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Demolition Means Progress: Race, class, and the deconstruction of the American dream in Flint, Michigan.
In 1997, executives from General Motors (GM) announced plans to shutter a massive complex of automobile factories in the industrial city of Flint, Michigan. Shortly after the plants closed, company officials placed signs in front of the facility that read, "Demolition Means Progress." The signs suggested that the struggling city of Flint---GM's birthplace and onetime manufacturing hub---could not move forward to civic greatness until the plants met the wrecking ball.;The phrase Demolition Means Progress expressed the operating ethos of the city's leadership from the Great Depression of the 1930s through the dawn of the new millennium. Flint's leaders constantly tried to revitalize the city by demolishing outdated structures and institutions. During the Depression, local officials hoped to renew the city by re-making its public schools into racially segregated community centers. In the 1940s and 1950s, federal housing administrators and developers sought to reinvigorate the housing market by building new subdivisions in Flint's racially segregated suburbs. Over the same period, GM executives and municipal officials worked to revolutionize automobile production by demolishing old urban factories and rebuilding them outside of the city. When those efforts failed to create a renaissance, city leaders launched a plan to replace black neighborhoods with a freeway and new factories. In the end, each of these renewal campaigns yielded a more impoverished city and a more racially divided metropolis.;Between the 1930s and the 1970s, a complex set of factors converged to transform Flint from a racially segregated industrial powerhouse into a "hypersegregated" Rust Belt metropolis. The histories of racial segregation, mass suburbanization, and industrial decline were intimately connected---bound together by private acts and public policies that sustained rigid color lines in local schools, neighborhoods, and workplaces. By the end of the twentieth century, a combination of grassroots racism, federal growth initiatives, and local public policies had helped to make metropolitan Flint one of the most racially segregated, economically polarized, and politically fragmented regions in the nation. The state-sanctioned segregation at the heart of Flint's story severely undermines the concept of "de facto segregation" that undergirds the mythology of northern racial exceptionalism.
691 pages, NOOK Study eTextbook
First published June 18, 2015
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Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews
August 30, 2015
The city is not a problem to be solved; it is a story to be told.
I used to dream about getting a fat grant years down the road and taking a leave of absence to start research toward a complete history of the city of Flint, Michigan. There would be so much to it, from the history of technology and the rise of the auto industry, to labor history and the creation of the middle class. I knew race would play a role in this theoretical history as well, though I hadn’t even begun mapping out the implications. It would have been an immense book, one that tapped into several important streams of the larger American drama. It would be in many ways a tragedy as well-- a tale of controlled atrophy and downsizing, of a dying city, industrial decay, and the birth of the Rust Belt. That was my nebulous plan, but it was not to be: the book has already been written, and this past week I finished reading it.
Flint and its story fascinates me. I grew up on its nearly all-white suburban margins but with roots running into its history. I have memories of visiting AutoWorld as a child and of my grandparent’s home on Waldman Avenue. My mom and her parents often spoke with regret about what Flint had once been, of the prosperity of the post-War years and the sparkle of downtown before the sprawl of suburban shopping districts. Though I grew up in the suburbs of Flint Township and later Swartz Creek, my mom (and many of the parents of my friends and peers) had grown up in city. Her family came from Missouri looking for work in the factories, and my grandfather built a career on the Grand Trunk Railroad. My dad spent his career working for General Motors, much of it at Buick City before it was closed and he was relocated to Saginaw. I ventured downtown occasionally as a teenager (and it was always clearly a venture), specifically to the Cultural Center and the Longway Planetarium.
Flint’s story shaped me in obvious ways I’m only now realizing. Many of the photographs on this blog, for instance, were inspired by the rich background of texture and decay I grew up on the fringes of. I knew the city’s history in a cursory way and even saw some of it myself. For all these reasons, I wanted a book that dove into this history. In the absence of such a book (thought Gordon Young’s memoir-- reviewed here previously-- was an excellent journalistic step in this direction) I was prepared (one day in the distant future) to attempt to write it myself.
