A Wildcat Loose in the City

I was driving down Park Presidio Blvd. in San Francisco on Sunday with some friends when we pulled up behind this reminder of dear old Michigan.

Shattering Glass: A Flint Writer Draws on the Vehicle City for Inspiration

My friend Connor Coyne is one of those rare birds who left our hometown of Flint for not one, but two big cites, before returning to buy a home in the place where General Motors was born. Connor graciously offered invaluable feedback and support while I was writing and editing Teardown: Memoir of a Vanishing City. His friendship was a reminder that Flintoids help out other Flintoids.

 

As a writer, Flint is a recurring theme in Connor's work. Given the vicissitudes of book publishing these days, Connor has started a kickstarter campaign to fund the digital and print publication of his compelling experimental novel Shattering Glass. I've already made a donation. It's a great way to support an artist, husband, and father who returned to Flint to raise a family with his wife, who is a nurse at Hurley Hospital. I hope Flint Expatriate readers can help as well.

Here's some more information on Connor from the kickstarter page:

By the time 2011 rolled around I had written several novels and was just settling into a beautiful new house in my hometown of Flint, Michigan, to which I had returned after fourteen years in the Big Apple and the City of Big Shoulders. I was also coming off of publishing Hungry Rats, a grim and gritty noir novel that had taken seven years to develop and which was also the subject of my MFA thesis and self-published via Kickstarter.  These adventures had been successful, but I was looking for something fun and easy and a little bit stupid, and Shattering Glass was supposed to be the answer.

 

Shattering Glass was intended to be a short, pulpy novella in which I could indulge in allusion, rhythms, and thematic sledge hammers.  The setting would be the fictitious Arkaic University, based upon the University of Chicago where I had gone to college. If you don't know, the U of C is a cult of learning afflicted with both insularity and a fever of intensity. Everyone there is -- admirably, perversely -- obsessed with something.To paraphrase the first chapter of Shattering Glass, "visitors are novitiates; here tread experts."  The city of Arkaic, Michigan has featured in other stories I've written and it, itself, is a much exaggerated version of Flint, which is an odd town, poor but inventive, cold but romantic, religious but radicalized, frustrated and frustrating.  

And here's an excerpt from Shattering Glass:

Faced with the prospect of walking back to [her dorm] and having to either ignore or make up with Ezzie, Dunya shakes her head. She puts on her coat and heads out into the feral October. Tonight the wind tumbles through the leaves making the branches gape wide, like fanged jaws. She stares them down all the way to South Street, gets on the bus and rides it downtown. Then, still not knowing Arkaic very well but wanting to get as far as she can from campus, she gets onto another bus that takes her deep into the North Side. She gets off the bus at Ash Highway. Vacant lots and ragged signs shivering in the chill range away to the west. To the east, things look a bit more promising and she sets off along the highway. Even here, most of the buildings are vacant, with huge, stone-scattered parking lots. But then again... Dunya sees the traces of secret life among the desolations. Hidden treasures that have ridden out the blizzard. She passes a used bookstore, a hole-in-the-wall bakery, a laundromat, a trophy factory, a used car dealership, a Tiki-themed bar. They all hum with life, even though it’s well past business hours. It warms her heart to know that some of Arkaic is alive, even on the edge of oblivion. It reminds her of home, of Richmond. Okay, so the differences are huge: culture, climate, health, and appearance. Michigan is no California. But two down-and-out towns can share a common conversation across a few thousand miles, and Dunya hears it. She hears Richmond in the air. She recognizes its gravelly-staccato rusted language.

 Go here to support Shattering Glass.

Teardown: Memoir of a Vanishing City by Gordon Young

From Teardown: Memoir of a Vanishing City by Gordon Young:

Delarie was the only one of six children still living in Flint. “I’ll stay here as long as my mom stays,” she said. “I see this block as the soul of the neighborhood. Every night you hear shots from the other streets, but not on our street. But I still don’t leave home without my gun. I just feel better carrying it.”

She showed me her nine-millimeter handgun, a black Taurus Ultra Slim she kept loaded with hollow-point bullets. She carried it in a small holster on her waist. The gun shattered the reassuring sense of normalcy that had enveloped me, the feeling that Civic Park wasn’t that far removed from the place where I grew up, a neighborhood where three people could spend a pleasant afternoon sitting on the porch and talking without the need for firearms. She left the gun on the table, and it was distracting. I kept glancing at it.

“She’s concerned about my safety,” Betsy explained, sensing my
discomfort.

“I’m concerned about my safety, too,” Delarie added.

Flint Artifacts: Flint Spirits Hockey Jersey

Matthew Mersch writes:

I just read your book Teardown, and as a result checked out your Flint Expats blog.  I thoroughly enjoyed both.  I have a loose connection to Flint.  I was born and raised in Chicago. But, from 1987-1989 my older brother played hockey for the Flint Spirits. I was around 9-10 at the time and I thought driving to Flint from Chicago when my dad got off work on a Friday to catch a game was the coolest thing.  The rink and the team had the feel of "Slapshot," a great movie.  

