Tour De Hood

Nipples & Boobs & Bunns, But it’s all Squeeky Clean.

misterarthur — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 22:18:25 +0000

Following a week of depressing, wet weather, Saturday turned out really nice – perfect for cycling and enjoying the sights of autumn around our fair city.

The Legal Eagle had a nifty route planned, which you can see here, on this approximate map of our travels.

On our way downtown, we passed a business that’s open, if you look closely, 23 hours a day. Which hour it’s not open is not made clear, but I guess it’s around 10 – 11 am on Sundays.

Now we’re open

I say appears, because the owner was either closing for that specific hour, or disturbed by my photo-taking, as he spotted us and pulled the garage door shut.

Now we’re closed

(ps: I like the pluralization of “Tire” on the left-hand side of the door frame)

Earlier this year, I wrote about Rosa Parks’ funeral home. This time, when we rode past, the proprietors had parked their LaSalle Hearse in front of the building.

Rosa Parks’ hearse

For those of you not up to speed on Detroit’s moto-industrial past, LaSalle was a line of vehicles designed to fill a perceived gap between Buick and Cadillac. Luxury, in other words, but not quite as luxurious as Cadillac. The hearse pictured here has a custom body, and this device on the door, which I think could be a cremation urn or some other funerary symbol.

Swanson Door Ornament

Pfeiffer beer used to be one of Detroit’s favorites. We passed by two buildings, one that looks like its original home.

The “office”

Another, larger building is across the street. It was built in the 1940s. Interestingly, one of the directors of the Pfeiffer Brewing Company was an ex-FBI agent who was the guy who captured Bruno Hauptman, the infamous Lindbergh kidnapper.

Own your own brewery

As you know if you’ve read any of my earlier posts, the Legal Eagle is a scholar, not just of the law, but of Detroit Fire Stations. We rode by two former stations, one of which is abandoned:

Engines 11 and 28 (now deceased)

The other one was recycled at some point into a residence, but appears to have been abandoned as well. It looks like a ‘regular’ house,

More than your everyday house

but what gives its origins away is the lettering above the front door.

See? It’s number 35

I can’t remember if this was a ladder or engine company; regardless, it’s empty now.

I’ve puzzled over the seeming absence of “Stimulus Funds” at work in Detroit. I think I’m not the only one. This church is holding out hope from a higher authority.

Hope he’s got some jobs for the unemployed

Back in the “summer” (it never got hot enough to qualify to summer this year) I rode by the unfortunately-named “Last Chance Academy”. I think it dawned on someone that there might be an more inviting moniker for the school, because the sign’s been changed. Here’s what it looked like in August:

Last Chance Then

But that was then. Everyone’s feeling more optimistic now:

Last Chance Now

Right around the corner from the newly-named Detroit Cares Academy is what looks like a feeder school for the Academy. That or a reform school for toddlers

Rule #1: Sit down and be quiet

I usually post photos in a linear fashion – that is, by the order in which I pass the sights. Today, however, a couple of sets of natural groupings presented themselves.

Titillation.

First up, the Club Temptation, which, unusually, isn’t a strip club, just a lounge for adults with dancing and spirits. I really like the assiduousness with which they decorated the facade and its environs.

Just look for the purple rocks

A recurring theme which is sprouting all over the city is a claimed link to President Obama, who may or may not deserve the Nobel Peace Prize, but is certainly worthy of having a burger named for him.

$4, or only 4 available for public consumption

Next up, what I believe to be a women only Motorcycle Club social society:

Foxes inside – watch it!

Detroit has always been in the business of making things – some of which have peculiar nomenclature. There’s a “broaching” shop not far from my office, and at the top of the heap, the ought-to-be-famous Detroit Nipple Works. (Boy, do I hate Bookman with swash caps)

Not for babies

There are plenty of places to get your car washed in Detroit. The front-runner for best-named hand wash place is the appears-to-be-defunct Yetta Boos:

Boo Hoo. It’s closed

Yetta Boo’s claim to fame must’ve annoyed some of the neighbors. But at least one denizen of the neighborhood stood up on her behalf, and was not shy about making his feelings known.

Yetta Boo’s fan club

The second category is another common Detroit sight, the “play fast and loose with the english language” department.

Spelling Fail

One auto shop will fix your fram. (If you have one)

Maybe they’re referring to Nat King Cole’s song “The Frim-Fram Sauce”

Here’s a place to go if your vehicle comes from overseas:

Pronounced: Furrin

Yet another car wash. I guess I should cut this place some slack – for one, the sign painter did a fantastic job, and maybe they were trying to copyright the name.

Sail right in, matey (they detail boats, too)

The Clairmount check-cashing facility will cash any sized check. Just to make sure you understand that, they make the claim on three sides of the building.

No check to big (emphasis on cents)

In case you miss that sign, they took the opportunity to misspell too again on another facade.

Note the emphasis on the $ in this version

I wonder if this is where GM will cash the check they get from selling the Hummer brand to Tengzhong

(By the way, I’d have posted a photo of the third sign, but that would’ve been overkill. Or, as the owners of the Clairmount would probably put it: “To much”.)

The NU-MRK pest control shop (which has t-shirts for sale) has, in a reversal of typical practice, added a hyphen where none was necessary, instead of leaving out a letter where one is needed.

What about the ones that just fly or wiggle?

Another academic location has services for children of working parents. Summer camp, too.

After Schoo, I’m going hom

The third category into which things sorted themselves I can only describe as

Detroit Oddness

Perhaps this entity is supposed to carry you across the rivers of Babylon:

It begs the question: Is there a lesser ship?

Another shop (with a very limited inventory) somehow links Rosa Parks to a nut.

