'67

For years I have heard the story of my father working at the Detroit Edison Electric plant at 1 Energy Way, Detroit during the ’67 Detroit riot. I think the first time I was told about it was when I was doing a family history for a school project in the fifth grade. My dad and his grandfather both worked at the Electrical plant where as my grandfather, my father’s father, worked at the water treatment facilities. Though I’ve heard the story a few times I thought that I should try to gather a more comprehensive understanding of not only the riots but also how they affected my family. Although Mark, my dad, can tell a great story it is very rare that he tells anyone anything when they ask to be told it. Before talking to my dad about what he remembers of the ’67 riots it seemed a good idea that I talk to my mother first, as she often remembers the past far better than my father and would be able to supply me with some ideas of what to ask my dad. However, talking to my mom about the riots and then my dad proved to make my understanding of their lives in 1967 much more confusing than I thought it would be. Eventually what I had initially determined would be one interview about the past became three. As I attempted to find what was true and what was the result of misremembering in my parents stories I found it helpful to also speak to one of their best friends form their youth. The three stories together all contribute to one understanding I have now, not just of the riots but also of my father, Mark.

In talking to my mom about my father during the ’67 riots I was told a truly fascinating story. “What you have to understand first,” she told me “was that nearly all the police were white.” It had been a hot summer, and in the early hours of a Sunday morning at the end of July the police raided an after hours blind pig (a speak easy.) That same morning, as my mother tells it, Mark and her brother Rick were downtown at he Grande Ballroom. On their way home their car broke down and they had to call for a ride home from my mom’s mom, Jessie. While waiting to get picked up from their broken down car Mark and Rick were warned by a stranger to get out of the city as fast as they could because something terrible was about to happen if they stayed around. Although Mark and Rick got out of the city with out much trouble not everyone was so lucky. “Things got bad very quickly,” my mom, told me, “looting and property destruction would begin in one place and move out in wave to other neighborhoods.” What was shocking to most people at the time even today still resonates about the riot was that much of it was perpetrated by blacks in their own neighborhoods. There was a sense of desperation but also mindlessness about the riots that scared everyone. By Tuesday, July 25, the National Guard occupied and closed down the city. As my mom explains it my dad was issued a Civil Defense card in order to allow him to get to work and pass through the barricades that the National Guard had put in place all over the city. The aftermath of the riots was that the city had been irrevocably changed. Not only had the demographic been altered by white flight as many of the few remaining white families left the city but also the physical layout of the city was different. My mom described this to me by saying that “the city had changed at major destruction roads were the rioting had been especially concentrated.” Entire neighborhoods had been burned to the ground during the riots. White and black owners abandoned shops that had been looted. Living in Herman Gardens, the projects nearly outside of the city, my mom can remember the sudden influx of African-American families who moved into her building as a result of losing their home during the riots. She can remember the principal of her school remarking to her mother on the furniture that was being moved into the buildings with these families; how it was so extravagant, plush, and gilded; how it was all looted goods.

Mark’s story is far less intriguing. To hear it from my father the riot didn’t really happen; or at least, not to him. When I asked Mark about the Civil Defense card he was issued during the riots he just said, “I never had a Civil Defense card.” After a long pause I asked him about what working at the Detroit Edison Electrical Plant was like during the riot and he said that he worked there in ’68, not ’67. When I asked him about the story my mom told me about his car breaking down and him having to call my grandmother for a ride and he and my uncle being warned to get out of the city he had no recollection of it ever happening. More than that he denied that it had ever happened. Mark’s story about the summer of 1967 is incredibly banal, and not just by comparison of my mother’s. In 1967 Mark claims that he worked at a automotive factory constructing 8th inch sound deadening mats out of tar and felt for the floors of cars. The detail with which he remembers this job is astounding when considering everything else he told me. I asked Mark what downtown was like, in his memory, during the riot. He told me that on the first day of the riot, Sunday, July 23rd, that the busses were still running, and that he and his best friend Kenny went down to Wayne State’s campus to see a friend of theirs. After driving around for a little while in their friends car Mark claims that they saw little more than a few tanks and a truck full of soldiers. This is entirely impossible, but so too is much and many of my father’s stories. Sensing how anticlimactic his recollection had been for me Mark apologized, again denied everything my mother had said, and suggested that I go with her story anyways, whether it was true or not.

