Black Detroit

by Herb Boyd

  With his administration reeling and muddled with controversy, Bing received another blow when he learned his good friend Sam Logan had died. Logan, a native of Louisiana but a product of Detroit schools, including Commerce High School and the University of Detroit, died three days after Christmas in 2011. He was best known for his stewardship of the Michigan Chronicle; during his forty years there, he rose through the ranks, mainly in advertising, and eventually facilitated the sale of the paper to Real Times Publishing, Inc.

  To Mayor Bing, Logan “was more than a Detroit icon, he was a respected pioneer in black journalism who championed the need for coverage of a community not totally served by the mainstream media.”20 Bing was among the hundreds who attended Logan’s funeral at Greater Grace Temple. He mourned the passing of his friend, and funeral director O’Neil Swanson’s encomium was thoughtfully composed, but he knew there would be more gloom for the city in a couple of months when he delivered his State of the City speech. By then Detroit would be completely broke, and there would be more serious talk about an emergency manager to take over the city, something Mayor Bing had sworn not to ask for, though the governor had earlier signed legislation into law with provisions allowing the state to intervene in distressed cities such as Detroit.

  Gradually, the murmurs of bankruptcy began to swell into a crescendo that echoed from the Renaissance Center to the Fisher Building, a reality residents experienced years ago in the surrounding neighborhoods. Bing said that one of the mistakes the newly appointed emergency manager, Kevyn D. Orr, made was “that he got too heavily involved in city government . . . when his job was to help get our finances straight. It’s hard enough doing one job and he was trying to do two.”21

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  A LOOMING CHIMERA

  Amid the rumors of bankruptcy there were seeds of hope, at least for downtown Detroit, with the arrival of Dan Gilbert’s Quicken Loans and Compuware, whose financial pledges to help employees find homes nearby were matched by Blue Cross/Blue Shield of Michigan and other companies. Similar efforts had been launched years before in midtown, where the expansion of Wayne State University and Detroit Medical Center and the subsequent development in the area spurred development along the waterfront. Although wealth is concentrated downtown, there are pockets of black prosperity from Palmer Woods, in the city’s north, to Grayhaven, on the far east side. These neighborhoods recall some of the vistas of beauty and promise once prevalent in Detroit. They are reminders of the glorious boulevards of dreams and enchanting cottages that black Detroiters purchased and refinished with homeowners’ unbreakable love. Now there were only vestiges of the splendid streets, well-kept manicured lawns, and homes brimming with hope and possibility. This was a time when the city had the largest percentage of black homeowners and the highest comparative wages in the nation.

  Many black residents were upset that reporters deployed to the city excluded them from discussion when they wrote about the “good things,” mostly downtown. Yes, the ruins are extensive—and none more bleak and devastated than Highland Park. A Sherwood Forest, Indian Village, and Lafayette Park may not be beautiful, but they are a far cry from the reports about a city resembling Dresden after the bombings of World War II.

  During a visit to the city in the summer of 2015, Darren Walker, President of the Ford Foundation, was given a tour, and he noticed the contrast. He passed through Sherwood Forest and then into the blighted areas near Woodward and Seven Mile Road. “We’re used to seeing this in India and other locations, but to see it in our neighborhood is disturbing,” he said. “What continues to inspire me is the optimism in the city. People in Detroit have a boundless capacity to be the best and look to the future.”1