I like pecans, but don’t get the connection

Meanwhile, back on earth…

There’s a lovely neighborhood near midtown in Detroit called Woodbridge, it looked particularly inviting in the fall sunlight

This is Detroit, too. See? What a nice neighborhood

We stopped at the Avalon Bakery for some sustenance – I went with a yummy piece of sour cream coffee cake; the Legal Eagle ate something healthy. I forgot my camera inside, but one of the Avalon-ites was nice enough to bring it out to me.

Fantastic Food and Camera retrieval services

We had another interesting experience on (in?) the Dequindre Cut. An artist named “GAME” was in the process of painting a mural. It’s all on the up and up, according to Tom Stoye – who’s the curator of the graffiti art in the Cut. Here’s a work in progress:

Mural in Progress

Tom sent me some more information about the project, along with some cool photos of finished mural art – I’m going to do a separate post about the subject when I get a moment free. Until then, take a trip downtown before it gets too cold and snowy. There’s lots of great stuff to see.

Bad Cold + Bad Weather = no tour last weekend.

misterarthur — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 14:51:45 +0000

Sorry. Couldn’t drag myself out. Here’s a photo from the Heidelberg Project to keep you company until next weekend.

All bow down to Messrs. Blahnik & Louboutin

And here’s a little Motown to keep you moving.

Davison, Oakman Blvd, W.Vernor, and the Battle of the Overpass

misterarthur — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 11:00:09 +0000

The weather was kind of odd on Sunday, as if it couldn’t make up its mind whether to be cloudy or not. It was beautiful cycling weather in all other respects. Here’s a Google map of where we went.

Not long into our ride, the first spelling fail reared up.

Everyone makes spelling mistakes, but I think people who paint signs for a living should try to uphold a higher standard. At least run the sentence through a spell check before finalizing the job. Case in point. A clearly professionally painted sign that’s missing a C.

Omputer Diagnostis

We also passed an enthusiastic welder’s shop. Can’t comment on the quality of welding, but you gotta love the sentiments of the owner.

Love for all except materials that aren’t welded together

The Weld Shop is next to a building with an odd door. The fence I get. But what do you think that door’s for?

The first step’s a doozy

A couple of weeks ago, I passed a deli on Oakland called Greedy’s. Oddly enough, there’s also a restaurant on the East Side called the Greedy Grill. I’m on the lookout for an eatery named for one of the other Capital Sins – the Sloth Cafe, The Lust Restaurant, etc. Anyone have any ideas if anything like that exists in Detroit? Here’s the Greedy, for your visual pleasure.

All ready to go: Fork ‘n’ Spatula

Time Magazine is doing a full-court press about Detroit, renovating a house and blogging about the city. Most of the news isn’t “news” to us Detroiters, as the grimness of things around here isn’t exactly a secret. That said, our woeful state of affairs was amended on Sunday when the pitiful Detroit Lions broke their 0-for-forever losing streak. Maybe this sign helped.

You’re welcome to look as long as you don’t loiter

Over on Davison, we passed a Motorcycle club with a tough name, but a weird logo. It reminds me of either Pluto eating a hot dog, or a rudimentary graphic of a canine alimentary canal.

The food goes in one end, and out the other

A roofing-home repair place we passed (it appears to be defunct) has a certain peculiar charm to its signage. They do gutters, flashing, and aluminum trim.

Don’t forget the chimney

That said, one of the illustrations on the building appears to be in violation of all OSHA safety regulations:

Working without a net

On the other side of the building, one of the former employees appears to be using a flame thrower on one of his associates.

I think those are fireproof UGGS.

Interesting perspective, too. Reminds me of an urban version of one of Cezanne’s pre-cubist views of L’Estaque, but with squared-off clouds.

Bev’s Backstreet Lounge has girls, girls, girls. The one on the sign has a certain perky allure, and a nice, SFW bathing suit-ish outfit.

The Girls inside are topless. Promise

On the building proper, a much more tempting hint of what you’ll find inside.

Lest you forget: Girls, Girls, Girls

The mood is soured, however, by another large sign at the venue. This has to be the crabbiest looking stripper in the whole Rust Belt.

Maybe she’s mad because she lost one of her shoes, or that she’s right next to a major misspelling of businessman

Here’s a tighter shot of her displeased expression:

Playing second fiddle to a 1/2 lb. sandwich

You never know when you might need a shopping cart. If you ever find yourself without one, get thee to McNichols and Davison, where you’re sure to find a model to satisfy you.

Kind of like Disney World without the Tea Cup Ride

We passed a motorcycle club that has a much more appropriate logo than that of the Black Dragons. Nothing says M/C like flaming death on two wheels, right?

Do not mess with these guys

If incendiary death isn’t your cup of tea, you might find this laundromat more to your liking. Much like the Gospel Hands Car Wash, here’s a place to get your clothes really, really clean.

Ark-Scented Tide?

Not long after we passed that laundromat, we found ourselves on the Davison Service Drive, whose pavement quality deserves some Federal Stimulus Funding, stat. The Legal Eagle, attempting to avoid one of its cracks, bumps, potholes, and former cold patch repair holes, ran through a pile of gravel and crashed, filing off the epidermis on his knee and elbow.

After he stanched the bleeding, we rode for a long way along Oakman Blvd., one of Detroit’s nicest streets. Nice houses, beautiful meridian, etc.

Ultimately, Oakman Blvd turns into Miller Road, which skirts the Ford River Rouge plant, at one time (the 1920’s) the largest manufacturing facility in the world. It was also the site of one of the landmarks of US labor history, the fight between Walter Reuther (founder of the UAW) and goons hired by Harry Bennett, a former boxer and head of Ford’s Internal Security, known as the “Battle of the Overpass”.

Here’s that overpass:

The “Battle of the Overpass” Overpass

Heading home on West Vernor, we passed through Detroit’s “Mexican Village”, home of many fine Mexican restaurants, as well as this nifty cross-cultural emporium:

Home of the Original Nickelnut (?)

