Flint Artifacts: Flint Central vs. Battle Creek 1950 Football Program

Michael Brown: Mayor of Flint (Temporarily)

With all the excitement of The Don quitting and then demanding back pay, I forgot to mention that Flint has a new mayor — Michael Brown.

High Sticking

A Flint Generals hockey player sues the team over a worker's comp claim.

UM-Flint Gets Physical?

First dorms, now sports at UM-Flint?

John Daniels

John Daniels, a 1984 Powers graduate, died Wednesday. He was in his first year as the freshman basketball coach at Powers. He attended St. Mary's Mt. Morris and Donovan North before going to Powers, where he was All-State in baseball and All-Big Nine Conference in football and basketball.

A more extensive article on John in The Flint Journal is available here.

The visitation will be at the Miles-Martin Funeral Home in Mt. Morris. The schedule is as follows:

Thursday from 5:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m.

Friday from 11:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. A rosary will be held at 6:00 p.m. on the same day.

The Mass will be on Saturday morning at 11:00 a.m. at St. Mary's Mt. Morris.

Here a some of the comments from readers about John:

steph said...

A very sad day again for the class of 84 he will be missed. So sorry for his family the loss i'm sure is great. It is so shocking time is short live each day as if it was your last.

God Bless,

Stephanie Hoffman
class of 84

bustdup said...

Too Young, too young. Condolences to His Loved Ones.

Anonymous said...

As a fellow 1984 Powers High graduate, I can't agree with you more Stephanie. It proves that none of us, regardless of status, are immune to the final outcome of life, whatever time frame that may be.

May John's soul and the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace, amen.

God bless us all.

Anonymous said...

John Daniels was a Powers legend. I remember watching his Powers team in the state basketball tourney in 84.
I feel terrible for his family.

redgirl said...

This is very, very sad and shocking news. My deepest condolences to the entire family and all of his many friends.

Maureen Stewart
Class of 83

Anonymous said...

Thanks for putting this on your blog. John was such an awesome person. He was the best when he was around kids. I just met John in the last year. He was dating my sister, and had met all of my family, and I was the last one he hadn't met. My sister called me to come over and have cocktails and meet John. That day I had my hair colored. So, not knowing John (although I had great reviews from my family of him) I decided to go over to with this hideous blond Hannah Montana like wig on. I came into the house and gave him a hug and introduced myself. The look on his face was priceless! I'm sure he thought who the hell is this person? (Ok, skank might come to mind). My sister walked around the corner and I asked her if I looked to blond and she was cracking up. Poor John, he was so sweet to "be really glad to meet me" and when I took of the wig, we were all laughing so hard. Over the next several months I got to enjoy so many laughs with John. I was at the funeral home tonight, and there were so many people there, and many did not want to leave. He will be buried with his beloved Power's basketball coach shirt on. He lived and died Powers. God bless him and all the love he shared with so many people. We are all looking up to heaven and knowing it just became even a better place. Love you John, and I will truly miss you. And if I ever really decide to dye my hair blonde, please tap on my shoulder and knock some sense into me.

Anonymous said...

John was my hero growing up. He was like a big brother to many of us who were a few years younger. I remember the summer going into the ninth grade and he helped both me and Tim McCollum "bulk up" for freshman football. (I think he was dating Kelly McCollum at the time). He had the sweetest jump shot from the corner ever. What a loss. RIP John.

Rob Gilbreath
Class of 1987

geewhy said...

You always knew the name of the other team’s best player in the old Flint Catholic school leagues. So I knew John Daniels’ name long before I actually met him.

John’s death is a sad reminder that none of us have as much time as we think we do. For me, it has also triggered memories of playing sports in the seventies.

When I was in sixth grade at St. Mary’s Flint, we installed a special defense to deal with John when we played St. Mary’s Mt. Morris. Our coach, Kenny West, taught us the box-and-one. It’s basically a 2-2 zone with one player covering John man-to-man. It was the only time we ever used it. There were no other players in the league who warranted it.

The fact I remember this stuff says something about the role sports played in the Catholic school system. By the time most of us made it to Powers, we not only knew the kids at our grade school, but we knew a lot of the students at the other schools as well. High School is not an easy time, but it helped knowing so many kids in advance.

At Powers, I actually got to play freshman and J.V. basketball with John. More accurately, he played (very well) and I sat. But he didn’t fit the stereotype of the star athlete. He was a funny guy, and he didn’t carry himself like he was better than anyone because of his athletic skills. I’m sorry he’s gone, and I feel for his family and friends.

Now, like much of Flint, Powers seems to be struggling. Most of the Catholic grade schools have closed, and I fear that little world within a world that played out in St. Mary’s tiny gym or on football fields around the city has disappeared along with them.

One Piece at a Time

Buy American...Even If It's Made in Canada

Now for something from the I'm-not-quite-sure-what-the-point-is category...

The Detroit News, which is on the verge of going out of business, reports that many Obama administration officials are just like most other Americans — they prefer foreign to domestic when it comes to cars.

Of course, figuring out what counts as an "American" car these days ain't easy. As UM-Flint's Mark J. Perry points out, several American cars, including the Buick Lacrosse and the Chevy Impala, are made by UAW workers in Canada. "What about the 2008 Honda Pilot and Honda Civics," he asks, "built in the U.S. with higher domestic content (70%) than the 2008 Dodge Ram (68%) and the Michigan-built Ford Mustang (65%)?" And don't forget about the cars that sound foreign, like the Mitsubishi Galant and the Toyota Corolla, that are often made by UAW workers in the U.S.

