LW: This is the interview of Father Michael Varlamos. Today’s date is June 25, 2015, we are at the Assumption Greek Orthodox Church in St. Clair Shores. My name is Lily Wilson. This interview is for the Detroit Historical Society and the Detroit 1967 Oral History Project. Father Mike, can you tell me where and when you were born?
MV: I was born in Highland Park, Michigan on August 14, 1962.
LW: And what street did you live on?
MV: I lived on Cruse, which was right off of Fenkell between Hubbell and Schaefer, if memory serves.
LW: Okay. Who are your parents and what were their occupations?
MV: My parents were Nicolas and Olymbia Varlamos. My father, at the time I was born in the early sixties—I don’t know if he was regularly employed at the time. He was discharged from the army, I believe, in 1959 and as was the custom, he came back here, worked at a gas station in the area and then he went back to Greece, met my mother on June 1, engaged June 8, and married June 15. After a month of what was considered a honeymoon visiting all of their relatives they flew—actually they came by boat, back to Detroit. And my mom thought she was marrying an American who had a lot of money [laughter] and my dad was in between jobs, he was broke, so they ended up living with his parents on Ardmore which was the street right behind the street that I grew up on. So, my mother knew absolutely no English when she came and shortly after she arrived she found she was pregnant. Her first child was a miscarriage.
LW: Okay.
MV: She always used to tell me the stories of how she was not – the doctors were telling her that she had lost the child and she didn’t understand what they were saying to her. So she always used to tell us this story. Then after a year she had my sister in ’59. So she came in ’58. And then in ’62 or early sixties my dad had purchased a party store and was a store owner on the east side of Detroit on Mack and Lemay and he was told when he opened up the party store by a Greek sage who was very, very involved—his name was Pete Peluras—I can’t believe I still remember—I had buried him, that’s why I remember, I did his funeral. But he told my dad, because the neighborhood was in an African-American community there, and he said, “The first thing you are going to do, you are going to hire a black man to work with you.” And so, my dad did. He was really following his advice word for word. How he should account for the expenditures, and income and we can talk about that a little bit later. But that was his party store, it was a liquor store and also comic books, candies, and milk, eggs, and bread they sold there. My mom, of course, she didn’t work because she really didn’t speak English and after my sister was born three years later I was born in ’62. So for the record I’m 53. Okay?
LW: Okay. And what city in Greece did your parents come from?
MV: My dad was born in Cleveland, Ohio in 1933 and his family had flown to Greece in ’39, I believe it was, and they went just to fix the patriarchal home there. The home where his father was from, so they were going to spend the summer and what happened is the Second World started and they were unable to leave. So, essentially right after the Second World War—so my dad grew up in Greece and they were not able to leave until 1948, ‘49 after the Greek civil war that took place right after the Second World War. So, my dad grew up in Greece ten years of his childhood. He left when he was four and he came back when he was fourteen. So, he grew up in Greece, we would say. And then he came—my grandfather had—he and his two brothers came and brought them to Detroit, put them through the schools. My dad was not known for being a very good student, he was more of a hands-on person, but he did end up going to the National Guard and served in the Army. My mother was from a small village in the central part of Greece. And it’s called the Megalo Chorio, which means literally “the big village,” and it’s near a town that is affectionately known as the Switzerland of Greece.
LW: Okay.
MV: And it’s called Karpenisi.
LW: Okay.
MV: But they met in Athens.
LW: They met in Athens. So tell me about the neighborhood that you grew up in and what it was like, who your neighbors were, who you played with?
MV: It was a very long time ago but I still have very vivid memories of growing up in Detroit. We were there until 1970.
LW: Yeah.
MV: So, in our neighborhood, right next door to us was my dad’s brother and my two cousins, the third weren’t born yet. They lived right next door to us on one side. Across the street and kitty-corner was my dear friend Timmy and behind us on the other side of the alley was my dear friend Allen. And Timmy, Allen and Mike were always together. I mean, we used to roam the neighborhood. We were five, six years old at the time, we were very young but it was a beautiful—We used to, I remember, making piles of leaves and we used to jump and roll around in the leaves and then it was a custom back then that they used to rake the leaves into the street and set them on fire. That’s how you got rid of the leaves and we’d just like to watch the smoke and jump through the fire. There was an old abandoned car at Allen’s house, who was an African American and we used to spend an entire day just, you know, it was an old ’50 DeSoto or something a real old car. And we used to just like sit the driver seat. The windows were all broken. It was a very dangerous—now that I think of it. [Laughter] I mean it was rusted. [Laughter] We could have scraped ourselves, there was broken glass. We were sitting on top of it, you know there was a big steering wheel I remember, we used to just pretend—it was just a great—I loved my childhood, that I remember then. And then of course, two houses down from us, on the left was an Italian woman, and she—the neighborhood was pretty much—there were not very many African-Americans that I remember, early. There was a lot of immigrants, Greek, Italian. And I would just say Americans. We didn’t identify them with any ethnicity. There was a little old lady at the end of the street—her last name is Lionakis—and I met her daughter not too long ago. And she was from the island of Crete.
LW: Okay.
MV: And she used to sit in her window and she would just watch us. And I would remember everyday going to school and I would always see her up in that little bungalow, that little window that was up there. She would always wave, this frail old hand. The Italian woman she had a little child who was even younger, it was an infant, even younger than me, but I remember that she and my mother would talk a great deal but neither one of them spoke English. My mother would speak to her in Greek and she would speak in Italian and that made an impression on me that they were able to communicate. She was a young mother she was asking about advice.
LW: Of course.
MV: About what to do with a baby, I’m assuming. And I’m thinking—now this is what my mother told me after the fact—I witnessed this but I didn’t know it was being said and going on.
My mother came to find out that her father was killed in Greece during the Second World War. He went to Greece and then she never saw him again. And at first she was very angry at Greece and at Greek people.
LW: The Italian woman shared this with your mom?
MV: Right. Yes. Until she met my mom. She fell in love with my mom. So they became very good friends until they moved away.
LW: Okay.
MV: So the neighborhood began to change. I would say in the—well, I really don’t know. I just remember it was rather sudden.
LW: Okay. Do you remember about what age you were then, when it changed?
MV: Five or six I would say. So we’re looking at ’66. I just remember that I—there were more restrictions because when I was young I was able to run down the street. I could go over to Allen’s house which was across the alley and I remember that I wasn’t allowed to go into the alley anymore which was behind our house. They don’t have alleys anymore, do they?
LW: Well, they do. I don’t think any kids would want to play in them.
MV: Right. But it was a very common thing.
LW: Sure. Of course.
MV: That was one way of going over to someone’s house, instead of going all the way around the block.
LW: Yeah.
MV: You would just go through the alley, and maybe a few yards down and then just jump the fence and be at your friend’s house as opposed to going all the way around the block.