A tad further along, I-75 has just finished going through a major renovation, which includes our own Santiago Calatrava-ish bridge. Nice, no?

Wow! A brand new bridge

The Legal Eagle wanted to make sure I saw Detroit’s Geodesic Dome house – and wonder of wonder, it’s for sale. If you’ve ever wanted to live in a concrete dome (there are two domes joined together) now’s your chance. It’s over by the former Train Station if you’re interested.

Luke … I’m your house

Aside from the road-rash incident, it was a great day in the hood. And I like that house.

Thanks, Time Magazine Blog

misterarthur — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 23:19:35 +0000

I was linked by Time Magazine’s Detroit Blog today. Thanks to Karen Dybis for the props.

Blessed Elephants, Polar Bears, and Atomic Dogs – TDH visits Wyoming, Tireman, Harper, and more

misterarthur — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 16:58:27 +0000

Took a rather extended loop on the Tour De Hood today. It was the same day as the Tour De Troit - which we intersected on our end stretch near Indian Village. Went our own way, as the legal eagle and I didn’t want to follow 2,000 cyclists around a path we already know well.

Here’s a Google Map of Saturday’s Route of the Tour De Hood if you’d like to see the route. We did go through Hamtramck & Highland Park, so some of it wasn’t, technically, Detroit proper, though let’s not quibble, ok?

The Tour started on Harper, where I encountered my first Lash Parlor. (Not an S & M facility, even though it was across the street from Harper News, “An Adult Fantasy to Experience”.)

No excuses not to look your best, Ladies (dig the scissors in the “X”)

So far, nothing out of the ordinary, just typically exuberant Detroit retail design. Here’s the relatively subdued adult video emporium (I didn’t know these still existed) which offers titillation for a mere 25 cents.

Looking for a lottery tip sheet to go with your porn?

I am as much for keeping your car clean as the next guy, so I’m thinking that my anodyne sedan might need a trip to the following locale:

Salon + Mr. Heavy = iron fist in velvet glove

We passed an unfortunately defunct appliance repair facility. While the english-ness of its name (World Tomorrow) is a bit questionable, the application of a real washing machine to its signage deserves inclusion into the Detroit pantheon of retail peculiarity.

Follow the arrow to tomorrow

As should be obvious to any one who has followed my peregrinations, it wasn’t long before I passed by a strip club:

Time to celebrate National Hispanic Month

It’s September, but that doesn’t mean it’s too early to prepare for Valentine’s Day. Flowers are always appropriate.

At least there’s no unnecessary apostrophe, but that dash! Oh, dear

There’s a fascinating (though unfortunately faded-by-weather) mural where Harper crosses Gratiot. (Which I now automatically pronounce Gra-toit – per the misspelled sign from last week.) Among the portraits you can spot Malcolm X, former Mayor Coleman Young, the People Mover (?), Nelson Mandela, a young Jesse Jackson, Martin Luther King, and, I think, Toussaint L’Ouverture, leader of the Haitian Revolution in the late 18th Century. The mural’s title confounds me:

Amalgamation of Ubiquity? Fusion of Everywhere?

Shantinique Music is bucking the trend of highly-focussed retailers, like Michigan Saw & File, and has (successfully?) cobbled together the only Music/sportswear/footwear shop I’ve ever seen.

Music, and the outfit to go with it

A delightfully-named car wash, “Bubble Time”, was the next sight to behold, which wouldn’t normally merit inclusion here, but I was struck by the inequality of the time devoted to painting the bubbles, and the slapdash execution of the name itself.

Time to get down with your foamy self

Shortly thereafter, things soon descended (or arose, I guess) into one of the most memorable rides I’ve taken in Detroit, a surreal combination of misspellings, oddball graphics, stolen logos, religious “iconography”, and just plain weirdness that is probably unmatched by any other city in America.

Behold: The Harper/Mt. Elliot/Conant/Oakland/Wyoming/Tireman acid trip on two wheels.

There’s a lonely chimney, which reminded me of the photos of Atlanta following Sherman’s March to the Sea.

Former site of _________?

I know the English language has certain peculiarities which make spelling correctly kind of difficult – but the person in charge of this sign appears to have not even bothered trying to get it right.

Hot ‘n’ Kold, I guess

Given that our native tongue has (according to the O.E.D., which ought to know) over 170,000 words in current use, it’s surprising that the owners of this facility couldn’t drag up a better adjective to describe their wares:

Dig those “Roman” Ds

Consider yourself a sign painter. You have a project. Your assignment is to paint the name of a store and its goods on a rather large blank wall. Given the space you’re given on which to apply your art, wouldn’t you think about that door before you realized that you’d have to split “gro” and “ceries” to maintain your sort-of centered type format?

No more Frankie Yankovic? That’s Old Polka

Last week, I mused on the absence of a mountain on Mt. Elliot street, but I think I found a lump that could be the missing mountain after all. It’s a geological oddity, as it’s made primarily of crushed concrete, unlike the Alps or the Himalayas.

Behold Detroit’s highest mountain

The Highland Park High School Varsity football team was playing an away game against Country Day on Saturday. As predicted by some of the people we met, they stomped all over the Country Day Yellow Jackets, 36 to 3. But here’s the question: What on earth possessed the school board to name the team “The Polar Bears”?

Polar Bears in Highland Park? Reminds me of the first two seasons of Lost

A temporarily permanent “restaurant” beckoned on McNichols, and while the art work featured enticing renderings of various comestibles, the sign (with a surprisingly accurate use of an apostrophe) promised Nothin’ but Love” [sic]. I don’t know what the end quotation mark is for.

I want some fries with that love

Co-winner of this week’s Pro-Am competition, this professionally painted but amateurishly spelled appliance repair store:

Great at ffixing frigirators.

Tied for first with the proffessionals is a furniture repair shop, that promises all kinds of furniture repair.