But the book now exists. I wrote earlier on this blog about Mark Quanstrom’s study on Nazarene theological history and the way it helped me understand the religious context in which I was raised. What Quanstrom’s book did for my theological heritage, Andrew Highsmith’s new study does for my social and urban context. (Note to self: a work exploring the intersection of these two themes, charting the growth and decline of the Nazarene church-- which at one time could count at least half a dozen large congregations in the city-- would be of interest.) I knew Flint was economically depressed and racially divided. But I never fully understood the depth, origins, and repercussions of “white flight,” a trajectory in which my family participated.
My sister and her husband live and work in downtown Flint. On multiple occasions I’ve biked with my brother-in-law from his restaurant on Saginaw Street, past the former site of Chevy-in-the-Hole, where it looks like giants literally gouged a cement valley along the river into the center of the city, to his house in Mott Park. He’s told me lately he feels most of his work in the city revolves around racial reconciliation and that if we can’t understand race we won’t understand anything about Flint’s story and where it is today.
I think Highsmith would agree. I first learned of his book just days after it was released from my brother-in-law, who passed it along to me with a sort of resignation: “Here’s another academic who thinks he’s figured Flint out.” I don’t know that Highsmith claims to have unravelled any riddles, but he’s begun plunging the depths of the issue, the tangle of politics-- many on a national level-- that made Flint what it was and is. It’s very much a story of place, rarely focusing long on any particular individual. Highsmith’s Flint is made up of institutions, organizations, politics, and changing demographics. Yet there are enough specific personal focuses, ranging from Michael Moore to the tragedy of the Beecher assistant principle driven to suicide by the intractable problem of de-segregating his high school, to keep it a poignant and human (though a consistently scholarly) read.
Highsmith offers an urban history of Flint from the early 1900s to the present. (Indeed, the epilogue brings the story up to the point of names, organizations, and developments I recognize from my frequent visits home.) In particular, Highsmith wants to understand and outline the institutional and administrative forms of segregation that kept Flint one of the most racially divided cities in America long after the era of Civil Rights. Under the aegis of strong neighborhood schools, for example, the Flint public school system remained effectively segregated until whites were in a clear minority throughout the city.
Highsmith examines the central issue of race and urban policy from several angles over the century. Much of the division began in housing policies at a national level in the inter- and post-War years, in which real estate redlining kept neighborhoods divided and set the foundation for much subsequent de facto segregation. In the era of urban renewal and the coming of the expressways, proponents of development argued for the clearing of predominately black slums like St. Johns, but administrative segregation largely prevented the relocation of these residents (who initially supported neighborhood clearings) from getting much value from their property and finding new homes in an integrated city. In addition, a ring of largely white suburbs acted quickly to self-incorporate, preventing Flint’s spatial growth and through tough zoning laws blocking the construction of public housing complexes that would result in racial integration (and potentially lower property values). The background to all of this was of course the ebb and flow of the fortunes of General Motors and its complex relationship with the city. If the city of Flint was equated with Buick as the quintessential company town, what happens when Buick dies?
All of this tells a story. It doesn’t give any answers. At the risk of sounding trite though, that’s the point. Highsmith makes the case that America is the story of a thousand Flints, linking the racial and post-industrial challenges of Flint to the nation as a whole. That may be true, but Flint is also importantly unique, enough that its tragedy has a wholly specific resonance, especially to those who grew up in its shadow. This book should be required reading for anyone in or from the Vehicle City, especially if you care about locality and knowing how the place that shaped you was itself shaped. As T. S. Eliot said, “We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”
I used to dream about getting a fat grant years down the road and taking a leave of absence to start research toward a complete history of the city of Flint, Michigan. There would be so much to it, from the history of technology and the rise of the auto industry, to labor history and the creation of the middle class. I knew race would play a role in this theoretical history as well, though I hadn’t even begun mapping out the implications. It would have been an immense book, one that tapped into several important streams of the larger American drama. It would be in many ways a tragedy as well-- a tale of controlled atrophy and downsizing, of a dying city, industrial decay, and the birth of the Rust Belt. That was my nebulous plan, but it was not to be: the book has already been written, and this past week I finished reading it.