I can vividly remember skating with the team at practice.  I remember getting an autograph in the locker room after a game from a career minor leaguer named Mel Hewitt.  He was wearing cowboy boots and bright blue underwear — and nothing else. I was just in awe and I kept asking my dad how he would get his pants on. I also got an autograph from Keith Gretzky — the younger and much-less famous brother of Wayne Gretzky

I attached a picture of a practice jersey I still have from the 1989 team. I believe my brother stole it from the goalie and gave it to me. I occasionally wear it in some old men's hockey leagues around Chicago. About ten years ago I was wearing it and made a friend with a Flint expat. He was extremely excited to talk to anyone who knew anything about Flint.

A Chevy Apache on the Streets of San Francisco

CounterPunch Weighs In on "Teardown: Memoir of a Vanishing City"

Flint Expatriate Michael Donnelly has a compelling and very personal take on Flint and Teardown: Memoir of a Vanishing city at CounterPunch:

"My closer-to-downtown Flint neighborhood around now-shuttered Cook Elementary School was one of the first to succumb to White Flight and shift in a matter of years from white to mostly black back in the 60s. Like its larger shrinking city neighbor Detroit, America’s most segregated city, Flint had been and still is one of the most segregated communities in the land. As the Cook School environs changed overnight, it became a very dangerous place for a teenage male – black or white. I, my siblings and friends – black and white – all carry scars – physical and internal – from the many ever-escalating brawls, assaults and attacks that were based solely on the color of our skins.

"The first African-American family to move in down the block was the Johnson’s. Jimmy and his brother Anthony (Cleo) were the same age (11 and 8) as me and my brother Mark. We became quick friends, sharing interests in sports, music and, not-so-oddly really, injustices towards Native Americans. Jimmy and I played on a very good basketball team that had five white guys and five black guys from the neighborhood. It was so unusual that someone from the city did a slideshow documentary on us. Cleo is a family hero as he single-handedly saved my sister from a serious assault.

"I, like Young, had a family that believed/believes in Integration and the collective prosperity that would come from it. My uncle Dr. William Donnelly was instrumental in the Open Housing movement which outlawed “redlining” in Michigan – the segregationist practice of providing or denying mortgages in areas solely based on race. Uncle Bill lost a lot of his suburban pediatric clientele over it. He responded by opening an Inner City office and becoming the head of pediatrics at Pontiac’s public hospital. He helped many young black students, many he attended the births of, to get into his Alma mater: University of Michigan."

Defections from the Flint Farmers' Market

Is this a sign of things to come? Two big defections from the Flint Farmers' Market and its new downtown location. Jeremy Allen of mLive reports:

Two of the biggest vendors at the Flint Farmers' Market say they won't follow the market when it moves to downtown Flint in 2014, instead opting to join a proposed new market set to open in Davison in May 2014.
 
Coykendall Produce owner Sandy Coykendall and the owner of Knob Hill Meats, Tom Alex, said that they won’t make the move from the Flint Market’s location at 420 E. Boulevard Drive to downtown because it’s not in the businesses' or their customers' best interests.

Sticking Around in Flint

It's heartening to read that there's one UM student willing to leave Ann Arbor and come to Flint after graduation. Harsha Nahata describes her decision in The Michigan Daily:

The experience I have been able to get has been unmatched anywhere else. Within the first week, I was able to meet with the mayor, Flint’s emergency manager, the Chamber of Commerce and top leaders from four major universities. Throughout my time in Flint, I have constantly been reminded how much my time, skills and work are being valued. And it’s a great feeling to know that the work you are doing is not only effective, but also much appreciated.
 
Not only that, but I’ve been able to witness all aspects of city management. Being interested in economic development, this experience has been a blessing for me. I have seen statistics on every factor ranging from local city services to education to public safety to city finances. I have also been able to sit in meetings, listening to the top minds in the city come together and brainstorm ways to turn things around. And beyond that I have made amazing connections with some incredibly inspiring and determined individuals.

Flint Paintings: Birth of an A.C. Spark Plug

Some eBay auctions are more compelling than others. Right now you can bid on this original oil, painted by one Bill Bowman in 1964, entitled "Birth of an A.C. Spark Plug." FYI, the minimum bid is $45,000. The painting immediately brought to mind Crowbar Charlie Koziol, the grandfather of media artist and cinematographer  Eric Koziol. In an earlier profile of Eric, I wrote:

Eric traces his interest in film and video back to Flint. His grandfather, Charlie Koziol, was a master mechanic at AC Spark Plug known as “Crowbar Charlie” for his ability to fix the massive machinery at the plant. But Charlie also loved shooting film, starting with a Super 8 before moving on to 16 mm and, eventually, video. Charlie used to show 16mm films outdoors in Ballenger Park, and he set up the P.A. and lighting system for the polka bands at the Polish Legion of American Veterans summer fests. He introduced his grandson to the equipment, and Eric quickly put it to use in a project for an American history class at Power’s High School.

Flint Artifacts: Kings Armor Matchbook