Everybody! Quick! Stick a broom into your front yard with the bristles pointing towards the sky! That will ward off any rain storms!
Each summer, our block held a “block party.” Everyone from our street and a few surrounding households would get permission from Detroit to block off our road from Frankfort to Chandler Park with old school “sawhorse” style blockades on a special Saturday. Once the street was closed, our gang of kids were allowed to ride our bikes in the street. It felt amazing to have that freedom. We also got to play “traffic cop” when a neighbor’s car approached the barrier, we would rush over, confirm they had “clearance” and move the barrier out of their way.
As the day progressed, families would drag out card tables, picnic benches, BBQ grills, canopies, umbrellas and lounge chairs. Cliques of interest would form huddled tables and chairs. The police, firefighters and E.M.S. from our street would group up, the gossip corner would form and the general “dads with beer” area would appear. Everyone was friendly, nobody was excluded and generally, there was a happy hum of activity… except for a few years of “kid wars.”
The “kid wars” were a few dramatic moments during the block party schedule with an intermittent “feud” (kid drama) between a few of our neighborhood gang. Either somebody wasn’t somebody-else’s best friend any more or somebody wasn’t invited to play one recent afternoon or something of the like. In retrospect, most of these were just opportunistic demonstrations for attention with the whole neighborhood nearby to witness. By the end of every block party, everyone was friends again.
Around noon, a water balloon or squirt gun fight was usually planned and the beer-drinking dads would fully commit to getting a bit more tipsy than normal making socializing a little more comfortable. Our block included many Detroit Fire and Police… which made it pretty easy to get a visit from uniformed police in a police car or even better: 15 minutes with an open fire hydrant for the kids to run through. There are few things more exciting for an eight-year-old than an opened hydrant releasing a cone of water into the street. We scorched our feet on the dry asphalt rushing into and out of the frigid hydrant spray. (Legend tells of an angry neighbor on an adjacent block complaining that their water pressure was negatively impacted by the use of the hydrant ending the tradition after a few years. However, the kids of Hillcrest all decided that there should have been plenty of pressure to supply city water and hydrants at the same time.)
By mid-afternoon fruit salads and Jello-molds would make an early appearance in the potluck area alongside soda, water, KoolAid and what appeared to be punch clearly labeled “adults only!!!!”… and the kids knew what that meant. (However, I’m pretty sure some of the high school age kids sampled that punch when nobody was looking.) A couple of hours before the sun would set, the potluck food would join the afternoon snacks and the kids would start to circle the buffet attempting to identify the food that would earn a spot on our styrofoam oval platters.
The food was all very good… even the stuff the kids stayed away from. There were families with many different backgrounds and family recipes to share. Some of the older families would present luncheon meat, cheese and crackers. Others would bring a whole BBQ grill and prepare hotdogs, hamburgers, or grilled sausage. My mom was famous for her potato salad… but often contributed one of those Jello-molds mentioned earlier. Occasionally freshly fried chicken, baked ham, mashed sweet potatoes with marshmallow topping, seven-layer salad, seven-layer dip (layers were a big deal in the 70s and 80s, I guess), and other delicacies made it to the tables. There was always one person to bring the pickles, olives and other assorted condiments. That may not sound like much, but there wasn’t a pickled vegetable left at the end of the night.
Then, dessert appeared. Most years, I believe there were more desserts than main courses. That meant that most families contributed BOTH a main course or appetizer as well as a dessert. There were many options from the nearby Kroger or Farmer Jack grocery stores: Little Debbie, Hostess, Entenmann’s, and everything in-between was on display. There were plenty of homemade cakes, pies (my mom made an amazing strawberry-rheubarb pie from our garden behind the garage), cupcakes, brownies, cookies and occasionally pastries. I admit that we kids headed for the treats from the grocery store first… we usually had pretty limited access to packaged snacks. But as we got a little bit older, we learned that we were missing out on the homemade delicacies crafted with love (and a little competitive instinct) by our neighbors.
Dessert time was more than just sugar onboarding to prepare for the upcoming game of “witch” (more on that later). Children, adults and seniors were all too full of food and beverages to move. Instinctively, things shifted to conversation and ultimately a bit of story time. When I was still very young, one of the older ladies on the block told us about the first time she saw a car near the end of the 19th century. Sometimes the neighborhood police officers and fire fighters would tell moderately edited (PG-13) stories about some of the excitement from the past year. (The stories were always better when they had a few beers still in their system.) A story told by one of my best friend’s police helicopter pilot fathers involved an “emergency landing” with a major fast food mascot onboard… instantly becoming legend. Kids would chip in with their best efforts: a kid that ended up with stitches at school, a big sports-ball win, seeing a sports star at a local restaurant. We were just happy to be part of the excitement.
