virtual motor city

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In 1923 Detroit school children saved their pennies, nickels and dimes for a very special purchase: an Asian elephant named Sheba for the Belle Isle Zoo. You may remember her from this picture I posted about a year ago.

(via Virtual Motor City)

Today I found some adorable NEWSREEL (!!!) of Sheba the elephant. I promise it will make your Friday.

Here she is getting a bath.

Child star Jackie Coogan came to Detroit in 1926 in support of Near East Relief. He got to ride a carriage driven by Sheba the Elephant. He also got to hug Mayor John C. Lodge. MAYOR LODGE HUGGING ADORABLE CHILD STAR!

Adorable overload. Watch the reel.

Warning: VMC has digitized several HUNDRED of these newsreels and it is dangerously easy to lose your whole day watching them. Just be prepared.

Happy Friday,

The Night Train

(UPDATE, as of 7-20-2011: Jackie Coogan’s Near East Relief tour was in 1924, not 1926.)

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On Monday we came home from a long weekend in North Carolina, where cities and towns have pretty names that sound even prettier spoken in a come-hither Southern accent. Charlotte. Chapel Hill. Raleigh. We drove from Charlotte through red hills and mossy vales to a dairy and inn near Siler City, where a friend of mine from college married a kind and beautiful woman.

Since returning, I’ve been in a daze. My computer died; that hasn’t helped. I had a 24-hour flu and an 8-hour panic attack and that didn’t help either. I spent three hours working on a post that I ditched when I decided it wasn’t honest or even, you know, there.

But you know what? It’s August. There are weddings to attend, parks to nap in when you’re hungover. Up north is still there; there are many terrific ever-earlier sunsets to see. Patios are still open for business. Porch swings long for your company and the woods would like to see your face again.

For days after the wedding I felt full to bursting with love and happiness and that hazy summer feeling. Mosquitoes and bonfires and friends who’ve traveled long distances to be with each other. Crickets in the grass at dusk.

I want to really relish that for the next couple of weeks before getting all fall-wardrobe-serious and hitting the books to bring you more arcana from Detroit’s many-splendour’d past.

It’s also, tomorrow, one year to date since I moved back to Michigan on a wobbly express ferry from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. It has bee nothing but the very best — one of the most whole, healing and love-filled years of my life. We’re celebrating this weekend and next with a houseful of visitors from Wisconsin and elsewhere, and so far Detroit has been grand and magnanimous to everyone.

So The Night Train is officially on hiatus through Labor Day. We’ll still be hanging around Facebook like we have nothing better to do. And we’d love if you’d write us an email and let me know if there’s anything you’re especially curious to read about in coming weeks.

Enjoy the rest of your summer, if indeed your summer is still in session. See you soon, cadets. (Maybe at Come Hear Belle Isle on Saturday?)

(Incredible photos from a Venetian Night party at the Detroit Yacht Club. Via Virtual Motor City.)

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Dear readers:

I am crushed under a couple of major deadlines this week! But here’s this.

http://dlxs.lib.wayne.edu/cgi/i/image/getimage-idx?viewid=35332;cc=vmc;entryid=x-35332;quality=mid;view=image

[from Virtual Motor City]

You’re welcome.

Your friend,

The Night Train

P.S. We’ll be back with something fun on Friday. Really fun. Maybe not as fun as an elephant at the beach though.

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mlk 1963

I have a dream this afternoon that one day right here in Detroit, Negroes will be able to buy a house or rent a house anywhere that their money will carry them and they will be able to get a job.

June 23, 1963: Months before the March on Washington, at the Great March on Detroit, Martin Luther King, Jr. delivers a version of the speech that would immortalize his spirit and his movement.

And so we must say, now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to transform this pending national elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. Now is the time to lift our nation.

When I think about King’s legacy in Detroit, I think about the city’s motto. Gabriel Richard wrote it after a fire that leveled the city in 1805: Speramus Meliora; Resurget Cineribus.

We Hope For Better Things; It Shall Rise From the Ashes.

There’s an easy takeaway that we all remember on MLK Day — the stuff we learn in grade school. Love each other. Respect each other. Strive for the common good. Okay.

But there is another and more brutal truth in his message — the truth of enduring struggle. The fighting, the tireless pushing, and the constant defeat.

Martin Luther King didn’t give Detroit the promise that it would rise. He didn’t promise that in a just and integrated world, leaders would bring progress and people would prosper. But Detroit’s proud and strong black city leaders, thinkers, business owners and activists, whether they succeeded or not, have been able to do so on their own merits — judged not, as Dr. King said, by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.

As much as Martin Luther King gave Detroit the freedom to flourish, he gave it the freedom to fail. And that is, in many ways, a miraculous thing. Martin Luther King’s dream was so vast and so brave, and rereading the speech he gave in Detroit, the first thing I think is: we can still do so much better. And that is a lucky thing to be able to think.

Wayne State University’s Virtual Motor City collection, by the way, has a terrific collection of photographs from the Civil Rights era and other major social movements in the city. Nose around this evening while you’re reflecting on the day.

For a meatier take on the holiday, and the man we honor on the holiday, you may want to read the MLK Day post at  The Edge of the American West, a great blog written by a cabal of erudite history and philosophy scholars. Discussed: King’s 1968 speech in Grosse Pointe (“A riot is the language of the unheard,” King said then), John Conyers and corporate sponsorship of the bill to make MLK Day a national holiday, and the anger and danger in King’s philosophy that are largely diluted in our contemporary portrait of the man and the message.

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christmas newsboys

Maybe it’s just the snowy night, the glass of wine, and listening to John Vanderslice, who never fails to seize me (specifically Emerald City, which is about, you know, Baghdad, drone war, paranoia, anxiety and love thwarted by circumstance). But it’s Saturday night, we’re staying in, I’m catching up on my blog subscriptions, and this photograph just stunned me into that sort of melancholy Christmas reckoning and grateful joy in the present human moment — that dark, Victorian lining beneath Christmas as we know it today.

Wayne State’s Virtual Motor City digital collection is really something extraordinary; this is from their blog:

Not too long ago I told my father about some images that I had come across in the Virtual Motor City Collection about the Old Newsboys and Christmas.  Usually in the images as in those above, police officers and boy scouts were delivering packages to families in Detroit who were in need.  The tradition started in 1914 when James Brady founded the Old Newsboys’ Goodfellow Fund of Detroit (Detroit Goodfellows).  He and other businessmen would sell newspapers on the street (just as they do today), to raise money to provide Christmas gifts to childen.  To my suprise, my father who was born in 1927, told me that he was one of those children who received gifts from the Old Newsboys as his family had been hard hit by the depression, like so many others at that time.

This picture is from 1931.

Wow.

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