The photo book Lost Detroit: Stories Behind the Motor
City’s Majestic Ruins chronicles the demise of some magnificent buildings
in the city of Detroit, built when the automobile industry was virtually
unchallenged and the executives had delusions of imperial grandeur. But with
the demise of that dominance and massive job losses, “white flight” and the
subsequent loss of income and tax revenue—reducing the city’s share of the metropolitan
area to a mere fraction—the magnificent theaters, hotels, office buildings and
even the grand Michigan Central Station were gradually left abandoned for lack
of patrons and funds to maintain them.
Today, most of these structures
still stand, because of the lack of funds to level them, and because white
developers simply don’t see any profit in developing in the city. Save for an
unkempt look, the interiors of many of these buildings have that ghostly look
of just having been vacated for mysterious reasons; but most appear to be
simply crumbling away, as “nature” takes over.
There are abandoned buildings in
Seattle, perhaps not as grandiose as the ruins of ancient Rome. But an
abandoned structure doesn’t have to be grandiose to arouse curiosity. Take for
example that windowless gray-painted building adjacent to the old Metro Park
& Ride in Kent, since relocated and renamed Kent Station, to accommodate
the Sound Transit commuter trains. This used to be the location of a temporary
employment agency called “Command Labor,” and I can recall some 15 years ago
that it was still a going concern. But at least a decade has passed since it
was shut down, and it has just existed in place, apparently unused, abandoned
and forgotten. I always assumed that it was locked up like a drum, its interior
bereft of any sign that it has been used for anything.
The building was too commonplace
a sight for me take interest in it besides the wonder if it was ever going to
used again. I had never actually walked past the building at close range until
the other day, when I noticed that it wasn’t as tight as a drum as I thought it
was. Although there was still a padlock on the glass front door, adjacent to it
someone had punched a hole in the wall large enough to squeeze through it. I
poked my nose through this hole and viewed a very uncared for interior, full of
garbage and peeling paint. There was another door at an angle to my right. I
assumed it was locked, but to my surprise the door opened; apparently someone
had climbed in through the hole and unlocked the door from within. So I just
moseyed in to take a look. The interior to the right had several small rooms,
the walls pealing and crumbling, with loose trash piling up everywhere.
It was the same story as I
explored the building to my right. Everything in sight suggested that all of
the furniture and appliances of business had long been removed, but it had not
been entirely “abandoned.” As I walked through assorted refuse, and mounds of something
that looked more “organic” that I tried to avoid stepping in, the shuttered,
dark atmosphere started to give me the creeps, without knowing exactly why
since I saw no one and heard nothing. I walked past a large mirror in a short
hallway that led to a large room with a long counter which I assumed was used
as a reception area to dole out work assignments and fill out paperwork. Beyond
that was a large space which seemed to have once been a storage area that
reached high to the ceiling, with an upright ladder that now was reaching
somewhere to nowhere. A few metal pipes were stacked in a corner, and more
mounds of garbage was heaped over every square inch of available floor space. I
suspected that the building had been “occupied” over the many years, and
vagabonds had brought in food and other items and simply left their leavings to
pile up over time.
I saw no evidence of permanent
habitation, which surprised me a bit until I wondered how anyone could find
anyplace to “bed down” in all of this filth. I saw nothing more of interest and
backtracked out of the place. But walking past that mirror in the hallway I
noticed that it was actually attached to a closed door, with a knob. Since it
was the only room that was shut off in this way, I grabbed hold of the knob and
gave it a twist. It opened into an even darker void, and peering inside I
sensed nothing before me, but I also loathed to explore it too deeply.
Still, my curiosity forced me to
linger a moment longer than I should have, for suddenly I heard this low,
ghostly voice say “Hey, what’s up?” or something of that nature. I am not
ashamed to say that I shuddered in alarm by being confronted by someone or
something in the darkest void of this building, especially in the middle of the
day. What “human” could possibly be sitting in there in such complete blackness?
The “voice” didn’t sound as if it had been aroused from slumber, but perfectly
in a wakeful state. It was all really “creepy” indeed. I closed the door and
abandoned the place posthaste, my “curiosity” sated forever more.
So it is that if anyone else
shares my curiosity about what lies within that old gray building that has
stood “empty” all these years, consider yourself duly informed. The only
question in my mind is why the city of Kent continues to allow this haunted,
festering little boil to exist, despite its “benign” appearance.
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