Quality work; bad spelling

Here’s this week’s stump the misterarthur winner. I’m willing to go with blessed money plants (sure to generate wealth) and blessed thinking caps (we could all use one of those), but the blessed elephant thing totally confounds me. Do you have to bring your own elephant to be blessed? Is this a combo candle store/pet store that only sells elephants? Is it legal to own an elephant, blessed or not, within the Detroit City limits? Does this Mayor know about this possibly illegal trade in elephants?

I’ll take one thinking cap, please

We try to support Detroit Car makers as much as we can; but even if your car comes from elsewhere, we’re happy to repair it. That doesn’t mean we have to spell its origin correctly.

I promise to defend the constitution against all enemies, foriegn or domestic

I’m not sure if a Moabite Body is something I’d like to have. According to Wikipedia, the ancestor of the Moabites was Lot himself, via incest with his oldest daughter. Whether that contributes to physical perfection is not within my area of expertise.

There’s a town in Utah called Moab, maybe they’re Mormons

Next up, Detroit’s version of fusion cuisine. Not quite what you’d expect from a Spa experience in California, but what the hell, it might be tasty after all.

WTF? Irish Sushi?

This week’s TDH winner of the Amateur Retail Decor Award is a sort of one-man Home Depot.

Here’s a wide view. Note the care with which the sign painter avoided the shutter on the left hand side

It’s a medical building, too. See above the door

My favorite part is the full Detroit rendering of Doors, Lumber, and Window$ [sic], especially the random use of upper and lower case letters.

Window$

A fellow walking by said “That building’s all F’d up. Ain’t got no floor. Ain’t got no roof”. I take that to mean we’ll have to look for our new KiTCHEN CABINET elsewhere.

Detroit has been a Democratic Party stronghold for years and years, and, as a whole, has embraced our new President. That said, no one appears to have taken it as far as the proprietors of this service station, who’ve violated every copyright law in Amercica to proclaim their allegiance to Mr. Obama.

In case you don’t know which Obama they’re referring to, there’s a photo for your assistance

Even the pumps carry the full Obama Campaign graphics.

Does Hugo Chavez have anything to do with this?

David Mackenzie High School was erected in 1931 – hence the glorious Deco tile work. I don’t know when it was abandoned; it still has some unbroken windows. What a shame.

No child left inside

God, as I generally understand it, is all-seeing, and all-powerful – at least as defined by Judeo-Christians everywhere. You can imagine, then, that I was nonplussed by the re-definition of God’s will over here at Cliff’s Family. I think it’s a barber shop – the signage behind the white Ford Explorer says “regular haircuts”. No tyzillions here, I guess.

God Specialize in what?

This small restaurant on Tireman was new to me – I don’t remember it being listed in one of the hot Detroit nightspots directories. Irradiated food! It’s the next big thing!

Note: Whole Chicken Wings

The sign painter has either inadvertently left a space between “cat” and “fish”, or is, instead, promising something I’ve never seen on a menu before; your choice of cat or fish. I’ll take the Atomic Dog.

We ran across another spelling fail before we got home. I hate insurance deductibles (like everyone else). As for deductibales, I’ve never had to pay one. Special Shout Out to the estimable Ed Dilworth, who pointed out that Jay’s phone number has an extra digit.

It appears as though they demolished their dictionary, too.

The ride ended, not with a bang, but a hiss. A piece of glass, too big to be a shard and too small to be a chunk whacked my rear tire. Two patches later, the tube was still not holding air. My wife had to come and pick me up. Thus an ignominious end to a glorious and enlightening day. Such is life on the Tour De Hood.

Addendum: Forgot to include this impressively named and fantastically decorated hair salon:

“A woman’s hair is her glory”

Warren and Michigan Avenues: Meat City, Hair for Sale, Palindrome Fail, and more

misterarthur — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 03:11:26 +0000

What a glorious day on the Tour de Hood. Not only was the weather just spectacular, the sights to behold were equally inspiring. After all, who wouldn’t be thrilled by a giant cow head (complete with its own reading light)?

Bessie with a headlamp

On the way to East Warren Avenue, I passed an extraordinarily bad painting of President Obama. The building on which he’s painted also poses a mystery. The establishment promises “Seeded” and “Seedless” Watermelons, and the neither-of-the-above “& more”. More what? Semi-seeded? Sorta-Seeded? Seems like seeded and seedless covers just about all the possibilities to me.

President Obama, more or less

I know Mies Van Der Rohe famously said “Less is More”, but if I ever open a nightclub, I hope I can come up with a better name than this:

Club Club (Private Club Club)

You can spot a newcomer to Detroit by his or her non-Detroit-pronunciation of street names like Schoenherr (Shay-ner) and Goethe (Go-thee – soft th), and famously, Gratiot. We pronounce it “Gra-shut” where the Gra rhymes with laugh. While on the way to Michigan Avenue, (on Gratiot) we passed a monumental misspelling. (And no, I’m not referring to the misplaced possessive). What’s most mind-blowing about this is that the sign painter could’ve checked the correct spelling just by, oh, looking at the street sign. Voila: Gratoit Tires and Service. (Maybe it rhymes with Detroit?)

Need yoru cra fexid?

I am somewhat follically-challenged, so I was quite thrilled to find a shop that, oddly, sells hair. I’ll admit, I have never seen a hair shop before.

How do they charge for it? By the inch? The pound?

I am also a fan of wordplay – puns, palindromes, crossword puzzles, etc., so imagine my pleasure at finding this tax preparation company which has the two ends of a palindrome, but forgot about the middle part.

Palindrome Fail: Xat’s what I’m talking about

Once on Michigan Avenue proper, we passed the mighty Slow’s restaurant, one of my all-time favorite places to eat anywhere. It has only one problem – it’s too popular, and the wait to get seated can be excruciating, particularly when you are being assaulted by the tempting aroma of slowly barbequing pork. I’ll bet you’ve never eaten across the street from a speedometer repair shop, either.

