Kronk Street in Detroit

Railroad tracks run close to Kronk Street

John Kronk Street is an industrial lined street in southwest Detroit. It runs about two miles, from Livernois Avenue on the east to the Dearborn city limits on the west. It’s a wide street that bumps up to some of the largest railroad yards in the city. The massive yards seem to be a major hub for freight trains with at least ten sets of tracks spread across acres of dark soil. Beyond the tracks, looking south toward the Detroit River, are piles of what appears to be gravel or coal stacked a few stories tall like large ant hills found in a field.

Toward the western end of the street are a series of black overhead train tracks that cross Kronk. They rest on thick steel trestles that are supported by brawny cement pillars. The tracks feed directly into the railroad yard and the heavy industrial complexes found near that end of the street.

An old steel railroad bridge spans the street

Approaching the west end of Kronk (near the Dearborn border) on my recent bicycle ride, I noticed a very cool 1920′s vintage RR building on the north side of the street. At one time it could have been a small passenger station or ticket office for trains heading out of Detroit. Despite a little graffiti, it looks to be in remarkably good shape and well maintained.

Vintage brick building that may have been a ticket office

Also on the north side of Kronk are a series of truck terminals, used auto parts sellers and numerous junk yards. The large truck terminals I passed had hundreds of semi-truck trailers backed into loading docks and lined up along a chain linked fence that faced Kronk. The trailers were packed in like cereal boxes on a supermarket shelf, with little space between them.

Truck trailers packed into a terminal lot

There are also large manufacturing facilities on that side of the street that include a ferrous metal processing plant, a brick manufacturer and other miscellaneous small manufacturing facilities. Noticeably absent were party stores, restaurants, and other small businesses of this type.

One of many industrial plants along the street

This diner looked like it’s been closed for years

Like many streets and neighborhoods in Detroit where I’ve ridden my bicycle, Kronk is a street of contrast. At the east end, off in the distance, are the gleaming towers of the Renaissance Center and other tall buildings of Downtown Detroit. At the other end, to the west, are the dark, coal colored steel plants of Zug Island and the Ford Rouge plant.

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The Sign Read “We Du All”

Back in May of 2010, I wrote the first of a few blog entries on the amusing signs of Detroit I see on my bicycle rides.  Many of the advertising beauties that I’ve seen over the years are hand-painted, some with drippy letters, making them difficult to read. Others are professionally painted on the sides of building and are full of misspelled words. Several others, such as those nailed to trees or utility phones, spell out things that are impossible to decipher. Others are eye-catching in their bold use of color and feature crude drawings of food items, car parts, etc.

One in particular that I featured in that early entry was quite humorous in its spelling.

After a couple of years riding past this beauty, I noticed a few days ago that the spelling had been corrected.  In some ways, I was sorry to see the change.

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A Little Gray Shack

The other day I spotted an old gray shack while on a bike ride through Detroit’s eastside. The small, weather-beaten scarred building was tucked into a corner of a fenced-in lot full of weeds, overgrown bushes and clingy vines. At first glance, I thought it was an old fishing shanty stored for the warmer months ahead or a kid’s outdoor playhouse that had fallen into disrepair and dumped there.

Based on the words printed on the outside wall of the old windswept building on Freud Street, it was probably once a parking lot security guard shelter. Now it is nothing but a rickety old place that is barely standing. The door and windows of the wooden building are long gone, and the backside wall is almost non-existent and consists of nothing more than a gaping hole with a few rotting boards still in place. The slanted roof on this little shack is mostly caved in, and what’s left of the wooded floor has nearly disappeared through rot and decay. It’s quite obvious this little old one-man sized wooden building has seen better days.

I’ve ridden past the old shack just off Freud (a street lined with industrial warehouses, truck depots, boat repair facilities, and automobile impound yards) many times on my summer rides and had never noticed it. The vines clinging to the fence surrounding the lot and the large, wild plants close to the building have always been full of leaves, camouflaging the place by turning it into a big green mass. Without the hindrance of full-bloomed leaves obstructing my view, it was easy to spot the little shack from the street.

Shortly, the leaves will pop out for the summer and the wooden shack will once again become invisible. I’m not sure what business may have been on the large lot where the old wooden security shack rests, but the time-worn gray shack seems to have outlived the business it served.

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Two Detroit Signs

In many ways, Detroit is defined by contrast. It seems to be everywhere. There are modern, slick-looking casinos lined with colorful neon. Directly across from them are abandoned buildings sprayed with gritty urban graffiti. There are poor people on beat-up bicycles, slowly riding to neighborhood party stores, while young people living in up-and-coming neighborhoods zoom by on expensive road bikes. The city has an abundance of storefront churches, some located next to party stores with outside signs promoting liquor and the acceptance of state issued, food assistance bridge cards.

There are also contrasts in the signs I see posted to the sides of buildings, utility poles, and elsewhere. I spotted two in particular that seem to define the harsh contrast found within this peculiar city. When I saw these signs placed side-by-side, they made me smile. They also made me think about how fragmented Detroit has become. I love the juxtaposition of the two signs and had the thought that nothing defines Detroit more than the few words found on each.

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Stairs in Detroit

On occasion while riding my bike in Detroit, I roll past cement stairs that lead to nowhere. They are thick well-built, one piece molded steps made of poured cement.  The few I’ve seen usually have only three to four steps at most. The mysterious cement stairs seem to be concentrated in small areas close to railroad tracks. They may at one time have led to a small manufacturing facility, or were used to access the trains for whatever reason. The heavy-duty stairs are accessible from sidewalks in isolated areas of the city that are now in disrepair and lightly used by pedestrians.

The shadowy steps lead to nothing more than an empty field or a compact piece of land that has reverted to a wooded grove. The gray colored stairways can be rather hard to see at times. They are usually surrounded or covered by overgrown invasive weeds, vines, and other plants. That’s especially true in the summer months when the wild plants are full of green leaves.

What were these used for?

In exploring these small lots where the steps are located, I’ve yet to see any evidence of a building or any other structure. Sadly, most of the areas where the steps are located have been used as dumping grounds for old tires and other trash.

Although I don’t see these stairs much on my ride, but when I do they have always intrigued me. It would make sense if they were used as an entrance to an apartment building, bus stop, etc., but the ones I have seen go to nothing. Located in out-of-the-way places, close to railroad tracks, it makes me wonder what their purpose was. Detroit is full of mysteries, and this is one of them.

Does anyone have any ideas on the purpose of these mystery stairs?

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