Detroit Stories: Bhoff Detroit Photography

08/07/2024

Fallen Cross. Woodmere Cemetery, Detroit.

28/06/2024

Monoliths of the Motorcity...

28/06/2024

Motorcity Monolith

26/06/2024

Cullen Plaza, Detroit Riverwalk.

#313

26/06/2024

Michigan Central Station during redevelopment from a Dennis Kefallinos "investment property"

24/06/2024

William Northcoat Rowe
1830 - 1919
Woodmere Cemetery, Detroit.

.and.beautiful

16/05/2024

A look back at the Hungarian Reformed Church, another lost building of Delray, Detroit.

Engulfed. The flames poured out the windows. The roof was ablaze. The iconic 40-foot steeple was surrounded in flames. Then it began to lean. By daybrea...

11/05/2024

It's better to burn out than fade away…

Szent Janos, however, spent decades fading until finally succumbing to the flames this past Sunday. Natural gas explosion, serial arsonist, an absentee owner’s liability disposal, that “damn bridge”; the porch-stoop speculations traipsed freely on Harbaugh Street Monday morning. Nothing’s certain, other than that the demolition crew’s on the way (𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺) to finish what the flames couldn’t.

An obituary, as I suppose this is, would be a fitting place to lie about how deeply the dear departed will be missed by all, but I’ll avoid the disingenuous lament. The scars of long neglect are too hard to ignore, the decade of complete abandonment too obvious. It's been a long time since a Szabo or Nagy passed through these doors (a Hoff, or two, may have paid a visit). Missed, though, are those who left.

For others still on Harbaugh and South, it’ll be just one less shadowy, worrisome corner. Nostalgia grows best with Kentucky Bluegrass miles away from here, calmly manicured far from the smoldering embers of Delray--“𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺….”

18/02/2024

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗬𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗵𝘄𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗚𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗻𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝗗𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗶𝘁

𝘐 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯, 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘥, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦; 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘸𝘦𝘳. 𝘠𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩, 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘸𝘯…

Graffiti. Art. Illegible bullsh*t scribbled on a wall. If you’ve ever had it spray painted on your house, you likely despise it, but from an Oakland County cul-de-sac it seems ever so exotic--poverty-chic, I guess. Whatever you feel about it, it's doubtful you’re neutral.

After decades of battling against it--as both a prosecutor and mayor--Mike Duggan cut the ribbon on May 24, 2023, opening the Southwest Greenway and its outdoor Graffiti Museum to preserve it. A roughly half mile portion of what will ultimately be the 27.5-mile Joe Louis Greenway, the path runs over the former section of the Michigan Central railway from Bagley to Jefferson, right on top of the long-vanished May’s Creek.

Three hundred yards from the Jefferson Avenue entrance, under the Lafayette and Rosa Parks overpass, is The Yard--a preserved graffiti museum exhibiting ‘spray paint on concrete’ pieces of various quality and condition, chained off with signage informing of the artist and that it is, in fact, ‘spray paint on concrete’ that you’re looking at.

Outlaw Art no more...From ‘buffed’ to preserved and given a commission.

08/02/2024

It was cold and the autumn sky tinged gray.

Bettye McCaster looked out her classroom window. The children of Burt Elementary were filing through--laughing, pushing, pulling passed the doors. She wrote the day, November 10, 1976, on the chalk board. A date of no particular significance, save for those with birthdays, or deaths.

Class, as it had on each and every day of no particular significance, began at the bell. Seven-year-old faces lit up, or frowned, as additions and subtractions filled their hours. At recess, the smiles were unanimous. Even a cold, gray November can’t damper a seven year old at play.

Monkey bars and basketballs, and hula hoops, were all too-soon abandoned as the children were drawn back to class. A tall man followed them through the doors. He smiled, and they smiled. They nodded, and he nodded too, and asked the way to Ms. McCaster’s class. The directions--“Upstairs!”--they gladly provided.

Soon they were at their desks, still rowdy but quieting. Ms. McCaster was patient. She was always patient. Though she’d only been their teacher for three weeks, they all liked her.

They liked her kindness. They liked her smile. Most didn’t even mind the math.

She smiled at them now, as they fidgeted and fumbled in their chairs. She smiled even more once they were silent and kept on smiling right up until the tall man entered the door. His voice was calm, his words soft. Yet something was wrong with the tall man. His visage caused Ms. McCaster to tremble. Tears welled in her eyes.

The tall man raised his hand, as if to wipe the drops from her face, and whispered quietly, as if to soothe. The students watched his lips move gently, inaudible. The meaning of his words made clear, as all other sounds were drowned by the five bellowing thunders that emanated from his hand.

He ran. She lay. They wailed uncontrollable sobs.
-------------
Not an hour later…

Bright yellow tape sectioned off the hall, and limply bisected the doorway of room 214. Ms. McCaster’s 214--now vacant of smiling faces, filled instead with the stern look of policemen, desperate to hide the sadness in their eyes. Directly below, the children were ushered into a classroom. Blank faced and teary eyed, wishing the day--November 10, 1976--had remained of no particular significance.

20/01/2024

Detroit entered the golden age of the 1920s spiraling into a crisis. The decade began with a post-war depression and would end in financial ruin, but still the population boomed past a million. A series of annexations, largely led by land speculators, burdened an already tight budget with the added expense of new roads, new sewers, new schools and added services over a larger span. Financial priorities shifted away from the aging ‘inner-city’ and to the new extremities, while continued budget short falls forced the City--despite the State Tax Commissioner George Lord warning that it could drive out industries--to raise taxes up to 27mills.

Rich businessmen were f>ckin’ furious! But despite the budget constraints, not even the Chamber of Commerce wanted cuts in education spending--at the time the single largest municipal expenditure, taking up a whopping 34% of the city budget in 1921.* And Detroit had the best school system in the country because of it--though things started getting murky in the ‘30s and 40s when the business class wavered their support, wondering if a worker really needed to spell ‘bruuuum’ in order to push one.

In this milieu, Guyton Elementary rose--one of three nearly identical schools--in 1922. Originally a marsh, the area was annexed in 1907 to keep the residents of then Fairview Village from literally throwing their sh>t into the Detroit water supply. Eventually residential development picked up and citizens of Jefferson-Chalmers were pleading for a school in the rapidly populating district.

Despite the general consensus on education funding, only $1.4 million dollars were approved out of a $6.2 million school building proposal. So, schools were built in increments. Designed by Malcomson, Higginbotham, and Palmer to look more like a Tudor home than a 19th century penitentiary, the first portion of Guyton was erected in 1922 for $145,265. The second, larger section was added in 1925 for $247,855. Despite the School Board admitting they knew little of the man, the school was named in honor of Joseph W. Guyton, the first American soldier killed on German soil in WWI.

It quickly gained the reputation as one of the very best schools in the State--a reputation that stayed, and saved it from the chopping block in 2003, 2005, and 2007. It was finally closed, along with 28 others, by State appointed Emergency Manager Robert Bobb in 2009, for failure to increase school enrollment.

Despite redevelopment being a high priority, Guyton sits on a long list in the Demolition Pipeline.

*(the school system wouldn’t be independent until 1949 and still depended on City Council for funding).