|The house I grew up in, in Detroit’s Pembroke neighborhood, or so I’m told. Still looks good. Area still looks good. Source: Ben Saunders|
This blog has been a pretty free-flowing venture for me. An idea occurs to me, and I write about it. As much as I’ve tried to add structure, it’s often eluded me. But I think I have something now I can sink my teeth into.
My work here was catalyzed by a piece I wrote called Reasons Behind Detroit’s Decline in early 2012. It originally appeared at the Urbanophile website, and within a few days I started my own blog by posting it there. In it, I demonstrate that the seeds of Detroit’s current condition were planted more than 100 years ago, due to governing and planning policy decisions made in the first third of the 20th century and an unwillingness to reverse or address the decisions in the middle third of the century. What happened in the latter third of the century, I maintain, was almost a natural outflow of the earlier decisions.
In that initial piece I outlined nine reasons I saw as contributing to Detroit’s fall from grace, going well beyond the tired “auto-industry-jobs-left-and-people-did-too” narrative. They were:
- Detroit’s poor neighborhood identification
- The city’s poor housing stock
- A poor public realm
- A strong downtown that was allowed to become weak
- Extensive freeway expansion
- Lack of/loss of the city’s transit network
- Ineffective local government organization
- An industrial landscape that choked and constrained the city’s core
- An ill-timed and unfulfilled annexation policy
“Ask a Chicagoan where they’re from, and they will likely give you a neighborhood name – Wrigleyville, Jefferson Park, Chatham. The same is true in other neighborhood-oriented cities like New York, Boston, even Washington, D.C. However, ask a Detroiter where they’re from, and they will likely tell you East Side or West Side; if pressed, they might note a key intersection. While the Motor City does have its share of traditional enclaves (Indian Village and English Village) and emerging hot spots (Midtown), Detroit is notable among large U.S. cities for having very poorly defined neighborhoods.”
This is still largely true. I spent the first 17 years of my life in Detroit, and I go back frequently, yet I could never identify where I grew up with a neighborhood name. Most people I knew felt the same way, in other parts of the city.
Poor neighborhood identification in Detroit is not universal, however. I mention Midtown, Indian Village and English Village above. There’s also Corktown, Woodbridge, the Cass Corridor, Mexicantown, Lafayette Park, and the Marina District. There’s also New Center, the North End, Boston-Edison, Delray and Chandler Park, to name more than a few. Detroit definitely does have neighborhoods. With names.
But what I’ve found is that Detroit’s strongly identified neighborhoods generally hew closely to downtown, and that the further one goes from the city center the less identifiable city neighborhoods become. You go a little further from downtown, and neighborhoods are often known as an intersection or the main thoroughfares (Dexter-Linwood, Grand-Meyers, Jefferson-Mack). As you might guess, people whose neighborhoods are referred to in this manner rarely refer to their neighborhood at all.
In some respects Detroit shares more commonalities with Sun Belt cities than it does with its Rust Belt neighbors. Detroit grew so fast, literally from nothing to urban core in a generation’s time, that what would eventually become neighborhoods never had the chance to have communities develop in a more organic fashion. By organic, I mean that the outskirts of many cities had rail junctions or farm trading centers that were settled by pioneers or immigrants, gained a community name, whistle stop and a post office, developed with a small commercial center and later had a real estate speculator construct a small subdivision that met the needs of the inhabitants. A community pattern was established that set the tone for future development, even after being subsumed by the big city. This pattern is consistent for much of the Northeast and Midwest — small rural communities being overtaken by a rapidly growing city. Sun Belt cities in the South and West are better known for having small rural communities or small cities that nearly burst whole cloth into large cities. Los Angeles, Phoenix and Las Vegas are well known for becoming major cities out of practically nothing that previously existed. Detroit fits that pattern.
Chicago is generally known for having the kind of explosive growth in the 19th and early 20th century that Sun Belt cities were known for in the post-WWII period. But Detroit grew even faster. Between 1870 and 1930, Chicago grew from 300,000 to 3.4 million, or a factor of eleven over 60 years. Detroit, however, grew from just 80,000 in 1870 to 1.6 million in 1930, twenty times its size just 60 years earlier. Whereas Chicago had whistle stops and farming centers that would later develop into Jefferson Park or Roseland, early Detroit went almost directly from forest to large city. Detroit never developed a sense of itself as a constellation of interrelated communities, only as an amorphous urban landscape disconnected from the people who inhabited it.
But since I started this I’ve since evidence that this is changing. Perhaps spurred on by hitting bottom over the last decade, Detroiters seem to be reclaiming and even creating neighborhood identity where none previously existed. The Detroit Blight Removal Task Force, which undertook the incredible task of identifying structural blight and abandonment in the Motor City, recently released its report on its findings. The task force also introduced an interactive map of their citywide survey results, and included a map illustrating blight by city neighborhood. It wasn’t until I saw this map that I found out that I used to live in the Pembroke neighborhood on the Northwest Side.
Just as Chicago has been collecting data by its 77 Community Areas since the 1920s, Detroit is now beginning to collect data organized by recognized neighborhoods. This map below has the neighborhoods with names (click to make big):
Simply looking at this map you can see where neighborhood identity is strongest and weakest. It is strongest going north-northwest of downtown, generally following the main thoroughfare that is Woodward Avenue; neighborhoods there occupy a smaller footprint, and have distinctive and descriptive names like Milwaukee Junction and Arden Park. Further east or west, however, neighborhoods lose their distinctiveness, and begin to have names like Seven Mile-Evergreen, or Berg-Lahser, or Greenfield-Grand River, all of which are major intersections. Maybe it’s just me, but neighborhoods shouldn’t be named after major intersections.
One anecdote: on my last two visits to Detroit, in March and just last week, I noticed a number of neighborhood signs scattered along West Outer Drive. The signs were generally in the area that the above map would identify as the Greenfield, Bagley and Belmont neighborhoods, but none of the signs I saw had those names. The signs appeared to have the logo of the Detroit Medical Center on them, which does have a hospital (Sinai-Grace) on West Outer Drive. It’s totally possible that the DMC has a community affairs or community relations office that is working with neighborhoods in the area, helping to raise the area’s profile, and by extension the DMC. That’s a positive move and quite a departure from previous institutional or corporate involvement in the city.
Neighborhood identity in Detroit is important, and integral to its revitalization. Detroit must do away with its image as a post-industrial, apocalyptic landscape, since it tells only part of the story. It needs to be viewed as a mosaic of diverse neighborhoods, each offering a variety of perspectives on Detroit living, because that’s far closer to the truth.