LW: So you said Allen was black?
MV: He was black.
LW: What about Timmy?
MV: Timmy was white.
LW: And you were Greek-American?
MV: Mm-hmm.
LW: So do you remember ever thinking around those ages four, five, six when you were playing with them, do you ever remember thinking about any differences?
MV: No.
LW: Or do your parents say anything? Nothing?
MV: No. My mother nor my father. My father worked essentially in a black community. His worker who was a black American, his name was Mike.
LW: Mike.
MV: We had the same name. He showed me how to play paddle ball. We used to sit on the corner there on Mack and Lemay watch the cars go by. My dad would be yelling at him to come inside and work. [Laughter] But I learned paddle ball and there was just little things.
LW: Sure.
MV: He was just a wonderful person. I never could remember difference. I would play with Timmy and next door was my dad’s brother and my cousin, named Chris and we would play together. But I was not aware of any difference. That didn’t come until much later. Even in ’67 when the riots were taking place I didn’t know that that was happening. The only thing was that we weren’t allowed out of the house.
LW: Okay.
MV: I remember a jeep driving up and down our street and on the rare occasion that we went on Fenkell because was a Sam’s Drug Store there, I don’t know if it’s still there, there was a Kroger—not a Kroger an A&P—that we used to shop at. And my dad—I distinctly remember my dad giving my mother five dollars to do the grocery shopping. She would walk me and then put me in the buggy and do her shopping. But I remember seeing large, I don’t know if they were tanks or not but I know they were large military vehicles. There was definitely a military presence and I was really, at that age, into army and things like that.
LW: Of course.
MV: And every stick became something for me to pick up and play army with, with my friends, which I did. But Timmy, my good friend Timmy, he moved out before—that I know—before ’67, right before the riots. My uncles moved out. We were—we and the Lionakis family at the corner were the only ones. And as people were moving out the Italian family that was good friends with my mom, she moved even sooner. We just saw that the neighborhood was changing very quickly and I think I realized it when there were more restrictions put on me. I was not able to go into the alley. I was not able to go to the end of the street. I wasn’t allowed during the riots to play in the front yard, only in the backyard and not near the alley. So, it was all these new restrictions. When I happened upon my friend, Allen—and I don’t remember if I went over to his house or if I saw him in the street and I said, “Come on, you know, let’s play,” and he just kind of shook his head and I couldn’t understand why.
LW: Oh.
MV: He told me—if I can remember correctly—“My dad said I’m not allowed to play with you.” And it was right around then—the only thing, Lily, I don’t know if that was before, I think that was after ’67, after the riots.
LW: Okay, okay.
LW: Because everything—when there was like a calm after the violence, there was almost like a numbing from what – my dad and I have talked about this—there was like this numbing effect, that kind of appall that hung over the city. I remember that he was not permitted—I told my dad that, “He’s not allowed to play with me.” And that’s when I remembered my dad explaining to me, not so much that, “Well, the black people and the white people in this country have a lot of things to work out.” Something like that. And I never thought—he was more of a light skin black—
LW: Allen was?
MV: Allen was. But we had great—we had a lot of fun together. But if you told me he was black, if you told me he was different, I don’t remember there being a difference.
LW: And you were about five?
MV: Yeah, five, six years old.
LW: Going on six, in ’67, because you had an August birthday you said?
MV: Right
LW: So, that must have been somewhat traumatic for you at that age to hear your best friend basically tell you “Well, I can’t play with you anymore.”
MV: What was traumatic was that Timmy left. And my uncle, well, my cousin Chris was a little too young, he was younger than I was so he wasn’t much fun at that age. And Allen was really the only one I had left but then he wasn’t allowed to play. And then I remember this was in’69, ’68 or ’69 on my way back from school I was assaulted by four black girls. I think it was in the alley.
LW: You were about seven? Six, seven?
MV: Yeah.
LW: And what happened?
MV: Because, I finished second grade, we left—I was assaulted. I don’t even know what started it. All I know is I was walking down the alley and I don’t know if they wanted either a backpack or lunch box that I had and I wouldn’t give it. But I don’t even remember the assault I just remember coming home and I was completely scratched up, my neck especially. My dad was fixing the fence in the backyard and when I walked up and I said “Dad!” I remember just saying “Dad!” And he looked at me “What happened?” And I just remember him throwing the hammer and he said “That’s it,” he said “we’re out of here, we’re leaving.” I remember he couldn’t sell the house that was a difficult time. So my grandparents who lived on the other block, on Ardmore, they, moved into our house and they rented out their house because their house was a brick house, so they could get more money renting that, and they moved into ours. Ours wasn’t a brick house it was essentially wood, it was not a very good home—house—it was a very nice home. Next thing I remember is that we were living in Detroit but then we were registered in Livonia schools. So my dad—or my uncle George he had just come from—so the last two years of second grade I think it was—the last two months or the last month I did it in Livonia schools.
LW: Wow.
MV: Because it was just – we bought a house we couldn’t afford. So my grandparents gave us – our house wasn’t really worth that much. But the neighborhood I know was changing very quickly. And I have this image, my uncle George would pick us up from school, my mother’s brother, and then we would drive, I don’t know if it’s still there but there was a McDonalds—It’s the first time I had McDonalds at Fenkell and Grand River. And I would get my two hamburgers, and small fries and a Coke, and I remember seeing a scene there were four black men that were beating up on a white man.
LW: Wow.
MV: And that was like the last image that I had. It was almost—that was the feeling that this isn’t our neighborhood anymore. So we were going to school—were we living in Livonia—we couldn’t because we hadn’t moved out yet. I remember he was driving us to school—no. What I can’t recall is if we were living—did we get into the house? Were we living in Detroit—were we living in Livonia going to school in Detroit? I don’t think so, I think it was the other way around—we were still living in Detroit, so he would drive us to school and then drive us back. And then when my grandparents rented their house and then they came and moved into ours, gave my dad, you know, money, we put a down payment on a house in Livonia which we couldn’t afford but we just needed to leave because the neighborhood changed, you know, very quickly. And it really was a change that we were not welcome. So, we felt like we didn’t know what was happening. My dad took a significant loss because after my uncle left, he went to Livonia. My dad bought the house from my uncle so my uncle could leave. And so now he had two pieces of property and he took a bath on both of them.
LW: You moved to Livonia and finished school all the way through high school in Livonia?
MV: Yeah.
LW: Where in Livonia did you move to? What street?
MV: It was on Barkley—it was Five Mile and Middlebelt. We always kind of stayed on Five Mile going all the way. And we were there for three years. The store was vandalized, toward the end of the sixties, I think in ’69—the party store.
LW: The party store. Okay, so tell me about the party store during July of ’67, tell me what happened?
MV: Well, the party store was doing very well. My dad was making—had a good reputation. There were two other party stores I know of one that was owned by a Lebanese family and my dad used to brag that he put Lebanese man out of business and the way that he did it, he hired a black man to work for him—
LW: Mike.