Even the wait to eat is Slow

The sights on Michigan began to unveil themselves. We may call ourselves Motown, but what the heck, Meat City sounds good, too.

Wait until PETA hears about this

Across the street is another motorcycle – er, social club – no doubt populated by very friendly members.

I wonder if there’s an initiation rite?

There was a decidedly non-pc vehicle for sale next door. I think it would be a great commuter car for Michigan winters.

Ingress and egress will be tough

Looking for some dubs for your whip? Rim City might be able to help you out – and perhaps can explain the whatever-that-thing-is on the roof is.

Just down the road from Meat City

There are quite a few adult entertainment establishments on Michigan Avenue – (reasonably typical of Detroit’s major thoroughfares). Take your pick:

Club 4 Play

Hamburgers are only $4.00. With fries

Starvin’ Marvin’s – amazingly accurate use of the possessive, and so, perfect for grammar police stripper fans.

Exclusive? Oh yeah.

Next, a place that’s either an adult entertainment facility or a post-exercise hangout. I’m betting on the former.

Double extra-hot no foam latte with that lap dance, please

Finally, close to Dearborn, The Crazy Horse. (We left Michigan at Lonyo, so as to stay within the city limits.) Looks nice from here:

Talent agency, too

Perhaps because of its proximity to Dearborn, the Crazy Horse has a neon sign which I can only assume is Arabic. Translation, anyone?

Does this translate as “Adult Entertainment” or “Talent Agency”?

Naming streets for a big city must be an exhausting job. So I guess I understand that the person responsible for this street simply ran out of gas one day, and gave up trying to be inventive:

I live on Joe. Just Joe.

There’s an auto repair facility on the corner of Joe and Michigan, whose sign appears to have been painted by the same firm responsible for “Gratoit”. Here, you can get your front end aliged.

I always wanted my wheels aliged

This sign was clearly not painted by the company whose sign you’ll see below. I want to meet the fellow illustrated thereon, whom I’ve dubbed the King of Detroit.

I need a logo for the Tour De Hood – I may call this guy up

Yet another very narrowly-focused retail outlet. Not just socks. Sporting socks. American sporting socks.

Looks like you can buy them singly or in pairs

After the string of strip clubs, it was somewhat of a relief to find a church to keep things in balance. If you need deliverance from fire, now you know where to go. This is on West Warren – near Lonyo.

Church-cum-Fire Station?

I’ve seen plenty of great store fronts here in the Paris of the Midwest. Mr. Fix It is simply a Masterpiece of retail art. So much so, I didn’t think one photo would do it justice.

Here’s one side (the one that faces Warren Ave.).

Odd jobs

The front – one part of which I can’t quite figure out. Can you find it?

An adventure in Auto care. (And other things, too!)

Here’s the part I can’t decipher:

Guess the object next to the Bible. Please submit answers in the comment section

Side three. Not a wasted inch of space. And, perhaps, a way to help you keep your hubcaps in place.

Peculiarly-shaped phone, no?

The United Sates is supposedly a class-free society, so I’m not sure how I feel about the regal claim made by the owner of this liquor store. (Maybe Elvis is still alive, and works here?)

Detroit Royalty, with his subjects, alcohol and the lottery

Identifying the King of Warren will have to wait a while – in the meantime, I can tell you he’s probably not named Jason. Here’s an awfully blunt piece of invective I spotted on the side of a truck.

Am not responsible for the veracity of this statement.

All in all, a beautiful day in the Hood, including a live love song in front of the Avalon Bakery. (It’s a long story).

Mt. Elliott (or as we call it on the Tour de Hood, the Col du Mont Elliott)

misterarthur — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 23:09:47 +0000

Mt. Elliott, as a street name, has always confused me. The contour of the street itself is as little like a mountain as imaginable: Not even a small hill interrupts its gentle flow across the east side. After riding up part of its length on Saturday, I wanted to get some details about why a flat road is named “Mount”, which my cousin Paul was kind enough to pass along.

Street & Cemetery

There’s a famous Detroit cemetery on the south side of the street; it’s called Mt. Elliott Cemetery. I thought the cemetery was named for the street, but I had it backwards; the street is named for the cemetery, and the cemetery is named for Judge (and practicing architect) Robert Thomas Elliott, who wanted a Catholic cemetery for Detroit’s burgeoning Irish population. (I guess he didn’t want to spend eternity in the company of amidst the French Catholics who had originally settled Detroit).

Anyway, the Honorable Judge Elliott was instrumental in the purchase of the property, which was consecrated in 1841. The cemetery was named for the judge, who was killed in a construction accident shortly thereafter.

The “Mount” part is simply a style of cemetery naming current at the time of its consecration. Got it? Good. Let us proceed up the “Mount”.

At its base is a nifty sign adjacent to a weird cafe/art gallery/auto displayground. Let the good cheer begin.

Dig that Pontiac

Parked a dozen yards or so up the street was a mini bus with a terrific promise.

It’s an “Escort” brand bus. Coincidence?

I waited to be transported to the vehicle’s mystery destination, but it just sat there.

One of Detroit’s most famous tourist attractions, (the Heidelberg Project) abuts Mount Elliott, but I concentrated on some lesser-known features, like the fab pawn shop at Mt. Elliott’s intersection with Gratiot.

Yee hah! There’s gold in that there shop.

Dreams of wealth beyond avarice soon fade, though. Mt. Elliott quickly reverts to more typical Detroit scenes. Like this shop.

“Fine” does not include paint

Near the intersection with E. Grand Blvd., I wandered off-course, and came across this week’s stump the misterarthur winner, a company named….?

Custer’s Tomb? Cruet Bomb?

