North America's Ugliest City

Abandoned homes in Detroit

 Before my wife had been to the northern regions of this continent, and we were living in Mexico City, we were once talking with a group of Mexicans, and one American.  In a common display of self-pity combined with the pride of bragging rights, they were going on and on of the poverty, danger and ugliness of the slums of Mexico City.  We Anglo North Americans simply had no idea, coming from places where everyone has money and everything is well-maintained, the poor are fed, etc., etc.

I objected.  "I know a city that is far worse than any part of Mexico I've been to."  When I named the city, the American (who had grown up near to it) agreed fully.

A chorus of "Oh, that's not possible" and "You probably don't even know the bad parts of Mexico City" followed.  With the witness of my wife (who had shown me the dirtier side of the city) I then proved that I had been to dingy neighborhoods that even these Mexicans had not been to nor would dare enter.

Even my wife had her doubts that the city in question could really be uglier and less safe than the slums of Mexico City.

On Saturday, she travelled to Detroit and upon her return wholeheartedly and emphatically agreed with my judgement.

"I've never been anywhere that felt so eerie," she told me. "Besides being ugly, run down, dirty and vandalized," she pointed out, "it is abandoned and quiet, in scary way."

These are precisely the points I had described to the Mexicans five years ago.  My wife remembered my description, and her doubts that such a place could really exist, especially in the city that had once been the second most prosperous in the United States - a fact which I had made her well aware of.

Michigan Central Station, which looms over the Mexican community

Even the poorest and most dangerous slums of Mexico City, there is life.  Some are sprawling residential neighborhoods where there is not a tree to be seen on grey hillsides covered with half-built, unpainted and unfinished concrete-block houses.  Despite the poverty, the streets are full of people and neighbors are talking to each other, children are playing, and there is, despite everything community and happiness.  "It's a Wonderful World" may even come to mind. Others are  thriving and bustling markets, where you can keep safe so long as you know which corners not to turn, and know to give up your valuables readily, should anyone request them of you.

Detroit, on the other hand, is devoid of life.  The city speaks of a great place now abandoned.  Beautiful classic homes, which would be worth over a million in Toronto, only 4 hours away, are crumbling.  Many have been bulldozed to create empty lots.  Classic high-rises are skeletons with broken windows completely ravaged of all vaguely valuable and possibly removable items. Yet, the eerie part is that you don't feel it is "empty" but more that there is something there, hidden - something that you don't want to find.  The petty theft you may encounter in parts of Mexico City can be a frustrating and keep you on your guard, but the worry of it is nothing compared to the intense anxiety you feel in the abandoned streets of Detroit to "get the hell out of there."

Locals reinforce the feeling by staying off the streets.  The stores and restaurants of the Mexican Village, for example, are full and busy.  They are comfortable and safe places.  Yet, none of these people will walk around to enjoy the sunny day outside seeing the city. (I will write more about the Mexican Village during the week.)

Even though my wife saw the newer, nicer, friendlier Mexican Village that now enjoys a solid cash flow to keep up nice stores and even homes (as opposed to run-down neighborhood of disorganized shops and decaying buildings that I got to know in the 1980s) she pointed out that you still feel that eerie abandonment.

The restaurant which has been a favorite of my family for decades

Yet, despite all this, this eerie and abandoned city is very intriguing. "Some day," asked my wife, "could we go back just to walk around and take pictures?" (Photographers forget about discomfort when taking pictures.)

And I have to admit, I've always wanted to just go walk around or at least just drive around, and look at the collapsing homes and abandoned high-rises from a century ago.  The wonder of how people could abandon and destroy something that was once so beautiful baffles me and intrigues me.  Seeing these homes makes me wonder what they would/could look like now under other circumstances.  (Although, exactly who is inside those homes now or what they are doing, I choose not to think about.)

I've heard there are some historic churches that have been beautifully kept up.  Perhaps visiting those would be a safer approach, and would likewise satisfy my wife's photographic needs.