As the story time slowed down and adults started switching to coffee and soda, the sun was setting and the street lights were flickering to life… usually. (Detroit wasn’t great at keeping the street lights operating everywhere during the 80s. I’m pretty sure that we didn’t have fully functional street lights for about 5 years straight…) Sun down? Time to play “witch”…
“Witch” (also known as “Ghost in the Graveyard“) was a game of tag where one child took a turn to be the “witch”. They would cover their eyes… usually leaning face-first into a tree and counting while the other children hid. The block party provided a rare opportunity for big kids and little kids to play the game together… we were also allowed to hide ANYWHERE in the neighborhood were a neighbor had left their backyard gate open. “Witch” began as a special game only played during block parties, but when the Hillcrest gang was old enough, we would occasionally play it later in the summer when the sun would set before we were called in for the night. Still, the block party version stayed special.
The first “witch” was usually one of the older kids that explained the rules to any newcomers to the block, younger kids who had not played yet and any parents that wanted to listen in. All of the kids would group around the “witch” at the “base” until everyone began to count in unison:
“One o-clock, two-o-clock, three-oclock, ROCK!
Four o-clock, five o-clock, six o-clock, ROCK!
seven o-clock, eight o-clock, 9 o-clock, ROCK!
Ten o-clock, eleven o-clock, twelve o-clock, ROCK!
Starlight! Moonlight! I hope to see the witch tonight!”
As soon as the counting began, every child scrambled to hiding places: under bushes, behind fireplace bump-outs (chimney projections), behind cars in driveways, next to porches and behind trees (climbing trees was forbidden). While hiding, you could hear the witch discovering your friends, chasing and tagging them making them a “witch” to help the hunt. Screaming during the chase… louder and more excited as more “witches” were in pursuit. With every new “witch”, you knew the chase would be more difficult. Your only escape would be to make it back to the “base”. Every hiding kids’ heart was pounding. It was dark. Big kids chasing little kids. Little kids chasing big kids. The remaining adults cheering them on… likely having returned to the beers, punch or some whine in a box. It was truly magical.
I don’t remember what the cleanup was like: the kids were usually playing “witch” until they were wrangled for bedtime or crashed from exhaustion. However, the neighborhood was back to normal the next morning with sad, spent road barricades laying flat on each corner having completed their duty from the previous day. The nearby neighbors were still happy to see each other, but you usually didn’t see everyone together like during a block party.
When my family moved just outside of Detroit (less than a quarter mile away) in 1988, there were no block parties in our new neighborhood. I was starting high school the next year and even though I stayed friends with my Hillcrest crew, I made friends at my new school and spent less time on Hillcrest each year after. The same was true with most of the other Hillcrest kids.
As an adult, I moved to suburbs of Detroit (and now Lansing). Each time I moved it was to more and more rural locations and none of them had block parties. Those events were something special: the adults would start planning in early spring, make arrangements with the city to close the street, plan fun for the kids, food to share and time to be together. If it’s possible and you don’t have a block party where you live, try to make it happen. Talk to the neighbors you know and encourage them to talk to more neighbors. Throw the idea out there on your neighborhood/community virtual space/social network. In 2020, I thought about those block parties often… now, I think they could fix a lot of what ails us socially these days. See your neighbors, eat with them, drink with them. Talk to them. Have a party.
It’s fall in the Detroit area and commercials run regularly advertising Cedar Point’s “HalloWeekends.” While Sandusky, Ohio may be the closest amusement part to Detroit these days, it was all about Bob-Lo Island in the 80’s.
Boblo Island Storage Building
My grade school had annual outings to the island. Though I didn’t especially enjoy the boat ride at the time (approx. 80 minutes), I would love another chance to experience the sights, sounds and smells of the boat. Each had either a dance floor, arcade or both, concessions and of course an amazing view of the Detroit River. The park itself was relatively small with a couple dozen rides ranging from bump’em cars to full-on rollercoaster thrill rides. I was never quite old enough to enjoy the park to the fullest and regret having been afraid of the best rides.
The Screamer
These days, the entire island returned to its residential roots, housing private homes, vacation property, and marina space. Who knows… in another 20 years rides may return and ferries could carry excited Detroiters to that little chunk of Canada (yep… it’s really part of Canada) to appreciate local amusements… though I doubt it.
Updated! Eileen let me know that this content is actually from her (rather excellent) site: DetroitMemories.com. Rather than duplicate some of the content, check it out and share your Detroit memories with her visitors! (DetroitMemories.com is regularly updated, so be sure to check back often!)