  Over the last three or four years, with bankruptcy a reality and the emergency manager in place, the city continues to alternate between positive signs of development below Grand Boulevard and ceaseless decay beyond. Even so, there is an interesting plan on the drawing board that would combine Dan Gilbert’s Bedrock, Jim Jenkins’s construction company, and Rheal Capital Management, founded and led by John Rhea, the former chairman and CEO of the New York City Housing Authority (NYCHA). With Rhea at the throttle, the nexus of companies—with these three as the putative core—would, as he views it, be able to provide the capital, incentive, and know-how to rebuild the city. Unlike the squadron of reporters who parachuted in, got their stories, and departed, Rhea was born and raised in the city, a successful product of the DPS and a graduate of Detroit Jesuit High School. He earned his bachelor’s degree in economics and government from Wesleyan University before being hired at PaineWebber. He earned his MBA from Harvard Business School. His background in investment banking, corporate strategy, and financial management prepared him for the task of revitalizing Detroit. All was not rosy in New York City under the Bloomberg administration, and it was widely reported that Rhea resigned before Mayor Bill de Blasio could fire him. After four years at NYCHA, whatever the reasons for his departure, administering the largest array of public housing in the nation has endowed him with a perspective he could not have acquired otherwise. “Detroit is very attractive,” Rhea said during an interview with Michigan Chronicle reporter Donald James. “This is the first time in decades that I’ve seen a broad coalition in Detroit across such entities as government agencies, private sectors, foundations, philanthropic groups, banks, and local residents, all joining together and putting together a blueprint as to what role they will collectively play to move Detroit forward.”2

  Rhea’s plan and one proposed by Chris Ilitch—his “transformational initiative” to create more than eight thousand construction-related jobs—are what thousands of unemployed Detroiters are hoping for. Proof of their desire to work was demonstrated in the spring of 2013, when a multitude of job seekers showed up for a job fair at Quicken Loans, which was looking to recruit about five hundred people.3

  In November 2014, less than sixteen months after Detroit became the largest city in the nation ever to file for bankruptcy, federal judge Steven W. Rhodes approved a plan for the city to rid itself of $7 billion in debt and invest $1.7 billion in city services. “What happened in Detroit must never happen again,” Judge Rhodes said. “This must never be repeated anywhere in this state.”4

  A sigh of relief echoed from the city’s riverfront all the way to Eight Mile Road, especially in parts of Detroit suffering most from the financial calamity. Now that the “grand bargain”—which saved the valuable collection at the Detroit Institute of Arts as well as providing money to salvage workers’ pensions—is a done deal, there are still a number of details to be worked out. The path toward solvency remains tricky. Emergency manager Kevyn D. Orr has done his job and moved on, but too much of the emergency continues to strain the city’s delicate fiscal condition.

  Even so, the city is no longer on life support, no longer in danger of a fiscal meltdown, and there’s a stronger economic pulse with the arrival of new companies and industries. One of the more impressive ventures to Detroit is that of Shinola (not the defunct shoe-polish company). Watches are the company’s main product, but it also manufactures bicycles, leather goods, and an assortment of other items. Most meaningful for Detroiters are the job opportunities, and it was certainly encouraging to see African American men and women, presumably employees, in the company’s recent nationwide advertising campaign. If the ad is representative of black employees at the company, then it’s a hopeful sign, not only of the city’s business rejuvenation, but also of job opportunities for its residents, particularly for those who now comprise the bulk of the unemployed.

  When Shinola was launched in 2012, it was part of a wave of new enterprises seeking traction in a city still reeling from bankruptcy. Many questioned the decision to locate in Detroit, but the company’s explanation was enthusiastically received. “We know there’s not just history in Detroit, there is a future,” the company stated. They were bringing back Detroit’s “glory of manufacturing”—good news for the economically depressed residen
ts, those already in flight, and those on the verge of departure. “We felt like this is our fourth year, and we have a lot of things to celebrate, but especially over 500 employees in the U.S. now,” said Bridget Russo, Shinola’s chief marketing officer. “The campaign is highlighting not only the brand, but the job creation and ultimately the people, because they’re the fabric of what we do.”5

  It is not disclosed how much of that “fabric” of 500 employees is African American, but almost 400 of the workers live in Detroit. About 240 of them work in manufacturing; others work on e-commerce, marketing, and the company’s website.

  Shinola could be a harbinger of the city’s recovery. It is certainly welcomed with optimism by those working there as well as the thousands of others hoping for jobs in the near future. That optimism is enhanced by Shinola’s plan to expand its operation in the city beyond its manufacturing center in the Cass Corridor and its headquarters in the College of Creative Studies in the historic Argonaut Building in midtown.

