I need you to suspend disbelief for a moment while I tell you a brief story, but I promise you that it will all come full circle at the end.

Imagine a small town. A blue collar Midwest town filled with hardworking blue collar men, with names like Al or Bob. These hardworking men have good honest wives, Christian women, usually named Mary. Imagine that Al/Bob works at the local refinery, he’s been there for 15 years or so but is still a contract worker, waiting to get hired in full time by the union.  Al/Bob just so happens to have a bad back, and he takes a few too many pain pills just to get through the day. They have a 17 year old son who’s gay and afraid to come out to his parents. This is a nice quiet town with a bowling alley and an Italian restaurant. There’s good fishing down by the river, and you can sit outside at night on your front porch and listen to the silence. The people of the small town raise their children, they cut their grass, and they mind their own business, but little do they know that the refinery is pumping toxic smoke into the air…

A single house remains

Years later, the people of this small town are struggling with Asthma and various other breathing issues. They’re coughing up blood, they’re light headed all the time, some of them are having a series of mini strokes. They’re desperate for answers that the small town Doctor just doesn’t have. It can’t be the smoke coming from the refinery can it? They promised these good people jobs after all, safe jobs and clean air. They were promised a new park with a new playground, a state of the art fire truck, and a hefty raise for the sheriff. The same folks who made those promises wouldn’t be poisoning the air, and telling them that everything is going to be alright, would they?

Fast forward a couple of decades and let’s envision a community center, recently remodeled with funds from the refinery. There’s a well dressed man on the stage with a podium and a microphone. I like to picture him with a Bolo Tie, I don’t know why, but let’s roll with it…He’s telling the locals about all of the good things that the refinery has done for the town. It’s hard to hear him though because of all the coughing and wheezing sounds that fill the room, there’s a baby crying in the background and people are yelling, demanding answers… The well dressed man is avoiding their questions, instead he’s talking about a new plan.
He’s talking about  “Increasing the buffer zone”. They will buy your home, and help you move. You have a way out of here, we will tear down your old home, and plant grass and trees, we will erect a sign or two in honor of the past residents and build a park that no one can go outside and enjoy. All of this so they can double the pollution currently allowed by law of course…

If you’re having a hard time imagining this, just take a drive down Fort St, park your car and stand outside in one of the empty lots where someone’s home used to be, take a big deep breath and imagine living there and breathing that air for 35 years…. You’ll understand right away as your lungs burn from the undeniable stench of rotten eggs. The air is thick with Sulphur and deception, it permeates your soul. 

Michigan Made Detroit Driven

Remember when I told you that it would all come full circle? 

Well, I may have embellished the details a little, but you get the idea. Oakwood Heights has been bulldozed, there’s nothing but empty streets and No Trespassing signs planted in the dirt where houses used to be. The buffer zone has been increased. The air is more toxic than ever before. It hurts your lungs just driving through this section of SW Detroit (with the windows rolled up). Only a few stubborn residents remain, hoping for a better offer from the refinery that will likely never come.

It’s getting harder to find anything interesting to photograph in Oakwood Heights anymore.  Each time I go back I tell myself that this is the last time, and then I repeat the process all over again… One thing that still remains is the stench, but unfortunately that can’t be captured on film.

A house next to the refinery

Here’s a small collection of photos that document what’s left today.  

Much has already been written about the rise and fall of Delray. 
Since I grew up there, I feel qualified to offer my short but concise perspective.

The Ideal Bar, Still Standing

When I was a kid in the 70’s, people and businesses were already moving out of Delray for a number of years. In spite of the decline in population, Delray was a pretty special place to call home. The glory days were certainly in the rear view mirror, but the neighborhood was still full of tradition and culture. Holy Cross Church continued to put on the Hungarian Festival every year, Szabos Market, Kovacs Bar, Al’s Lounge, they were all doing ok. My grandmother sold Hungarian pastries out of our home, and people still walked to church in the morning.

By the end of the 1970’s however, the exodus of Delray’s longtime residents had accelerated. Increased pollution, industrialization, crime, and racial tension were among the causes.

The mid 1980’s ushered in a new threat, the Crack cocaine epidemic; a ravenous monster with an appetite that could not be satisfied. Families, homes, schools and churches were being swallowed up whole by the plague of addiction, leaving in it’s wake a landscape that would later be referred to as a ghost town. By the end of the 80’s, anyone who could leave Delray, fled to the downriver suburbs. Those less fortunate, would have to try and tough it out.

Szent Janos, Abandoned By All

For anyone left stranded, the 1990’s proved to be even worse. The strangle hold that Crack had on America was suffocating, especially in a place like Delray which was already struggling to breathe (quite literally). As the 90’s came to an end, history continued to disappear right before our eyes. The neighbors you had known your whole life were gone, their homes burned to the ground. The streets were silent, except for the familiar sounds of sirens, and gun shots blasting in the night. 

Fast forward to today, Delray is a modern day tragedy. The fabric of it’s existence is once again being torn apart, this time by a new enemy, the Gordie Howe International Bridge to Canada. Anything that remained standing within the footprint of progress has been bulldozed…concrete poured over the unmarked graves. 

Gordie Howe Bridge Towers In The Distance

The few remaining inhabitants of Delray are now the gatekeepers of a once vibrant and culturally significant part of Detroit’s history. Most of them are not even aware of their newly assigned roles and the responsibility that comes with it.
This lack of knowing, will likely be the final nail in Delray’s coffin.

An Occupied Home Remains

I’m assuming that over the next few years most of Delray, especially along Jefferson Ave., will suffer even more loss. Aside from the bridge construction, and a gas station or two, it will likely take years (maybe never) for the area to show any real signs of life or tangible growth.  For as long as I’m able, I’ll continue to document the ongoing changes in Delray and post the images here.
In some ways, this feels like a responsibility, and a curse…

A link to the full set of Delray images is here.