A few miles east of Detroit’s gleaming new ballpark and glittering new casino hotels, a few miles west of the sprawling mansions lining Grosse Pointe’s Lakeshore Drive, north of the General Motors assembly plant, south of the Daimler-Chrysler assembly plant, and just west of the regional airstrip known as City Airport, you’ll find a five-acre parcel of land known as Fletcher Field. At first glance, Fletcher could be pretty much any park in urban America: it has a baseball diamond in one corner, an asphalt basketball court in the other, a large swing set, and a bright-red jungle gym. It has two electric-blue plastic picnic tables and one spring rider, origin unknown, in the shape of a dolphin. As of last year, it has mowed grass. As of last month, it has a small garden of flowers and a few stalks of corn, guarded by a cheerful scarecrow salvaged from the wreckage of a nearby home.
Zoom out, and the perspective changes. Fletcher lies at the heart of what is perhaps the most dangerous section of what is perhaps the most dangerous city in America. Once a working-class neighborhood, its residents employed in those nearby auto-manufacturing plants, the City Airport neighborhood, as the area is known, has crumbled. As the plants closed—and as Detroit’s overall fortunes plummeted—residents (white, then black) fled the neighborhood. The exodus was under way before the 1967 race riots convulsed the region, but it accelerated in their wake, exacerbating the misunderstanding and mistrust between the two races that were trying, unsuccessfully, to share the city. Today, homes that haven’t been condemned or destroyed by arson have been left to rot, some of them transformed into drug houses—cocaine and, later, crystal meth. The neighborhood school has disintegrated from the inside out, its windows shattered by...
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As a former classmate of Michael's and now a lifetime friend,the impact of the blogging as well as the revialization of Fletcher Playground has stirred my heart and soul as well as many other's. It may sound so odd to revisit a playground now completely surrounded by a neighborhood that has few homes intact. It is because of the tight knit bonds that were created back then that such a project could somehow come to fruition today. Our class of 25-30 at best of which most lost contact, along with many other former "Holy Name Ramblers" and God's will is why this project continues today and will continue as long as people like Michael and his family are alive. I now can take my son Shane back to where my roots of friendship began. I believe this is so important in the development of our childrens future. God Bless all involved with the Fletcher project. The kids there today now have new hope for a better tomorrow!
Dave Harding
8267 Forestlawn
Posted by Dave Harding on Wed 30 Jul 2008 at 12:59 PM
I too grew up on Dobel. Same street as Mike Happy. Coming Home is just that. A very long time ago I had a family of about 1000 people and we some how parted. Like being adopted out family by family but never forgetting those family members or wondering what happened to them or where are they today. NO words can describe the homecoming except the a flood of emotions that will remaim with us the rest of our lives. It's SO GOOD to be back. Like that song, "Everybody know your name" (still)
Posted by Yvette Gerace on Mon 8 Sep 2008 at 09:59 PM
I grew up on Leander, between Castle and Gilbo from 1954 until the ate 70's. I remember many of summer days playing at Fletcher Field with my friends.
It was sad to watch as the local corner grocery stores closed, and peole began to move away. But it was the best part of my life growing up there.
Posted by Ed Ostrand on Thu 29 Jan 2009 at 05:15 PM