  “I’ve been working at Shinola for more than three years,” one employee said. There’s a “good employee discount, friendly coworkers (some),” and “most managers while being focused on the business can still be fairly nice and respectful to employees.”6

  It remains to be seen what impact the “grand bargain” will have on black Detroiters, though pensioners should be relieved. The economic collapse did not happen overnight. Like so much of Detroit’s history, good or bad, it was the result of a cumulative process, a steady interaction of social, political, and economic elements that collided and often tumbled to unpredictable outcomes. Long before the current crisis, there were indicators, portents of disaster in the same way that decay and erosion forecast devastation. Sometimes, if remedies are applied promptly, the crash can be averted. In Detroit’s case, the changing demographics, a shrinking revenue base, the onset of deindustrialization, corporate indifference, inadequate management, and corruption eviscerated a metropolis already struggling for stability. I leave it to the social scientists and economists to assess the damage, how it got there, and what can be done to restore and sustain the city. Let them quibble over the water and sewage flow of revenue at the core of the argument about regional government, whether the bankruptcy was inevitable, the actual worth of the “grand bargain,” what agency or entity will control the city’s financial future, and most important, the pertinence of race in the whole shebang. It’s hard to analyze and evaluate anything in America without carefully considering the race factor; for that reason, Detroit, with its black majority, could be a test case for many aspects of social, political, and economic control of municipalities. But at this stage of Detroit’s history, Councilman James Tate feels that class is equally important in understanding the city’s dilemma. He’s not about to dismiss the race factor, but it’s not as pronounced in a city that’s predominantly black. “What I hear more than anything among my constituents is renters versus homeowners,” he said.7

  It is no easy assignment to pinpoint when and how the race, class, and gender factors were in play when the city began its downward spiral. Doing so will challenge even the best historians and social scientists. In his book The Unwinding: An Inner History of the New America, George Packer wrote that no one can say when the country began to unravel, because “it began at countless times, in countless ways.” Such is the unraveling of Detroit, and its reassembling may occur with a similar sense of mystery, the indicators of renewal no less baffling than the first trace of “rust on the belt.”

  In July 1701, Detroit came into existence. In July 2013, Detroit reached the nadir of decline. In July 2015, Mike Duggan took the wheel, the first white mayor since Roman Gribbs (1970–74). He won because he earned the black vote and now, as the late James Boggs once warned, he has the awesome responsibility of leadership. One glorious thing in his favor is the city’s history, a tradition of getting up off the floor, coming back in the same way Joe Louis came back on June 22, 1938. Like Detroit, there was no place for him to go but up, after hitting rock bottom. But bottom without “Black” attached is meaningless for poet jessica Care moore, who moved back to Detroit from New York City, looking for the “old city” that she prefers rather than all the talk about a “new Detroit.” Her energetic enthusiasm for her hometown is undiminished by all the negative reports. “I grew up in Detroit with a father who had his own construction company, he was a hardhat,” she remembered, noting that he helped build Wonderland Mall. “His name was Tom Moore and he had a Cadillac and I would ride in the front with him.” Moore has her own publishing company, and her new book, Sunlight Through Bullet Holes, is an homage to Detroit. She explains that the book and its title are emblematic of a resurgent Detroit and says, “Despite the attacks on us we find the light.”8 “The integrity and heart of our people are not bankrupt,” one of her poems declares. “We are rich with history. Raised on tradition. Our Daddy’s lessons / Our Momma’s intuition.”

  Another renowned Detroit poet, from far away Oaxaca, Mexico, echoes her colleague:

  From Now On

  and put your ear here:

  the sound of our soul

  is felt no more

  in the punishing piston’s drive

  but the straight ahead free flight

  of 2 am jam sessions

  supplanting the song of the slave.

  in the Eastern region

  farmed by Yusef Lateef

  and legions of others

  we thrive.

  tonight

  geri allen, marian hayden, regina carter, and gaylynn

  mckinney

  play us into the dawn

  and here come

  james carter, craig taborn, jaribu shahid, rayse

  biggs, david macmurrary

  tani tabal, pam wise, rodney whitaker, shawn

  thunder wallace . . .

  the line at the bandstand is long

  with depth and reach

  to vault this river

  in one wide stride rhythm

  swingin’

  from now on.

  —Michele Gibbs, from Spare Parts: The Detroit Suite (Shango Fireside Publishing, Highland Park, MI, 1998)

  AFTERWORD

  By Ron Lockett, Executive Director of the Northwest Activities Center

  From my current position as the executive director of the Northwest Activities Center, having lived many years on the city’s east side and attended school in midtown and elsewhere—to say nothing of my six decades working in and around Detroit—I think I can speak with authority about my hometown. In Black Detroit: A People’s History of Self-Determination, Herb Boyd has done a marvelous job of research and discussion, and many of the incidents and personalities he cites are inextricably connected with my experiences.

  At the moment, Detroit is a city on the rebound, with numerous new economic developments in the downtown and midtown areas. Midtown, though it now encompasses more territory, was once known as the Cass Corridor. Its hot real estate now includes Wayne State University, Tech Town, the Cultural Center, and many renovated living quarters with soaring rents. The area literally has its own transportation service, the Q Line, a streetcar system named after one of its benefactors, Quicken Loans, owned by billionaire Dan Gilbert. Little Caesars Arena will host both the Red Wings and the Pistons. Sadly, the arena developers have been unable to meet the goal of hiring 50 percent Detroiters to work on this $700 million project. The penalty is a fine that goes into a fund for training city residents to become job ready. Somehow it seems that Detroiters are missing out on a major event that occurs every generation or two.

  Most Detroiters live in neighborhoods, and in these areas, development is uneven. There are some flashes of improvement, but by and large, communities are still struggling with unemployment, crime, and low-achieving schools. Detroit is a city with large expanses of uninhabited land and is sprinkled with thirty-one thousand vacant and dilapidated houses. In various pockets throughout town, community-based organizations have work
ed tirelessly to maintain their respective areas against a tide of neglect and disinvestment. The current mayoral administration has tried to use an assortment of methods to arrest the decline of the neighborhoods, with moderate success. This gargantuan task has been assisted with massive aid from the Obama administration, but the city still has major hurdles ahead with a large poor, unskilled, and semiliterate population.

  There are several African American–led organizations aiding the “New Detroit” culturally. These groups include the Wright Museum, Chene Park, and N’Namdi Gallery. The Carr Center, a social-cultural venue, was unable to keep its site in the new Paradise Valley development (Harmonie Park) and is looking for a new permanent home. The terrain is difficult and perilous for cultural groups without large endowments and corporate sponsors. Many organizations with wonderful visions have been unable to survive.

  For Detroit to improve the quality of life for all its residents, a mechanism for them to share directly in the governance of the city must be created. Political power and self-governance has been severely weakened by the State of Michigan by its toxic tools of bankruptcy and emergency management. Lansing has a very paternalistic view of Detroit, the city that essentially built the state. For the improvement of schools, public transportation, and human services and for the rebuilding of its aging infrastructure to occur, Detroiters must retake total control of their institutions. This power must be seized in what is a protracted battle for survival of the soul of the city. Most residents in struggling neighborhoods can’t move away and have limited options for improving their condition. There is plenty of ferment for change in the neighborhoods.

  Northwest Activities Center (NWAC) is a pillar of stability. As one of the largest community centers in Southeast Michigan, the NWAC provides an array of services to Detroit residents from the dawn of their existence to their twilight years. However, the status quo was anything but clear in the intervening years before the historic Detroit municipal bankruptcy. As a nonprofit corporation focused on uplifting its residents, it had to search for a corporate partner committed to its historic mission. In the years before bankruptcy, the annual city allocation provided to NWAC plummeted to zero, and the organization had to rebrand itself as a unit bringing the community together within its walls to fill the various service-delivery vacuums in northwest Detroit. Enter Fifth Third Bank, providing a $2 million lifeline to NWAC for capital building improvements and employee back pay. NWAC was built in 1955 as the Jewish Community Center and bequeathed to the City of Detroit in 1974. The 1967 rebellion hastened the departure of Detroit Jews from the area. The Center was part of the Jewish community for only nineteen years, while the African American community has been served by it for the past forty-two years. Today NWAC has over three hundred thousand visitors annually.