It?s a story that sounds eerily familiar. One that major cities around the country have either dealt with or will face.
The old ballpark, site of so many magical moments, a grand stage for hometown heroes and a landmark of somewhat historical proportions, is showing its age. Dilapidated and vacant, it serves as a reminder of past glories but also sparks heated debate about its future, stirring the question: “What will happen to the neighborhood?”
It?s been eight seasons since a major-league game was played on the corner of Michigan Avenue and Trumbull Street in Detroit?s fabled Tiger Stadium, one of the truly great places to watch baseball. They still haven?t figured out what to do with either the building or the area. Sound familiar?
As one fortunate enough to grow up practically in the back yard of Municipal/Memorial Stadium, in the Waverly-Ednor Gardens-Lakeside area of Baltimore, it is easy to feel the pain and anguish while understanding the uncertainty of those who live or work in Corktown, the area around Tiger Stadium. They are the ones who will be affected the most but feel they will be heard the least.
Many want to preserve at least part of the stadium as a museum with office and retail development; some want to preserve it as it stands, which, as was the case here, is more of an emotional than rational reaction.
As a kid, I vividly recall losing customers on my News-Post paper route because of Roger Pippen?s relentless campaign to tear down Municipal Stadium and build a new facility on the site, one that would enhance the possibility of Baltimore moving into the big leagues. In the late 1940s the residents of that area, to my chagrin, seemed overwhelming in their opposition, even though the minor-league Orioles had already invaded the area.
Pippen may have cost me a few dollars, but he was the only sports editor in town ? there were three back then ? who backed the project. Pippen and Tommy D?Alesandro Jr., the legendary mayor, were most responsible for the St. Louis Browns coming here. Gradually, the Orioles and Colts became part of a great and diversified neighborhood, like the Tigers and NFL Lions (until 1975) in Detroit?s Corktown.
Late-night crowds, restricted parking and the occasional numbskulls were minor distractions, and Memorial Stadium became part of the fabric of the neighborhood. Even before the Colts left, and with people worrying about the future of the Orioles, area residents fought hard to encourage the refurbishing of Memorial Stadium rather than build downtown.
It was a losing cause, and it was one that residents (including my parents, who lived in the area for more than a half-century) didn?t easily accept. It may have turned out good for the city, but many people ? even to this day ? thought it hurt the neighborhood. I know people who lived in that area and made hundreds of trips to Memorial Stadium, and they still haven?t seen the remarkable transition that has taken place on 33rd Street.
Every time I go by Stadium Place ? and I often go out of my way just to make the drive down “Babe Ruth Plaza” ? I marvel at what has happened and applaud GEDCO (the Govans Ecumenical Development Corp.) for its vision in creating a marvelous senior community, complete with a state-of-the-art Central Y facility.
For many of us, it?s easy to understand the concern of the folks in Corktown. They are left with a 95-year-old relic that once was the center of their existence. They?d like to find a way to keep it like that, but the odds are stacked against them. Former Tiger great and ex-Oriole Jim Northrup probably said it best.
“There?s not much to see there now, it?s not useful to anybody,” he told Corey Williams of The Associated Press. “All stadiums get torn down. There will be a lot of sentimentality, but how do you save it, and for what?”
If they are anything like their brethren in Baltimore, Detroiters want to save the memories, just like we did. What they forget, or more likely ignore, is that the memories come from what happened inside storied Tiger Stadium.
As we found out here, those memories last a lot longer than the empty hulk of a building that only serves as a reminder.
