When Detroit paved over paradise: The story of I-375
If the
state rips out I-375 to make Detroit more accessible to pedestrians, as
some urban planners have urged, the move will come 60 years too late for
older black Detroiters who remember how freeways destroyed the city’s
historic Black Bottom district. Named for the rich dark soil that
French explorers first found there, the Black Bottom district in the
1940s and ’50s housed the city’s African-American entrepreneurial class,
with dozens of thriving black-owned businesses and the Paradise Valley
entertainment zone, where Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald and Count
Basie performed.
But the builders of I-75 and I-375 plowed
multilane highways right through Hastings Street, the commercial heart
of Black Bottom, and projects such as Lafayette Park and the public
housing projects to the north destroyed the rest in the name of
progress. Black Bottom, Paradise Valley, was indeed a paradise
for black entrepreneurial businesses,” said Sidney Barthwell Jr., 66, a
36th District Court magistrate whose father, Sidney Barthwell, ran a
chain of pharmacies and ice cream shops in Black Bottom. The Barthwell
business network, among the most important black businesses in America
at the time, was mostly wiped out by the freeway construction.
“Funeral
homes, doctors — there were a dozen different black-owned hospitals (in
Black Bottom), because in those days, they wouldn’t admit you into the
major hospitals if you were African-American,” Barthwell said. “The
Detroit black community in its heyday was absolutely fantastic. It was
better than Harlem.”
Historian Joe T. Darden of Michigan State
University, co-author of the new book “Detroit: Race Riots, Racial
Conflicts and Efforts to Bridge the Racial Divide,” said the Detroit
experience needs to be remembered for what was lost to urban renewal and
expressways in the 1950s and ’60s.
“Some people may not know
that history, so if nothing else, it’s important to put that into
perspective and say more about it,” he said.
What's next for I-375?
No
one suggests that Black Bottom could be rebuilt as it was should I-375
be removed. Rather, proponents of ripping out the freeway contend that a
restored surface street would make the surrounding neighborhoods
friendlier to pedestrians, better connecting Eastern Market and
Lafayette Park with downtown. Removing the freeway also could allow
parks and new commercial development to rise on the reclaimed surface
area.
The benefits of removing freeways from the hearts of cities
is a theme of growing popularity in urban planning. During the recent
Bruner Loeb Forum on urban design held at the University of Detroit
Mercy, removing expressways was a key focus, with advocates citing case
studies from Syracuse, N.Y., Milwaukee and other cities.
“Like
weeds, the freeway in the city is the wrong thing. It’s a failed
experiment in America,” urban planner Peter J. Park said. “When you take
freeways out of cities, they get better.”
Built in 1964 at a
cost of $50 million (about $375 million in 2013 dollars), the I-375
freeway runs for slightly more than a mile, with recent traffic counts
registering 45,000 vehicles a day at I-375 and Lafayette.
Detroit
is hardly alone in thinking of removing a freeway. Indeed, removing
freeways from urban downtowns ranks among the hottest trends in urban
planning today.
Milwaukee, San Francisco and Portland, Ore., have
all ripped out part of their freeway systems, replacing them with parks
or surface roads. Cleveland and other cities plan to do the same, and
cities such as Toronto and Washington, D.C., killed freeway projects
after opponents warned that they would do irreparable harm to urban
neighborhoods.
Corktown, too
Not everyone in Detroit remembers the story of the urban renewal efforts of the ’50s and ’60s the same way.
Ed
Hustoles, now 87, was a young urban planner from Chicago when he joined
the City of Detroit’s planning department in 1953. He had been
recruited by legendary Detroit planner Charles Blessing, who put
Hustoles to work helping plan both the Lafayette Park residential
district and the redevelopment of Corktown on the west side as a light
industrial park.
“Memories are always better than things really
were,” Hustoles said last week. Both the African-American Black Bottom
district and the white Corktown area were filled with dilapidated wooden
buildings dating to the 1800s. Fires, crime and skid-row poverty
surrounded downtown.
