1967 riots

[trinkit]

Originally Posted by downthathighway

That neighborhood is a 'textbook' case what happens without 'new blood', but has been dying a sad slow death for the last 25 years.
I wouldn't call it a ghetto yet though, but it has lost it's little neighborhood feel.
As the 'old timers' die, no young Polish families have moved in, so there are different ethnic groups moving in. Many more Mexican families, it seems.
One by one all the corner markets, bakeries, meat markets and bars have also closed.
I was surprised when my daughter moved to Wyandotte a few years back, to see that town really resembles the old Polish area of SW Detroit we remember.

I remember a little bakery on Buchanan that had the BEST Napoleans EVER! I may have misspoken when I called the neighborhood "ghetto". I read a while back that the pastor of St. Hedwigs offers a mass in Spanish, an indication of the new make-up of the neighborhood. I also remember some of the little shops that are no longer there.

[and the]

No "ethnic" neighborhood retains the original ethnicity forever. The area around Ste. Anne's was French long before it turned Hispanic. Holy Redeemer was originally German I believe, before Polish. Of course the old Polish area of SW Detroit is no longer Polish because no new Poles are moving in. Why would they? The European immigration of the turn of the century is over. The second and third generation Polish-Americans have long since moved away from the houses crammed 3 feet apart on lots with no driveways to move to bigger houses in the suburbs as they became more successful. The businesses followed.

And the few remaining "Polish" bakeries in that area are not really "Polish" anyway. They're mostly Yugoslavian.

The area served it's purpose for a homogenous group that moved to greener pastures. Nostalgia is nice but it's no reason to stick around a neighborhood that you and your family have outgrown.

[downthathighway]

Originally Posted by and the

No "ethnic" neighborhood retains the original ethnicity forever.
In Detroit,anyways.
The area around Ste. Anne's was French long before it turned Hispanic. Holy Redeemer was originally German I believe, before Polish.
There are no French or German 'enclaves' in the Detroit area anymore, I do not know of any churches that have had services in French language in recent years.
Of course the old Polish area of SW Detroit is no longer Polish because no new Poles are moving in. Why would they? The European immigration of the turn of the century is over. The second and third generation Polish-Americans have long since moved away from the houses crammed 3 feet apart on lots with no driveways to move to bigger houses in the suburbs as they became more successful. The businesses followed.
However, Wyandotte still has some of the same small lots with only street or backyard/alley parking. AND still has some of those little markets. Also still has alot of working-class "Polish-Americans", and one church still has services in Polish language, 3 others have Polish 'traditions' and heritage.
Other ethnic enclaves have indeed moved to the suburbs, for bigger lots, cul-de-sacs, etc.

And the few remaining "Polish" bakeries in that area are not really "Polish" anyway. They're mostly Yugoslavian.

I observed that also. Not just Polish bakeries, my favorite Italian bakery in Redford is also owned by Yugoslovians.

The area served it's purpose for a homogenous group that moved to greener pastures. Nostalgia is nice but it's no reason to stick around a neighborhood that you and your family have outgrown.

I wish I could convince my parents to move. (We are not Polish-American) Their house is too large for them to maintain. And they now 'lock themselves in' and have a burgular alarm.(Yes, they can afford to move) In the last 20 years, they have had about 10 break-ins, one armed intruder, one car-jacking and will not leave 'home'.
Other cities in this country retained their nostaligic urban neighborhoods. My brother lives IN THE CITY LIMITS(horrors) of Chicago in a neighborhood very similar to the SW Detroit neighborhood we described. It is heavily populated, and a very desirable neighborhood. Very few houses go on the market there, and are not vacant for very long.
But it is for safety reasons we want our parents to move, not because there are more attractive new subdivisions out there. On the 'served its purpose' theory, we should all just abandon of our houses and neighborhoods we no longer desire rather than sell to new settlers.

[and the]

On the 'served its purpose' theory, we should all just abandon of our houses and neighborhoods we no longer desire rather than sell to new settlers.

People came to Detroit for industrial type jobs. There were so many they were crammed into single family homes that may as well have been apartments they were crammed so close together. I would have no desire to live in a neighborhood like that when I achieved the means to live somewhere else. That's just me though. I don't know about "abandon". I never abandonned any of the houses I lived in in Detroit. I just sold them to someone else.

I observed that also. Not just Polish bakeries, my favorite Italian bakery in Redford is also owned by Yugoslovians.

DiMaggio's on 6 Mile??

[STLCardsBlues1989]

Most cities over time lose their original ethnicity and turn into something else. Kids grow up, move out, older people die, their kids don't live in the neighborhood anymore. Eventually the businesses are also owned by other people.

I'm not sure if St. Louis really has any polish neighborhoods, but there is the Polish Heritage Center. I don't really know anything about it. It's under the category of "banquet rooms". St. Stanislaus is a Polish Catholic Church.