Between these two stories I found not a single iota of similarity. No resemblance what so ever exists in what my mom told me and what my father told me about the summer of 1967 in their lives or in a wider specter of the city’s history. In order to truly understand what my parents were talking about I would have to consult someone who knew both of them at the time and also lived in the city. I got the phone number of my parents’ best friend Shirley who now lives in Texas and gave her call.

The story Shirley told me far better conformed to what my mom had told me about the riot (and my father) and also what I had already thought I knew to be true. In 1967 Shirley was in school at Cass Technical High School. “Once the riots began things in the city heated up very quickly,” Shirley said. She continued by explaining to me that the fear outside of the city was that the looting and building burning that was going inside of the city was going to spread out into the suburbs. “People were shocked of course when that didn’t happen,” she went on, “and that instead the rioters just kept burning down their own neighborhoods.” Part of fear that everyone was feeling was due in part to the fact that, unlike today, there was limited news media available dispensing information about the riots. “Radio and T.V. were really all we had for finding out what was happening and where the danger was. No one knew how far or how fast the violence was going to or had escalated,” Shirley told me when I asked her about this. After the riots had for the most part been stopped the danger did not end. Fires continued long after the troops were deployed within the city to quell the violence. “It was like a war zone in the city. Whole neighborhoods were gone already and that’s when people began to get the idea of ‘hey, I’ve got some dead property I need to get off my hands; it wasn’t much good before all this it’ll be worth even less now; I can burn it,’” Shirley went on. She described this as a prevailing sense of ‘opportunism’ that grew out of the riots. This opportunism had nothing to do with the riots, race issues and civil unrest; it was just about property values and money. What is most interesting about this to me is that it speaks to another aspect of the riot which both my mother and Shirley agreed on: the majority of the destruction was done by people who would have more to be upset about and were left with less after the riots than they had had before them. The initial outbreak of the riot was caused by social unrest in the most racially challenged city in the country at the time but the strongest effects of the violence were caused by the numerous and literal flare up of fires afterwards.

After she had described all of this to me, spoken about the riots, I asked Shirley if she could tell me about where she was during them and if she had any idea about why my father’s story was so different form my mother’s and her own. Shirley described the riots as being a period of time longer than just the last week of July that summer. She told me that that year at Cass Tech. members of the Black Panthers would come into her school and pull the fire alarm, forcing all ten floors of the building to evacuate into the streets. Afterwards the Panthers would take up fire hoses and force anyone trying to come into the building out of it. She said that when the riots started at first she felt the way she did when the Black Panthers pulled the fire alarm; she was just wanted to get out of the way and get home.

Shirley thinks that something like this same sentiment must have effect my father and that for him the riots were not as big of deal as everything else going on in his personal life was. In 1967 Mark would have been in school at Wayne State and working at his job if not a full time than nearly. He had his own problems to worry about, even if the city he lived in was burning down around him. I figure that there must be some truth in this idea. I’d ask Mark but he is just as bad at talking about himself as he is at talking about everything else I am interested in hearing about. I think that in this situation, as with most, it is best that I trust the stories I have heard about my dad rather than those he has to tell.

In my mom’s story and even in Shirley’s my dad is kind of a hero, Mark is working hard and full of determination and doing his job at a scary time, and I like that. In Mark’s story he’s barely even a character; in my dad’s story he is just some guy getting by as he waits for the future to happen to him. I must say though, that Mark is the most sure person most people will ever met and that when he knows what he wants to do is does it. And that is why when I consider these stories and how Mark’s is so unlike my mom’s and Shirley’s I am unsure if it is because his memory is humble, or if he is just not impressed by the those things he does which everyone else finds to be so impressive.