I’ve noted before that we’ll spray graffiti on just about anything in our fair city, these abandoned tires being a prime example:

My tread’s lusher than your tread

These tagged tires were cheek-by-jowl with one of Detroit’s more spectacular collapsed buildings. The whole mess is very near to the ex-Packard factory, but I’m not sure if this “structure” was ever part of the car producing firm.

Anyone need a sectional – slightly used?

Some people were scrounging around amongst the ruins, “recycling” some cinder blocks they’d managed to find. It appears to be a popular wrecked area, as every graffitier has left a mark somewhere in its vicinity:

Thanks for the offer

Once I crossed the Edsel Ford Freeway, and passed the Cadillac plant, Mt. Elliot forks off to the right, and if you continue straight along, you’ll find yourself on Conant, as I did. The rest of my ride looped me back home. I did go by the Kowalski factory,

Is that a big prong in your sausage, or are you just glad to see me?

and before I got home, I also passed a Deli (now defunct) which appears to have been named for one of the Seven Deadly Sins.

More hand-dipped ice cream, please

The Deli’s on Oakland street, in case you’re looking for proof that you don’t mess around with Capital Vices in public.

At the Avalon Bakery (I recommend the blueberry buckle cake) I met two charming people, Johnette, who raises money for impoverished South Africans at her site, Afribike, and a real Detroit tour guide, Mark Denson, from Dtours Detroit. Check out their respective sites

Van Dyke Avenue, The Atmospheric Training Academy, and the world’s best name for a barber shop

misterarthur — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 18:44:29 +0000

Saturday’s ride took me the length of Van Dyke Avenue; actually its length within the Detroit City limits. (We turned around at 8 mile, not wanting to venture into the wilds of Center Line.) Van Dyke is named for a former mayor of Detroit, James A. Van Dyke. Were the world a perfect place, the street name would be kept the same, but to honor the great Earl Van Dyke, keyboardist and bandleader of the Funk Brothers, the great Motown house band.

Not the eponymic Van Dyke, but the Van Dyke

First up on view, Michigan’s Oldest Bank. Until recently, it was a Domino’s Pizza outlet (hence the busted sign). You know it’s the oldest bank in Michigan because it says so, right on the edifice itself. (You won’t be able to make it out in the photo, but should you want to verify the claim, it’s on the corner of Kercheval and … yes, that’s correct, Van Dyke.)

No money, no pizzas, no buyers

Until you cross Gratiot, Van Dyke is mostly residential. Like a number of severely depressed parts of the City, this section of Van Dyke it trying to drag itself up by its bootstraps. Here’s an exhortation to the locals:

Work, Earn Money, Spend Money

There’s a nicely painted bench near the sign – I think it’s a bus stop, but these days it’s hard to say for sure, because the city is cutting back services left, right, and center, including bus services.

For your own safety and comfort, please hold the hand rail

I passed a boarded up theatre – I’m positive I saw a King Crimson/Procol Harum concert here when I was a tadpole, but for the life of me, I can’t remember the name of the venue. UPDATE: It was the Eastown Theatre.

Mystery Theatre

There’s a wonderful detail above the former Marquee – something you don’t see at today’s octoplexes.

Shakespeare subservient to comedy. Cry “Havoc!” and let slip the dogs of humor

I asked a local passerby if he remembered what the theatre used to be called, but all he could recollect was that the last time the building was open, it was a methadone clinic.

Detroit seems to have more than its fair share of tire stores (could be related to our giant potholes), but perhaps no other has a paint job to match that of D.O.T. tires

Monsieur Michelin meets Mister Sponge Bob

Once again, my photo doesn’t do it justice. It’s an honest shop. As it says above “Blow Horn”: “What’s up Doc? YOU KNOW there’s NO guarantee on Used Tires.”

Cooley’s Lounge, is, as far as I could see, shut down. But after looking around on the internets, crazily enough, there’s a web listing for Cooley’s Lounge online. While the building promises Blues & Dancing, the web site I linked to claims “Gay/Lesbian Lounge Music”. I like the guitar, which looks like the ill-begotten love child of a Gibson Explorer and a Super 400.

Looks closed to me, but who knows?

There’s a schizophrenic (or is that multiple personality disorder?) quality to many of Detroit’s main streets, and you’re apt to see strip clubs right next door to day care centers. True! Continuing the trend, the next thing I noticed after passing Cooley’s was this reminder:

Hurry Up!

Every city has cranky citizens; Detroit is no exception. We do need help here, so the sentiments behind these signs aren’t completely unwarranted.

Where’s that stimulus money, any way?

I like the novel spelling of “sqrewed” and “communiies”, but I still miss the possessive in “wheres”. After all, I am still a member in good standing of the grammar police.

Stroh’s was our local beer. The Stroh family owned and made Detroit’s “Fire Brewed” beer, but then sold out to some faceless conglomerate that ran the brand into the ground. A note of interest: Stroh started making ice cream during Prohibition, as means of keeping the company running during the dry years. (p.s.: You know the song “Jailhouse Rock”? There’s a lyric in it: “The whole rhythm section was the Purple Gang”. That was a Detroit gang of bootleggers.)

America’s “Favorite”

Back when I was in college, I worked at Dodge Main, the original Dodge Brothers’ factory in Hamtramck. Just down the line from me were some members of a motorcycle gang named “Satan’s Sidekicks”. They had red helmets with attached red Devil’s horns. As a young naif, I thought they’d be meanies and try to thrash me. I was wrong, of course. Satan’s Sidekicks was really just a social club. That said, I’m not sure about the socialness of a motorcycle club with the following motto:

Cognitive Dissonance, anyone?

Sir Mix-A-Lot had a boffo hit a while back: “Baby Got Back”. I’m sure you remember it. If you got back, and you’re looking for a place to shop, you may want to check this place out.

Yes, indeed, they do

OK. Next up, the best-named barber shop anywhere in the English-speaking world, and singularly à propos for my fair city.

The Demon Barber of Van Dyke?