A trip to Toys R Us was a reward for good behavior. It was somewhere we could spend our hard-earned allowance on a new GI Joe figure or some LEGO sets. It was also like being inside of a museum of awesome, where the wares were categorized by types: action figures, building toys (including LEGO), radio-controlled toys and slot-car tracks, educational toys, board games, electronic games, and eventually video games.
Today, Toys R Us stores are organized (mostly) by whatever commercial property the toys are related to: all of the Spiderman-related toys together (regardless of type: action figure, r/c car, or even LEGO), all of the Harry Potter stuff, all of the Hanna Montana stuff. Sadly, it just reinforces the commercialism that was once criticized (and even disallowed before the late-70’s) for children’s programming based on products.
I came across a great blog post that traces the history of Toys R Us design and architecture from the 70’s to today. I still remember Geoffrey the Giraffe’s face welcoming me to the store…
YouTube is a great way to go back in time find commercials and TV shows from the past (though I still can’t find any episodes of Kid Bits!). Here are a few for your viewing enjoyment:
If you can find a few more Detroit favorites from the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s post a link in the comments!
I grew up with a lot of great products made right here in Michigan… in fact many of them were made right in Detroit! Sadly, some of them are no longer native to our great state, but I’d like to share them anyway:
Available in a variety of flavors, Faygo is part of Michigan culture!
Faygo Pop – A delicious variety of flavored pop (or soda if you’re from other states). While some consider it to be a value brand, I still think Rock and Rye, Cola, and Frosh are some of the best tasting soft drinks on the planet.
Vernor’s Ginger Ale – I can’t believe I forgot this Detroit icon! (Thanks to “Mom” reminding me about it in the comments!) When my friend (Joey Ford) visited his grandparents each summer, his mom made sure he brought some Vernor’s Ginger Ale home to California with him. These days, Vernor’s is owned by the Dr. Pepper/Snapple folks and can be found in most states, but it’s real home is Detroit.
Better Made Snacks – Driving by the Better Made factory is torture. The smell of fresh potato chips is enough to drive you mad. During Halloween, it wasn’t uncommon to get a small bag of Better Made potato chips from many of the houses in or neighborhood. You can still get cases of chips from nearby distributors and even directly from Better Made themselves. Some people may think that fresh chips aren’t better than those shipped across the country… they’re wrong.
Stroh’s Beer – In 1999 Stroh Brewery was sold to the same folks as Miller/Pabst. Though they’re still an American beer brewer (unlike some more “regal” brands), Stroh’s is no longer made in Michigan. Stroh’s was definitely the brand of choice for the adults in my neighborhood during the 80’s. Block parties looked like television commercials for the stuff…
Stroh’s Ice Cream – Why would a brewery make ice cream?! One word – prohibition. When other breweries were going under, the Stroh family changed with the times and made some of the most creamy delicious ice cream on the planet… but they did have competition:
Sanders Confections – My grandmother worked for Grandpa Sanders (pronounced San-Ders, not Saun-ders… that always drove my grandma nuts) and there was nothing quite as close to heaven as a Sanders Hot Fudge Cream Puff Sundae. Today they’re still known for hot fudge and carmel ice cream toppings, but they’re chocolate is darn fine, too. Speaking of chocolate:
Morley Candy – The Morley Candy Company has since taken over the Sanders line of confections using the family’s original recipies. Once local rivals, Sanders and Morley are now one in the same. Our parents always filled our Easter baskets and Christmas stockings with goodies from Morley and Sanders.
Honeybaked Ham and Dearborn Brand – I love a great sandwich. Part of that is because my dad always made legendary sandwiches. Post-holiday leftovers often included ham sandwiches… man, I’m salivating just thinking about them. Honebaked became famous for their pre-applied glazing while Dearborn Brand has been making great sausage and seli products since the 1940’s.
Kellog’s – Battle Creek’s own Kellogg’s company defines cereal and wholesome breakfast options.
I’ll continue to collect more lists of other famous Michigan brands, foods, products, and celebrities. If you have suggestions or contributions, please leave a comment (below)!
If you lived in (or near) the city of Detroit in the 80’s, you knew that the day before Halloween was a scary time. Though Devil’s Night was most notorious for setting abandoned homes on fire, it was a much more innocent event for the kids in our neighborhood. We weren’t allowed to stay out much past dusk, but we tried to squeeze in a game or two of “witch” (see the block party article for a description), followed by a few harmless pranks.
