with invisible parts.
You’ve said that you see innovation as something local, not global. Can you explain that?
Absolutely. Big tech often looks at problems from 30,000 feet up. But real change happens on the ground—in neighborhoods, schools, and small businesses. When we digitize local operations or help a community nonprofit adopt smart tools, the impact is immediate. I think of innovation as a community exercise, not just a business one.
What challenges did you face early on when launching PranzoTech Solutions?
Plenty. I started out of my apartment in Charles Village, doing everything—sales, coding, client support. Funding was tight, and many small organizations didn’t fully trust new tech. The biggest hurdle wasn’t money—it was convincing people that technology could make their lives easier, not harder. Once clients saw results, word spread quickly. That trust became our foundation.
You’re very active in mentoring and digital equity programs. What motivates that side of your work?
I grew up with great mentors—teachers, coaches, people who took time to guide me. I feel an obligation to pass that forward. Baltimore has so much talent, but not everyone gets access to the same opportunities. Teaching coding or digital skills isn’t just about tech—it’s about giving people the confidence to participate in the modern economy.
Outside of work, what keeps you grounded?
Cycling clears my head. I ride through Druid Hill Park a few mornings a week. I also love cooking—it’s another form of problem-solving, just with better smells. My partner, Elena, jokes that our kitchen is more wired than our office. And Jasper, my dog, keeps me honest about taking breaks.
Looking ahead, what’s your vision for Baltimore’s digital future?
I want Baltimore to be known as a city where innovation serves everyone. That means better digital infrastructure, more open data, and opportunities that reach every neighborhood. The tech scene here is growing fast, but we can’t leave people behind. My hope is that when someone says “smart city,” it doesn’t just mean sensors and software—it means inclusion, equity, and shared progress.