Changing Fashions

Well... I can't say I ever foresaw the day where I would be writing a BSD post about fashion, but here it is. The entire video is pretty cool in itself, but the real treat comes at the end. Just think of how much effort this will save strippers!




via Cracked.

Swiss Neutrality

In a referendum, Switzerland has banned the construction of minarets in the country. I am not going to delve too deep into how ridiculous of a step this in or the illogical arguments of those advocating this, but I simply do not see how an architectural form can increase Muslim extremism, like those arguing for this ban suggest. In fact, I can only see this ban increasing that extremism. Persecuting a group is not usually a good way to make them less extreme.

But, what really bothers me is that Europe seems to be moving more towards restricting freedoms. I'm no expert on Swiss government, but this seems to go against everything that Europe always spouts about being a free and open society. I don't want to imply that it is only Switzerland, because other European nations, notably France and Germany, have recently instituted similar rulings that are mindlessly oppressive to a minority.

Were here at BSD are, and always will be supporters of any freedom with does not infringe upon the rights of others.

Happy Thanksgiving, 2009

Not to Be Confused part 2

Finagen's Wake, which we've mentioned here before, and Finegan's Week, a book that Matt found at some destitute and derelict counterfeiting publishing house.

Edger Rice Burroughs and William S. Burroughs. The former wrote such gems as Tarzan and A Princes of Mars. The latter wrote such gems as Junky and Naked Lunch. Of all things here these two should never be confused.

Guy Montag and Heidi Montag.

Correction, of all things here these two should never be confused.

Bad Romance

I really like Lady Gaga's new song Bad Romance. There is a certian creepy, spooky, scary element to it. I've been so taken by it that I've been scouring the Google Images for spooky/scary pictures of the birdo, and I found just that.

This set of photos was done for Out magazine sometime this past summer by the superb Ellen von Unwerth.

EvU said that her intention was to tell a story about a sort of Frankenstein monster that is turned into a vampire after being endowed with life again.

Isn't that a story you'd love you would love to hear?

The images are very reminiscent to me of of both The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) and The Bride of Frankenstein(1935) staring Boris Karloff and Elsa Lanchester.

As far as the song bad Romance and its music video go, I recommend checking them out. The intro and outro each have a kind of harpsichord (?) in halloween sound and the dance in the video barrows elements of Michael Jackson's Thriller choreography with great success.

Italian Body Parts

I'm not sure what it is about Italian and preserving the remains of historical figures, but two interesting articles about body parts showed up on BBC this week.

The first, is that Galileo's fingers and tooth have been found. That desiccated finger is without a doubt one of the most disgusting things I have ever seen in my life.

In addition to the remains of the great astronomer being found, Il Duce's brain has apparently been stolen. I think we all know where this is going: some sort of Franken-dictator is being fashioned in Switzerland. While this can't be good, I sort of have a feeling he'll just end up in a tree again.

Geography of DC Comics: Gotham City

When trying to think up names for Sim City 4 cities or fantasy football team names or for any of many others reasons why someone like me might want to make up place names, Gotham has always been a thorn in my side. No matter how hard I try, I cannot think of a name as good as Gotham. Part of that is probably because it is so ingrained in pop culture and my mind that it actually feels like a real place and actual names always seem more realistic than fake ones. Moreover, the fact that Gotham is actually a nickname for New York probably gives some added weight to it.

Still, the name is simply perfect. It is short and catchy, yet manages to evoke so many images. Goth elicits memories of barbarian tribes, towering Gothic cathedrals and darkness, while ham is a simple English town ending. Thus, it manages to be a reference, but still sound like a real place.

But because Gotham is not a honest-to-goodness physical place, the most important part of its reality is in the mind. Gotham is darkness, it is madness, an art-deco nightmare. It is shadow, towering skyscrapers and muggings on street corners. When you think of Gotham City it brings to mind images of a real place, just as if you thought of New York, London or Hong Kong.