Usually, we would ring a neighbor’s doorbell, then run and hide in the bushes. Never the same house more than once and we were always called home for the evening before it was late. One time a rogue faction of kids decided to toss eggs at cars despite our protest. Those that chose not to participate watched the action with a mixture of fear and excitement from a safe distance. One driver pulled his car over, got out, and yelled at the rebels. They threw a few more eggs in his direction, but, luckily, none of them had good aim. The usual running and dodging through alleys and secret paths ensued and we all regrouped in Joe’s tree fort to trade stories. Though most of us didn’t throw any eggs, we enjoyed sharing in the excitement.
I remember a few years when (presumably) the “big kids” on the block soaped a few windows and egged cars in driveways, but this is all still pretty minor in retrospect. The next year we stood on guard with walkie-talkies linking our guard posts… theoretically… the models most of us purchased from Radio Shack really didn’t have enough range to cover the block. We walked up and down the block in groups of three of four in our denim jackets wielding flashlights. We really thought that we were the reason no more eggings happened… it was likely pure coincidence.
What’s not a coincidence is that Devil’s Night is gone. Former Mayor Dennis Archer started the Angel’s Night initiative in 1995 that organized community patrols and enforced a curfew for minors. The first year, incidences of arson plummeted… in fact, I can’t recall a single reported Devil’s Night-related fire.
We loved our bikes on Hillcrest (as most kids do). We could spend an entire day lapping the block over and over again. Most of the kids in the BRAT patrol had a BMX style bike, complete with pads covering all of the dangerous parts of the bike. My brother and I? We had the legendary Schwinn Stingray. The only complication? It wasn’t “cool” by the time we were aware of the concept of “being cool.” A yellow banana seat atop a metallic red frame might have cut it in the 70’s, but by the 80’s a banana seat would just get you chased by “the big kids.”
Christian (my brother) and I would try anything to make our curvy bikes more BMX-like: replacing the seat, different handle bar grips, pedals, tires… anything. Looking back though, I really loved that bike. It provided my first tastes of freedom, danger, and excitement… banana seat and all.
Eventually, most of us upgraded to multi-speed bikes. A few folks got 10-speed street bikes, but just about the time it was my turn to get a new bike, mountain bikes were becoming the new standard. They could take more abuse and looked a lot more like the BMX bikes that I longed for when I was younger, but they really never replaced the spot in my heart occupied by that old yellow and red Schwinn.
Today, the demolition of Tiger Stadium began. I’m no sports fan (apart from autosports), but I still feel the loss of this landmark… and part of my childhood.
Tiger Stadium demolition begins.
Papa Thomas, my friend Joey’s grandfather, would sit on his front porch and listen to the Tigers game on his handheld AM radio. We would crowd around him and get the translation of “Ernie Harwell’s”:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ernie_Harwell play-by-play (we didn’t know a lot about the sport at the time). Papa was a diehard fan. On the hot summer nights most of the neighborhood could be found outside, on a porch, in a pool, or in each other’s driveways talking. In 1984, most of that talk was about our soon to be champion Tigers. When Joey flew in for the summer from California he proudly wore his Tigers ballcap. He was the first person I knew to have a _fitted_ cap. Impressive. Tigers baseball was all I knew and Tiger Stadium was the Mecca of it all.
I went to my first ballgame at Tiger Stadium with my Dad and my cousin’s husband: Rich. I didn’t really know any of the players or what was going on. When everyone started cheering “Lou, Lou, Lou, Lou” for Lou Whittaker, I misheard them and joined in: “Boo, boo, boo, boo!” (I thought we were taunting the other team.) Rich and my Dad straightened that out pretty quickly. Rich tried to explain the scoresheet in the back of the program to me, but defaulted to just the simple score. The guy sitting in front of us figured out it was my first game and introduced himself as “Jose”… and told me that they start every game by singing to him: “Jose, can you see?…” I wonder how long he was saving that one… Rich passed away unexpectedly last year. I can count the number of times I visited Tiger Stadium on one hand. Yet, the only time I remember anything about was my first trip with Rich and my Dad.
Tiger Stadium had a genuine feel about it. I’ve only been to the new park (named after a bank that gave up on Michigan a few years ago…) two times. It’s big, impressive, and commercial. The view is a little better… even from the cheap seats… but it’s a sellout: designed to make families happy and sell watered-down beer and overpriced hotdogs.
Today we loose Tiger Stadium. We loose a legitimate part of Detroit history. We loose a landmark. One thing I (and many other Detroiters) will never loose are the memories of good times with our families and friends at Tiger Stadium.
~(Sorry if I seem to be rambling with this update… I’m a bit out of sorts thinking about the stadium…)~
Growing up in Detroit, I knew that Bill Bonds was a local news legend. Little did I know that he had a cameo in the file “Escape From the Planet of the Apes.”