What Detroiters now call Corktown is just a
remnant of a much larger area mostly wiped out by urban renewal, with
white residents — many from the South — displaced to make way for block
after block of businesses and an industrial park just west of downtown.
The
neighborhoods destroyed in Corktown and Black Bottom were among the
oldest in the city. “When we worked on the Lafayette Park project, we
found wooden sewers, logs that had been hollowed out that were still in
use,” Hustoles said. “They were, like, 150 years old. It was obsolete.
The buildings were old.”
Once, walking through a Corktown alley
during the planning process, he came across a huge pile of garbage with a
rat scampering across it, while directly above it, an elderly woman sat
at her window. “And she said to me, ‘Please don’t take my home,’ ”
Hustoles recalled. “It was horrible. She was living in a rat-infested
area, and yet it was her home.”
The developments that replaced
Black Bottom and much of Corktown were viewed as enlightened — the
upscale Lafayette Park district, the public housing north of there built
to be clean and safe, and the warehouses and other industrial
applications built on the near-west side of downtown.
But those good intentions meant little to the families displaced for freeways and other development, Barthwell said.
“That
really just ripped the guts out of that (Black Bottom) neighborhood,”
he said. “It, in essence, destroyed my father’s business. Basically,
everybody had
to move out. It was devastating, and it’s never
been the same again. Kind of like a black diaspora. We went all over,
where we could get in.”
The destruction of neighborhoods may best
be understood from a national perspective. Coming out of World War II,
when massive mobilization of industry was led by “whiz kids” in Detroit,
the nation had a taste for huge public infrastructure projects amid an
optimism that poverty and blight could be ended forever. The
construction of I-75 and I-375 in Detroit must be seen against the
backdrop of the Eisenhower-era effort to build the nation’s interstate
highway system, slashing freeways through cities.
“That was going to be done because the federal government wanted it done,” Hustoles said. “The auto industry wanted it done.”
Nor
have cities necessarily learned that neighborhoods need to be protected
against ambitious infrastructure plans. In in what may be the biggest
historical irony of all, state and federal highway builders are now
proposing to expand Detroit’s network of freeways, with major widening
projects in planning for I-94 through Detroit’s thriving Midtown
district and I-75 through several miles of Oakland County.
Planners
at the Southeast Michigan Council of Governments have approved the
projects over fierce community opposition. The argument in favor of the
projects remains the same as it was 50 years ago -- the need to move
huge volumes of traffic through the bottlenecks of an urban landscape.
State
Rep. Jim Townsend, D-Royal Oak, has been lobbying to kill the freeway
expansions, arguing that freeway planners were “seemingly trapped in
time warp where lessons about the downside of chain-smoking,
three-martini lunches and city-destroying freeway widening have not been
learned.”
Hustoles sounds wistful today remembering at the distance of half a century what was viewed as a great revitalization effort.
“I
was a young guy out of college,” he said. “We thought we were doing
good. We were taking blight away and giving people decent, safe, and
sanitary housing, and we were rebuilding the city.
“Well, in retrospect, you can always do some things differently.”
SCRIPTURES
ISAIAH 51:23 But I will put it into the hand of them that afflict thee;
which have said to thy soul, Bow down, that we may go over: and thou
hast laid thy body as the ground, and as the street, to them that went
over.
ECCLESIASTICUS 12:10 Never trust thine enemy: for like as
iron rusteth, so is his wickedness. 11 Though he humble himself, and go
crouching, yet take good heed and beware of him, and thou shalt be unto
him as if thou hadst wiped a lookingglass, and thou shalt know that his
rust hath not been altogether wiped away.
12 Set him not by thee, lest,
when he hath overthrown thee, he stand up in thy place; neither let him
sit at thy right hand, lest he seek to take thy seat, and thou at the
last remember my words, and be pricked therewith.
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