The Plaza Of Wishful Thinking

 

   When the former J.L. Hudson's department store was imploded in 1998, after closing fifteen years earlier, many people summoned their fondest shopping memories.  And though the notion of a fond shopping memory is a foreign one to me, other peoples, in regards to Hudson's are legendary.  If my understanding is correct, apparently there was a floor which sold only things in your size, another floor sold only marshmallows and puppies, at Christmas time every shopper was issued their own Santa Claus who would hold hands with you while you skipped merrily through the store, and if you were dissatisfied with your purchase you could have whatever you wanted from the store for free, including the diamond encrusted bath towels.
      But once these reveries subsided the usual complaining began.  Detroit was, even more so, not what it used to be.  And if anyone needed evidence that the city was stupid, there it lay in the largest pile of rubble ever implodally created.   Nope, the city would never be the same.  The last opportunity to renovate a 2.2 million square-foot building had just crumbled before our eyes.

     What is often forgotten, when people talk about the trajectory Detroit has taken, is the role the J.L. Hudson Company played in the city's dwindling.  Not only did they set up stores in suburban shopping malls, they actually built the entire malls.  In 1954 they opened Northland Center, the largest shopping center in the world at the time.  It was soon followed by Eastland Center in 1957 and, finally, Westland in 1965.  They were all built by Hudson's.  This was the beginning of the original implosion of Detroit's downtown shopping core.  It took a couple decades, but eventually Hudson's flagship was undone, in large part, by its own hand.
    It's a pretty safe bet that the Hudson's building would still be standing empty today.  This may not have been  known at the time, but it seems pretty clear now.   Regardless, twelve years ago, after the dust had settled, it wasn't necessarily a sad day, in fact it seemed like a dawning, literally.  Surrounding blocks were awash in sunlight, the building had been playing the moon in a daily staging of a solar eclipse.

    Things progressed smoothly from this point.  Debris was cleared, a parking structure was built in the basement and, exhibiting an unusual amount of foresight for the city of Detroit, the footings for a new building were included in the design and could be seen protruding through the concrete.  A decade later these footings still sit, waiting, in the middle of downtown, covering a city block, and looking like, what can only be described as, a Plaza Of Wishful Thinking. 

 

     The Plaza Of Wishful Thinking is a place for reflection, a serene and unique landscape, it induces a zen-like meditative state.  Individually, each footing could be mistaken for a minimalist sculpture, collectively they provide a peaceful repetitiveness as calming as the sounds of a lake's lapping water.  That is, it would be a place like this, if you could only enter.  Unfortunately The Plaza Of Wishful Thinking may only be admired through a chain link fence.  

    Once again the city doesn't seem to know what it has.   It may be twenty years, if ever, before someone wishes to build something on this site.  So after a decade of visitors, and even locals, asking "what's that"? it's time to tear down the fence and let people enjoy The Plaza Of Wishful Thinking.   The fence is the shameful part, not the plaza.  If my internet search is accurate, no other city in the world has a Plaza Of Wishful Thinking.  The city needs to start embracing its uniqueness, not fencing it off. 

    I can already hear the lawyers saying:  "Oh no, we can't have people walking around so many dangerous, hard surfaces."  To whom I respond:  Have you ever been to Hart Plaza?   Just try scaling that contorted ziggurat in the southeast corner without getting hurt.  Not to mention the many places available for a tumble into a concrete pit.  (If Hart Plaza is fenced off tomorrow I sincerely apologize).

    Furthermore, there's no better spot, symbolically, for the city to lead by example if it wants to encourage retail downtown.  Within The Plaza Of Wishful Thinking the city should build a single glass cube, perched on a few of the footings of course, and finally capitalize on what it has in the form of a brand.  There are many options, but even if they just sold t-shirts with the city's official seal it would be a start.  Personally, I wouldn't hesitate to buy a Plaza Of Wishful Thinking t-shirt, or a lucky footing key chain.

    One glass cube, representing the new transparency Mayor Bing has promised, sitting on a spot once occupied by the tallest department store in the world.  Talk about shrinking.  The city doesn't need giant department stores, it needs thousands of individual stores.  The city should make this...um...clear.