MV: Mike. They had a very good relation—Mike would go into the neighborhood and even attract people to come he says, “Why are you going to the Lebanese person, he’s charging you an arm and a leg. Come over here to Niko’s party store.” [Laughter] That’s what it was called—Niko’s party store. My dad had the reputation that if you didn’t have enough money for bread, for milk or eggs—those three things—you know, he would see what you have and whatever you have you can buy what you need. But when it came to beer or alcohol—candy with the little kids, he was always generous. They would buy a Tootsie Roll and he would throw in a Sugar Daddy.
LW: Okay.
MV: My dad was always, to this day, was very generous.
LW: How wonderful.
MV: So because of this reputation he was very much admired and he would try and treat a lot of the customers that would come in—not the people who were coming in to buy beer and wine, but the regulars who were buying milk and bread or the kids would come in for a comic book and he would try to teach them Greek, right? “Kalimera, you know, good morning.”
LW: Yeah.
MV: So he tried to – it was kind of an interesting to see, you know, black people speaking Greek, or something that we only heard in the home. I guess maybe that is what made an impression on me that there really wasn’t—I didn’t see a difference Just like I don’t see a difference in people if one is a brunette and one is blonde, right.
LW: Okay, I see.
MV: There’s different hair colors, there’s different eye colors, there could be different skin colors. So, this was my father and I think my mother both made this impression on us that there’s only one race, and that’s the human race.
LW: Okay.
MV: Unlike my uncle, but I won’t digress into that. Because he had a very different experience. But when the riots started and there was a great deal of vandalism going on—in the vicinity of my dad’s store, the neighbors came out and they wanted to protect the store from being damaged so they had formed a human chain around – at a time that there was the most destruction going on. There were places burning left and right. The building next door did catch fire that was connected to my dad’s. But my dad’s store didn’t sustain damage but nobody came and attacked directly, my dad’s store, in ’67. There were other instances, but even the neighborhood there changed, you know, it seemed that the black American community afterwards became even more militant, aggressive—I’m searching for a word, but even Mike had turned on my dad.
LW: Wow. How did he turn? Can you give me an example?
MV: I don’t know the reasons but he pulled a knife on my dad.
LW: Wow.
MV: And, you know, my dad let him go. But then there were break-ins to the store. So it was almost – it was considered a high crime area, you know, even at that time. There was a railroad tracks and my dad said that someone was found dead on the railroad tracks, you know, almost on a weekly basis. There was a great deal of drug trafficking that was starting to come in, and gang violence. So, that neighborhood was changing as well. So it wasn’t, the way my dad described it, it wasn’t the poor black people that were just trying to survive, just trying to make a living, families, now you began to see a more—almost like a criminal element with again, gang violence. So they were looking at taking whatever you had.
LW: Okay.
MV: So the store was broken into on two or three occasions. So, then my dad, he just – I don’t think he even sold the store I think he just left.
LW: Wow.
MV: You know, whatever inventory he had left he had to return it, he took a loss. He did very well up until the neighborhood—and now I’m just thinking back, if I was to analyze it, it wasn’t just like the white flight from our neighborhood that changed the neighborhood, I mean even the black neighborhood where my dad’s store was located, even that neighborhood changed, you know, from people who were working, perhaps menial jobs, they didn’t have a very strong income. But the people that came in afterwards, the black people that were frequenting my dad’s store were not the little kids who were coming to buy eggs or milk or cereal. Now, it was a different—it was more people coming in to buy liquor, more people coming in to buy other alcoholic beverages.
LW: And had the store been broken into before the ’67 uprising?
MV: Maybe right before, but in the early days, like from ’60 to’66 or ’67, maybe there may have been one. And a lot of times they attributed it to drugs, people looking for drug money.
LW: So, I want to just talk a little bit about—well, when did your dad actually end up leaving the store? I want to get that.
MV: It was in ’69’ or ’70.
LW: Wow, okay so right around that time.
MV: So two years, you know he stayed two years after the riot.
LW: And after you moved out of the city into Livonia?
MV: Right. Which is why we ended up going into Livonia because he got a job. He just put in a job to work at UPS. They were building a new center. So, he got the job and he was shocked. So the job was on Industrial Road between Middlebelt and Merriman, and I-96 and Plymouth Road. Right in that corridor there.
LW: So, you were going to school, living in Livonia, while your dad was still working at the party store? For some time, for a little bit?
MV: Very short time. Because then he left – that’s what prompted us to move to Livonia, when he got the job at UPS.
LM: So, big changes right after ‘67 for your family. Within a year or two your family had - your dad changed jobs, left the store, you were in a new school, new kids, new everything, new neighborhood. So I want to talk about your church and a little bit about what you do here and also the changes that happened to this congregation, or perhaps a couple generations back congregation, after ‘67. Tell me what your title is here at the Assumption Greek Orthodox Church.
MV: My title in English, I’m the senior priest. That meant something when there were two other priests, now I’m the only priest. So, my title is the only priest at the Assumption Church.
LW: If you could just tell us a little bit about the congregation and who it’s made up of?
MV: The congregation is the second oldest in the city of Detroit. The oldest being the Annunciation Cathedral, which was founded in 1910 and this parish, as the Greeks were beginning to migrate away from what is present day Greektown, toward the eastern parts, the near eastern part of the city, they founded this church in 1928.
LW: What was the original location?
MV: The original location – well they did rented on top, I think, the second floor of a movie theater for a while, but they don’t consider that. The year that the church was incorporated was in 1928. So, probably three years before that they were renting various venues to have the church services. There was, you know, the cathedral downtown. So that was a full functioning – most people, that was the only church. And then as the population began to grow in the first two decades, by 1928, there was a critical mass of Greeks that you could establish a church. So, the first major church was on Beniteau and they were there, that was built, I believe, in 1933, and they were there until 1955 and then they built a church on Charlevoix. And both of these churches are still standing, the buildings, are still standing.
LW: And the church on Beniteau and the church on Charlevoix, we’re talking about in Detroit?
MV: Yes.
LW: Not Charlevoix Street here?
MV: Ah, it doesn’t go all the way through but it’s the same Charlevoix.
LW: Same Charlevoix, just the Detroit side?
MV: Right.
LW: So, the cathedral that was built in 1910 was the first Greek parish and that is not affiliated directly with the Assumption Greek Orthodox Church.
MV: Yeah, it’s the Cathedral Church, which is, it’s the Church of the Bishop.
LW: The hub.
MV: Right.
LW: Okay.
MV: And then, you know essentially the parishes are, I like to think of it as satellites of the Cathedral.
LW: Okay, okay.
