Forged from great vision during the industrial age, the locomotive was a wonder of its time. Before the rail system was established, American traveling was taxing and burdensome. The advent of reliable, safe, and convenient transportation spurred a new race. Barons and capitalists across the country hurried to build industries from nothing. Once the tracks were laid, people traveled in and out of Detroit from all over as the automobile industry grew. Jet-black locomotives whistled as they arrived and departed. Some of the nicer trains carried rail cars with luxuries like bars, restaurants, and fancy plumbing. The race to build homes for these metal horses was also underway. The early part of the 1900s saw a huge demand for passenger travel and Detroit was under pressure to build a new station. The Fort Union Station was already located downtown. It was demolished one year after these photos were taken. Despite already having a site for rail transit, city planners decided to start the construction of the new Michigan Central Depot anyway. It was envisioned to sit on the western outskirts of a fully bloated downtown Detroit. This vision of a hearty Detroit population never materialized. Just some forty-five years after opening, the Depot would close its main lobby and enormous office tower.

Perhaps you found yourself here in Detroit passing through town in the 1920s or 30s. You would have walked through these gates and experienced an over the top spectacle in classic design; architecture was truly breathtaking in the northern Midwest. If you had been visiting from out of town and arrived safe you may have wanted to let your family know by sending a postcard. With the pocket change left over from your shoeshine you could purchase a postcard and an 8-cent stamp from the station’s gift shop. Once you had scribbled your heartfelt sentiments you could drop the card in the ornate brass mailbox in the building’s east lobby. This antique mailbox was stolen by thieves sometime after the closing of the station.

Once the building was left totally unsecured thieves also removed the atrium leading to the passenger tunnels shown above. The elements have taken their toll: large holes in the roof allow rain and even snow inside. There were once skylights in this room, and until WWII they let in natural light. During the war Detroit was know as the "Arsenal of Democracy," and because of the security importance of the station, the skylights were ordered to be painted black. By all accounts the paint was never removed from the skylights, and now only the rectangle frames remain as a reminder they were ever there. To the east of the passenger tunnel were the offices for the U.S. customs and immigration agencies. Holding cells and processing areas under the tracks housed people waiting to be cleared by the U.S. government. The opening of a railroad tunnel leading under the Detroit River to Canada is just a few hundred yards away. This strategic tunnel was another major reason a site west and south of downtown was chosen. Today these tunnels are used by smugglers to bring illegal aliens across the Detroit River. The Ambassador Bridge handles most of the international transportation these days.

When boarding the trains, people would gather on the concourse or in the tunnel to say their goodbyes. Steel plates have now been welded over the stairwells leading to the departure platforms. Outside, overhead pavilions keep the elements from the awaiting passengers. In 2000 the pavilions were demolished, and most of the tracks removed. Located on the west side of the passenger tunnels were the freight operations that kept the station in business so long. All the shipping that came into the station was processed and shipped back out of this facility. Also housed on the western side of the building was parking for the cabs that transported visitors around town. The Station had once been a thriving circus of international commerce, but by the 1960s passenger rail and industrial demand was declining. As America became an import society, rather than an industrial export society, the rail industry was naturally affected first. By 1988, the depot would close for good, but it wouldn't stay sealed long. Currently no one other than photographers, explorers or the indigent seek shelter in the ruins of the depot.

No building on the Detroit skyline has the aura of history that the Michigan Central does. In the old days, indulgence in classic design wasn't a faux pas, it was the architecture of Detroit. Perhaps people had more appreciation for the finer things, but it’s safe to say a building of this caliber would never be built today. Architects now would never construct a building like this because of the sheer costs. Aside from the imposing might of such a building, the real elegance of the structure came in the attention to details - another thing lost in today's modern era. Details included things like the ornate brass mailbox, the Doric columns, and the mahogany benches that once filled the lobby. The main "grand" lobby is a feat of architectural wonder in itself. The thinly tiled domes of the Gustavino arches commanded respect and invited passengers inside. Even though they are severely deteriorated they still command the same level of admiration they once did. The overall ambiance of the structure conveyed comfort and nobility. The classic look of Gothic Renaissance is everywhere, but the conveniences and styles of the modern era had made their mark on the historic building too.

An arcade of travel shops on the main level along with large windows and doorways gave the station an open airy feeling. Even during busy summer days the cold marble helped to cool and calm people wary of traveling. The shops of the station were like any you might find in a modern day airport. There was a magazine and gift stand, a pharmacy, soda stand, a cigar shop and even a barbershop located near the east entrance. There was a woman's private waiting room in the front near Roosevelt Park. Besides the diner counter there were other dining options as well. The station’s apex restaurant featured a space dominated by tall pillars capped with flawlessly smooth arched domes. During a "modernization" period in the 1950s, a drop ceiling was added, covering up the room’s diminutive Gustavino arches. It was known as the Mercury Room from that time on. The basement housed a kitchen that served the restaurant's visitors. Above the Mercury Room was a bar dedicated to serving only the station’s employees. The dining counter on the concourse was a favorite of passengers and workers looking to sip a fountain drink or get a bite to eat. Like the rest of the interior, it has also gone the way of the scrap pile.

Another sign of change in the industry was the phasing out of the caboose. This was the conductor's car where the sleeping crew would bunk overnight. On long hauls, multiple shifts were usually required and this is where the crew stayed. The caboose was often called the "loose caboose" because of its notorious reputation as a party car. Engineers, conductors, and some patrons often spent long trips gambling, drinking and doing drugs in the train's caboose. When this was phased out in the early 1980s, it sent a signal that a smarter, more efficient industry was on a war path. Old, inefficient cathedral-type stations would ultimately suffer the hardest. As it became impossible to maintain the goliath Michigan Central, Amtrak sought money from private foundations to ease the burden. As late as 1985, the Kaybee Corporation put millions into new restorations in hopes of saving the dying depot. These last-ditch efforts were all but futile and the depot would remain open for only another three years.