Last weekend marked the fiftieth anniversary of the
Detroit Riots. I grew up in the Motor
City and happened to be home for a friend’s wedding that weekend. My family had spent the Sunday at a cottage
on Lake Huron. My plan was to have my
dad drive me to the bus station downtown so I could catch the “red eye” back to
Chicago where I was working that summer.
As we got in the car to drive back to Detroit we got our first radio
reports about the unrest. I convinced my
dad to at least try to make the drive downtown but we were turned back by
policeman before we had driven two miles.
We did make the trip before dawn the following morning. The streets were deserted as
we drove down Jefferson Avenue. We passed block after block of stores that had
been looted. Some buildings were on fire
but there was not a fireman in sight.
I did make it to the bus station, where I was informed I would need to
pay an extra $5.00 for insurance because of the situation. The streets were deserted and smoke hung in the air as we weaved through downtown. As I
headed east on I-94, a convoy of National Guard vehicles drove past heading
in the opposite direction. I immediately
sensed that the beautiful town of childhood would never be the same.
The neighborhood I grew up in changed over the next few
years. The shops and homes were never
touched by civil disturbances, but fear drove people to the
suburbs. One by one the shops on Warren
Ave. closed and soon the community was a shadow of its former self. While most of our neighbors sold their homes
and joined the exodus, my parents stayed.
They lived in the same house for another thirty-seven years until
declining health forced them to move to a senior community. They stayed because my dad had the attitude
that it was his neighborhood and he would learn to get along with whoever chose
to live there. On summer evenings when I
returned home, I remember him sitting on the porch and greeting all who would
pass by.
This past Sunday, the Detroit newspapers published a
special edition reflecting on the riots. A major movie has been released that focuses on one of the stories from the riots. I read the news articles but think I will
pass on the film. If you want insights
into the Detroit of the Sixties and the circumstances that led to the
disturbances I would recommend the book Once
in a Great City, by David Maraniss.
Personally, I would rather reflect on the lessons I wish
we had learned from the uprising.
Economic classes are an unfortunate reality. Ethic and racial diversity are also a part of
our American landscape. In my mind the
solution comes in being sensitive to the needs of others, and learning to listen. We can try to blame the police, or our civic
leaders, but the change needs to happen in our neighborhoods and in the
workplace. Each one of us must take
ownership of the problem.