Urban Review STL » Blog Archive » Book Review; ‘Unyielding Spirit, the history of the Polish people in St. Louis’ by NiNi Harris That's a review of a book about the Polish in St. Louis.

Fact is, neighborhoods don't last forever. You cherish the memories, but as some point you also have to move on.

[downthathighway]

Originally Posted by and the

People came to Detroit for industrial type jobs. There were so many they were crammed into single family homes that may as well have been apartments they were crammed so close together. I would have no desire to live in a neighborhood like that when I achieved the means to live somewhere else. That's just me though. I don't know about "abandon". I never abandonned any of the houses I lived in in Detroit. I just sold them to someone else.

I'm more comfortable in a rural area also, would not want to stay in a densely populated neighborhood. Luckily, in other big cities that type of neighborhood DOES still exist with the same amenities (pedestrian-friendly,less need to use an auto),

DiMaggio's on 6 Mile??

Yes, it has been owned for several years(at least 15) by Steve Zdravkovski, and has remained a good bakery with Italian pastries. (He's popular in Redford Chamber, etc.) I do miss their cannolis since I left Michigan!

[Slappy san]

Originally Posted by MainStreet

I write a nostalgia blog from time to time and here is how I remember the riots and the aftermath on my grandma's life in Berkley.

Wednesday, October 11th

{Disclaimer. My story is in no way meant to offend. It is about my grandmother living in post late 60's Detroit race riots.}

Mary Ida Didn’t Die a Racist

As much as I loved my grandmother, she was a racist. An old white Kentucky born, coal-miner’s wife, racist. It was a part of her consciousness that she must have picked up from her parents, who I never knew, because Marvin wasn’t outspoken and their children certainly weren’t, despite her.

When my sister and I were school aged, every time we set foot in her house, if a “treasure” wasn’t thrown at us, we were immediately questioned before we even took off our coats.

“How many blacks are in your school?”

Mind you, this line of questioning started when my sister was five and I was seven. For many years the two of us would simply look up at our parents because we didn’t have a clue as to what grandma was talking about. My mother would shuffle us into the guest room to put our coats on the bed while my dad spoke to his mother, presumably about our age and her topic. When we returned to the livingroom to sit with her, she would never bring it up again, until the next visit. This went on for years.

Eventually, once I understood, I would answer “three” as my mother pushed me into the next room, my rubberneck twisted like an owl in my grandma’s direction so that she would hear me above my father telling her to be quiet. I was still naive and didn’t understand why she needed to know; I just thought I was being respectful for answering her. I think I believed she knew something that I didn’t know and I was craving a moment when we could be alone and she would explain to me why she wanted to know about the Childress kids. Maybe they were famous.

Years later, I learned that the Detroit riots of 1967 were only thirteen miles from Ellwood Avenue, where we and my grandparents lived three blocks apart. Eminem had his 8-Mile but years earlier my life was at 12-Mile, complete with an A&W Drive-In and the Schwinn bike store. I know that we moved to the country in 1969 and there is a good possibility that grandma, who rarely left her home in those days and eventually stayed in for twenty years, was terrified in 1967. I know it’s no excuse, but she was a shut-in for the most part, because of her size and had very little contact with the outside world other than her family and her television set.

Fast forward to the late 1980's. Mary Ida, living alone, but cared for primarily by my wonderfully eccentric Aunt Norma (think Anna Nicole Smith at 65.) Norma did everything for Mary Ida and to this day, I believe she worked Norma to death, literally. After that, the family arranged for a home health nurse to come to Mary Ida’s house and cook a meal and give grandma a bed bath, everyday.

Mary Ida’s rotary phone burnt up the first day the agency sent over a black nurse. On that day, my grandma became the agency’s worst nightmare. Eventually, the agency won, as there were no other nurses available and my grandmother finally unlocked her door and let the poor woman in. I cringe when I think how badly Mary Ida must have behaved. I’m sure she spoke her mind and didn’t censor a bit of her thoughts as she talked on the phone all day while the nurse straightened up and cooked. It was a very small house. Months went by and occasionally the agency would send over a white nurse. Something clicked within Mary Ida, maybe it was the extra care the black woman took with her, making sure that she was clean and her bed sheets were always fresh. Maybe it was her humor or her cooking. No one knows but these two women. A kinship developed under a roof where all had seemed hopeless. Eventually, Mary Ida requested that no one be sent on her nurse’s days off, she would fend for herself.

This is exactly what needed to happen. Mary Ida lived in her home right up to the final old-age illness that resulted in a brief hospitalization, where she died. What little fear or hate grandma had in her had been healed and she was called home with the brightened soul that had been patiently and tenderly cared for by one very special nurse.

*thumbs up*