MV: So, the parishes that formed, the Greeks that kind of migrated from Greektown toward the east essentially became part of the Assumption Church. And then, on the west side there was Saints Constantine and Helen, and then along Woodward Avenue was St. Nicholas Church. So there were more Greeks moving out, where there were two churches serving the Greek community on the west side and then eventually a third, St. George—which is now in Southgate. There were three—the west side kind of splintered into three groups, where the east side everybody just came to the Assumption.
LW: So, the cathedral is on Beniteau? Do I have that right?
MV: The cathedral is on Lafayette downtown—
LW: In Greektown.
MV: And then we – the Assumption Church migrated out to around Beniteau, which is between, what—Mack and Jefferson, if you will.
LW: And then the second?
MV: The second was on Charlevoix, just a couple of blocks over.
LW: Okay so two, sorts of, satellite churches off the cathedral.
MV: Right.
LW: Okay, I just want to make sure I have that straight. So after the World War I, an influx of Greek immigrant’s necessitated additional space to worship.
MV: Mm-hmm.
LW: Can you tell me about what those churches experienced after 1967, or during 1967?
MV: Well, in ‘67 the cathedral, I can have you speak with a few people that were there at the Cathedral, that’s the Annunciation Cathedral, it’s a different church. The Charlevoix church—and I’ll show you photographs when we go into the church—
LW: Great.
MV: the Charlevoix church was there from 1955 until 1976. And this facility that we are at now, construction began in late seventies. So by ‘76 the Assumption parish moved out to Saint Clair Shores.
LW: Okay.
MV: It became a very – and that parish, where the old Assumption Church was on Charlevoix, where my dad’s party store was, you can see the dome of the Assumption Church. So, it was like two blocks away, three blocks. It was right across the street from Southeastern High School. And in ’67 there was an apartment building across the street from the church and there was a snipper, who was just –I don’t think it was a hate crime, or, I just think it was just a random act of vandalism. That he took a riffle and started shooting at the church. I don’t think he was – from my discussions, nobody knows why people do these things, but I don’t think it was – that the person who did this was actually targeting Greek people. But the neighborhood used to be a very strong Greek neighborhood around the church. But, the Greek people began leaving right after the Second World War. In fact, I was speaking with one of the old members of this parish at length about his – about the Greek community on the east side. And he said that the white flight began right after the Second World War. He said, “We looked at the parish roasters and saw that a lot of the addresses were already in the late forties, early fifties in St. Clair Shores, in the Grosse Pointes, in Harper Woods, so there were already a great deal of Greek people. But, you know, where the church was, there still were quite a few Greek people there. By ‘67 many of them had left and a lot – it was still an African-American neighborhood, so the person who was shooting, we don’t know if he was – was he African American? Was he white? We don’t know. It was just somebody who took a riffle and started shooting.
LW: And that was in July during the riots in 1967? Wow.
MV: So, and, there was actually, on the grounds of the church was where the helicopters would be launching—or was it at Southeastern High School? There was a vacant lot that the helicopters would be landing, so it was a landing zone where the church was.
LW: I believe it was at the high school, but they may have also utilized the church grounds, I’m not sure.
MV: Well, they did, because the church filed a claim because a tank had busted one of the curbs. So in fact, I went and found the parish council minutes in ‘67 to see what damages the church had sustained in the riots and there was broken glass. There was, you know, the curb was crushed by a tank. But then, there was, apparently, a sniper who was just shooting randomly at the church, broke some windows, but had damaged an icon of the Resurrection of Christ.
LW: Tell me about that?
MV: Well, there was an icon that was hanging in the narthex of church, in the vestibule and one of the bullets came and pierced the icon and it was taken down, it was put in a box. It was identified as being damaged during the riots. But it was put in a box and kept in storage for the longest time. When I came to this community in 2002 we had suffered a fire. In 2003 I came but the fire was in 2002 and I found a lot of these old icons and I found this particular icon—and it even stated, there was a plate on it that says that “This icon was damaged during the riots of ’67.” There were other things I found that I said, “These should not be in boxes or in closets, they need to be displayed.” So we made an effort to display a lot of these church artifacts and that icon is one of the things that we thought should be displayed. I’m rather surprised that the church still continued to function in Detroit after that because things continued. This was not my church growing up, I only know from what people have told me. They had hired security guards, even on Sunday mornings cars were being broken into and people were being mugged. None of the evening meetings could take place, at church, you only could only go to the church on Sundays and it was only during the day otherwise people didn’t feel safe. Cars were being stolen. There was just a great deal of—the area was not very safe so they eventually decided to sell the church. They had just paid the church off actually, the mortgage. And they sold it to a black Baptist congregation that still owns the church. They still operate it but they no longer worship in the main—in the church they’re now in the Sunday school or in the community center and the church now is in complete disrepair. It’s been condemned by the City of Detroit because the dome is caved in, it’s a sad thing to see. But it’s still standing there as a monument—
LW: On Charlevoix?
MV: On Charlevoix—of what once was. But the one on Beniteau from thirties looks like a dollhouse. It’s gorgeous. It’s another Baptist congregation that has it. But the Charlevoix church, when you see it—you know, you bring any of our old parishioners—sometimes we go by it, down to our old neighborhood and you know they just start crying.
LW: Difficult to see that like that.
MV: Yeah.
LW: What was your home church growing up?
MV: My home church was St. Nicholas church.
LW: Okay, on Woodward you said it was?
MV: On Woodward—at McNichols and Woodward.
LW: So, further up north closer to Highland Park—where you lived?
MV: I was born in Highland Park but I never lived there. I was born at Detroit Osteopathic Hospital, which I think has been torn down as well [laughter].
LW: Okay… interesting. Is there anything you want to talk about while we’re on the record? About ‘67? Or your experience as a leader in the community?
MV: Well, in ‘67 again, I had very vivid memories. I loved my friends. I can say that I learned what friendship was and there was no color. There was no—there was nothing as far as prejudice, discrimination or bigotry. These were all words not only that we didn’t know what they meant, but we didn’t know what they felt like.
LW: Sure.
MV: And I think I knew what it felt like before I knew what these words meant, after ‘67. So I think that was – not only did our neighborhood change, but we changed as well. But I think we were reacting to what we felt was being imposed upon us. So I didn’t know what it meant to be prejudiced or bigoted but I knew what it felt like.
LW: What do you think helped you sort of experience that feeling? Was it Allen telling you that he couldn’t play with you anymore?
MV: That was the first thing. I don’t know, I probably still bear a scar deep inside but I think when I was assaulted by the four girls, I didn’t know why and it was for no apparent reason. I think it was the lunch box.
LW: They were about how old?
MV: Oh they were older than I was, they were in middle school. Yeah. There were four of them. I know I swung that lunch box [laughter] and I defended myself but they were on me before I could—I just remember I was just scratched up. My mom was in a panic and my dad was furious.
LW: Sure.
MV: But that was such a long time ago and, you know, my mom used to always say it’s okay to get angry but never hold a grudge.
