onlynDetroit broderick tower



Sitting in the center of Grand Circus Park, just six blocks from the river stands our city’s proudest, yet most forgotten beacons of civic culture. A tower among towers… in a city full of grandiose and sadly disregarded masonry architecture, stands the David Broderick Tower. Like a center point of a compass, it is the anchor of Detroit’s “spoke wheel” transit layout. During its inhabited existence it was a true and sincere barometer of the areas health and well-being. In her day the Broderick Tower was a fantastic mix of shopping, service, style, and upscale living. Today she sits as testament to the ignorance of letting history simply be forgotten. Beaten and weathered she still remains in sturdy shape… though dangerous to say the least. The character of the tower becomes more and more noble as the decades pass. The original artwork of the “Whaling Wall” by Wyland has adorned the east face of the building since the late 1990s and is now covered by advertising in hopes to fuel a viable plan to revive the dead.

		My first encounter with the Broderick on an intimate level came as a “trump” to another successful urban adventure. During a short period of time during a particularly good summer of exploring, I found myself sitting on the rooftop of the Metropolitan Building with a very good friend of mine. We were looking and admiring the Broderick Tower for its stately beauty. While sitting there in awe we spotted a small hole on the sixth floor. The corner window butted against the steel framework of a partially abandoned construction site. On the very top edge of the steel frame, a long time boarded up window was kicked in and clearly wide open. We discussed it for the length of a cigarette and decided to make it a “two-for-one” night. After leaving the Metropolitan we made our way through the alley to the open construction site. The two of us dashed up a partial staircase to the fourth floor as quietly and covertly as possible. The stairs stopped with two more floors to go. I followed my friend up to the sixth floor climbing the metal beams just like an ironworker. We walked nearly 60 feet along a six-inch beam over a three-floor drop to get to the open window. We got to the opening and I jumped in and tumbled straight down. Not expecting to drop as far as I did, I was caught off guard, and kind of spooked; I didn’t break any bones but… I busted the bulb in my Mag light.

After securing my Mag with a new bulb I continued out from the room in which I entered. Where I had expected living space was actually offices filled with furniture and the inevitable drab, gaudy office decor of the 1970s. Wood panel walls and dot matrix printers were in abundance. So were oddities like dentist molds for teeth, unopened medicine from the 1950s, and medical records. Old typewriters, appliances, and even a ridiculously cool old fashion public address system still remained. This place had it all; I was mesmerized by all the interesting and historic stuff lying around. News papers from the 40s, photos, art and maps of the city in 1960 all here like a time capsule reminding us of the way it used to be. It was now 3 A.M. As we walked around the next couple floors a summer thunderstorm spat lighting fiercely, only instigating us to keep exploring. We came upon a sad but all too real sign of the hard times hitting this area. A plague that is usually associated with rural communities. I returned a year later to capture these photos of what was still left.

		On the north east corner of the building overlooking Comerica Park’s entrance… was a room that had recently been used to cook and cut meth. A Bunsen burner along with various tubes and containers were connected and hooked up. Crushed pills (pseudo-ephedrine) lay in a pile, left over from the meth-product that was being made. Thinking of all the times I had been to games in Comerica Park I still can’t believe it was there. In other rooms we found the leftover paints from the “Whaling Wall” mural. Surly vandals who came across this stockade of paint could not resist the temptation to get rowdy and mess things up, so they did.

The top 10 floors or so became more modern, it had been renovated in the late 80s maybe, and the gaudy furniture was replaced by more wood paneling and more plastic. Some made to look like stained glass, yet it was still trashed like the other floors. Up near the top I found a second staircase; it faced the corner windows on the Broadway side of the tower. It was traitorously made of old, and now corroded iron, we decided to leave it be, and continued up the path we were on. The stairs in the center of the tower were black and musty, my lungs hurt by the time I made it to the penthouse. Coughing and dying for the cool humid breeze I couldn’t have made it up to the top a minute sooner. The rain stopped and I made my way on to the corner balconies of the tower to enjoy each distinct view. Each corner balcony was adorned with a terra cotta orb. From the street it is just another crowning ordainment on the profile of the Broderick, but from the inside the painted faces left behind on the orbs are as eerie as they are comical. The Penthouse is laid out over two floors. It was… and still is my favorite thing I have ever found in any abandoned building so far. The bar area was wallpapered in prints of the 1930s skyline, looking rather Parisian. The views depicted on the wallpaper were far removed from the tribulations of the area today. It was striking, like looking at an entirely new city. Though tattered, pealing and marred by pointless tagging the Tower itself is front and center in the prints. Lights on every floor shimmer and shined bright, as did other buildings of the “Big 12” captured in this surreal pedestrian view from Grand Circus Park.

		Still standing was the old saloon counter top. The bar was black and trimmed in white, a large mirror adorning the mantel, and layers of dust. Surprisingly the first time I was behind the bar it was still stocked with a few broken wine bottles and glasses…also leftover, some dingy beer bottles, and a pin-up type calendar. The room adjacent to the bar was a sitting room with a fireplace made of marble, accented by more and more marble and a large mirror. An incredible view of the downtown area and the river can be seen out the windows in this room, once lavish and loved, it was now home to vagrants who had left their beds a mess with needles and trash tossed about; a grand view bestowed on the least deserving of Detroit. We moved to the top floor, the master bathroom was stark in contrast to the sitting room. The bathroom was onyx black from floor to ceiling. The shower… the sink…. and even the toilet…all black. I made my way to the master bedroom; it had a huge ceiling and was, as you would expect… luxurious.

As plush as it was the most stunning thing about this was the machine room directly next door. The buildings elevator motors and mechanical systems were located at the top of the tower, directly next to the most expensive real estate in the building. I was simply amazed. The windows in the top tier of the tower are dressed with thick gothic arches giving the tower its noble presence in the Grand Circus Park. The master bedroom faces west/northwest on one side and east/northeast on the other. This gave the occupants the best view for sunrises and sunsets. I know this because this is when I realized it was close to sunrise, and time to go. We hastily made our way down the musty stairs and back to the window in which we had entered. We backtracked and traversed our way across the narrow iron beams and down the stairs to the alley in back of the tower. The night I spent in the David Broderick tower was one of the defining moments in my exploring career. With that under my belt I decided to go full speed ahead and see every building I could get inside of. Over the next two years I covered the vast expanse we know as Detroit in search of buildings historic and forgotten. The Broderick tower is both, and until it is revived from the depths of its despair, it will sit dark and lonely calling to all who will listen.