Brianne Turczynski - Detroit’s Lost Poletown

AUTHORS NOTE

Throughout this work, I have referenced the 465 acres of land in both Hamtramck and Detroit that were razed for the General Motors plant in 1981 as Poletown. I have put much emphasis on the Polish community in the neighborhood; the reader will notice little is mentioned of the many Black, Albanian, Yemenis, Armenian, Hispanic and Filipino residents of Poletown. The absence of their voice in the story is not done to discount them; however, story features about other ethnic groups were rare in the media. The focus was kept primarily on those who fought the plant and the progress of the plant itself.

Families like the Feagans, for example, who owned a lawn mower repair shop on I-94 and Mount Elliot, also fought the General Motors plant. Mr. Feagan enjoyed playing blues on his guitar and sometimes played at his church, Greater Triumph Baptist Church, in Poletown. In my research, I have read just about every article written at the time; the reporters seemed to keep a close eye on the efforts of both the Polish Neighborhood Council and Ralph Naders organization, Center for the Study of Responsive Law, as well as the progress of the plant and the politicians and businessmen involved. But the reader should know that the neighborhood of Poletown was extremely diverse, beautifullydiverse. Many residents commented that the neighborhood was rich in various cultures and beliefs and everyone got along. Forgotten tidbits were menial compared to the bigger story but are still worth mentioning here. There was Carl Fisher, a second-generation Grecian, who owned the Famous Bar-B-Q restaurant on Chene Street. He said his customers were black, white, Italian, you name it, but everyone got along. He commented that during the 1967 Riot or the 1967 Rebellion, as its sometimes called, these same diverse customers called him up and offered to watch over his restaurant at night. John Smigielski mentioned in an interview with me that the neighborhood kids who were every ethnicity other than Polish would always say hello to his elderly mother and ask her if she was all right, if she needed anything, as she swept her upstairs balcony at the family funeral home. Then there is the story about the Albanian congregation that took over the pews at Immaculate Conception in overwhelming numbers every Sunday at two oclock in the afternoon, women on one side, men on the other. And lets not forget the sad anecdote that somewhere in a storage unit, or in a basement, or maybe even rotting in a dump are all of John Sabers personal reels from World War II and his own photographic collection of the demolition of his neighborhood, lost in the haste of his relocation.

Poletown children posing for a picture on Easter Sunday, 1981. Bruce Harkness.

The story of Poletown is centered on the drama that resulted from the illegal use of the eminent domain law and those who tried to save not only the doomed neighborhood but also the Immaculate Conception Catholic church. The church, the Immaculate Conception, became the center for the resistance and the symbol of the fight for justice. It still held Mass in Polish every Sunday in 1981. I felt that this was an American story that budded out of the roots of Polonia. As the reader will learn, the fight was something in the blood of those men and women, generations-old pride for the old country they had built in the newfree from communism. Their enthusiasm set off a ripple effect to other activists who heard about their gatherings at Immaculate Conception, when they formed the Polish Neighborhood Council fueled by the political angst of Tom Olechowski.