LW: Do you think that those experiences when you were little helped shape your decision to become a priest?
MV: Well, I’m sure they have. Because one thing, as I was trying to figure out what to do in life, I began to see there’s a lot of wounded people. I always wanted to do something that involved either protecting or healing. So, I contemplated going into the military, I contemplated going into the police department. My eyes were not good enough [laughter], so I could never pass the eye exam. I was thinking about medicine, because I always wanted to help people and then I realized to be a doctor you have to go to school for so many years and I don’t want to do that. So, I started pre-med, I shifted to engineering and I only needed one semester to get my bachelor’s from Lawrence Tech and then I gave it up. I was called to a different ministry. And that’s what I feel I’m doing—I’m healing people.
LW: You’re also working on your PhD?
MV: Yes.
LW: And tell me about your dissertation topic for the people that don’t know?
MV: My dissertation topic is on Archbishop Iakovos and the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese and their involvement in the civil rights movement, and specifically in his march in Selma, Alabama with Dr. King.
LW: And where was that archbishop from?
MV: He was actually from the island of Imbros which is in the Aegean and it was—when he was born it was part of the Ottoman Empire in 1911.
LW: Wow.
MV: The island was annexed by Greece, remained in Greek hands for about ten years and then it was again given back to Turkey. So, the Archbishop had to grow up in a very difficult—he was someone who was very much discriminated against. Because of his—not so much because of the color of his skin but because of his ethnicity and because of his religion.
LW: Here in the United States?
MV: In Turkey.
LW: In Turkey. I see.
MV: So, this is what prompted him, he knew what it felt like to be discriminated against. He had to serve. It was compulsory military service. He had to serve in the Turkish army and to serve in the Turkish army as someone who is Greek and someone who is Christian was two strikes against you. And then when they found out he was a clergyman, he was a deacon at the time, they treated him very poorly and this is what really inspired him to get involved in the ecumenical movement and later to be a very strong advocate for civil rights and human rights.
LW: So some parallels to some of the conversations that are still going around about ’67 too
MV: Yes.
LW: At that time. Well thank you for your talking, on the record, about your experiences and your family’s experiences.
MV: Thank you for allowing me to share.
LW: Of course, it was my pleasure.
**JK: John F. Korachis.
ERT: Thank you for coming in and speaking with us today.
JK: It’s a pleasure to be here.
ERT: Let’s begin with where and when were you born.
JK: I was born in a town in southern Greece called Kalamata, famous for its olives and other wonderful things that it produces. It’s the most southern part of Greece, facing Africa, and what I remember distinctly about growing up in Kalamata is that whenever there was a storm in the Sahara, the sand would literally fly and drop in my hometown [laughter]. So, we had a lot of storms connecting us to Africa. So, I kind of grew up identifying with Africa as well as Europe, but it was more symbolic than in reality.
ERT: And how long did you stay there?
JK: I lived in Kalamata until the age of ten, but we also had a home in Athens, so my family commuted between Athens and Kalamata, two wonderful places to grow up in a beautiful environment with extended family, and I was very happy there, but my parents made the decision, not actually my parents, but my father, because my father was the youngest of ten children, and four of his oldest brothers, who seemed to have control over him emotionally somehow, persuaded him to come and live in America, and contrary to my mother’s protests, my father followed his brothers, who had already been here 20, 30 years earlier, and I was at first horrified to leave my beautiful country, my friends, my family, my relatives, but I have to say that it was a relatively easier adjustment to come to Detroit than I ever expected.
ERT: What year did you guys come to Detroit?
JK: We came here in 1955.
ERT: And what were your impressions of Detroit at that time?
JK: Well, Detroit at that time, and I’m looking at it as a young boy, was a booming city. My relatives who lived in Detroit before we arrived found a place for us to move into, which was literally a Greek ghetto. So, it made the adjustment so much easier. So, ghetto sometimes has a negative connotation, but in this instance, I give it the most positive connotation, but along with the Greeks who lived in this so-called ghetto, there were many other ethnic groups, particularly Italians and Belgians, and it was a wonderful place to grow up. My adjustment was relatively easy, probably because I lived in a community that had a support structure. The Greek church, the Greek school, the teachers at the public school that I attended already had been teaching Greek-American kids, they had a very positive impression and image of the Greek Greeks who lives in Detroit, so they all embraced me and helped me and guided me, and I think it was an experience growing up that I could have never had in Greece. It would have been totally different growing up in Detroit, America, at that particular time.
ERT: And what elementary school did you attend?
JK: I lived on a street called Beniteau. I came to realize very soon that many of the streets on the east side of Detroit were named after the French settlers who had farms, and these farms later became the street, because the government would only give them 40 feet on the waterfront, but as much space as they wanted going away from the river.
ERT: What they called ribbon farms.
JK: So Beniteau was the Beniteau farm, and later on it became a street. And the street next to Beniteau was St. Jean, another French farm, and the street that crossed St. Jean and Beniteau or Charlevoix or Charlevoix if you’re French, so and Detroit was a French name [laughter], so I thought it was really interesting to live in a so-called French community, but of course, I didn’t find many French descendants.
ERT: And you said the name of the school was?
JK: Littlebridge.
ERT: Littlebridge?
JK: Littlebridge School. And I lived very close, a block away from Littlebridge, and a block away from my junior high school, which was Foch Junior High School, and my high school was Southeastern, which was next to the Foch High School. I contemplated going to Cass Technical School, because my junior high school teachers were prodding me to go there, but Southeastern was such a beautiful school and so convenient that I decided not to go to Cass Tech, which would require three buses to get there, and I stayed at Southeastern.
ERT: Did you have any siblings?
JK: I have siblings, a sister and a brother.
ERT: They also attended the same schools as you?
JK: I don’t know. My sister did not go to junior high school, she was six years older than me. My brother did go to the same junior high school, but not the same high school that I attended. He went to a different high school.
ERT: And what memories do you have of that time period, middle school and high school?
