Opinion: Black Bottom mural celebrates Black history in Detroit

For the Rev. Nick Hood III, the recently unveiled Black Bottom mural at the Wayne State Medical School brings back a flood of memories.

It's a tangible reminder of the historic neighborhood he called home.

Hood's is one of hundreds of stories behind the mural.

Black Bottom was a predominantly Black neighborhood demolished for redevelopment in the late 1950s to early 1960s, replaced with the Lafayette Park residential district and Interstate 375. It was located on Detroit's near east side, bounded by Gratiot Avenue, Brush Street, the Detroit River, and the Grand Trunk railroad tracks, according to the Detroit Historical Society. Historians estimate that 100,000 people lived in the lower east side area.

Hood grew up in Black Bottom. His father was leading the Plymouth Congregational United Church when it was taken by eminent domain to build the Detroit Medical Center in 1960. Yet, they weren’t alone, as 27 other churches were taken.

The $600,000 they say Hood's church was offered by the city wasn’t enough, but church leaders found another spot in Black Bottom, and decide to relocate nearby.

“It was not enough for us to have many options,” says Hood, a former Detroit city councilman. “My father, the leaders of the church, and ultimately the church members, voted to remain in the neighborhood. We were one of three churches (along with) Bethel AME, and Friendship Baptist.

More:Black Bottom neighborhood receives long awaited state historical marker

More:How Detroit destroyed Black Bottom and built Lafayette Park:The inside story

“Every time I look at the northwest corner of the parking structure for the old Hutzel Hospital, I think to myself, that's what they took my church for. For a parking structure half the time is not filled.”

Black Bottom was a thriving community. Hastings and St. Antoine streets were the hubs of black-owned businesses, social institutions and nightclubs. Hastings Street is where Aretha Franklin's father, the Reverend C. L. Franklin, first opened New Bethel Baptist Church.

The business district was home to 10 restaurants, eight grocers, 17 doctors' offices, and several drugstores. Barthwell Drugs, owned by Black pharmacist Sidney Barthwell, had up to 17 pharmacies in Black Bottom alone.

Nationally, Detroit also was known for the music scene in nearby Paradise Valley.

“The history of Black Bottom is very important for people to understand, whether they happen to be African American, or others that live in our nation,” says Detroit historian and author Ken Coleman.

“I mean, look: Black Bottom happens because of systemic racism, at least in terms of the Black experience in that area. It happens only because of systemic racism that's carried out in the real estate industry (and) in public policy, emanating from City Hall.

More:Detroit's Black Bottom neighborhood: See it then and now

“Those institutions forced them to live (in Black Bottom) because they weren't interested in, quite frankly, having Black people be part of Detroit's experience. So they're relegated to the lower east side, the Black Bottom community.”

Black Bottom became a neighborhood out of necessity. Most Black Detroiters during that time were forced to live on the lower east side, because they weren’t allowed to migrate to other parts of the city.

But Black Bottom was dismantled when the city wanted to build freeways, and took the land from the Black population.

In essence, those Black Detroiters weren’t ever given a choice as to where they could live.

More:New 'Hastings Street' musical explores Detroit's Black Bottom community

Despite all the books about Black Bottom, despite the family conversations and stories about lineage rooted in the community, the 375-foot mural is the first permanent marker of the historic neighborhood, Hood says.

The mural, which sits on the south side of Canfield Street near WSU’s Scott Hall, pays homage to Black Detroiters' contributions in the area of medicine.

“I've never seen it, anything like it,” says Hood, who grew up in Black Bottom. “The significance of it is going to transcend this moment.”

The mural, a joint project between the College of Fine, Performing and Communication Arts, features nine historical figures, and one future medical student to symbolize the future. Among those honored is Ossian Sweet, who purchased a home in an all-white Detroit neighborhood that defined race relations in Detroit; Marjorie Peebles-Meyers, the first Black woman to graduate from Wayne College of Medicine; Dr. Robert Greenidge, a founder of Parkside Hospital and David and D.L. Northcross, a set of entrepreneurs who started Mercy General Hospital in 1917 and Barthwell, the pharmacist.

On the eastern end of the mural, there is a plaque that commemorates the displacement. It is built in removable panels so that even if the School of Medicine moves, it can remain.

“The mural is playing this incredible role in providing students, and future students, with strong role models who reflect the diversity of the city and the campus. It just shows you the power of art to transform a neighborhood,” says Sheryl Oring, art and art history chair at WSU. “That's one thing art also does: it draws people in, gets people to ask questions and maybe play a role in healing. There were so many difficult things in the history of Detroit and I hope that the mural can play a role in healing.”

Like many in Detroit, Black Bottom was a part of my family’s lineage. The first Black Bottom story I recall was learning my aunt, Shirley McNeil, was the first Black English teacher at the old Eastern High School. Her move to Black Bottom was not popular with my grandfather, a prominent Black minister in Dayton, Ohio, who was concerned about her living in that part of Detroit.

But it was just about a year ago that I learned a chapter was written about her in the 2020 book “Black Bottom Saints” by Alice Randall, for her work with the Youth Colossal musical revue each Father's Day, put on by Joseph “Ziggy” Johnson.

Johnson, the founder of the famous Ziggy Johnson School of Dance, was considered the pulse of Black Bottom. Johnson, a Michigan Chronicle columnist, was the master of ceremonies at the famed Flame Show Bar where he rubbed elbows with Billy Eckstine, Della Reese and Nat “King” Cole.

His dance school was also known for his exquisite Youth Colossal shows every June, a showcase of young, local talent that included appearances by The Four Tops, The Temptations, Gladys Knight and the Pips and the Contours. Barry Gordy used his shows to showcase his up and coming artists.

That’s what this mural is all about: preserving history. In a city that’s evolving and changing daily, we must not forget the past.

With our elders leaving us ever so fast, we’re losing our connection to areas such as Black Bottom, Paradise Valley, businesses along 12th Street and other strong neighborhood hangouts, industries and homes that made Detroit so vibrant.

We must never allow our young people to forget the bridge under Belle Isle, the swim mobile, book mobile, Sanders chocolate on Woodward and the downtown trolley.

We are more than Motown and cars.

The loss of Black Bottom is tough. But so was the destruction of Black Wall St., Harlem and the hundreds of other neighborhoods and business districts, such as southwest D.C., that displaced Black families and Black-owned businesses for “urban renewal” projects across the nation.

But we must deal with that history, and honor what we lost.

The Black Bottom mural is a great start.

Darren A. Nichols is a contributing columnist at the Free Press. He can be reached at darren@dnick-media.com or his Twitter handle @dnick12.

This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: Opinion: Black Bottom mural celebrates Black history in Detroit