Letting Go of Detroit

June 12, 2002

Even the best of friends tend to lose touch over the years, and that‘s how my relationship has been with the metro Detroit area lately.
I spent nearly 20 years living on both sides of 8 Mile Road before moving north and have had strong ties to Detroit ever since in the way of family, friends and the occasional concert, play or sporting event.
But since my parents moved here a year-and-a-half ago, those ties have faded to the point where Detroit now seems a strange and alien haunt, populated by the likes of Eminem, Kid Rock and his Ortonville squeeze, Pammy Anderson.
I know that many of you readers share the same experience, since it still seems rare to find an actual “native“ in Northern Michigan. So many of us refugees arrived here from Flint, Jackson, Grand Rapids, Detroit, Chicago... I‘ve met more than a dozen people who lived in the same small neighborhood as I did around the Cadieux and Mack area on Detroit‘s east side; they were next-door neighbors years ago and I didn‘t meet them until moving north. And I‘ve met an amazing number of people in Northern Michigan who seem to have attended the same Who concert back in ‘68 at the old Grande Ballroom, or the same Moody Blues/Van Morrison concert the night that Jimi Hendrix‘s death from a drug overdose was announced. The Moodies played “Legend of a Mind“ in Jimi‘s honor -- anyone remember that? Thought so.
But still, the reasons for returning to the big D keep dwindling, and for me the final spike was the recent announcement of the new 10,000-seat amphitheater which will open at Turtle Creek Casino in Williamsburg next year. My family and I used to drive down to Pine Knob for a show or two each summer, but now those acts will be coming up this-a-way, so there won‘t be much need to endure that 240-mile ordeal down I-75 and back. Can‘t say that I‘ll miss dodging the headlight-addled deer by the side of the road on those late night runs back home, or the thrill of having some weaving drunk cruise up on your bumper at 95 mph on the stretch between Flint and Saginaw.
In truth, one of the blessings of living in Northern Michigan is the allure of Chicago as an alternative big city destination, the cultural gravity of which can sway even the most hardcore ex-Detroiter. On a recent trip we caught the interurban train line to the Windy City from Michigan City on the Indiana border, saving on parking fees and traffic hassles and arriving smack downtown in the hotel zone.
A recent article in the Tribune noted that since Los Angeles is considering a split, Chicago could soon return to its status as America‘s “Second City“ once again, an honor it lost in 1992. When you consider that the second largest city in America is just 5 hours down the road, with a theater, music, dining and museum scene to rival that of New York, it‘s hard to point your steering wheel in the direction of Motown instead.
So, regretfully, I find myself one of those outstate people I used to criticize who care less and less about Detroit during each succeeding election. Not for any lack of empathy for the struggling people within its city limits, but because after you‘ve dined at Greektown, been to a game at the new Tiger Stadium, and have made the rounds of coffeehouses in hyper-hip Royal Oak a coupl‘a times, there‘s not much reason to make Detroit‘s scene. North of 8 Mile Road, folks in the metro area have gone the way of much of suburban American: the chief pastime seems to be going to the mall.
Detroit still holds great promise. It‘s working on a futuristic bus system which could help redesign the concept of mass transit across America, including Northern Michigan. And as last week‘s Electronic Music Festival in the heart of the city reminded us, Detroit has always been a crucible for some of the nation‘s most forward-looking music -- music sandblasted into being by the inspiration of urban grit and the angst of the underdog.
But like anyplace, Northern Michigan included, it‘s a town that has to sell itself to get the eager customers coming back for more.