For the past 90 years the Metropolitan Building has been looming over the intersection of John R. and Library streets. This granite goliath has been in a state of suspended animation for the last three decades. Located a block from historic Woodward Avenue, the Metropolitan resides on the backside of Grand Circus Park. At only 15 stories, the Metropolitan is dwarfed by its neighbors: the Broderick Tower and David Whitney buildings. Though inferior in size, the Metropolitan is second to none in sheer beauty and mystic feel. Architects Weston & Ellington constructed this Gothic masterpiece in 1924. Unfortunately, little else is know about the project, such as the cost or the building's original list of renters. For much of its life the building was simply referred to as “The Jewelers Building” because it was essentially Detroit’s diamond district.  

During its life the Metropolitan symbolized the city’s great skill and dedication to quality. The details of the building are really quite awe-inspiring and must bee seen up close to be fully appreciated. The remains of the building's former tenants can scarcely be found. Some old papers here and there, and a barely legible sign from one of the jewelry stores are the only markings that give any hint to the building's rich history. Aside from an old safe and a kitchenette on the 14th floor, no real substantial pieces of property were left behind when the building closed in 1977. Water dripping down from floor to floor has virtually melted the interior into a puddle of drywall paste and asbestos. Large cast iron radiators are scattered about the building, slowly being hauled off by local scrappers.

 

 

The area around the Metropolitan has been much transformed in the past six years. The widening of Broadway Street and the construction of the new Boil YMCA, among other notable projects, have given the area a breath of new life. With that said, the beautiful Metropolitan building still awaits its metamorphosis. The building's core structure is still very good – probably as solid as the day it was built. The outer façade of brick and terra cotta, however, is starting to show the effects of over thirty years of neglect. In the past ten years large chucks of terra cotta sheathing have fallen off the backside of the building on occasion and into the alleyway. In that same period the windows of the building had also been vandalized. Painted with graffiti now twice; once in green lettering and most recently with red hearts. The art often attracts conversations about how awful the building looks in comparison to its revitalized neighborhood.

In the summer just after moving to downtown I was out late one night walking my dog. From a couple blocks away I heard a loud noise. Being a weeknight downtown, the city was virtually a ghost town so the sounds of squealing car tires boomed and echoed off the concrete corridor of Broadway Street. The squealing continued for several minutes so I began heading toward the sound. The noise was getting more aggressive; something was going on. As I came out of the alleyway on Grand River I could see a group of men descend on the Metropolitan's now open front entrance. The men, using an old beat-up truck and some heavy-duty chain had pulled the boarded-up front face of the building clear off. I watched from a block away as they loaded radiators from just inside the entrance into their truck. This is typical of scrappers. They will often spend several days inside a building working and stacking their scrap near an entrance. They will come and go through the smallest of holes, then, like they did here, will brazenly retrieve the scrap even if it means doing it in broad daylight or on a very public downtown street corner.

 
Since this was a building I long wanted to get into I was excited. It was now 4am and I had yet to see a cop so I returned home. I paced around thinking about the dangers of exploring a building like this at night, by myself. No one was awake so I had no way of telling anyone I lived with where I was going or that I might be putting myself in danger. If something did happen in the next couple hours none of my roommates would be awake to help. I decided to sleep on it and wait until morning to check it out again. I foolishly expected this to be a cakewalk. I woke up to the sounds of Detroit on a busy workday. Buses going by, people yakking loudly under my window, and of course the jackhammers, always jackhammers...every morning downtown.  
  I quickly made some coffee and grabbed the dog once again and went out walking. As I got to the Metropolitan I saw the 10x16ft frame of plywood laying in the street right where the scrappers had left it the night before. My anticipated cakewalk however just became much more complicated. The city had stationed a black police squad car in front of the entrance while they waited for a crew to come fix the gapping hole. I was quite upset and angry with myself for not going in the morning like I originally wanted to. I had no choice but to do what I did at this point and was willing to eat the trespassing charge if I had to. I wanted in this building!
To my benefit the police had not quite parked directly in front of the building, instead off to one side. The Metropolitan sits on a triangular lot and the front face of the building is slightly rounded, matching the curvature of the street. I decided to come in at the opening from the opposite side the cops were parked on. I went out to Woodward and came off John R. Street. My hope was that as I approached if I couldn’t see the cops, they couldn’t see me either. I hugged the wall and as soon as I was near the opening I darted inside. I forced myself to walk as far back into the darkness as possible before retrieving my flashlight. I could almost taste the cold dank air. It was like stepping back in time. All my senses were intoxicated. The level of adrenaline pumping through my blood had completely flipped my natural senses into overdrive. Hyper awareness of one's surroundings is key to survival, especially if it involves risking one's life or freedom in the process.  
  I stopped at the bottom of the main stairs just out of sight of the open entrance. I got my camera and flashlight out of my bag, and slipped on my hoodie. Even though it was 85 degrees outside, it was a chilly 40 degrees inside. I walked around the second floor for almost a half hour, peering out of a crack in a boarded up window as I kept my eyes on the police. One thing you can almost bet on in Detroit is that no cop wants to go traipsing through abandoned buildings, so even if they did see me go in, they weren’t following. After I was certain that no one had seen me, or cared even if they did, for that matter, I continued to explore the Metropolitan, taking photos for the better part of the next three hours. I remember being able to see my breath until reaching the fourth floor. Aware of the police still parked outside, I kept away from that side of the building as much as my curiosity allowed. Once reaching the first of the three rooftops I was stunned by the size of the trees growing directly out of the roof. They were much taller than myself – I figured these urban invaders had been here for at least ten years. They were rooted in the crevasses of the brick that was now exposed. It was the trees that had forced away terra cotta.

On the upper floors there are two different roofs on which one can walk on as well as two separate terraces with spectacular views of the city. I shot photos until both my batteries and memory cards gave out. I took pictures of the four-sided knight on the rooftop tower. Made by the hands of a skilled mason, this was what I had come up here to see. The tower itself had a small room in it as well. I climbed up a small, narrow spiral staircase to find another small room with another ladder. I climbed the ladder to find a giant water tower hiding at the top of the building. When this building was constructed, the availability of running water was a necessity and it wasn’t always as convenient as turning on the faucet. Each building had to erect a water tower to handle the immediate needs of its renters or workers. From on top of the water tower I looked out toward the city and watched one of the best sunsets of my entire life – steam wafting across the rooftops seemed to float by as a pink-orange sky enveloped the buildings of Detroit.

 

  

 

I had hung out on the roof for what seemed like an age and a half, waiting the cops out and just enjoying my surroundings. My plan was to wait for the cops to change shifts, or sooner. A couple hours later, shortly after midnight they pulled away. I was inside for almost eight hours. I took the brief opportunity that I had and scurried out in less than three minutes. The cops left that night and never returned to seal up the entrance. Some local business owners took it upon themselves to lean the facade of plywood back up against the entrance to deter people from entering. Today the Metropolitan sits boarded much in the same manner; no plans or rumors of life are to speak of. Truly one of the great Gothic buildings in this city it is too historical, too beautiful and too symbolic to let slip into the abyss of despair that blankets the vast majority of Detroit.