JK: Well, I kind of thrived in school. I loved school, and I loved the way the teachers were treating me, and I loved the opportunities that the school gave me, like music was very important to me, and they had a great musical program at Littlebridge, and not only that, they gave you the instrument to play and use, take it home and perform. I mean, it was my instrument until I finished my education. Junior high school was the same way. When I graduated from junior high school, they gave me the American Legion Award. They would give two American Legion Awards to one male and one female, and I think it was based on academics and involvement in activities and school like athletics, social programs, and clubs. So interestingly, I was an immigrant and receiving the American Legion Award, and the woman, or the young girl at the time, who received it, was also an immigrant from Syria, her name was Joyce [Ghazul ?], and she was probably the best student in junior high school. So, I felt honored to receive the award, and I enjoyed and liked the fact that in America you can be recognized for your hard efforts. In high school, I was in a special program for college preparatory, and I had the best teachers, and the best programs to study. When I was in the eleventh grade, I was nominated to become an officer for the senior class, and I was nominated to be vice president. I won the election as vice president, and it was a time when students were leaving Detroit for the suburbs, so the fellow that was elected president, Nick [Lopiccolo ?] was his name – I remember that distinctly – Nick’s family moved to the suburbs, so I became honorary president because there was no other president to take office. And I loved my high school years, and my teachers, I had great teachers in high school, and Detroit at that time had the highest paid teachers in the country, so many of the teachers that I had in junior high school and high school were actually graduates from out of state who came to Detroit to work in this high-paying school system, with new ideas, different backgrounds. And then I came to Wayne State University, and my parents were progressive enough to allow me to move on campus, and I lived on Second and Hancock, even though my parents only lived ten minutes away by car, and of course my mother would send me food for every day of the week in Tupperware labeled Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, [laughter], and of course my brother would pick up my clothes and bring them back ironed, but living on campus allowed me to grow and find myself as an individual, whereas I cannot imagine at that time any other Greek-American kids who had immigrated like me living on campus. There were lots of Greeks living on campus, but they were students from Greece; they were not citizens of the United States, so I was in a very special situation and a very special opportunity to discover, especially Detroit in the sixties, which was socially, politically and culturally very active. And Detroit was also selected to represent the US Olympics in 1968, and I had an opportunity to work on the process to get Detroit elected to the Olympics. I love getting involved in organizations, and there was this thing about America, anybody can join an organization. It wasn't by name of the family or economic opportunities that your family may have. Detroit was full of opportunities, and because there were so many ethnics, and it was acknowledged that it was good to have ethnics, I was never, how should I say, discriminated. I did forget to mention one school. Before I started Littlebridge, because of the large number of immigrants in the United States, I was sent to a special English school in Detroit where I attended for like six to eight months to prepare me to enter the normal public school.
ERT: Do you remember the name?
JK: I cannot remember the name, but I remember that I had to take three buses to get there. I lived next to Charlevoix, so I would take the Charlevoix bus at St. Jean to Van Dyke. I would get off at Van Dyke and take the Van Dyke bus to Gratiot. At that time on Gratiot there were trolley cars, so I would take the trolley to my school, and then reverse the process going home.
ERT: So somewhere on Gratiot.
JK: It was somewhere on Gratiot between Van Dyke and downtown Detroit. It was marvelous.
ERT: What was that experience like?
JK: Unbelievable. I mean, there’s kids from all over the world. All over the world, how exciting for me. And of course, we stayed in one class all day, with different teachers, and I got to know these foreign students, and then when I went to high school, and later in college, I encountered the same students.
ERT: How wonderful.
JK: And they were superstars in high school, and they were outstanding students at the university. So, America should be very proud of its immigrants, and I’m not bragging about myself, I’m speaking of the people that I knew who were so successful.
ERT: So, growing up, did you ever encounter any direct discrimination, or did you ever feel or see any racial tensions in the city between groups?
JK: Well, the city was segregated, although in my high school I would say ten percent of the high school was African-American, and then of course, lots of multiethnic students, and the students in high school, the African-American students, I do not believe were discriminated, because they all participated in the activities that I did, but perhaps the reason is that the African-American students came from working class families and already had the opportunities to become more acclimated and not segregated.
ERT: Did you ever feel any tension between the groups then?
JK: No, I did not feel any tension. In fact, what was interesting, my first crush on a girl, [laughter] at the age of 10, was African-American. [both laugh] Oh my God, I remember it to this day, she was so beautiful and so sweet, and she smiled at me so lovingly, it was the first time I sensed a romantic interaction with a girl.
ERT: That’s wonderful.
JK: Yeah, it was really wonderful.
ERT: So, fast-forwarding a little bit past high school and just kind of touching again on your time at Wayne State, you were speaking about the different groups and the different ethnicities that were at Wayne State. Did you ever encounter any tension at Wayne State, or what was that experience like?
JK: Wayne State, I don’t know what the African-American population was at the time, but it was predominantly a white school, and because the Detroit school system was so good and so powerful, I would say the overwhelming majority of the students had a Detroit Public School system background, but there were students from out of state in my classes, and there were also many Windsor [Canada] students attending Wayne State. The educators were top-notch, Detroit had incredible faculty members and very strong departments in a variety of fields of study, so I probably would have gone to University of Michigan if I could afford it, but didn’t. I had no opportunity. I received a scholarship to U of M of $750. Although there was a lot of money then, I used that scholarship at Wayne State, and it was so wonderful not to burden my parents with the financial strain of my education, and I don’t have any remorse or remiss of not coming to Wayne State University. It was a world-class school and living on campus felt like a world-class experience. One of the things I remember distinctly and fondly, just south of Wayne on Cass Avenue we had Chinatown, I don’t know if you know that.
ERT: I do, yeah. There’s a marker there now.
JK: And there were these wonderful stores and restaurants, and of course all the interesting people that lived in the Cass Corridor: the political activists, the poets, the artists, the anarchists, it was very exciting, very exciting. And of course, living on campus and always loving music and always appreciating the arts, I had the opportunity to visit the museum at least once a week, and to go and listen to the best classical music possible, not to mention the jazz and folk music that was around at the time, in and around the campus, and Detroit was very musically driven, of course, with Motown especially. I mean, we were so excited as young people to live in Detroit and to dance the music of Detroit. I mean, I love to dance, and this music gave me the opportunity to become a dancer. I didn’t become a professional dancer, but whatever I learned in dancing has served me well my entire life.
ERT: So, thinking about this period here in the city and definitely in the country as a whole, were you active in any of the political or social movements that were going on during this time?
JK: I was certainly against the war in Vietnam. I helped organize a committee to save the Rouge River – I still have movies from that experience, and even though we were the catalyst, later on the committee became so big and corporations started getting into the movement to save the Rouge River, that was one of my social activities. During the time that I was active in the inner city community, I was one of the organizers of Rescue Orchestra Hall, and it was a committee that I was a founder of, along with probably ten, twelve other people, and we made enough noise that people like Max Fisher joined our committee [laughter], and afterwards it was pretty well taken over by the aristocracy of Detroit, and it was a very exciting thing to belong to and be active in. But the process were, it became, how should I say, an acknowledged serious activity from the time that we formed the organization, it probably was several months, perhaps more than a year, and I continued to be active, but once the institutions took over, I mean, I didn’t have any role to play anymore, except to attend Orchestra Hall and enjoy the music.
ERT: During this time, were you aware of or involved in the civil rights movement?
JK: Well, I can’t say I joined any particular organization. I remember that in the back of my automobile I had a sticker with a black and white hand. I supported political candidates who supported the civil rights movement. I became more active in the civil rights movement much later, after I served in the military and graduated from law school, but I was not a member of a civil rights organization, per se, but my heart and soul was dedicated to that cause, and in my own way, I did, I was an advocate. Not necessarily from an organizational standpoint, but I was an absolute advocate of civil rights.