Flint and its story fascinates me. I grew up on its nearly all-white suburban margins but with roots running into its history. I have memories of visiting AutoWorld as a child and of my grandparent’s home on Waldman Avenue. My mom and her parents often spoke with regret about what Flint had once been, of the prosperity of the post-War years and the sparkle of downtown before the sprawl of suburban shopping districts. Though I grew up in the suburbs of Flint Township and later Swartz Creek, my mom (and many of the parents of my friends and peers) had grown up in city. Her family came from Missouri looking for work in the factories, and my grandfather built a career on the Grand Trunk Railroad. My dad spent his career working for General Motors, much of it at Buick City before it was closed and he was relocated to Saginaw. I ventured downtown occasionally as a teenager (and it was always clearly a venture), specifically to the Cultural Center and the Longway Planetarium.
Flint’s story shaped me in obvious ways I’m only now realizing. Many of the photographs on this blog, for instance, were inspired by the rich background of texture and decay I grew up on the fringes of. I knew the city’s history in a cursory way and even saw some of it myself. For all these reasons, I wanted a book that dove into this history. In the absence of such a book (thought Gordon Young’s memoir-- reviewed here previously-- was an excellent journalistic step in this direction) I was prepared (one day in the distant future) to attempt to write it myself.
But the book now exists. I wrote earlier on this blog about Mark Quanstrom’s study on Nazarene theological history and the way it helped me understand the religious context in which I was raised. What Quanstrom’s book did for my theological heritage, Andrew Highsmith’s new study does for my social and urban context. (Note to self: a work exploring the intersection of these two themes, charting the growth and decline of the Nazarene church-- which at one time could count at least half a dozen large congregations in the city-- would be of interest.) I knew Flint was economically depressed and racially divided. But I never fully understood the depth, origins, and repercussions of “white flight,” a trajectory in which my family participated.
My sister and her husband live and work in downtown Flint. On multiple occasions I’ve biked with my brother-in-law from his restaurant on Saginaw Street, past the former site of Chevy-in-the-Hole, where it looks like giants literally gouged a cement valley along the river into the center of the city, to his house in Mott Park. He’s told me lately he feels most of his work in the city revolves around racial reconciliation and that if we can’t understand race we won’t understand anything about Flint’s story and where it is today.
I think Highsmith would agree. I first learned of his book just days after it was released from my brother-in-law, who passed it along to me with a sort of resignation: “Here’s another academic who thinks he’s figured Flint out.” I don’t know that Highsmith claims to have unravelled any riddles, but he’s begun plunging the depths of the issue, the tangle of politics-- many on a national level-- that made Flint what it was and is. It’s very much a story of place, rarely focusing long on any particular individual. Highsmith’s Flint is made up of institutions, organizations, politics, and changing demographics. Yet there are enough specific personal focuses, ranging from Michael Moore to the tragedy of the Beecher assistant principle driven to suicide by the intractable problem of de-segregating his high school, to keep it a poignant and human (though a consistently scholarly) read.
Highsmith offers an urban history of Flint from the early 1900s to the present. (Indeed, the epilogue brings the story up to the point of names, organizations, and developments I recognize from my frequent visits home.) In particular, Highsmith wants to understand and outline the institutional and administrative forms of segregation that kept Flint one of the most racially divided cities in America long after the era of Civil Rights. Under the aegis of strong neighborhood schools, for example, the Flint public school system remained effectively segregated until whites were in a clear minority throughout the city.
Highsmith examines the central issue of race and urban policy from several angles over the century. Much of the division began in housing policies at a national level in the inter- and post-War years, in which real estate redlining kept neighborhoods divided and set the foundation for much subsequent de facto segregation. In the era of urban renewal and the coming of the expressways, proponents of development argued for the clearing of predominately black slums like St. Johns, but administrative segregation largely prevented the relocation of these residents (who initially supported neighborhood clearings) from getting much value from their property and finding new homes in an integrated city. In addition, a ring of largely white suburbs acted quickly to self-incorporate, preventing Flint’s spatial growth and through tough zoning laws blocking the construction of public housing complexes that would result in racial integration (and potentially lower property values). The background to all of this was of course the ebb and flow of the fortunes of General Motors and its complex relationship with the city. If the city of Flint was equated with Buick as the quintessential company town, what happens when Buick dies?
