DETROIT (AP) — The families of Detroit’s Brightmoor area
are delighted that the day is finally approaching when bulldozers will
arrive to level more of their neighborhood. After that, their
community’s future will be like the cleared landscape — a blank canvas.
For
years, Brightmoor residents pleaded with the city to demolish vacant
homes that scavengers had stripped of wiring and plumbing and anything
of value. Some structures are already gone, and now officials aim to do
much more, possibly tearing down as many as 450 empty houses each week
across more than 20 square miles of this bankrupt city — a vast
patchwork of rotting homes comparable to the size of Manhattan.
The
huge demolition project holds the potential to transform large parts of
Detroit into an urban-redevelopment laboratory like the nation has
never seen. But community leaders here and in cities that have attempted
similar transformations say Detroit’s best efforts could still wither
from lack of money, lack of commitment or harsh economic realities.
"What’s
the plan for lots to keep them from becoming a different type of
blight?" asked Tom Goddeeris, executive director of Grandmont Rosedale
Development Corp., a nonprofit community improvement group representing a
cluster of five Detroit neighborhoods.
The ambitious demolition schedule was formally presented last month as part of the city’s plans to emerge
from bankruptcy.
The
changes could be far-reaching: Unlike other cities where building space
is almost always limited, Detroit will offer urban planners a rare
chance to experiment with wide-open land. Neighborhood advocates are
talking excitedly about creating urban gardens, farms, forests and other
types of "green space." Brightmoor already has the Lyndon Greenway,
which connects two large parks with smaller parks and bike paths.
No
other American city has as many abandoned properties as Detroit. But
smaller-scale successes with similar green initiatives have been
engineered in places such as Philadelphia and Cleveland.
The
Pennsylvania Horticultural Society’s Philly Green program has converted
roughly 10,000 vacant lots over the last two decades, making it the
"gold standard," said Joe Schilling, who directs the Metropolitan
Institute at Virginia Tech.
Having a non-governmental organization manage and design the effort, is a huge advantage, Schilling said.

"To
use a military metaphor, if you go in with your demolition forces and
you’re trying to get a stronghold in a particular strategic place, you
have to be able to stabilize it before you keep moving on in your
campaign," he said. "Otherwise, you’re going to go back in … five
years and removing all the trash."
An overall "urban greening"
effort for Detroit would be costly, probably requiring money from both
public and private sources. Philadelphia benefited from a $250 million
bond issue that included about $12 million for greening efforts.
Detroit
isn’t in a financial position to issue bonds while in bankruptcy,
Schilling said, but it could find other ways to offer an "infusion of
resources."
The city proposes to tear down as many homes every
week as were demolished in all of 2012 in Youngstown, Ohio, another city
marred by abandoned buildings because of dwindling population and
industry.
Youngstown received many accolades for the plan it
launched in 2005 to retool itself into a smaller, greener city. But John
Russo, co-author of "Steeltown U.S.A.," a book about Youngstown and
co-founder of the Center for Working-Class Studies at Youngstown State
University, said the plan "promised much more than it delivered."
The
project inflated the number of jobs it created, did "ad-hoc" demolition
and "reinforced the types of economic polarization and inequalities
that already existed in the area," Russo said.
"What they wound up
creating were just islands in a landscape of disinvestments, blight and
instability," said Russo, now a visiting professor at the Metropolitan
Institute. "If you go to urban gardens three to four years after,
they’re vacant lots again."
He says lasting solutions "are much
more complicated than urban farms and demolitions," adding that they
create "a diversion from much more serious economic decisions that have
been made."
Detroit’s plan intentionally avoids spelling out what
happens after the bulldozers leave. A spokesman for Detroit’s emergency
manager, Kevyn Orr, said that’s outside the scope of the bankruptcy
case. Advocates believe those decisions are best left to neighborhoods.
That
underscores Detroit’s greatest challenge: Except for the city’s
rebounding downtown and midtown districts, most residential
neighborhoods aren’t attracting developers. If the vacant land had
commercial potential, redevelopment would have happened long ago.
"Just
clearing these properties is not going to do anything in the long run
in returning Detroit to a new vibrant, wonderful city," said Robert
Inman, a professor of finance, economics and public policy at University
of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School.
Demolitions are an "important first step," Inman added, but "no city can survive without a
really vibrant private economy."
A
realistic model for Detroit’s future, he said, is Pittsburgh, which
went from a "steel town to an idea town" between 1960 and 1990 and shed
half its population.
Even if Detroit succeeds in attracting new
businesses that might bring technology, education and medical jobs,
those projects are geared mainly toward the business and entertainment
districts.
"That’s wonderful," said Maggie DeSantis, president of
the Warren Conner Development Coalition and a longtime community
redevelopment advocate. "But … it’s not going to make use of all the
open space."
She’s also interested in gardens, hydroponic farms
and other food-related businesses. For example, a shuttered east-side
high school is being turned into a 27-acre farm with a food-processing
facility and greenhouse-like structures to get an early start on spring
crops.
But she acknowledges the many unknowns that loom over the process.
"Real
Estate 101 says cleared land has inherently more value than land with a
blighted structure on it. That would be great in a city that’s normal
and has conventional real estate market turnover," DeSantis said.
"Detroit, right now, is down the rabbit hole — nothing about it is
normal."
The city has plenty of organizations involved in
reclamation efforts. Still, Schilling said, the greatest challenge will
be "connecting the dots," and real results might not be seen for a
decade, he said.
"It’s going to be more of an incremental transformation," he said.
Any
reuse is welcome for Ray Johnson, a 30-year resident of the North
Rosedale Park neighborhood and retired Chrysler worker. He mows the
lawns of a couple of vacant properties as he awaits the wrecking crews.
"My
house will be paid for next year. My plan is to stay here," said
Johnson, talking in front of a community tree nursery where homes once
stood. "I was going to move, but my wife talked me out of it.
"She said it’s going to improve," he added. "We’ll see."
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Associated Press Writer Corey Williams contributed to this report.
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