Continuing the tradition of misspelled Detroit signage, I present to you “Pittbull” (sic) Tattoo’s (sic) & Body Piercing. I noticed a number of lawn-sign type ads for the Pittbull company along my ride. Business is either slow, or they’re making enough profit for marketing. The painting that is the focal point of the shop mystifies me to some degree, it looks (to me) like a combination of a V-8 engine cutaway (I think those are pistons), a heart pierced by thorns, flames (hell?) and a bunch of skulls. It’s like Hieronymus Bosch meets Ed “Big Daddy” Roth. You decide.

Tats ‘n’ Holes

More of the piston motif can be found by carefully scrutinizing the Mojo Auto Parts sign. I believe that’s a piston behind the wheel. And there’s a Jolly Roger in there for good measure.

Hope this mojo works on you

Next, another strip club. It was called (The) Duchess Lounge – here’s the old sign. The thong is for the prudes in the area, I guess.

Don’t know why there’s a 2 x 4 nailed across her head

Either it’s under new management, or the name wasn’t packing them in like it used to, as the club is now partially renamed Minx, or if you take the uncovered part of the old name and combine it with the new, “DucMinx”.

Open for your pleasure

Once again, and true to form, the next thing I ran across was a church with a fantastic message board. I’d love to meet the pastor, who clearly has a sense of humor.

All are welcome to…find out inside

The uplifting spirit continued on to the impossibly-optimistic towing service next door. I guess if you’re sitting in your car while it’s being towed, all you could see is up.

Ever-alert auto towing service

Scroll back through my older posts, and you’ll soon discover that much about Detroit mystifies me. I have another piece to add to my collection of establishments whose purpose is not quite clear to me. I guess the Atmospheric Training Academy could train you for lots of things. But what, exactly? Pilot’s license? Weatherman? EPA Air Quality Monitor? Just thinking karmic thoughts? I honestly don’t know. Please feel free to add your guesses to the comments. Anyway, here it is.

Stump the misterarthur winner for this week

By now, I had just about run out of Van Dyke, and it was time to head home. Not too far from the ATA is the famous (I hear) 007 Gentlemen’s Club. No question about its purpose.

RAWR, as my friend Mandy would say

If you decide this might be a place worth visiting, you should know that there are some things you cannot bring along with you for your evening’s fun:

Très Civilized

While weapons and guns are not permitted, everything else appears not just to be accepted, but encouraged.

8 p.m. ’till you drop

A couple more interesting sights presented themselves before I got home. There’s the flaming tire tire shop (which also, curiously, has a rainbow in its logo, though you can’t see it from this angle.)

Hot Tires, anyone?

There was the almost-correctly spelled Jamaican Restaurant, which may or may not be open for business. (Looks like a new paint job, so I’m betting on the former.)

I, eye, aye

Back in the olden days, there was an “adult entertainment” establishment called, with a full sense of the irony implied in its name, “The Grosse Pointe Athletic Club”. It went out of business, but was reborn as “Cover Girls”.

Dig that dated art style

Judging by the style of the art, I’m guessing Cover Girls closed its doors before the turn of the century.

Then it was time to grab something for lunch. Three options presented themselves:

One of each, please

As the establishment was closed, I went home and ate a hot dog. Dearborn brand natural casing, if you must know. Gotta help the local economy any way I can.

Pit Stop on the Tour De Hood

misterarthur — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 22:58:44 +0000

My other single speed

I am having a brief relaxment at the beach. Will re-assume posting upon my return.

Up Down Hoe, Along Grand River, Across McNichols, + Avoiding a $10,000 fine.

misterarthur — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 01:24:26 +0000

This is a pretty long post. I won’t be able to post next weekend, so this’ll have to tide you over.

Summer has finally hit Detroit. Following a monsoonish rainfall yesterday, Sunday was hot ‘n’ humid out on the pavement. There’s a “Heat Advisory” in effect until 10 pm tonight.

To help you follow my peregrinations, I made a simple Google Map to show the route Paul and I took today. Last week, I rode up Grand River, but only as far as Grand Blvd. This week, we decided to go farther up the road, to cover some fire stations Paul hadn’t photographed yet, and to see what other interesting sights might unveil themsleves.

First, we had to get to Grand River itself. We decided to ride down Charlevoix, mostly because I had just watched Gran Torino, which was filmed in Detroit. I thought I recognized one of the locations, where Clint’s Hmong neighbors’ daughter gets hassled by some punks:

Gran Torino Location (I think)

There are two other Gran Torino locations I’m sure of. One is Pointe Hardware & Lumber, (my hardware store) which sells a “Gran Torino” tool kit consisting of a can of WD-40, a roll of duct tape, and a pair of Vise-Grips. (See the movie, and you’ll understand). Also “my” tailor, Vince of Artona, plays himself assisting Clint in buying a suit. (Vince does a great job playing himself, by the way).

A bit further along, we passed the Ossian Sweet house. You can read more about him at the link. It was a tragedy set off when Dr. Sweet, an African-American, moved into an all white neighborhood. A mob gathered outside his house, threw rocks and bricks, and shots were fired from the house, killing one of the people in the street. Clarence Darrow wound up successfully defending Dr. Sweet. Here’s his home, on Garland and Charlevoix

The Ossian Sweet home

I’m guessing he and my grandfather knew each other. My grandfather was a physician as well, and lived and practiced a couple of blocks away. He also treated African-Americans. I have a notebook of birth records he kept; while most of his patients were listed as “white”, he had African-American obstetric patients, as well as (as he wrote) “Syrian”, “Indian”, and “Finnish”. I have no idea why he specified “Finnish”, but the entries date from 1915, so who knows?

I spotted a piece of graffiti, and asked a gentleman on the porch of the house next door if I could take its picture. “Sure”, he said, and I did. I can’t figure this out, and neither could the gentleman with whom I spoke. “Used to be, graffiti made sense,” he said, “I don’t get this new stuff.”

