Michigan Central Station highlights the importance of preserving local history

By: Jack Brady

The day before the concert at Michigan Central Station celebrating its grand reopening, I grabbed lunch with my grandmother. I was aware of the upcoming event, if not a little apathetic, but she couldn’t wait to see it. I began to understand her excitement as she spoke. That station was special to her. When she was a kid, more than 200 trains a day would pass through it, and she reminisced joyfully about riding them with her late father.??

Countless others share my grandmother’s feelings. Her ninety-something Aunt Julie has begged her for weeks to visit the revitalized building, and they’ll go together in the coming days. They speak of their plan like it’s a pilgrimage.?

I realized during our conversation that we have wildly different experiences with Detroit. She and other people her age remember a great city—a happy place with friends and family. I remember Tigers games at Comerica Park followed by hurried walks back to the car. But Detroit has changed since I was five, and it’s beginning to look more like it did in her childhood than it did in mine.?

My grandma’s enthusiasm rubbing off on me, I decided to tune into the concert on TV. Everything about it was great, but Michigan Central stood out. The whole night was recontextualized by its presence. Had Ford chosen somewhere else to locate its new technology and innovation hub, or bulldozed the old building for a new model, the night would have felt like another average ribbon cutting. Instead, we got triumph. There was something special about seeing Detroit’s heroes at the foot of this monument in particular—giving speeches, singing songs, announcing to the world that Detroit is back—that could only work there. ?

Across the state, local leaders and residents alike should take the lesson: your history is an asset; it gives your place its character. If you’ve ever been to the Grand Canyon or seen photos, think of the layers of different colored rock that form the walls. Each stratum was carved in its own millennia, with its unique fossil record and tint providing an account of its creation. Together, they combine into a beautiful mosaic that can’t be repeated anywhere else in the world. They tell a story that draws in millions of people each year.?

Cities tell stories too. In large part, with their historic architecture. Michigan Central tells the story of a city, once the wealthiest in the country and possibly the world, devastated by the loss of jobs and people but rising again. Just by looking at the restored fa?ade, you feel on an almost spiritual level every success and every struggle. Yes, the bankruptcy, the crime-rate, and the scandals. But also, the grit, the improving job market, the fact Detroit’s population grew in 2023 for the first time in nearly 70 years. ?

Or look at Brush Park off Woodward Avenue. The neighborhood was built in the late 1800s and fell into disrepair in the 1940s. The city saved as many of the Victorian Era mansions as it could, and the neighborhood is thriving again. Like red rocks against orange rocks against white rocks, the juxtaposition of 150-year-old houses alongside modern condos paints a timeline you read just by driving down the street.?

These historic features make a city more than just a collection of buildings. They create unity beyond just space for the people living there. Other than living in relatively close proximity, what does a resident of Midtown have in common with a resident of Downtown? They can both see Michigan Central on the skyline! And, importantly, it evokes roughly the same emotional response from them both. It carries weight and meaning in a way that a superstore or cookie-cutter new housing development doesn’t. The same can be said of Brush Park and other similar places.?

Almost everywhere in Michigan has at least one of these assets. I had the privilege recently of touring a vacant building on the campus of St. Mary’s high school in Monroe, now set for redevelopment. Constructed in 1932 and boasting 260,000 square feet, it was abandoned more than 20 years ago but was too important to the community to destroy. The main staircase alone is a marvel—solid white marble, gorgeous pillars, and flanked by art-deco elevators.??

Kieth Masserant, a county local able to trace his roots there back seven generations, stepped in to save the property. He made a fortune in construction and energy, and he is now using his wealth to help his community. In a press release from the City of Monroe and Immaculate Heart of Mary Sisters, he said, “I’m blessed to be able to have a role in breathing new life into this project in a way that will benefit generations to come, just as it did for so many of those individuals and families who walked those halls before us.”?

Like so many others, he remembered attending the school and didn’t want to see it go. To him and his neighbors, the building tells the story of the nuns who’ve resided in Monroe since 1845 and the countless pupils they’ve educated. To erase the physical manifestation of that memory would have been a sin. The final product will see the exterior remain intact, the first floor become retail, and the second, third, and fourth floors become housing, possibly with some office space.??

It will resemble closely the Commons in Traverse City—an old mental institution converted in the same fashion. I’ve stayed there while seeing family in the area, and it’s become the stuff of legend. For the superstitious type, there’s a tour of the ‘haunted’ tunnels beneath the complex.?

All of this would be lost had it been torn down and a Marriot built in its place. This isn’t to say every historic building needs to be saved. Just because it’s old doesn’t mean it’s not ugly and in some cases meaningless. But you tend to know what’s worth keeping when you see it because adjectives like singular, iconic, or beautiful come to mind. Those are certainly the words that come to mind when you see the Commons, the St. Mary’s property, and Michigan Central Station. And I bet you have somewhere in your community that achieves the same effect, somewhere that matters.?

No one wants to live in a place without stories. Residents need the shared experiences these landmarks provide, to bond over them and feel connected to each other and their past. These are the places that turn your town or city from a point on a map into home.?

Jack Brady is sharing his talents and perspectives with the Michigan Municipal League this summer as an intern. He is a junior at the University of Michigan, studying political science and English, and the summer editorial page editor at the Michigan Daily.