ERT: Sure, and now speaking to the events of ’67, where and when were you when you first heard about the events of ’67?
JK: Well, I remember that it was summertime, it was a weekend, it was July, and I had a favorite thing that I did every weekend in Detroit during the summer at that time, and I mean literally every weekend. I would go to Meadowbrook and listen to the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, and it was the most magical experience that anyone could ever have in the summertime in Detroit, in that environment, in such a great orchestra, and it wasn’t only the orchestra, the guest performers were always world class. And on the nights that the orchestra did not perform, the orchestra performed, I think, three nights a week, two nights on the weekend, and then they had another performance on the weekend, which was world-class, and the tickets were only two dollars and fifty cents for lawn tickets, so me and my girl [laughter] would come every weekend as often as we could, and we had gotten there the previous night, and then I stayed with my parents that evening when the riots started. The next day – I hate to say “my girl,” – my significant other and I again went to Meadowbrook.
ERT: Sunday?
JK: Sunday, and then we were going to come downtown afterwards, and as we’re driving on the Lodge, we could see the smoke, and of course we realized what was going on, because we had already heard of the incident of the night before, so I drove her back home, and she lived a mile from my parents, and I went to my parent’s house.
ERT: Where did your parents live at this time?
JK: They lived in the area of Moross and Mack, and she lived in the area of Vernier, which is one mile away, and Mack. And on Monday, I returned to my home, which was on Second and Hancock, and I stayed there a couple of nights, and then the third night, I went to visit my girlfriend, who was on Vernier, and there was a curfew at eight o’clock, and I didn’t realize how strict the curfew was, and her parents were prodding me to leave, but my parents only lived a mile away. I figures, you know, what’s the big deal, I’m going to take a side street and get to my parent’s house easily, within two minutes.
ERT: Were you driving?
JK: I was driving, and the police, the Harper Woods police, stopped me, and they took me to the police station, but they didn’t book me. They made me stay there overnight to teach me a lesson, which I was grateful that they didn't book me.
ERT: What was your interaction like with those police officers?
JK: My interaction was regret that I broke the curfew, it was only about seven minutes after eight when they stopped me. I showed them were my parents lived, because my driver’s license was there, but they took me in anyway, and there was an awakening experience to be in the police station at night, particularly a suburban police station. Lots of activity, I mean, you would think that they were at war, you know, anticipating the invasion of Harper Woods, but it was a stupid thing for me to do, but honestly, I didn’t realize how serious or critical it was, and it was only eight o’clock when I was in the street. I assumed seven minutes after eight I would be in my parents’ house. I went about three blocks and they stopped me. On a side street, so it caused me that evening to think and reflect on what was going on, and even though it was interpreted by the media and everyone, the word was riot, and it looked like a riot. I mean, I don’t know what a riot’s supposed to look like, but it certainly had the physical or visual characteristics of a riot.
ERT: As the media portrayed it?
JK: As the media portrayed it, it was the visual images.
ERT: Did you see those images yourself?
JK: Well, yes, they were on TV. Part of the news. But I came to think through that evening how, why are these people rioting? And it came not to my clear understanding, but my impression that there must have been a cause for people to be dying, for people to be injured, for buildings to be burned, the catastrophe of destroying on Twelfth Street all these businesses that serviced the neighborhood. I mean, there was no rationale to that, so I guess I came to the understanding that there must have been some anger, some frustration, some rebellion of sort, that it wasn’t all just rioting, but I’m sure that there were individuals who took advantage of it, just to be nasty, not necessarily understanding the protest or the political message, but just to participate in the expression of the violence, but I’m sure those were far and few between.
ERT: So, you were arrested—
JK: Not arrested, picked up by police [laughter] and taken to the police station.
ERT: That would have been Tuesday or Wednesday.
JK: Not picked up. Actually, I drove there and they followed me.
ERT: Escorted you.
JK: Escorted me, yeah, that’s right.
ERT: That would have been Tuesday or Wednesday.
JK: Yeah, Tuesday or Wednesday, right.
ERT: So, you were able to go home the next day.
JK: Oh, yes. Early in the morning they released me, I went to my parents’ house.
ERT: What was that like?
JK: Well, they were angry with me, of course, but I mean, they didn’t spank me. They were concerned. I called them that evening, and let them know why I didn’t get home, and they forgave me, and I learned a lesson of responsibility, and I think it probably has helped me moving forward in life in terms of following rules and regulations. I mean, it didn’t seem so awful to me at the time.
ERT: Did the events of that week impact directly anyone else in your family?
JK: I don’t think it had any direct impact on anyone else from my family, but we were all emotionally impacted by it.
ERT: Sure.
JK: You could not avoid understanding the seriousness in the universal news media coverage of that riot, and the fact that forty-some people died, and six hundred-some buildings were destroyed, I don’t know how many people were injured. I mean, people’s lives changed irrevocably at that time. My life changed at that time. I mean, you could never look at Detroit again the same way, and I don’t mean I was hateful toward Detroit, no, but I looked at Detroit as a place going through a transition, and that accelerated the transition that was taking place. I mean, the exodus to the suburbs and the racial bias and discrimination, it accelerated discrimination. People had a reason to be openly, how should I say, prejudiced, and they had an excuse to be prejudiced, not realizing what precipitated the events, but then at the same time, a lot of people became actively involved in, they called it “the unification of Detroit,” the integration of the city. I mean, I didn’t leave the city as a result of that, neither did my family.
ERT: Were the neighborhoods you frequented, either the neighborhood here on campus at Wayne State or your parents’ neighborhood, were those impacted in any particular way?
JK: Interestingly enough, Wayne State was not impacted that I can recall, and my parents’ neighborhood was not impacted, and I graduated a year later. I served in the military for two years, I was in the Naval Officer’s Reserve Program, and they activated my unit, and I had a choice of serving and finishing or going to law school and coming back as an officer, but I would have to serve for five or six years, so I decided to serve, I had an E4 rating when I started, and then I got another rating subsequently, and I did not go to Vietnam because I had this law school interest, and the Navy knew about it. They assigned me to an administrative office to work in a legal office, and I avoided going to Vietnam. I was assigned to a naval air squadron on Whidbey Island in the state of Washington, I lived there for two years, and it was a very interesting experience, living and being active in the military during the Vietnam era and all the racial situations going on in America continuously outside of Detroit during the same time. By the way, I was Sailor of the Month in my unit [laughter], and they gave me 30 days free leave, which along with my 30 days, I had 60 days, and I could fly anywhere I wanted on a military flight, but I took the opportunity to explore the West Coast for 60 days, which was really great, and then I came back and I went to law school.