Anyone help me out here? Casey?

There are tons and tons of places to get your car repaired in Detroit. Unfortunately, I don’t think you can take your vehicle to “Jalloppy’s” anymore for its maintenance needs.

Where am I going to find Genuine Red’s Hydraulic Products?

Our local public radio station, WDET, used to have the longest-running blues program in the country, hosted by the estimable, but also difficult-to-understand at times Famous Coachman. He also had a record store. Mr. Gasm, one of Detroit’s most prolific taggers, (along with Mr. Porab) has claimed the territory, but you can see that at one point, you could even buy vacuum tubes chez Monsieur Coachman.

The one and only Coachman’s Records

Once on Grand River itself, we stopped to see the inside of the Michigan Theatre. This was one of those movie-palace places. Right now, it’s being used as a parking garage (!). As the Tigers were going to take the field today, it was open, so we ducked in for a couple of shots.

Park your whip in style

The most impressive window is blocked by a wall, but incredibly (this, in a city where copper gutters have a life span of about a day) some original marble is still in place.

Is your parking garage graced by marble?

Here’s a place to get fit for you Tour De Hood wannabees. (That, or for people who are all agog over just sitting on the couch.)

Get going! Sit There!

Next up, the remains of one of Detroit’s most historied (yes, that’s a real word) locations, The Grande Ballroom.

Not so Grande any more

Do visit the website, particularly the “Gigology” page to get a sense of the great acts that played there. (My sister saw The Who there.) I’m going to take a quick detour here to give some props to two of the people who made the Grande Famous – Gary Grimshaw and Carl Lundgren. Most people think “psychedelic” art comes from San Francisco. That’s because of the “summer of love” blah blah. But it can be safely said that Grimshaw and Lundgren were among the true originators of the genre. To give you a flavor of their style, here’s a Cream poster by Grimshaw

Cream at the Grande, poster by Grimshaw

Here’s a sample of Carl Lundgren’s work:

The Who & Joe Cocker on the same bill

Back on Grand River, I passed a number of interesting retail establishments. One of the places offered “reconditioned” – well, I’m not sure, but it looks like “reconditioned” “reconditioneds”.

No unreconditioned reconditioned for me

We all need to look our best, and here’s a place that promises the coldest cuts in the city – if you think I’m talking about deli meats, move to Indiana.

Not sure what’s going on in that “O”

Then there’s the mysteriously-named but tempting club on the east side of the street:

It’s RED, get it?

One of the establishments has rather sneakily renamed itself. I would wager large amounts of money that this collision shop didn’t have this name in 2008. (I’m just guessing).

Same great Service. Same great people

There are plenty of hand wash car washes in Detroit. But really, how do you know if the hand wash you’re promised is really a hand wash? This place wants you to understand, when they say hand wash, they mean hand wash, dang it.

Ladies, put Wednesday & Sunday in your PDA

I know that retailers have succeeded in malls by specializing in selling things you wouldn’t think warrant a whole store dedicated to them, like “Sunglass Hut”, but this place seems a little too finely focussed to me. How many saws & files do people need, anyway?

Not just saws. Saws and files

I love barbeque. Not “barbequed” meats. Barbeque. There’s a difference. And if you don’t believe me, ask someone from Texas or Kansas City, or North Carolina. I was both thrilled and perplexed by this restaurant. (Well, the name is odd):

Pronunciation? Your guess is as good as mine

What leaves me scratching my head is the claim that Ippissee was voted number one bar-b-q “In the State of Tennessee”. Is that a plus? I thought Tennessee was more famous for things like Jimmie Dean Sausage, or biscuits and gravy. I don’t remember reading anything about great Tennessee bar-b-q and, by the way, voted by whom?

Up at the top of our ride, we stopped at a beautiful fire station: Engine 54.

Yes, this is Engine 54

A delightful sergeant invited us in to take a look around. It’s a beautifully kept station. One of the firefighters took it upon himself to shine up the original brass in the station. Check out this door handle, from back in the day when Detroit had money, and every city took pride in its public buildings.

Beautiful door handle

We decided to take McNichols back. It was a good choice, as we had a really nice tailwind, which took the edge off the now blistering heat. We also passed a tax return place with the simplest and best promise possible:

That’s what I want

If you’re looking for a used vehicle, you might try this establishment:

Feeling lucky?

Mr. Lucky’s was open today, but be careful. He has a very, very, large dog. The dog appears to not like either intruders, or people, in general.

OK, readers, I need some help here. I passed what used to be a bank, and all that’s left of the original signage is this logo. Neither Paul (who knows these kinds of things) nor I (who wan’t much help) could identify it. Anyone know what bank this might have been?

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

McNichols is supposed to dead end at Detroit City Airport, but some hooligans knocked down large sections of the fence, giving access to the airport. Enquiring minds like mine see that as an opportunity explore new territories, and the runway beckoned. (There’s actually a little sidewalk that skirts the runway proper, so we weren’t actually in anyone’s flight path).

Airport with ‘bike path’

The only problem was that hooligans have left all the other fences intact, so we were, in effect, trapped inside. We spoke with two nice airplane-owning gentlemen, one of whom volunteered to let us out through the electronically controlled gate, as he was about to leave. However, on the way to said gate, we were intercepted by a security type, who had failed to see us riding around on the tarmac. He was rather nonplussed at our presence. He asked how we had gained access to the airport, which we told him was through a large, missing chunk of fence. That didn’t seem to concern him as much as us actually being on the airport grounds, and threatened us with a $10,000 fine. I guess maybe they needed the money to actually repair the fence we rode through.

Detroit City Airport Hangars

One thing about this airport is that there’s no sign flashing the current TSA Security level. Last I looked at Detroit Metro, it was orange; I hope our little detour on City Airport’s property didn’t raise it to red.