I haven't been able to find quite as much information the geography of the city itself, but I did find some interesting things. Strange Maps, which actually began this endeavor, has a post with some information on various places in the city, as does Gotham and Beyond. I'm not well versed enough with comics to comment further on those particulars, so let's just get to the maps.


The first image comes from Batman: The Animated Series, and honestly isn't all that helpful. Though it's a nice sepia tone and I just like the way it looks.



This next map is the original from Strange Maps and wonderful for city details, but not great for larger area names. As far as I can tell Gotham City is comprised of three main islands, two secondary islands and a few other islands here or there (including Blackgate Isle, #41 on the map). The islands I consider secondary are the two triangular ones, the northern containing Arkham Asylum, the southern the Tricorner Yards. These seem very integrated into the city and important, with an expressway going through the northern and the shipyards on the southern. The other islands are not given much detail, only showing a few bridges connecting them to the main islands and one road.


Here is a subway map of Gotham, which gives some nice detail on neighborhood names. It also gives us the areas of Uptown, Midtown and Downtown (obviously modeled after NYC), but no names for the actual islands which these areas of the city are on. A non-subway map similar to this can be found here. It has a zoom function, lists all sorts of street names and is without a doubt the best map of the city I have found. Oddly, both of these maps get rid of four of the five islands in the south of the city.


From these maps we get the following neighborhoods.
Uptown: Granton, Farrow, Harrow, Jerold.
Midtown: Gainsly, Reatton.
Downtown: Haysville, Stevensburgh, West Harlow.

Additionally, there is the Narrows between Midtown and Downtown, and the island in the southwest corner is South Hinkley.

I would appreciate any input those readers with more comic book knowledge than me have.

Wet Riffs

If I'm not mistaken this is the first time we've mentioned XKCD on this blog, which is a travesty. It's an amazing webcomic, despite the fact that I don't understand math worth a lick. It's well worth at the very least a minutes of your time.

WetRiffs.com, is quite possibly the greatest site on the internet. I know our readers (especially those of the tentacle rape persuasion) will be surprised by that statement seeing as how amazing BSD is, but it's true. Water + nudity + guitars is simple too awesome for us to handle. And likely for all of you, they are still taking submissions.

Note: the other pictures on the site are much sexier than this.

Here is some bonus material for you all, which I also found through XKCD, of some hot, European chess action.

Capybara

I'd like to preface this post with something that I think I'm going to be saying more in the next few years and will probably result in the continual shaping of this blog. Matt and I started Blast Shields Down during our freshman year of college. Our original intent was to have a place to work as a team and put the things we made and wanted to say down together. But more than that too we wanted a way to stay connected and close to one another. Its been a few years. And, if the summers of little substance here are any indication than I think we have at least some anecdotal evidence that BSD has been serving its purpose. Also, its helped to keep us in touch with other friends of ours and other bloggers who we might rarely see. It hasn't always been a strong dialogue but its been a dialogue none the less. I say this because it hit me a few weeks ago that in a rather short time the distance between Matt and myself is going to be even greater. Unlike him I'm not graduating this year. Unlike me, he is probably going to be out of state for the next couple of years for Grad School. Almost in anticipation of this seperation Matt and I have started emailing one another much more; keeping up an almost constant correspondence through the weeks. But, because of my realizattion that soon it'll be bon voyage to Matt, I decided to post here on BSD something I easily could have emailed to him. This way he can see, you can see it, and BSD might learn again to serve its purpose...

"During the Christian observation of Lent, capybara meat is especially popular as it is claimed that the Catholic church, in a special dispensation, classified the animal as a fish in the 16th century. (cf. Barnacle goose) There are differing accounts of how the dispensation arose. The most cited refers to a group of 16th Century missionaries who made a request which implied that the semi-aquatic capybara might be a "fish" and also hinted that there would be an issue with starvation if the animal weren't classified as suitable for Lent."

...and if thats not weird enough, just listen to this....