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No other building in this city has captivated more people, including myself, than the Michigan Central Depot (M.C.D.). At the beginning of this city's industrial revolution the Depot was a mighty symbol of the opportunities that Detroit had to offer immigrants, and those looking to make a new life in the north. Today and for many, many years, it has been an epic symbol of this city's shortcomings and the result of a half-century of ambivalent attitude towards historic preservation in Detroit. Occupying approximately 12 acres of land just off Michigan Avenue, the M.C.D. divides Cork Town from Mexican Town. Its imposing shell looms over the Detroit skyline like the grim reaper of death and neglect. Hollowed are the halls that reside here, cold and depressed are the colors that never see daylight. Like a tomb or an ancient ruin, it is nothing short of epic, truly an onlynDetroit site if there ever was one. During winter, the whipping winds and snow blow through the hollowed structure, creaking every window from top to bottom. In the summer, beautiful colors from intense sunlight drape over the building in a golden blanket. The Michigan Central Depot is a sight like nothing else on Earth. Standing in its shadow you can’t help but feel sorrow and apathy for the city and its people. Such a building does not deserve this fate. |
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In its early days, the M.C.D. was considered the “Gateway to the Mid-West,” bringing immigrants to the factories of the north via luxury passenger cars. In Detroit they arrived by the thousands, riding along a state-of- the-art railroad system. The Depot's presence was elegant and proud; its clients ranged from the meager to the extraordinary: movie stars, baseball legends and Presidents rode the same rails as the rest of the general public, and arrived here in Detroit… Into what is our greatest symbol of hard work and dedication to quality. During the planning for its construction, a site west of down town was chosen for a couple reasons: One, its close proximity and access to the Canadian boarder via the riverfront, and two, at the time of its construction, it was where city planners believed the down town sprawl would eventually stop. Suggesting that Detroit was intended to have a skyline that would stretch from Belle Isle all the way past the Ambassador Bridge. Passengers on the trains would reach their destinations in style, and that style carried all the way inside the station. | |
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The station was built in 1913 by architects Reed and Stem. The tower, which is considered a separate building, was designed and built by Warren & Wetmore the same year. More known for their design of the Ritz Carlton hotel in New York, the Beaux Art style used in the construction of the M.C.D. featured beautiful terracotta and marble floors, walls, and ceilings. With its grandiose arch and seventy-six foot domed ceiling, the main lobby is easily the most extraordinary architecture in the entire city. The once vibrant and lively concourse today sits empty. Now, voices echo with careless ease and crackling footsteps carry far into the upper floors. It is a truly a one of a kind feeling standing in the presence of such beautiful decay. |
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The Upper floors of the Station were once intended on being used as mixed office and hotel space. This never happened, and the top floors of the building were never completed thus never serving any true economic purpose. They still sit empty, suggesting that the entire construction of the M.C.D. was far overbuilt; Its size...too big, its location… too far. It was a drastic overestimate of the current hotel economics in Detroit. It was this miscalculation that would ultimately spell doom for the station. The domino effect brought on by these flaws was not the result of a days work, but years of incompetence and neglect. I constantly think how they missed the opportunity to become a tycoon in the car rental business. Renting cars for cheap to travelers pulling into town would have been the Motor City way. | |
| Starting in the 1990s, I had become fascinated with the Train Station after returning from a three-month trip to Florida. While on I-75 I saw the Depot for the first time. Morning sunlight from the east pierced the hollowed structure, shooting orange and pink sprits of light directly through from one side of the building to the other. It was awesome, I can remember that morning like it was yesterday. I knew right then I had to get inside. I spent the next few months obsessing about getting to the city and exploring this faded and lamented building. Inspired by the dark and haunting sounds of weekend rave parties, it wasn’t long before I managed to find like-minded individuals with the same sense of adventure as myself. In late October of 1999 when I just couldn’t take it anymore and with only my learner’s permit I drove down to the station, parked and walked right inside. |  |
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Now… as for a fence and security goes… well, it did have a fence…sort of, but no security to speak of. The fence wasn’t maintained and most it was scrapped out. This was long before 911, and trespassing with a camera at the Depot was a highly tolerated event. Once I mustered the guts to go, I entered thru the front door archway. You could taste and smell the history inside. The old wooden benches that accommodated weary travelers still remained fastened down tight to the lobby floors. Sitting rotted and decayed beyond repair, they would not be here the second time I explored the century old transit hub.
We continued our exploration around the first floor lobby looking at the amazing graffiti and wondering how such madness could exist so close to my small suburban world. The second lobby had a large vaulted ceiling covered in the rusted strips of tin. Originally the roof was made of copper flashing fastened to these strips of tin. It hovers above the dusty, empty, lifeless lobby floor. I gazed in awe and snapped photos of the rest of the first floor. Not as experienced as I am now, I chose to explore the remainder of the building some other day.
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