All of this tells a story. It doesn’t give any answers. At the risk of sounding trite though, that’s the point. Highsmith makes the case that America is the story of a thousand Flints, linking the racial and post-industrial challenges of Flint to the nation as a whole. That may be true, but Flint is also importantly unique, enough that its tragedy has a wholly specific resonance, especially to those who grew up in its shadow. This book should be required reading for anyone in or from the Vehicle City, especially if you care about locality and knowing how the place that shaped you was itself shaped. As T. S. Eliot said, “We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”
November 1, 2025
Read the whole book and didn't get to the progress part
May 31, 2016
I wanted to give this an actual review, because I think it's a vital book that would benefit nearly everyone who reads it.
It's easy to reduce our views on topics like racism, urban development, class differences, etc. to an image meme but it's hard to read 300 pages of heavily researched, sober analysis of the how and why things like "Flint" happen. As the book reminds us, America is 1,000 Flints - so while Flint is the case study presented, the lessons are much broader.
With Flint in the news so much lately, the history takes on an even more sinister tone. The poisoning of the city didn't start with Rick Snyder or the city council of the 2010s - as we see here, it goes all the way back to the very beginnings of the auto industry and the town. To understand how what has happened in the past three years happened, I think it's incredibly important to look at (like this book does) what happened in the prior 80 years. None of the issues the city faces today would exist if not for the pervasive, at all levels, work done by people in power to harden divides in the city - divides between race, class, and geography.
Flint is a damning indictment of sprawl, suburbs, big business, and American government in general. It's a fine example of why we need to think beyond our very limited view of the future and confront the real history of racism and classism in this country in order to rise above anything. It's a depressing look at how even the well-meaning attempts to "revitalize" a city can lead to further disaster for the people who actually live in a city.
If you can sit down, read this, and still believe in notions like "self-segregation" or "bootstraps", well, congratulations. It's not a light read or a fun read, but I think it's a necessary read.
It's easy to reduce our views on topics like racism, urban development, class differences, etc. to an image meme but it's hard to read 300 pages of heavily researched, sober analysis of the how and why things like "Flint" happen. As the book reminds us, America is 1,000 Flints - so while Flint is the case study presented, the lessons are much broader.
With Flint in the news so much lately, the history takes on an even more sinister tone. The poisoning of the city didn't start with Rick Snyder or the city council of the 2010s - as we see here, it goes all the way back to the very beginnings of the auto industry and the town. To understand how what has happened in the past three years happened, I think it's incredibly important to look at (like this book does) what happened in the prior 80 years. None of the issues the city faces today would exist if not for the pervasive, at all levels, work done by people in power to harden divides in the city - divides between race, class, and geography.
Flint is a damning indictment of sprawl, suburbs, big business, and American government in general. It's a fine example of why we need to think beyond our very limited view of the future and confront the real history of racism and classism in this country in order to rise above anything. It's a depressing look at how even the well-meaning attempts to "revitalize" a city can lead to further disaster for the people who actually live in a city.
If you can sit down, read this, and still believe in notions like "self-segregation" or "bootstraps", well, congratulations. It's not a light read or a fun read, but I think it's a necessary read.
February 6, 2016
I grew up in and around Flint. There were biases and attitudes I was raised around, and never understood their origins until reading this book. Great background and detail on Flint's growth, evolution, and implosion. I came away with a better understanding of racial and class issues, and how the 'company town' mindset affected the area. A timely read, also, with the lead poisoning situation currently ongoing.
June 4, 2017
An enlightening and readable history of 20th century Flint that looks beneath the polish of the Vehicle City's heyday at the administrative forms of segregation that were taking place through out the county and the century. The book's afterward stops in 2011, just before the Water Crisis, but the message of "America is a thousand Flints" still holds. I would love to see a second edition in a few years to include the Water Crisis.
