The Story...
It was a dark and stormy night… Well, maybe it wasn’t stormy, but it was indeed night. As memory serves the year was around 1984. I had been raised in Detroit for all of my mighty twelve years so far and I was beginning to develop a curiosity about the city around me. My parents grew up in the City Airport area which is where we lived until we moved to Indian Village when I was four. Being surrounded by history as soon as I went out our front door began to play in my mind as I realized that my neighborhood was very nearly a living museum. Regular tours of the area as well as having an amateur historian as a father further guided my new found wonder of history and of Detroit. As a result of this environment I suppose I was naturally led that night when I was twelve, to look up as our family truckster exited I-75 onto Gratiot. There before me stood the tallest building in the world at that moment, the Rickel Malt grain elevator. As I gazed at its enormous bulk of grey against the black night sky, I noticed near the top of the tower, a single window glowing, the only sign of life in an otherwise morose giant.
Seeing this window, as near as I can recall, was the first time I had ever wanted to go exploring inside a building. I had this incessant need to know: What the hell was going on in that room, and ONLY that room, during what to me was surely the middle of the night? In retrospect it was probably late fall and more near 6 pm than the witching hour. But my mind would hear none of that. It was late and everyone should have gone home for the day and this was just not the order of things in the world and obviously some kind of unspeakable acts were occurring in that high tower and what the hell were they?
So, I have to thank for my now decades long obsession with Detroit history and architecture some poor worker who probably just forgot to hit the light switch. I did finally make it into that room in 1996 when demolition began. It was a stark and empty room save for some mechanical controls whose purpose eluded me. I could find no traces of the nefarious activity I was sure had occurred here over a decade before. I did find, however, the long awaited satisfaction of actually getting into that room.
Another small irony of my developing interest of Detroit history occurred around that same time. My father, a Navy veteran, had seen that a destroyer was on a good will cruise of the Great Lakes and was due to stop near Hart Plaza for tours. Wanting to keep the true nature of the trip a surprise, he told me we were going downtown to “…look at the backs of buildings to see how they’re made.” Despite my burgeoning curiosity I could think of nothing more absolutely boring than what my father was suggesting. Now, I find myself doing just that out of habit; judging a building’s age by the arched brick over the windows, or locating the elevator shaft and stairwell by the off set windows.
I’ve been lucky enough over the years to meet many folks who share my passion for the golden days of Detroit. We’ve teamed up on many occasions to explore and photograph the myriad abandoned buildings in the city from J.L. Hudson’s and Michigan Central Depot to storefronts along Grand River and even the occasional apartment building or house. I’ve also connected with other collectors of Detroit memorabilia and coupled with the Urban Spelunking adventures have amassed a room full of Detroit “Stuff”. Hence The Detroit Room was born. I’ve been pleasantly surprised with the reaction of visitors to the room, and have relished the story telling and exchange of history and information these visits have allowed.
In 2011 my wife and I reluctantly sold our Detroit home of 14 years and moved up to the 45th Parallel. Our neighborhood had steadily continued to decline like so many others in the city, my parents needed help in preparing to sell their small business up north and retire, and we were celebrating the birth of our first child. All these things put the writing on the wall for us and so The Detroit Room now resides in several dozen carefully packed boxes, awaiting the chance to be shared and enjoyed again soon. We have an exciting plan for that in the works and hope to put it in motion in the next few years. We look forward to the next chapter of The Detroit Room and welcoming others to remember and enjoy Detroit as it once was and hopefully will be again.
Until the next chapter is written….
Seeing this window, as near as I can recall, was the first time I had ever wanted to go exploring inside a building. I had this incessant need to know: What the hell was going on in that room, and ONLY that room, during what to me was surely the middle of the night? In retrospect it was probably late fall and more near 6 pm than the witching hour. But my mind would hear none of that. It was late and everyone should have gone home for the day and this was just not the order of things in the world and obviously some kind of unspeakable acts were occurring in that high tower and what the hell were they?
So, I have to thank for my now decades long obsession with Detroit history and architecture some poor worker who probably just forgot to hit the light switch. I did finally make it into that room in 1996 when demolition began. It was a stark and empty room save for some mechanical controls whose purpose eluded me. I could find no traces of the nefarious activity I was sure had occurred here over a decade before. I did find, however, the long awaited satisfaction of actually getting into that room.
Another small irony of my developing interest of Detroit history occurred around that same time. My father, a Navy veteran, had seen that a destroyer was on a good will cruise of the Great Lakes and was due to stop near Hart Plaza for tours. Wanting to keep the true nature of the trip a surprise, he told me we were going downtown to “…look at the backs of buildings to see how they’re made.” Despite my burgeoning curiosity I could think of nothing more absolutely boring than what my father was suggesting. Now, I find myself doing just that out of habit; judging a building’s age by the arched brick over the windows, or locating the elevator shaft and stairwell by the off set windows.
I’ve been lucky enough over the years to meet many folks who share my passion for the golden days of Detroit. We’ve teamed up on many occasions to explore and photograph the myriad abandoned buildings in the city from J.L. Hudson’s and Michigan Central Depot to storefronts along Grand River and even the occasional apartment building or house. I’ve also connected with other collectors of Detroit memorabilia and coupled with the Urban Spelunking adventures have amassed a room full of Detroit “Stuff”. Hence The Detroit Room was born. I’ve been pleasantly surprised with the reaction of visitors to the room, and have relished the story telling and exchange of history and information these visits have allowed.
In 2011 my wife and I reluctantly sold our Detroit home of 14 years and moved up to the 45th Parallel. Our neighborhood had steadily continued to decline like so many others in the city, my parents needed help in preparing to sell their small business up north and retire, and we were celebrating the birth of our first child. All these things put the writing on the wall for us and so The Detroit Room now resides in several dozen carefully packed boxes, awaiting the chance to be shared and enjoyed again soon. We have an exciting plan for that in the works and hope to put it in motion in the next few years. We look forward to the next chapter of The Detroit Room and welcoming others to remember and enjoy Detroit as it once was and hopefully will be again.
Until the next chapter is written….