ERT: What year did you come back to Detroit?
JK: I came to Detroit in two years, 1970.
ERT: And how did you find the city?
JK: Well, almost the same way that I left it, and I lived in a beautiful neighborhood on the east side, Nottingham Street, in an incredible flat, gorgeous flat, and then I bought a house in Detroit on Harvard Street near Cadieux, and I lived there until 1987, and then in ’87 I had an opportunity to buy one of the most interesting houses in the universe, and it was on the border of Detroit and Grosse Pointe, and the house was vacant for 10 years, and I bought it and I saved the house, and I still live there, and it’s architecturally a jewel, one of the great modern architectures in the Detroit area designed by a famous architect, Alden Dow.
ERT: Alden Dow?
JK: Dow.
ERT: How do you spell that?
JK: Just like the Dow Chemical Company.
ERT: Okay.
JK: He was a son of the founder of the Dow Chemical Company, and he has many, many great buildings throughout the United States, and particularly in Michigan, and this is a house he designed in 1935, which the city petitioned the court to demolish it, because it did not fit into the architectural integrity of the community, so it’s really a very interesting house. And I moved out of Detroit because I could not let go of this house, but my present house is only a block away from Detroit.
ERT: So, the next question has to do with language. Some people describe the events of ’67 as a rebellion, an uprising, disturbance. What words would you use to describe those events and why?
JK: Well initially, the common word based on news media publications and the verbal communications was that it was a riot, but as I mentioned earlier, I realized soon thereafter during the time of the uprising, let’s call it for the moment, that there was a probable cause for what was going on, although not defined in my mind and not understanding it so well as I did later on. Of course now, I would probably use another word, but clearly at that time, the only word available to us was a riot. Maybe some progressive thinkers could have called it rebellion, but it wasn’t the commonly used word during the week of the riot.
ERT: Do you believe that the events of ’67 have had a long-lasting impact on the city of Detroit?
JK: Oh, absolutely. I mean, it was like I said, the precipitating factor – the city was already afflicted because jobs were already moving to the suburbs, and people were moving to the suburbs, and Detroit was hit hard economically, and it was the precipitating factor for the segregation that has taken place subsequently. And Detroit is segregated, there’s no ifs, ands, or buts about it, but I was never emotionally or physically segregated from the city. I mean, I traveled to Europe throughout this time period, they we’re discussing at least once or twice a year. I loved living in Detroit because Detroit offered me even then, and now of course, opportunities to grow and experience, whether it was music, the arts, opportunities to identify who I am, to create opportunities for me that I would have never had in any other community, whether professionally, socially, or artistically. I mean, Detroit – I don’t think I could ever experience all that I have in any other community in the world, and I’m being honest about that.
ERT: And what do you think about the current state of the city today as it relates to—
JK: Well, the city, I drive through the city every day. I mean, I drive on Vernor going home, which is mostly fields with an occasional house, and I drive on Charlevoix or Jefferson on the way to work every day, and I shop in the city, and I entertain myself in the city, and I educate myself in the city, and I find my culture and social activities in the city. I mean, I can’t ignore the fact that the city has been substantially abandoned, but maybe now it’s an opportunity with the positive things going on to recreate and define a better organized city for all the people of our community. One thing that makes me very sad is that the great school system that I had as a student does not exist anymore in the city. I mean, you could go anywhere in the city and find a wonderful school at the time, and I don’t know what the educational opportunities are now, I really don’t know. Maybe there are great opportunities, but I don’t know, because I don’t have the contact with the school system. But I have to look at it as an opportunity for the city to redefine itself, because the city suffered irreparable harm in the last 40 years.
ERT: Are you optimistic about where the city is headed?
JK: Oh yes, very optimistic. In fact, two weeks ago I had three friends visiting me from Europe, Milano and Paris. They thought Detroit was one of the greatest places they had ever been to.
ERT: That was their impression of the city?
JK: Oh, it was fabulous. They also thought it was one of the cleanest cities they’ve ever seen [laughter], and of course we went to the DSO [Detroit Symphony Orchestra], we heard all kinds of great music outside of the DSO, we went to the museum, there was a classical performance on a Friday night, then we went across the street, what’s the restaurant, Chartreuse, we were having dinner, and a friend of mine, Martina Gúzman, who is doing something with the Historic Museum, she took my friends from Europe and we came to the museum, and they loved visiting the Historic Museum, but everything we did in Detroit was unforgettable. Belle Isle, restaurants, interesting people, great places to shop, this was two weeks ago. And then I have friends who have been coming to Detroit from Europe for at least 30 years, and on July 22, three friends of mine are coming from Greece. They’ve been here at least 10 times in the last 30 years.
ERT: Wow.
JK: I mean, they love Detroit, but of course because I love Detroit, and they feel the experience of Detroit as I feel and love Detroit. They have friends in Detroit, the people here are very interesting, and culturally, Detroit is very rich, and Detroit allows you the opportunity to experience culture without necessarily having deep pockets. I mean, a week ago, Concert of Colors. I mean, there’s no other experience like that in the country that I know of, and I get to experience that for four days every year, going to probably 10 different venues at that program.
ERT: Wow.
JK: So I have a lot of faith in Detroit, and I also like the fact that the city government, the city council and the mayor, seem to be responsible to the citizenry and to the people that want to invest in the city, because that’s very important. We have to have investors. I mean, without investment, we’re not going to go anywhere, and there’s a compromise when you bring in investors, I know that as an attorney. There’s always a compromise, but you have to look at what product they’re giving you, and whether the investment, and whatever it is that we’re giving up, is worth the benefit, and I think so far, the choices that have been made are good choices, and I hope that they will continue to make these contributions to the city, but the city – no one knew the city better than me two years ago. I don’t know the city anymore, I honestly do not know how to get around in the city, even though I work downtown and I live only six miles from the downtown area. I’m lost when I go to places in and around the city now, it has changed so much and so radically, and it’s so different and it’s so exciting, and I have things to discover that I don’t know about.
ERT: Wow. Well, before we wrap up, is there anything else you would like to add?
JK: I’m not sure I have anything else. I want to make a statement regarding my parents. We went off the record a little while ago, and I mentioned that my parents were very progressive and politically intelligent and interesting people, and the thing that I loved about my parents, who influenced me tremendously, is that there was not an iota of prejudice, ever, in their minds or hearts, and I was blessed to have parents like that.
ERT: That’s wonderful.
JK: They embraced the diversity of Detroit. Never once did they infer or state anything racially negative. It never would occur to them to do that, so I was lucky to have a background where my parents and my family respected the community at large.
ERT: Well, thanks so much for stopping in today and speaking with us.
JK: Well, thank you for the opportunity to speak with you and talk about my love for Detroit. I’m sure we didn’t cover all the issues, but we might have another opportunity to do that.
ERT: Well, thank you so much.
JK: Thank you.