I wanted to incorporate young people on both sides of the transition and make Detroit hot again, and to do that, we needed a different kind of spirit and energy. There were bad things happening. The economy was down. No one wanted to come to the city. The police department was in bad shape, and was under a federal investigation. The issues that needed to be tackled on the City side were typical governmental concerns, but the inaugural gave us a chance to send a positive message.
We brought in Detroit’s biggest promoters to help organize the inaugural events. These weren’t just typical event planners, but folks who kept Detroit’s nightlife alive. We placed club owners on the committee, making it clear that we wanted to include the distinctly different parts of Detroit’s community. The committee became a mix of traditionalists, celebrity hairstylists (hair shows were huge in Detroit at the time) and party promoters. Local stalwarts like Rufus Bartell and Moe Blackwell collaborated with municipal pillars like Tene Ramsey. The idea of community inaugurations was born out of this effort.
The swearing-in ceremony took place at the Fox Theater, instead of City Hall or in a judge’s chamber, and we packed the house. The room was full of City officials and employees, surrounded by people from the very neighborhoods they served. It was an incredible sight. Judges Damon Keith and Conrad Mallett led my oath of office. I remember my wife and my two boys standing next to me. And I felt so full because once you take the oath, you speak. Stepping to the podium, I looked out and saw my mother and father, and how proud they were. They were crying. Ayanna was crying. The city seemed so proud, and in that moment, it felt like we—Detroit—could do this. It took everything in me to keep the floodgates from bursting open. I also felt like we had to do this, like I had to make things happen for the city.
I then attended five different community inaugurations, which gave people who couldn’t get in the Fox an opportunity to be a part of the inauguration. We went to Southwest Detroit, the haven for the city’s Latin and Hispanic community; to Northwestern High School, near my mother’s neighborhood; and to the East Side of town, where most of the city’s Southern immigrants settled. The venues in those areas were all packed, as well. We then held a large inaugural for senior citizens.
Carlita got involved with the inauguration as well, coming up with a great idea for a children’s inaugural event. She spearheaded it, and it was excellent. It took place at Cobo Hall, where games and other activities for kids were available. We capped the events with a nighttime club crawl to celebrate the hotness of the city. We went to a house music club, back to the Southwest Side, and to a few well-known bars. The night ended at the Charles H. Wright Museum of African-American History. Bands performed, and the legendary hip-hop artist Biz Markie DJ’d a party. The inauguration was revolutionary and innovative, and it pulled people together.
The press trailed us during the entire evening in a bus that we provided, documenting the events and capturing the energy around town. It was good, although immediately afterward, the news reports were critical, essentially saying, Kilpatrick needs to stop partying and get to work. Well, the work was on its way. In fact, it started with the inauguration and transition to office, so the press needn’t have worried. I was on my way to work, to the highest stress level of my life, and to a ballooned weight of 318 pounds, to boot!
I’ve been through hell in my life, and yet I’ve never felt as bad as I did during my first two years as mayor of the City of Detroit. Physically, mentally and spiritually, I was drained. My only encouragement came from the belief that I was doing what God wanted me to do.
My pastor at the time was Edgar Vann. He transformed a small church, the Second Ebenezer Baptist Church, into one of Detroit’s most influential and largest congregations. He also built a good reputation around town in business and political circles. He was even the Chairman of the Baptist Pastor’s Council in Detroit. The Council had once been a political force in the city, led by many Detroit legends like Reverend C.L. Franklin, Reverend Dr. Fredrick G. Sampson and Reverend Dr. Charles Adams. These men personified the transitioning role of the African-American pastor in our community. They were incredibly erudite community activists and also strong supporters of African-American leadership. When they spoke, everyone listened.
Reverend Vann was a transitional leader for the Baptist Pastor’s Council because they had started to lose a lot of their clout in the community. He was appointed as leader to propel the political sway of the Council back the forefront of Detroit politics and connect with new views. Detroit’s new generation didn’t have a monolithic focus on race and politics. They were all over the place. The new Detroiter was more independent, instead of interdependent, and more individualistic in focus, as opposed to working from a purely community perspective.
Detroiters were moving into communities that had protested their presence just a decade before. Expanding ideas, creativity and multiple perspectives on issues created a new and vibrant culture in the city. On the negative side, Detroiters grew more and more self-serving, individualistic and open to being misled by those who didn’t have the community’s best interests at heart.
Reverend Vann increased the Council’s relevance and political sway. He improved business relationships, organizational relationships and once again made the Baptist Pastor’s Council a strong political voice in the city.
Shortly after stepping down from the presidency of that organization, Reverend Vann vigorously campaigned for me to be the City’s sixtieth mayor. Unfortunately, he never stopped campaigning, even after I won. Our pastor/parishioner relationship had been destroyed in the throes of the campaign. And when I really needed my pastor, even when Reverend Vann was in the room, he was not there. He enjoyed the spotlight and the swagger he’d garnered. I was drying up spiritually and felt that I couldn’t reach out to him. I felt alone and completely vulnerable. At a time when ninety-five percent of the people who approached me wanted something from me, most of our conversations were about community development and politics instead of what I really needed—a spiritual connection. But I was slowly and insidiously falling into neglect and avoidance of any real connection with God. And I would soon believe that the job was all that mattered.
Hip-Hop Summit: Dr. Benjamin Chavis, Eminem, me and Nas. Get Out The Vote Summit where Russell Simmons proclaimed me as “America’s Hip-Hop Mayor.” The next day the media aggressively asked me to denounce the title. When I wouldn’t, they created and circulated “rumored” or “alleged” stories about me in the company of strippers, excessively partying and even being late for meetings. Of course none of it was true.
Me & Ernie Harwell, the legendary voice of the Detroit Tigers. Many of my favorite childhood memories are of sitting with my paternal grandfather on a hot summer day, and listening to Ernie calling the Tigers game over the radio.
Ceremonial First Pitch. I threw the ceremonial first pitch at the opener of the Tigers baseball season. Jelani and Jalil also threw out the first pitch on different occasions as well.
Me and Detroit native Reverand Michael Eric Dyson. Dyson is off the hook! Good Brother.
Tavis Smiley, Vivica A. Fox, Carlita and me. Get Out The Vote Rally in Detroit (2005).
Taking care of my senior citizens. I love senior citizens, and they always love me back. I always won the Senior Citizen Voting Block. We owe them so much for their struggle, sacrifice & courage.
Swearing-In: Fox Theater (2002). First day on the job. I had no idea what I was getting into!
The Late Edward McNamara speaking at my Mayoral Campaign Announcement (2001). He was a strong supporter, and a legendary political figure in Michigan.
Carlita and KMK at my Mayoral campaign announcement (2001).
Carlita and I in our final moments of life as we knew it. That moment was one of the most powerful moments of my life.
Dave Bing, above right speaking on my behalf at my Mayoral Campaign Announcement (2001). He was a supporter from Day One.
Hosting Diahann Carroll and Dorothy I. Hei
ght at my home.
Presenting Detroit native and Superbowl XL champion Jerome Bettis with the Key to the City.
Roger Penske and me. I learned a lot from Roger. I have never met a more focused person in my life.
Annual State of the City Address at Detroit’s Orchestra Hall. These annual speeches were carried live on network T.V., and became huge unprecedented events in Detroit.
Carlita, Lebron & me at the Palace (2004). A year later Lebron would put on his best playoff performance against the Pistons. After winning the series, I went back to the locker-room area and congratulated him. The Detroit Press called me a traitor.
NBA World Champion Detroit Piston Parade and Rally—downtown Detroit. You can never underestimate the incredible positive energy that invades a community after a championship. The Pistons and Red Wings had lifted Detroiter’s spirits as we faced incredible daunting days.
Me and Freman Hendrix (below) in the second of our third televised Mayoral debates. These debates began to accelerate his undoing, and ultimate defeat.
Me and Dallas Cowboy owner Jerry Jones (above). I had great conversations with Jerry while preparing for Superbowl XL in Detroit, and even during Superbowl week. His passion and energy is infectious.
Ella Bully-Cummings being appointed to be the first woman to be Chief of Police in Detroit’s history.
Reverend Jesse Jackson, Willis Edwards and me praying over the remains of Civil Rights Pioneer Rosa Parks. I was at her bedside soon after she passed away, and also had the humbling experience of saying thank you to her several times, while she lived.
Offering words on behalf of the City of Detroit at Rosa Park’s funeral.
Victory 2005! Shocked and shook-up the establishment, We really pissed a lot of people off.
Me and Pete Karmanos at the Hard Rock Café opening in Downtown Detroit.
Pete says what he means, and means what he says. He is a great guy, and an amazing business leader.
President Clinton and me. I had the opportunity to meet with President Clinton several times, including in the Oval office and aboard Air Force One.
Carlita, me and Russell Simmons. We registered over 3,000 voters at this summit, but the only news was that Russell called me the “Hip Hop Mayor,” and how very negative that title was.
At an Auto Show event in Detroit are Carlita, me, Detroit native recording artist Kem, and former NBA player John Sally and his wife.
Detroit Pastors praying for me during one of our Inauguration events. It’s been only God that has kept me.
Me and Minister Farrakhan. The title of this book comes from the words that he spoke to me.
My Pops and me. The second most misunderstood man in Detroit. He served in Public life, without a hint of impropriety for more than twenty years. He helped hundreds of people throughout our community.
Me after my law school graduation.
Got it done, headed to master the Michigan Bar Examination.
At the All-American Football Banquet in Baltimore, MD (1993).
Addressing the Democratic National Convention in Los Angeles at the Staples Center (2000). I also delivered a speech in 2004 at the Democratic National Convention held in Boston.
FAMU Rattlers Football.
Big Fella pulling around the corner, on my way to the All-American Trophy.
Me and my Mom in DC. My mom is the absolute epitome of a public servant. I have never seen anyone do it better. She didn’t miss parent/teacher conferences, and made sure that our schoolwork was done. My Mom is simply an amazing woman!
The “Original Family”: Mom, Dad, me and Ayanna (Christmas 1977). I was clean, even at seven years old.
(Below) Ayanna, me, Diarra and Pop at one of my annual Mayoral fundraisers.
Commitment! I purchased more new equipment, vehicles and technology for police officers and firefighters than any Mayor in the history of the City of Detroit. I also built several new facilities, precincts and communication centers for Detroit residents.
Our administration’s Mayor’s Time Initiative provided thousands of Detroit children with a variety of skilled program training and academic and social programs.
chapter 9
Hell and High Water
SOON, I was working from 8 a.m. until 2 a.m., daily. I made it a point to show up at every crime scene, every fire. If snow needed to be shoveled, I was at the Russell Ferry garage, making sure the trucks got out. I was killing myself. We’re not going to not shovel on my watch. That was my thinking. I took things very personally, and it beat me down.
It also put an incredible strain on my marriage, and on Carlita. I was horrible, because my life became about the entire city. There was no room for God and no room for marriage. I didn’t even create a space for my boys. It was like when the Lord made David a king and, faithful as David was, he allowed the throne to consume him. Everything came second to Detroit.
We’ve gotta get the parks built, ‘cause they said we can’t do it. We’ve gotta get the city cleaned for the Super Bowl. We’ve gotta build a recreation center. We’ve gotta manage this budget. Nobody thinks this young guy can manage a budget. You all need to stay overnight so we can do this.
I’d keep people in cabinet meetings until midnight. We’d order in food. Fishbone’s restaurant handled several evening orders from us, because we were determined to stay until we solved every problem. And Lord, were there ever problems to be solved!
Municipal Parking was the only department that ran well when we arrived at the Mayor’s office in January 2002. Much to the chagrin of many Detroiters and visitors, we wrote parking tickets in an amazingly effective and efficient manner. But that was the only thing we did well. Every other department was extremely dysfunctional, from Human Services to Human Resources and from Planning and Development to Recreation. The Water and Housing departments suffered, as well.
For example, one day in early March 2002, I was sitting in my office and opening a few pieces of mail. One of the letters was from the U.S. Housing and Urban Development Dept. (HUD). The letter wasn’t rushed to me, or even given a high priority. It was just one of the things I needed to see. The letter referenced the previous six correspondences, over a six-year period, that had been sent to the mayor’s office regarding issues the department was having with the City about our lack of communication about an $18 million low- and mixed-income housing grant that had been given to the City in 1996. HUD wanted a detailed report on how the City was planning to spend the money, along with our progress to date.
The letter also stated that this request had gone unanswered since 1998 and, due to the lack of communication, failure to submit a plan and the competition for these much-needed dollars around the country, we were to send our complete, detailed plan for our execution of the Hope 6 grant project, or return the funds within ten days.
As I read the letter, I realized I only had six days to solve the problem. This is how it always was in the beginning—one emergency after another. The City was going to lose $18 million of low-income housing money in six days if I didn’t do something. So, I started making phone calls. First, I contacted our Detroit Housing Department, which was an organizational and financial nightmare. There were so many problems with that department, it needs its own book. Of course, during my urgent calls, I discovered that the City had indeed received the previous six letters from HUD, and did not respond. And we also had no plan for spending the money. No progress. Actually, I was really not surprised.
Next, I called Washington, D.C., to speak to Michael Liu, who had sent the correspondence. As HUD’s assistant secretary, responsible for our region of the country, he discussed the continuing frustration that the department had with the City. He’d given Detroit too many chances in the past. He apologized and told me that there was nothing that he could do, and that I should prepare to return the money or send a detailed plan within three days. I knew it would be impossible to send a detailed plan within that time frame, and after all the negative dealings that preceded me, I
didn’t want to send him unprofessional junk. And I damn sure wasn’t sending the money back to HUD, so that was when I activated Plan C, which didn’t exist yet. But I believed it would materialize.
And it did. The State Republican Party was holding a fundraiser in the Detroit metro area, and the keynote speaker for the event was President George W. Bush. I learned that he would be arriving in Detroit the following evening.
“Great!” I thought. “I’ll have two days to save our money.” I called my mother’s congressional office, and we jointly worked on some credentials for me to meet the President at the airport when he exited Air Force One. He was set to arrive at 5 p.m. We got the approval in my office at about 3 p.m.
We raced down I-94 to Willow Run Airport. When we arrived, I was shocked at the size of the crowd. It was a very small, yet powerfully important group of people, at least to the Republican Party. All of the State’s big-time Republicans were there. Big donors like Governor John Engler, Senator Spencer Abraham, and more of their peers.
Surrendered: The Rise, Fall & Revolution of Kwame Kilpatrick Page 9