It's all a little confusing. Unless, like me, you've got a 1990 Camry that's paid off and a San Francisco-sized mortgage. I'm not paralyzed by choice. I'm broke.

UPDATE: An insider at one of the Big Three points out that there's a big difference between "Made in America" and "Assembled in America."

The distinction that is being made about what is "Made in America" is a subtle one. More accurate for many foreign nameplates with factories here is "Assembled in America". A significant part of the cost of a vehicle is in the assembly process (i.e. the factory workers who make $40-60K per year and use that money to buy things in their communities). An equally significant piece of the cost structure are the support functions that also help build middle class neighborhoods in Flint and Detroit. These are the engineering, purchasing, finance, and IT functions just to name a few. Thousands of these folks work for the auto companies and these jobs go away when volume drops just like the factory jobs. One of the differences between a foreign company and an American company is that these jobs - thousands of them - are here in the US - not in Japan, or China, or Korea. Some of these companies may have a design center here and there but the vast bulk of their support groups are in their home country. So saying that a Japanese car assembled at a factory here in the US is just as American as a Chevy or Ford assembled in the US is not correct. The dollars traded within our communities by employees and families of the Detroit Three far exceed those traded by factory workers of foreign nameplates.

Think about this for a minute. One day, when the volume and demand return for auto purchases again, every car company in the world will be making money. When profits are made, people get raises and maybe even bonuses. The support employees right up to the mid level managers may get a modest bonus in a good year - say $3 - 6K. They may use that money to build a new deck, put on a roof, replace the windows on their house, take a vacation - you name it - the point is they put that money back into the economy. The big guys with the bigger paychecks put more back into the economy and often donate more as well. Nearly 100% of the cultural centers in Flint and Detroit are due to the generosity from the folks who helped create great wealth from the auto industry.

So when Toyota makes money, where does that wealth go? Right back to Japan.

Where a car is assembled is not the only measure of what constitutes "Made in America" and I would argue that the wealth and support of the US economy by a foreign car assembled in the US is dwarfed by an American car company assembling a car anywhere in north America. Think about that next time you want to justify your support of the US economy by purchasing a Honda assembled in Ohio.

Flint Artifacts: Helmac Lint Roller

Expatriate Shawn Chittle provided this rare artifact — a Flint-made Helmac lint roller used to promote Michael Moore's Roger & Me.

Shawn writes: "Most were confiscated by Canadian customs when the marketing staff tried to take them to Toronto, where the film premiered more than 20 years ago on Saturday, Sept 9 at 9 p.m. Only a few of those lint rollers ever saw the light of day. In 2000 the company relocated to Georgia, and shortly after changed its name.

A Match Made in Flint

Randy Gearhart reflects on the romance of Flint...

I sometimes wonder how different my life would be today if I would have taken that job at Fisher Body Plant #2.

The year was 1969. I was home for the summer after my first year of classes at Michigan State. Although they weren’t doing much hiring at the time, I was able to get my foot in the door at the plant with the help of some of my dad’s co-workers. A job was mine if I wanted it. During orientation, however, I began to have second thoughts. When we took a break for lunch, I told GM, “thanks for the opportunity,” but I felt I needed to look for employment elsewhere.

I heard that A.M. Davison might be hiring, so I headed downtown to check things out. Well, they were—and they hired me. My job was selling suits, shirts, and ties on the second floor of the upscale men’s clothing store. Little did I realize, however, that I had not only found myself a summer job, but I was about to find a wife, also.

Most of the time, I brought my lunch to work with me. But on the days I wasn’t brown-bagging, I would walk across the street to eat at the Carriage Room at Smith-Bridgman’s Department Store. The Carriage Room was located on the mezzanine—sandwiched between the store’s first and second floors. The place had an atmosphere all its own. It had a low ceiling and was lighter and brighter toward the front—where the windows stretched from the street upward—but got progressively darker toward the back of the long, narrow room. The place was almost always filled with people and noise—lots of noise. The conversation, the clatter of plates, ringing of glasses, and the chink of silverware was non-stop. Lunchtime at the Carriage Room was a study in controlled chaos. Move ‘em in, serve ‘em up, and move ‘em out—somebody was likely waiting for your seat.

The Carriage Room counter is where I met “that girl,” Debra Reburn. Debbi was a student at Ainsworth High School and was working as a waitress over summer break. Call it fate, fortune, or “the hand of the Lord”—whatever it was, our Carriage Room encounter changed the course of two lives forever. We were married June 24, 1972, at Bethany United Presbyterian Church—the eastside church I attended while growing up.

This year will mark the 37th anniversary of the Gearhart/Reburn union. We have four wonderful children—three boys and a girl—five granddaughters, and, appearing soon, our first grandson, Kyle Christopher.

In celebration of our 25th wedding anniversary, my sister, Nancy, gave us the silver heart you see above. Those little store labels were carefully clipped from my late Uncle Ben’s ties. Today, they serve as a reminder of where our love and life together began—in the heart of a city called, “ Flint .”

(Oh, in case you wondered, I’m really, really glad I didn’t take that job at Fisher #2.)

Manufacturing in the Motor City

They're young. They've got geek chic. They make cool things. And they live in Detroit. It's City Bird.