Book Riot Read Harder Challenge 2017 | Task 10: Book set within 100 miles of your location
Book Riot Read Harder Challenge 2017 | Task 10: Book set within 100 miles of your location
October 2, 2018
3.75 stars
Really fascinating look at race and economics in the company town of Flint, MI. This isn't a book that will appeal to a wide range of readers, but it is dense (I was forced to read it really quickly for class) and informative. If you want to see the way Jim Crow has been enforced in the North, and the ways structural racism has ruined the lives of so many people, this book is for you.
Really fascinating look at race and economics in the company town of Flint, MI. This isn't a book that will appeal to a wide range of readers, but it is dense (I was forced to read it really quickly for class) and informative. If you want to see the way Jim Crow has been enforced in the North, and the ways structural racism has ruined the lives of so many people, this book is for you.
June 18, 2023
A detailed and scholarly look at Flint Michigan and how the previous century of racism, capitalism, urban planning, and other forces conspired to suck the life out of a city. The book is both a history lesson and a primer on city politics.
And - critically - this isn't just about Flint. What is personal is universal. Especially in the United States. This book is a history of how we messed ourselves up. And the way forward depends on the understanding of how we got lost in the first place.
And - critically - this isn't just about Flint. What is personal is universal. Especially in the United States. This book is a history of how we messed ourselves up. And the way forward depends on the understanding of how we got lost in the first place.
December 3, 2020
This is a book that I had to read for one of my college courses. Even thought it was for class it was a really good read. It makes you understand how Flint Michigan is the way that it is today. Should really check it out if you want to know more about the history of Flint Michigan.
June 6, 2023
the urban planning in me 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣
October 3, 2024
it's who you think
March 11, 2021
Born in Burton Township, raised in Beecher. I knew our neighbors were poor, my parents always told us we were lucky. They owned our home. A white girl in a ghetto. If my minority friends were troubled by racism, I was probably the last person they would tell. The treatment of Mr. Cabell by the entire school district was bad - he belonged to no one. All he did was try to help.
Is segregation a bad thing when the people choose where they will live? Whites left because their neighborhoods turned bad. You expect them to stay, just so someone else's feelings aren't hurt? I would expect anyone to stay in a ba place if they didn't have to. And no mention of the tornado - which had a huge impact on those who stayed in Beecher afterwards.
And having Michael Moore quoted? PLease!! He's never been about Flint. I've met the man - totally unlikeable.
Is segregation a bad thing when the people choose where they will live? Whites left because their neighborhoods turned bad. You expect them to stay, just so someone else's feelings aren't hurt? I would expect anyone to stay in a ba place if they didn't have to. And no mention of the tornado - which had a huge impact on those who stayed in Beecher afterwards.
And having Michael Moore quoted? PLease!! He's never been about Flint. I've met the man - totally unlikeable.
February 28, 2016
Very interesting book. I encourage anyone with ties to Flint to read it!
I grew up in Kearsley on the western edge of Davison, had a grandfather that retired from GM, and a great grandfather on the other side that was involved in the sit down strike, a friend that lives in Berridge Place, I work in real estate and have a boyfriend that lives in Floral Park. I found this book so fascinating.
The book was published just before the water crisis went national, so I am left wondering how that event would have changed this book.
Growing up in the suburbs I was always removed from the fight and decline of Flint, so it is very interesting to hear about the rise and golden age of Flint, as I've always known it in its state of destruction.
I grew up in Kearsley on the western edge of Davison, had a grandfather that retired from GM, and a great grandfather on the other side that was involved in the sit down strike, a friend that lives in Berridge Place, I work in real estate and have a boyfriend that lives in Floral Park. I found this book so fascinating.
The book was published just before the water crisis went national, so I am left wondering how that event would have changed this book.
Growing up in the suburbs I was always removed from the fight and decline of Flint, so it is very interesting to hear about the rise and golden age of Flint, as I've always known it in its state of destruction.
May 15, 2016
This book made me incredibly sad. I cannot believe all the redlining and real estate issues.
Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews