metromode - Blog

Post No. 3

Mon, 12 May 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Who's Up for a Pedal Powered Film Festival in Ypsi's Riverside Park?

Those of you who read my blog know that a lot of things occur to me during the course of a day. Most of my ideas are admittedly pretty stupid. Recently, for example, I was arguing that Ypsilanti should position itself as a regional hub drive-thru chicken slaughter.

Occasionally, however, I come up with something really good. The last one of those that I had was for a bike-powered film series in Ypsilanti's Riverside Park. And it wasn't really all my idea. I just got the ball rolling.

The origin of the idea was pretty simple. I have a favorite movie, and I wanted to watch it some spring evening with my friends on the banks of the Huron River. The movie was the 1955 film noir Night of the Hunter - the only film ever directed by actor Charles Laughton. The film follows two children as they travel down a river, away from their mother's killer, a murderous preacher played by Robert Mitchum. It's a brilliant film that I love sharing with people, and I can't imagine a better venue than alongside the Huron at dusk, there among the frogs and crickets. That, anyway, was the impetus. And things evolved from there.

Shortly after posting the idea, two things became very clear. First, I found that there are a lot of people who really feel passionately about Night of the Hunter. And, second, I found out that there are a hell of a lot of people who want to see movies in our park. And, best of all, I learned that representatives from both groups are willing to help. Within hours of posting my idea, I had offers of sound systems and projectors. I had people offering to shimmy up trees to hang screens. I had people offering to bring popcorn. I also got the sense that this was going to happen with or without me, which was really cool.

Then we found out that it we couldn't get electricity in Riverside Park. That's when conversation on my site turned to solar cells. I ran the idea by Dave Strenski, the fellow who built the solar system at the Ypsi Food Co-op, and he, for various reasons, suggested we not go that route. (I think there was some mention of acid sloshing around and getting into kids' eyes)

The wheels, however, kept turning, and we ultimately settled on bike power, which is probably where we should have started in the first place. It works on every level.

I cannot imagine a better community-building event than a free, people-powered movie series. (And, yes, somewhere along the line it also became a short series, which could include other river-centric films, like The African Queen, or offerings for kids.) It has a whimsical Gilligan's Island kind of feeling to it that makes me smile whenever I think about it. I envision kids peddling with their parents, neighborhood associations signing up for blocks of riding time, folks from our senior housing developments coming out - everyone happy and enjoying the evening.

There would be another benefit too. If we pull it off, I think we might be the first in the nation to do so. I imagine some positive press might come from it, and maybe, just maybe, it'll be enough to attract the attention of an alternative energy company looking to open a facility in the Midwest, or a green developer --like this one. I know it's a reach, but as long as we're rebuilding Ypsilanti, why not do it right? Why not go green? Why not say to the world that we're a forward-looking community, thinking about sustainability?

I don't know how successful they've been, but there's a town in Kansas that's doing it. They were hit by a tornado, and they've decided to rebuild green. They're using the opportunity to recreate their city. Why can't we do the same thing, starting with the 38-acre parcel we call Water Street?

We've already started doing it from the bottom up. Volunteers led by Dave Strenski have already converted our Co-op over to solar. And dozens of us have already pledged our own money to do the same for City Hall. The citizens of Ypsi are stepping in and doing it themselves, and this bike-powered movie project would be one more, very visible, illustration of that fact. This movie series would be an inexpensive, fun way to show the world what we value and what we're capable of.

As for the costs, I don't expect they'd amount to too much. I've got people willing to donate bikes. The only real significant cost then, assuming that we can borrow a projector and sound system, would be the City's fee for the use of the park and the generators. But, before we worry about that, we need to figure out how many bikes we need. Following are two assessments from my readers.

This first one comes from Paul G, an engineer in Silicon Valley:

    I've thought about trying to build a bike generator. You could just replace the
    rear wheel of an old bike with a motor, add an energy storage/AC inverter box,
    and presto, you'd have free power (and get good exercise too).

    When I learned how much power can be generated by a human body though,
    I got discouraged. For instance, a super-fit, Tour de France-caliber bicyclist
    can sustain about 400 watts over several hours. But even that would barely
    be enough to run the portable theater.

    The main problem is the projector, with its super-bright lightbulb. A quick
    google search reveals the average projector consumes about 250 watts. Add
    a sound system and factor in generator inefficiencies, and you'd probably
    need Lance Armstrong to power this thing. And he'd be pretty tired by the
    end of the film.

    For the average "fit" adult, you could count on around 150 to 200 watts being
    available (after inefficiencies, maybe 100 watts). So you could power the
    theater with three or four such riders, or maybe 6-7 kids. The effort would be
    similar to riding a real bike (with wind resistance) at about 20mph for a few
    hours...

And here's what local alternative energy guru Dave Strenski had to say:

    Human powered generators would be the best option for safety and 'coolness'
    but can be expensive…

    If I'm reading your mind correctly, this is what you want.

    You can find DIY plans for bike generators here, here, here, and here.

    You can also buy finished bike stands here or here.

    Keep in mind that a healthy/fit person can produce about 100 watts of power
    for maybe 30 minutes. I think you would need 10 to 20 bikes plus a line of
    would-be pedelers. Each bike would have it's own small battery to smooth out
    the power coming from the bike and to handle people switching riders. All the
    power would then be collected behind the screen (some place safe) and
    combined and sent to an inverter to convert the DC power to AC to run the
    projector.

    Sounds like a great event, but would be costly to put on. Maybe you could sell
    the bike stands after the show to recover some of the costs. I could see
    people sitting on the Riverside Park's sledding hill watching a movie with a
    line of bikes in back...

And then there's my friend Eric, who suggests that maybe we just have people bring their own bikes. Or, better yet, we scrap the idea of bikes altogether. He suggests we locate some old paddleboats and create recumbent pedal-power stations. And, as I'm not an engineer, I'm not sure that his would work, but he also seems to think that maybe we could do it with one big crankshaft, where everyone worked together to feed a single generator. I was skeptical, but he reminded me that 3-person bikes exist. So, maybe he's on to something.

So, let's say we want to do this – is it possible to do it now, this spring? As I see it, we'd need at least three working groups to pull it off. One to handle the math, engineering and implementation. One to handle the pr, marketing and fundraising. And one to handle the logistics, permits, etc.

My guess, just looking at the notes from Paul and Dave, is that we could probably do it with 14 bikes, if we had a constant stream of fresh riders to rotate in. I know that we could get 14 used bikes donated. I even suspect that we could find someone here in Ypsi to contribute space to store them and work on them. And, if we're lucky, I bet we could even find some local mechanical types to help us put all the pieces together. So, all we'd really need to do is raise money for the motors and City's $100 fee. My friend Homeless Dave just built out a system in his house (see his video further down) and I suspect he'd be willing to help us cost everything out.

Another approach that may be worth considering is getting a number of local businesses, not-for-profits, high school classes, social groups, neighborhood associations and the like to each sponsor a bike. We could give them the plans, and help them out, but they would each be responsible for getting the bike there on the day of the event, having it staffed with riders, etc. It could be pretty cool.

So, here's the question… Am I stupid to think that this might be possible? Is it unreasonable to think that we can get 20 bike riders to rotate in and out for the duration of a two-hour movie? Is the cost of 14 or more motors going to be too much?

I don't know. There are a lot of components and a lot of unanswered questions. It's exponentially more complicated than something like the Shadow Art Fair, but I think it might be worth it. (I'll tell you more about the Shadow Art Fair in my next post.)

How cool would it be to get something like this off the ground? And, once it's up and running, there's no reason it couldn't be done on a regular basis. (Unless we follow Dave's advice and sell the bikes afterward, which is also a good idea.)

Once all the pieces are together, we could break everything out several times a year if we wanted to. We could even use the bikes to generate energy for other events. We could run the PA at the annual Heritage Festival. We could use it to power the lights at other city-sponsored events. We could even keep them somewhere, like at the Senior Center, for people to charge their phones and laptops with…

I'm sure there are other things that need to be said, but I'm going to leave you now with Homeless Dave's video on bike power while I start my letter to Al Gore (inviting him to Ypsi to show An Inconvenient Truth in the park). Watch it, imagine the possibility of what I've laid out here, and let me know whether or not you'd be interested in helping out.

Post No. 2

Fri, 09 May 2008 00:00:00 GMT

What's it going to take to open Ypsi's Freighthouse?

There are a lot of things that need to happen in Ypsilanti. A favorite pastime here in town is debating the order in which they need to be addressed. Or, maybe it's more appropriate to say that we fight over it. That's what happens when resources dry up. People, all probably well intentioned, begin to squabble. For every project that takes a step forward, you can bet there's someone in the wings, cursing their good fortune. And, I'm just as guilty of this kind of thinking as anyone.

Recently, I got it into my head that Ypsilanti's Riverside Arts Center had
perhaps unfairly claimed funds that should have been directed toward the reopening of Ypsilanti's historic Freighthouse. I'm still not confident that there isn't cause to be upset, but I don't think that the protracted online squabble that resulted from my remarks does either group any good.

But I feel passionately about the Freighthouse. It's my favorite place in the entire world.

Or, at least, it was.

I can't remember when I first started going there. It was probably 11 or 12 years ago now. It was a magical kind of a place. A handful of other communities out there, I imagine, have public spaces warmed by wood burning stoves, where folks gather and talk, make music together, drink coffee, play with babies, and the like. There was something different here, though. I'm trying hard not to use the word "spiritual" here, because I don't want to be someone that would say something like that, but there was something about it that made me feel really good, and surprisingly optimistic about the human condition.

I've never been in a room where an elderly woman suffering from Alzheimer's could stand up and start dancing alongside little kids as though she were one of them, and it wouldn't seem at all odd. But stuff like that happened at the Freighthouse all the time. I don't want to overstate it, but there really was this incredible sense of inclusion and camaraderie that crossed all the typical lines that separate us from one another as human beings.

Sitting there on Saturday mornings was the most "in the moment," free of worry, and happy that I have ever been. And it's a big part of why I wanted to move back to Ypsilanti and settle down here. I wanted to live in a place where black kids could dance to amateur bluegrass next to an old man wearing a dress, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It reminded me of the Twin Peaks universe, only everything, instead of having a dark, seedy underbelly hidden just below the surface, had a kind of a hidden beauty, and a glowing shimmer. It was quirky and beautiful.

It was a like a little window into the heart of our City.

But that little window has been closed for the past several years now, due to repairs that need to be made. Apparently, until they're done, no one will insure the once vital building.

So, when I had an opportunity on my blog not too long ago to argue that money directed toward the Riverside Arts Center should instead have been used to make the repairs necessary to reopen the Freighthouse, I took it. Several good folks came forward to explain the situation to me, and tell me why I was wrong to argue that one was more valuable to the community than the other, and they were probably right. They pointed out that, as wonderful a place as the Freighthouse was, there wasn't a business plan in place that would see it operational, even if the repairs could be made. The Riverside Arts Center, on the other hand, had a plan, a track record, and a responsible Board. The Freighthouse had a Friends group that, while well intentioned, hadn't been able to move the project forward significantly over the past several years. As it was explained to me by one person, "They're organized enough to prevent a private developer from doing anything with in - like turning it into a McDonalds - but they aren't organized enough to raise the money for the repairs and see it opened as a viable, self-supporting entity." So, let's say all that's true – what now?

Are the people of Ypsilanti willing to get behind the Freighthouse in a significant way? It seems like there's some movement in that direction already.

The Friends of the Ypsilanti Freighthouse have applied for a $15,000 grant through Hamburger Helper's My Hometown Helper program. In hopes that our project is among those selected this funding cycle, Ypsi residents were being encouraged to leave notes of support on the Hamburger Helper site. We had 272 notes of support by the deadline. If you have a chance, I'd recommend that you go over and read what your neighbors had to say about the historic railroad building, and what it's meant to them. The stories of attending dances and weddings there, going back several generations, are quite touching. If there was ever any question that the Freighthouse was an integral part of our local community, this should erase any doubt.

The $15,000, if we get it, is only a fraction of the close to $400,000 in repairs that have been estimated, but it would be a fantastic step in the right direction, and, hopefully, it would encourage all of us to do more. Already, Café Luwak and Sidetrack have stepped forward to offer a percentage of their sales on certain days to the building's rehabilitation. And, the Full Freight Banjo fundraiser that was held a few weeks ago brought in over $3,000. It may not much in the whole scheme of things, but it's a great first step, especially when you consider that the last big, coordinated fundraising effort was February 19, 2005 – over three years ago – when the previous incarnation of Friends of the Freighthouse held their Preservation Ball.

I think I speak for most everyone when I say that we can't go another three years without our Freighthouse. I know it might sound like hyperbole, but the success of our town hinges on this beautiful, old community gathering space. When it's up and running, it illustrates all that's good about our City, and we can't afford to lose that now.

As I understand it, close to $400,000 in repairs have to be done before the building can be opened to the public. The good news is, I'm also told that the project might qualify for existing State of Michigan and federal grants, once some initial work is done, and a plan for keeping it running is in place. I know it's optimistic, but is it possible to think that we might be able to raise $100,000 within the community if we coordinate a year of fundraising activities beginning right now?

But, we don't just need to raise the money to see the repairs made - we need a plan that carries us into the future, ensuring that the Freighthouse, once opened, stays opened. We need to figure out how we're going to pay for someone to manage the space and keep the electricity on. A necessary first step, I'm thinking, is that the Friends of the Freighthouse need to call people together for a big brainstorming session. We need everyone in town to get involved. We need our EMU Business School faculty, we need our local entrepreneurs, we need our arts community, and we need our City leaders. We need everyone to get on the same page and make this a priority.

I have to think that there's a business model that would work. I recently talked with two caterers in Ann Arbor. Both confirmed that our area is sorely lacking when it comes to venues that can accommodate 300 and more people. They assured me that we'd have no shortage of groups offering to pay daily rental rates of $1,000 for the Freighthouse. If we had a few events like this a month, I'm thinking, it would go a long way toward keeping the lights on for things like the Saturday morning farmers market.

We need the Freighthouse because it sets us apart as a community. We need it because we need a place to hold our winter farmers' markets and our community dances. We need someplace for people to get married. We need a place for public meetings. We need a place to hold our debates and our elections… I'm reluctant to volunteer for something else, but I'll pledge this much. If people like the idea of a public meeting on the future of the Freighthouse, I'll ask some people and see if I can't put together a group of people to make it happen. I know budgets are tight right now, I know there are other worthy causes, like the public pool, and I know people are stretched for time, but if we're ever going to move this forward, now's the time we need to apply some muscle. If we want to save the Freighthouse, we need get moving.

As for the Riverside Arts Center, I don't begrudge them that they got the MEDC funds that had previously been committed to the development of the Water Street parcel. Their $600,000 elevator project is a worthy cause. The elevator, when completed, will allow disabled visitors to get to the upper floors of the building, and that's important. It's certainly better that the money went there instead of being lost when the Water Street project stalled. I just wish that other groups in the community, such as those supporting the Freighthouse and the Rutherford Pool, which also desperately needs work done, were given an opportunity to compete for the funds.

It's complicated, and, as I said at the start, there aren't really any bad guys here. No one took money for personal gain. It just appears as though a decision was made to help one entity, one with a proven track record, when other facilities in need of repair, like the Freighthouse and public pool, weren't given the option.

As I understand it, it's too late to move the money from the elevator at this point, even if we wanted to and thought that State would accept it, so all we can really do is wish them luck raising what they need to complete the job, and hope, once their project is completed, that they do everything possible to help the Freighthouse along by offering assistance, hosting fundraisers, etc. And all of us in the meantime need to do a better job of sharing information. If we haven't started to do so already, we need to get the directors of our local non-profits and various "friends" groups together at least once a quarter to discuss what they're doing and where there might be synergies.

Decisions such as these, especially during poor economic times such as these, need to be made transparent. And there has to be ample opportunity for community input. To avoid doing this again in the future, we need better coordination between Council, City Administration, and the various groups within the community.

It may be a lot to ask of a City that, for some unfathomable reason, has not only a Chamber of Commerce, but three separate business associations, but we desperately need to better coordinate decision-making so issues like this do not arise in the future.

And hopefully, one day, we can have all of these meetings at the Freighthouse. It would be perfect.

If you have a few bucks, please consider sending them to:

Friends of the Ypsilanti Freighthouse
P.O. Box 970919
Ypsilanti, MI 48197-0919.

(The Friends of the Ypsilanti Freighthouse is a 501(c)(3) organization)

Or, better yet, think of something that you can do to raise money. The Fullfreight Banjo fundraiser a few weeks ago raised over $3,000, and it was essentially the work of a single motivated Ypsilantian (and all the musicians he knew). He took something that he knew and he found a way to apply it for the good of the Freighthouse and the community. Surely you've got an idea that might bring in a few hundred dollars for a good cause.

Post No. 1

Wed, 07 May 2008 16:58:31 GMT

Hello, my name is Mark and I'm an Ypsilantian…

I lived in Ann Arbor for a while. Then I moved.

I met my wife in Ypsilanti, at a bar that's since been condemned. The place was called Cross Street Station, and my band, Prehensile Monkey-Tailed Skink, was playing there. Unlike everyone else, Linette didn't run screaming. Linette's her name. And that was more than 15 years ago now.

Before that night, I'd only been to Ypsilanti once. My friend Dave drove me out to Ypsi from Ann Arbor, where we were in college together. It pains me to say it, but our objective was to buy as much really crude porn as we could carry. Our roommate Jack's parents were coming to visit, and we wanted to make a good impression.

I'm not proud of it, but that's the truth.

Anyway, we headed out to Ypsi in search of inhumanly crude filth, and we weren't disappointed. We found a bookstore with a dilapidated cardboard box full of "used" porn magazines for a few bucks a piece. Until I met Linette, that's all I knew of Ypsi – porn and rock-n-roll. I'd heard there were drugs and prostitutes there too, but, as an Eagle Scout with a propensity for panic attacks, I wasn't all that adventurous. Then, I met Linette in '93, and the love affair with Ypsi began in earnest. The more I learned about the City's rich and bizarre history, and the characters that called it home, the more I wanted to be a part of it.

I've now lived off and on in Ypsi for about a decade and a half. Linette and I tried to leave on a few occasions, but something always kept pulling us back. First, we tried Atlanta. I'd lived there for a few years as a kid and had fond memories of it, but, as a grown up, I found that it kind of sucked. We lasted there about two and a half years before coming back.

Then, after a short detour to DC, Linette and I moved to LA. We were there for about a year when we decided to pack our stuff, drive back across country, and settle for good in Ypsi. We were beginning to think seriously about houses and babies (actually, just one house, and one baby), and, when we thought about places we'd like to put down roots, the only place that came to mind was Ypsi.

There was something about Ypsi that just called to us. I can't speak for Linette, but, for me, it was the authentic sense of community I got on Saturday mornings, sitting around the potbelly stove at the Freighthouse, drinking coffee and watching people of all ages and races, dancing around to the sounds of banjos and guitars. There was a real sense of family, and a feeling that we were all in it together. Maybe I'm a sap, but I fell for it.

I'm generally a "glass half empty" kind of guy. But, when it comes to Ypsi, I can't do it. Where others see decay, I see a spirit of resilience. And I'm not alone. I know it puzzles some Ann Arborites to hear this, but there are quite a few of us who don't live here because we have to, but because we want to. There's a sense of community here that I've never felt elsewhere. People with ideas and energy are welcomed and encouraged. Maybe it's because there's little infrastructure, but there aren't a lot of barriers to participation. If you have a good idea and you come to Ypsilanti, you'll find people eager to join you.

I'm not anti-Ann Arbor. I like Ann Arbor. I lived there for several years, and I have quite a few friends who still do. I might give them a hard time over beers about the number of Starbucks that are downtown now, but I do like Ann Arbor. As the father of a three year old, I look at their school system with a great deal of envy. Ann Arbor, given the economic engine of the University of Michigan, has cultural assets that we in Ypsi could never hope to have. But, then again, because Ann Arbor is only a few miles away, we don't necessarily need to.

And I would argue that Ann Arbor's success hasn't come without a price. The cost of doing business there is relatively high. And, as a result, there's homogenization happening. Where there was once Drake's sandwich shop, there's now Jimmy Johns and Potbelly. And to add insult to injury, the Potbelly Sandwich Shop, stands where the once influential Discount Records used to. There's no sign to mark it, or draw attention to the fact that Iggy Pop, the godfather of punk rock, and favorite son of Ypsilanti, once worked there, but that's where it was.

There's still a hell of a lot of interesting stuff going on – don't get me wrong – but I'd suggest that the momentum is headed in the opposite direction. Take for example the Tech Center. The Tech Center, which used to be home to dozens of Ann Arbor artists, was not so long ago bulldozed to make space for an upscale Y. I know people love the Y, but it didn't come without a cost. Many of those artists, priced out of Ann Arbor, have left. And, I'd argue, that Ypsilanti, where many of them are landing, is coming out on top.

We may not have the Royal Shakespeare Company, but I'd argue that Ypsilanti has more to offer than the strippers and meth dealers that might first come to some of your minds. Ypsilanti isn't just one thing. As my friend Caleb says, "It's also quiet neighborhoods, homemade parade floats and crazy millionaires." His theory is that Ypsilanti is odd because it's stayed complex and layered while the Detroit metro region is full of places that are easily labeled as affluent or poor, urban or suburban, etc. Ypsilanti continues to defy labels. Virtually every demographic of Metro-Detroit's 5 million person region can be found in the 4.5 square miles and 22,000 people of Ypsilanti.

I suspect he's right, but what most appeals to me about Ypsi is the indomitable will to create and shake things up. Ypsi churns out American iconoclasts like other towns crap out gated McMansion communities. Iggy Pop was raised here. Preston Tucker, the automotive maverick who took on the big guys in Detroit, was from here. Early animator Winsor McCay got his start here. Elijah McCoy, one of the most famous black inventors of the 20th Century, was from here. There's a spirit of, "Fuck it, I can do it better," in the air. It's palpable. If you get out of your car, you can feel it.

Ypsi, in my opinion, by suffering financially since the end of World War II, has dodged a bullet. And it wasn't by choice. Our downtown wasn't overrun by national chains, not because we fought them, but because they didn't want us. The question now is, how will we navigate what's coming, because growth is clearly coming. How will we keep the unique character of our downtown? It's occurred to me to fight the chains. I'm told there's a town in Oregon that's passed a law requiring local ownership of businesses. I think that's probably a good thing in the long term. Locally-owned businesses put more money into their regional economies, and tend to stay when times get tough. They don't, like Pfizer, pick up and leave when profits are down (in spite of all the economic incentives that have been given them over the years).

But, the tax base in Ypsilanti, where 25% of our population lives in poverty, is eroding. We need tax dollars to keep our police on the street, our fire engines running, and our public parks open. Given that reality, I've mellowed a bit. I wouldn't be enthusiastic about a Starbucks on Michigan Avenue, but I doubt that I'd picket one. I'd just hope that it got people to stop their cars, feel that palpable sense of "Fuck it, I can do better" that's in the air, and give one of our local stores a chance.

And, of course, I'd wish that it would go out of business quickly.

I'll be here all week.

Post No. 4

Tue, 06 May 2008 00:17:55 GMT

What is Servant Leadership?

Many people misunderstand what Servant Leadership actually is. Many think it’s strictly a religious thing (its not). Others think it means weakness in the marketplace of ideas (wrong again). Still others think it’s really about letting others lead while you serve (nope).

Servant leadership really involves several things:

Putting others at the center of your motives.

Desiring the best for people other than you.

Offering leadership in order to do better for people other than yourself.

Serving others, which means, in part, fulfilling the desires of others before you fulfill your own desires.

A willingness to ignore the status quo in order to serve with excellence.

Building like-minded partners who have the same objectives.

Servant Leaders tend to be disruptive – but not in a bad way. They’re willing to play within existing norms if those norms are consistent with their objectives. But they have no problem dropping normalcy and taking on positive risk if it furthers the interests of those who are being served.

So what happens when an organization creates a working culture full of Servant Leaders? Quite simply, you then have lots of people serving others in ways that go beyond the expectations of those who are being served.

Feedback Says It All

We have tried to exercise Servant Leadership at Presbyterian Villages of Michigan (PVM) and we’ve largely succeeded at it. How do I know?

I read letters. Lots of letters – from seniors, adult children, staff, and others. It tells me our commitment to Servant Leadership really works. It also tells me that you don’t have to be a non profit organization or a religious institution to apply Servant Leadership to the culture of your business or organization.

Here are some excerpts from a few of the many, many letters we’ve received from residents of our villages as well as their adult children. They reinforce that our mission is about long-term living, not just long-term care:

o Compassion & engagement: Kim Rastigove, about her mom –“The nurses, aides, housekeeping and catering staff were kind, patient, and caring.”

o Inspiration to others: Kristen Flieger, granddaughter of Art & Mabel Hillagas: “My grandparents were there for years and I know they felt comfortable and safe….thank you again for taking the worry away.”

o Respect for residents & family: Marlene, niece of her Aunt Florence: “You are kind & gentle…and treated each resident as an individual, with respect.”

o Partnership & guidance: Collette Livingston, re, her mom Julianna. “In her mind, she was convinced ‘This is the end’. But she was proven wrong...thank you for walking me through the journey of elder parents, their care and comfort, their happiness, and mine as well.”

o Fast action during trouble: Eileen Lubienski & her mom Eleanor who was hemorrhaging - “Not only do I appreciate your very willing assistance, but gentleness and care along with quick thinking and acting”.

o Healthy physical environment:– Rose Lombardo’s daughter: “The cleanliness of her room and surroundings were impeccable.”

Then again, there are other letters from adult children of seniors that shake me to my boots, because they reveal once again the profound need to a sea change in the health care industry serving elders. This one’s about basic concerns like medication:

o Proper Care: Linda Feldt in Westland, re: medication reminders for mom, Dorothy: “…its such a relief that without a doubt that my mother always receives the correct medication & dosage…I did not realize just how fortunate we were until I heard horror stories from two friends of mine who have loved ones at other facilities – one was receiving the wrong medication & dosage. The other came to visit, finding their mother’s medication all over the floor.”

Servant Leadership is all about doing the right thing, regardless of circumstances. When Focus:Hope was looking for a collaboration to build a senior residential village near their Detroit campus, we rolled up our sleeves together and made it work. It was simply the right thing to do.

A lot of people will egg you on to go in other directions, but doing the very next right thing, every day, is what it’s all about. It makes living life so much simpler!

I happen to think that the very next right thing to do is serve the huge, underserved aging Boomer population through walking communities, leisure venues, more housing, and development of positive community experiences.

Post No. 3

Mon, 05 May 2008 02:30:51 GMT

Rebuilding Community Trust

Because of the negative stereotypes and perceptions of senior living and elder care in Michigan and across the nation, there is often a resistance and suspicion from some communities about those who develop senior residential communities. Presbyterian Villages of Michigan (PVM) fortunately has a tradition as a non-profit organization that puts all of its resources back into customer and family service.

But even with that kind of reputation, trust always has to be proven through action. First, though, there are a whole range of senior residential myths that seem to keep cropping up during planning commission meetings, city council discussions, and other forums. Here’s the short list:

· Low-income seniors will attract crime.
· Senior communities will attract too much traffic and bad drivers.
· There will be a constant stream of ambulances and sirens.
· Senior residential settings are flooded with lights and are visually disruptive.
· Too many “outsiders” will come to visit and cause trouble.
· Negative community economic impact.
· Tax drain on local government.

None of these assertions are true. Once we disprove the myths, PVM invariably has had excellent, strong partnerships with the communities it serves.

Building Real Partnerships

Other communities, however, seek us out because they’re desperate for quality living communities for elders.

The little town of Rosebush, north of Mt. Pleasant, has only one stop sign. But it has 6 nearby churches, with 3 different denominations. And a lot of seniors. They all partnered together to work with PVM in building an assisted living village in their little town. A husband and wife living in Rosebush Manor wrote to me in March of this year. They represent the idea of what a “village” is supposed to be. In this case, many of the residents actually grew up with one another 40, 50, or 60 years earlier – reunited in a fellowship of friendship. Here’s a quote:

"It almost always happens when a new resident comes in: 'That’s Lena, we worked at the Creamery together!; That’s Don, we were in the same high school class!'"

PVM is a faith-based organization, but we are not a religious institution, although we were formed by Presbyterians who wanted to show the care and service for persons of all faith through action. As a result, we have lots of different religious partners. For example, we’ve built 4 different villages in partnership with Lutheran Homes of Michigan.

In fact, when we were struggling to build trust in applying for permission to build a PVM village in the City of Warren, Catholic Cardinal Maida sent a personal note to the Mayor urging the city to allow PVM to serve that community because we hire staff locally, “enhance the beauty of the neighborhoods” and “contribute to the local quality of life.”

When PVM initiates the conversation in a community, we first look at the level of need. The problem is, there’s an under-commitment to quality elder living communities all over the state. It doesn’t matter if you’re talking about low income, middle, income or high income residents.

Quality & Reasonable Cost

People often ask "How you can charge low-income seniors rates ranging from $100 (or less) to $600 a month for quality that would typically cost 10 times that much?". The first and primary reasons are simple:

1) Your motive must be pure.
2) You must be uncompromising in the quality outcome desired.
3) You have to have hard-core work ethic.
4) Finally, you need to have a sophisticated understanding about leveraging multiple financial resources to make the outcomes happen.

In PVM’s case, we leverage a mix of government funds, foundation giving and other resources and credits to keep quality extremely high for those with low incomes.

In Detroit, we’ve built 5 villages, with a 6th one to break ground on June 5th. The quality is extremely high, because of the reasons listed above. Is there a waiting list? You bet. Across the US, there are 10 low income seniors standing in line for each residential apartment or unit that becomes available.

But keep this in mind: The basic benchmarks for quality and service are the same in Detroit as they are at our high-income villages like the one in Harbor Springs.

Breaking Down Walls

I think we should break down walls between the cities and towns we’re in - and the villages we build. In Detroit, the larger neighborhoods we’re in have meetings, games, and association gatherings in the community rooms at our villages. In Detroit’s Brush Park Manor Paradise Valley village, there’s some sort of community event taking place almost every night of the week. The same goes for PVM in Holly, Pontiac, Westland, Chesterfield, and others.

The other key to making it all work is engagement with leadership in each locality. We create Community Governing Boards everywhere. In Holly, our board includes the police chief, a City Council member and others who are deeply vested and committed to the residents.

In community just outside Jackson (Blackman Township), a member of the township’s Board of Trustees was so passionate about a critical vote to put a PVM village there, he temporarily checked himself out of the hospital for a heart condition to cast his vote to assure a positive outcome!

People don’t have that kind of commitment without trust. I believe that trust should rarely be talked about – but proven through action. That’s how you create lasting relationships with communities.

Post No. 2

Fri, 02 May 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Old View vs. PVM’s View

We’re living off of old, tired stereotypes about our aging population – especially about how they live and what they want. Our specialty at Presbyterian Villages of Michigan (PVM) – living environments for elders – is based on stereotype-busting truths.

Allow me to compare the Old View vs. the PVM View of senior residential living:

Old View: Hospital-style living

PVM View: Building communities in non-institutional settings. That’s why we call it Presbyterian Villages. Each has its own Residence Association that makes independent decisions. We have a resident point of view rather than a landlord/tenant point of view. And we have an interactive feedback model to be constantly focused on customer service. We have fitness centers. Interactive computer centers. The stuff you need, to have a community.

Old View: Smelly, acrid, environments

PVM View: Pleasant, walking, working, interactive environments. PVM believes that “Institution” needs to be removed from the senior living and nursing home equation. We’ve started by getting rid of institutional food, cleaning operations, nurse’s aide and recreational services. Instead we have direct care partners who do it all for small groups of customers. They build relationships, lasting friendships, and most important, they put the elder at the center of the environment. Medical service comes in just like any visiting doctor or nurse would in making house calls.

Old View: Outrageous cost for poor quality

PVM View: High-level benchmarked quality regardless of income level. One of our managers told me the story about a man who came into the lobby of PVM’s Clinton Township village, which provides housing for low income seniors. The man walked in, looked around, and walked quickly out of the building. The manager followed the man into the parking lot and asked what he needed. The man apologized. He said he was looking for a residence for his older mother who has a very low fixed income. He explained that there’s obviously no way his mother could afford to stay at a residential village of the kind of quality we have. Of course, we told him he was wrong.

And that’s part of the problem. When it comes to quality for seniors, we’re conditioned to believe "If it looks too good, it must not be for me."

Old View: Under-trained, neglectful or abusive staff

PVM View: Heavily screened, compassionate mission-driven work force. I’ll never forget the time I was talking to one of our residential staff. She really loves the service partnership she has with residents of one of the PVM villages she works at. But she was a little down in the mouth because, she explained, often when friends and acquaintances ask her what she does, and she explains she helps seniors in a residential environment, they ask her, "How can you do that?", as if she’s a participant in abuse!

The point is this: the expectation "bar" is ridiculously low when it comes to serving the elder population. Not only should expectations and demands be far higher – but the economics should (and do, at PVM) align with top-flight service, regardless of income. Unfortunately, some in the senior living field exploit the low expectations of elders as well as adult children of elders. PVM’s view is that all customers should demand excellence, regardless of income.

Old View: Isolated, depressed residents

PVM View: Building vibrant, creative relationship communities. PVM is a national leader in the development of so-called "Green Houses®" for seniors. A small group of seniors live in a large, spacious house. Each has private living and sleeping quarters, but there is a large living room and dining room, recreational facilities, gardens, and other anti-institutional amenities. A beautiful, fully equipped kitchen (NOT a cafeteria) is where custom meals are prepared every day. All meals are developed by residents in partnership with a very special PVM “servant leader”. That person takes care of cooking, cleaning and housekeeping chores. But the PVM "servant leader" does more than that. He or she is invested in the human relationships at each Green House®, and helps with continuing education, resident/family satisfaction, workforce development, etc.

Old View: Low-tech, with seniors baffled by technology.

PVM View: Technology applied for better care; better communication. Research shows an openness and interest among elders in dealing with technology. So the appetite is there. The problem is that many service organizations think they need to "dumb it down" to have any direct technical interaction with their older customers. Nothing could be further from the truth. For example, PVM created a high-technology, highly efficient "Livable Lifestyle" home in Traverse City, Michigan, in partnership with AARP. The overall design of the home was extremely safe, designed for mobility-challenged people, and using extraordinary technology to enhance safety, health monitoring, and energy efficiency.

Old View: Institutional warehousing mentality

PVM View: Continuous, active residential learning for the long-term future. According to the AARP, 80% of Boomers say hey plan to work at least part-time during their retirement. All of our goals need to be focused on feeding the aspirational needs of our customers, not to "manage" a population of people.

That’s where the paradigm shift needs to be among leadership, development organizations, and capitalists. It’s not about exploitation. It’s about Servant Leadership – and that can happen whether you’re a profit making firm or a not for profit organization like PVM.

Post No. 1

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 01:52:36 GMT

We’re Ignoring Michigan’s Economic Powerhouse

It’s easy to look at Michigan’s economic woes and start thrashing around for interesting, sexy fixes. Many fixes, in fact, are valid and important - areas that need to be shored up: engaging creative college graduates to stay here; building alternative industries in the life sciences, alternative energy and other fields; encouraging entrepreneurship through venture capital and other funds.

That’s all good and important. But we are blind – even willfully ignorant in some cases – about the untapped economic juggernaut we have in Michigan already. It’s a population that represents a core of capital and creativity that, if left underserved, will result in the loss of the biggest potential for short and long-term economic growth this state has seen in 30 years.

It’s all about aging Boomers. The 60+ crowd. They represent the only population in the Detroit region that will be growing for the next 25 years. Every other population segment will shrink. It’s true. Ask SEMCOG – they did the study.

Untrue Stereotypes

I know what you’re thinking. People over 60 have one foot out the door. They’re wrapping things up. They’re poor. They don’t spend money. They’re a drain on the state & local economy. They hate technology. And they’ve had it with work.

Not one of those things is true. Just look at the facts:

They have one foot out the door? Seniors vote more frequently than anyone else. They’re more engaged and aware of public policy issues and challenges. Thus, they’re more influential than any other demographic.

They’re poor? Poverty in the US is 12.7% of the population. However, estimates for senior poverty in Michigan are as low as 8%, including Social Security income.

They don’t spend money? People 50+ own 77% of all the assets in the United States. They purchase 43% of all cars. They eat out an average of 3 times a week. They account for 90% of all leisure travel. And they have more disposable income than any other group.

They’re a drain on the state & local economy? Virtually all have health care coverage. Very few have children of school age, so they don't dilute local and state resources dedicated for education. They rarely go to prison – one of the biggest tax burdens for any state. And they cause less property damage than other younger people.

They hate technology? According to a recent study, 70% of Americans 65+ like the idea of using personal computers to be connected to the world around them.

They’ve had it with work? As lifespan grows for men and women, surveys show that aging Boomers have no intention of hanging it up, intellectually or physically. They want to create. They want to be change agents. They want to be involved philanthropically. They expect to be working, creating and contributing into their 80’s. Consultant and author Marc Freedman recently chaired a conference on the so-called “Encore Economy”. He says tens of millions of seniors want Encore Careers.

Forgotten Economic Powerhouse

Yet despite this commanding data, the aging population is largely forgotten by leadership, economic planners and capitalists in the state of Michigan. I have not seen a single strategic planning initiative statewide or regionally surrounding this cash-rich, ready-made population in Michigan.

According to a recent out-immigration study, Michigan loses more seniors each year in all but 4 states. We’re losing $1.3 billion dollars per year from the state economy due to seniors leaving. We need to do much more to keep them here.

But here’s the good news: there is a huge economic development opportunity to serve the aging Boomer population in Michigan. But it’s largely untapped. The organization that I serve, for example – Presbyterian Villages of Michigan (PVM) - has nearly $200 million dollars in bricks and mortar construction in the planning pipeline over the next 5 years to serve this demanding and important population.

We create residential villages with an emphasis on building community relationships among older residents. Some Villages include multiple buildings and other amenities on a large campus (our largest being 90 acres). Others are multistory on smaller sites - but they operate like the villages, nonetheless.

My goal is to make sure that leadership, developers, retail establishments, health care systems, and leisure service organizations understand the opportunity that is staring them in the face.

Michigan’s success depends on it.

Post No. 3

Sat, 26 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A New Landscape

While States like Louisiana, Arizona, New Mexico and Illinois prospered with the advent of tax incentives to attract feature film and commercial producers, Michigan languished.

We saw lay offs, downsizing and crew members continue to find work elsewhere, mirroring the plight of the auto worker.

Constant communications with State level entities like the Michigan Film Office, grassroots lobby efforts and its own need to find revenue stirred Michigan to finally act. Oddly, out of the west region of the State – not the larger south eastern region where the majority of the work tends to be, a Republican law maker sought to craft a rebate plan.

As he began, a well known defense lawyer became Chair of the Michigan Film Advisory Commission. Our bill passed the house, but stalled and died in the Senate some would say, due to his short stay on that commission. In the first and only meeting he ever attended, it is said that he alienated Republican and Democratic appointees and in turn the bill went down.

A new Chair was appointed and a new bill was crafted. This one passed the House but was held in committee for a full year. It was wrested out of the Finance committee and passed just before 2006 ended. Michigan finally had an incentive bill, a graduated rebate allowing filmmakers to get between 12 and 20% direct rebates for productions of $200,000 or more.

"Okay" we said, "now we have something to sell!" Our Film Office representatives went off to the Santa Monica Locations Trade Show, a supermarket for Producers to find where the best deals are. We got some business. "Semi Pro" and "Jumper" shot footage here and they used some of our crews. Still no commercial work accessed this rebate and as 2007 ended, Michigan had seen little to show for its efforts.

Back to the drawing board, a new bill is considered to boost more interest. Now active grassroots groups like the Michigan Production Alliance, the West Michigan Film Video Alliance and The Creative Energy Alliance continued their lobbying but most of the work for a new bill is being completed behind the scenes.

Suddenly, forces begin to push a new bill to be a standout among States. Just before Thanksgiving 2007 celebrities Mike Binder and Mitch Albom catch the spotlight and spur hearings in Lansing.

Hearings in the House and Senate attract now hopeful members of the production community. These celebs, seem to have an influence on the legislators - they listen. They are told that for Michigan to be a player we must jump to the head of the pack of other States offering such incentives. It’s a 5 minute conversation, who has the best deal?

Convinced, the powers that be that in my experience move at glacial speed, promised a new effective bill in 3 months. To all of our amazement that did in fact happen and Michigan now leads the nation with a 40 percent tax or cash rebate.

This changes the landscape.

The bill was passed on April 7 2008. Almost immediately, calls began coming in for feature film work. The $64,000 question; can we support all this work? Our crew is commercial trained, they need feature trained crews and that narrows the field. But one must start somewhere. Where once we had little we now have abundance.

Any shortfalls will be sorted out and we are hoping for long term growth for our infrastructure. Here’s my favorite quote from the Department of Commerce about filmmaking:

"Film production is a 'locomotive' industry, similar to housing construction and automobiles, in that the number of production workers in the industry belies the true impact of the industry on the economy because so many upstream, downstream, and peripheral industries depend on the primary production plant."

In the coming months, watch for articles in local papers about star sightings and road closures, not for construction but "Filmmakers at Work."

This changes everything.

Post No. 2

Fri, 25 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Where’s the work?

Jack Morton - Jackson Dawson – MVP - KDN - Jeff Moon Production Services Avalon Films - Bond Films - Castorri Productions – Millennium - Rare Medium Films.

These are names that resonate in Detroit’s corporate and commercial production universe. Over the last 30 years if the auto companies wanted information to market their products packaged they would call Jack Morton or Jackson Dawson. If they had messages to distribute to their dealers, Jeff Moon Productions, MVP or KDN would have an opportunity to bid on the work…and when their Advertising agencies wanted wizbang national regional or local commercials, Bond, Castorri, Millennium or Rare Medium would be on their radar to produce those spots.

This is what we have been doing in southeast Michigan more than anything else forever, bread and butter corporate and commercial work. Generations of crews were weaned on sheet metal curves. We’d do the work on locations or on sound stages like Grace and Wild, Producers Color Service, City Lights, General Television Network, Comberemere or Stage 3. Now, General Television Network’s stage is gone, (so are they, now operating under a new name "Ringside Creative"), Producer’s Color is gone and Combermere and City Lights are for sale.

All these names….

To the production community in Michigan they represent food on the table and hours of work completed. As the century ended, so too did an era. These are just impressions but I’d have to say that the work we used to do for all these companies, for all those years simply 'went away'.

I’ll grant that some of these companies found niches in the market that have kept them fresh and working and hiring crew. But others have fought for every dollar they now earn.

We are a tough breed here in Michigan and it takes a lot to knock us down. So we have stayed and tried to keep the work going and we hear stories of those who left either for other careers (ebay stores, dog breeding, sales) or left for those greener pastures. L.A. is the most popular place, ah the glamour of show biz. Some made a better life.

A few hardy souls here, got busy trying to determine how to regain some of the work. Organizing, Connecting. We were met with "But who actually wants to come to Detroit on purpose?" Its cold here in the winter and it rains.

So what!

We have some of the most beautiful real estate in the country surrounded by a fine system of breathtaking fresh water lakes. AND we have gritty industrial cityscapes too. Commercials? Feature film? Where is the work?

In 2001 when Eminem insisted on shooting "8 Mile" here, Director Curtis Hansen agreed that it was a good move. Detroit is real. So. It wasn’t beauty the people with the work were after. Oh yeah, Michael Bay likes the architecture in downtown Detroit so "The Island" and "Transformer’s" used some our 'flavor' butit seems overall, Hollywood wants a condemned railroad station and images of urban decay to help tell stories.

About this time also, many States seemed to be passing legislation to allow tax credits for filmmakers. Michigan was not on that list. The other States like Mississippi, Arizona, New Mexico and Louisiana – even Illinois now had the eyes of producers looking at them to save a buck.

In 2002, Michigan and Louisiana were very close in production revenue from feature film work. Then their incentive marketing kicked in. In 2003 feature filmmakers found "État de Louisiane" and boosted their production take from $12 Million to $100 Million – in one year. That’s the year the Michigan Production Alliance was born. Our goal was, and remains to speak with one voice for the production community and lobby for any political advantage we can find.

Next installment, A new landscape

Post No. 1

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 00:27:49 GMT

Open on:

Visual cues: Shadows of people and buildings, various angles thrown onto other buildings, roads, water, jack hammers, cops, directing traffic, Music, Sports, drive ins… Visuals flash as we hear…….

Voice Over: Male, booming, low, powerful:

"We came from the great world and settled here, we built the skyline, the roads, enhanced the shoreline. Detroiters are hardy, We have what some call that 'midwestern work ethic', yes. We are innovative explorers, always have been always will be – Detroit No Excuses."

We are a window to the world, a car capital, where music is made, a film location, a healthcare mecca, a place for people to gather for sports or history.

Detroit, no excuses.

I’m Mark Adler, Director of the Michigan Production Alliance, striving to be the voice of the video and film production community.

Detroit, we also make films here as we have since before World War Two. You might not know that a vast and diverse film production industry was spawned by the automotive industry right here. Whenever FORD or GM wanted to update information on a model or sell a model, they went to Jam Handy Productions and found workers and facilities ready to roll. Eventually, that work spun off, throughout Michigan creating other production companies and support facilities.

Over the years this industry has been a virtual roller coaster mirroring its automotive parent’s fate. We had some great years, but began a slow burn that has sent our college graduates and creative minds to richer turf.

Flashing forward to this year, April 2008. Governor Granholm signed legislation that puts Michigan in the nation’s spotlight and is about to change the landscape for local crew members and enrich businesses associated with this vibrant, clean industry.

Over the next few days we’ll talk about that. Stay tuned.

Post No. 5

Wed, 23 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Inspiration all around

Ok. You’ve got your product you want to sell. And it’s awesome. And you’re pretty sure it will be a hit in both your neighborhood in Pleasant Ridge and across the globe. But what about your best friend who’s looking for inspiration? What do you tell them?

Tell them to look around.

We’re lucky here in metro Detroit in that we’ve got so many fantastic events/groups/people happening all around us.

When was the last time you went to the Detroit Institute of Arts? How about your local library? Or, for that matter, the after-school arts programming happening at your son’s school? Make sure to check out the artistic resources/small-biz resources available to you through the state of Michigan over on their website. You’ll be amazed at what you can find there. If you’re looking for more, check with your county. Many counties here in Michigan offer counseling for small businesses as well as well-priced seminars revolving around the needs of the DIY business dude.

The point is, no matter how big or small, there’s a lot of opportunities for you out there in the greater Detroit area. I hope the past week you’ve enjoyed hearing my babbling here on the Interwebs and that you feel empowered to go out there an start something new for you and your family, whether it’s a one-time event or a brand-new business based right here in the Motor City.

Good luck!

Post No. 4

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Can I be an indie biz owner in Metro Detroit?

In the most clichéd of expressions, times are tough. In fact, I believe it was David Byrne was said with Talking Heads, "It’s life during wartime."

Ok. So things aren’t the best economy-wise for us right now in southeastern Michigan. But does that mean you should stop wishing for a life as a do-it-yourself entrepreneur? Heck no. It just means you need to figure out your audience, figure out where they’re buying and get to work.

Stephanie Tardy is a fellow Handmade Detroiter and our fearless leader. She’s a great example of realizing what your audience wants and where they’re located at.

Steph makes fantastic journals out of found pager and other paper bits. Sometimes she changes the journal cover graphics, but for the most part, it’s a precisely cut Michigan, complete with upper and lower peninsulas. Is this a hit in Michigan? Oh yeah. Even with a tough economy, Steph doesn’t have a hard time selling her journals for $6 at local craft events and trunk shows. But she’s found a loyal following at Naka, a Ferndale-based boutique specializing in handmade goods. Michigan journals are a hit at the store. Here, Steph has realized where her audience is (Michigan, of course, and what they want- mitten journals).

In my opinion, a good way to get your business going for us Michiganders is, in a large general sense, the Internet. For indie business owners, the natural choice is Etsy.com. If you haven’t heard of Etsy, make it a priority to check it out after reading all the latest and greatest on MetroMode.

From Etsy’s website:

"Etsy is an online marketplace for buying & selling all things handmade. Our mission is to enable people to make a living making things, and to reconnect makers with buyers. Our vision is to build a new economy and present a better choice: Buy, Sell, and Live Handmade."

What’s brilliant about Etsy, besides the facts that they’re giving anyone and everyone the chance to be an entrepreneur, is that while times might be tough here in Michigan financially, that isn’t the case for other dial-in connections on the Interwebs, thus, your product can make it.

So can you be a business owner around these here parts? Yep.

http://www.etsy.com

Stephanie’s blog:

http://www.phantomlimb.typepad.com

Post No. 3

Mon, 21 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Mixing business and art: Can it be done?

…Or rather, should it be done?

Recently, our Handmade Detroit blog participated in some interesting discussion that took place among the Do It Yourself community. There’s a growing population of members who feel like their works should be reserved for artistic purposes only, while others are open to making a living out of their artistic visions. A lot of "alternative" crafters are coming to heads with traditional needlecrafts people, and the results are interesting, indeed. While it might seem silly to some, make sure to check out these links for all the info.

It was incredibly fascinating to watch the discussion take place online, but it did make me wonder – is there a correct answer to this question?

The answer? Whatever works best for you. As my art teacher back in elementary school once told me, there is no true definition of what art is. The same is true when it comes to how you want to best display your work. If a gallery show is the perfect way to go, without any hopes of making commercial gains from it, then that’s the way for you. If, however, you feel like your art might have a wide audience and could benefit from commercial success, well, it’s time to set up that Etsy shop.

The point is, much like you knew exactly what kind of artistic endeavor moved you, you’ll know what’s best for you when it comes to the business side of it.

Post No. 2

Fri, 18 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT

What makes a good indie business?

Just what in the world makes for a great indie biz, let alone one you can operate out of your home in Detroit, Troy or Hazel Park? The possibilities are endless, but if you can combine something that interests you, something you’re good at and something you absolutely love, that usually makes a for a great start, no matter where you’re at.

One of my fellow Handmade Detroiters is a fantastic example. Bethany Nixon, currently making her home in Pontiac, is the one-woman force behind Reware Vintage, an online clothing store specializing in your favorite blasts from the clothing past, as well as her unique record notebooks, since 2005. When I look at Beth’s store, it’s a great combination of her eye for finding vintage T-shirts in the boring clothing haystack and her crafting abilities. Unlike me, Beth actually has a degree in entrepreneurship… she’s more than qualified to be an indie biz gal!

For Beth, being an indie entrepreneur isn’t a 9-to-5 job. Instead, it means driving all over Michigan scouring thrift stores and estate sales, church rummage sales and factory closeouts on the hunt for fabulous finds. Beth works long hours updating her web site with the latest additions, looking for the best advertising outlets her audience listens to and slicing used records for the ongoing demand of her notebooks. Did I mention she makes clothing, too?

Recognizing where your audience is a big part of what makes a good indie business. For Reware Vintage, it’s not JUST being online. Beth sets up shop at the annual Detroit Urban Craft Fair with her record notebooks. Why an alternative craft fair? Beth knows that her notebooks are a big hit with DIY consumers who love handmade goods made locally.

For a post I wrote for our blog a few years back, Beth had this great quote on what the most rewarding part of being a DIY entrepreneur meant to her:

"I love this job more than anything else I've ever done in my life. What I put into this is what I'm going to get out, and I love that. I get direct feedback and response to something I do like I have never gotten working for somebody else. It is just so incredibly rewarding for somebody to buy something that you made and then tell you or e-mail you about how much they love it."

That’s what worked for Beth. What do you think works for you?

Post No. 1

Thu, 17 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Meet an indie entrepreneur. Huh?

I am not a business person. Not at all. Let’s just type that now.

I graduated from Michigan State in 2003 with a degree in journalism. I spent my time learning how to be a good reporter, not a savvy business gal. Need more proof than my lousy grade from my microeconomics course? Take a look at the evidence:

I own one suit I purchased in 1999 to wear to fight a speeding ticket I got when I was 19. “Business casual” to me means a clean pair of Chuck Taylors and a vintage T-shirt without bad words on it.
My checkbook is a scribbled mess with incorrect subtraction. It’s balanced… just barely.
Crunching numbers to me means shredding my old tax documents in an attempt not to have my identity stolen.
The thought of being on "The Apprentice" fighting to win a biz gig with Donald Trump is about as appealing as hosting a "Real World Reunion" telecast on MTV.
My cubicle at work is covered in old concert posters, Hello Kitty toys and vintage Pyrex. You’d never know I worked with technology all day long.

Yet despite all these cautionary tidbits as to why I should stay far from the boardroom, I definitely consider myself an indie entrepreneur, just like many of my cohorts in Handmade Detroit, and lots of talented artists in and around the metro area, do.

What is an indie entrepreneur? There isn’t a right or wrong answer, so here’s my take on it. To me, an indie entrepreneur is anyone who’s trying to showcase their hard work to the masses to make a better life for themselves but not adding “Fortune 500” to their homemade business cards.

A do-it-yourself entrepreneur can be just about anyone. It can be your next-door neighbor and the fantastic pies she makes every weekend for her table at the local farmer’s market, just like the one I attend religiously in Plymouth, my current locale. It can be a co-worker who enjoys an evening at home making greeting cards that then go on sale in the employee lunchroom. Or it could be the journalism grad who makes embroidered dish towels in an attempt to make the world a bit greener.

(In case you were wondering, that last one is yours truly.)

Everyone will agree that Michigan’s economy has seen better days. But if you’re like me, a lifelong Michigander, you’re in love with the state that looks like a mitten and know things will, no doubt, be bouncing back our way. But until then, having a different approach on what it means to be a business person, wait, indie entrepreneur, might just be the way to get not only metro Detroit, but all of Michigan, back on its feet.

Even if you think wearing Bedazzled sweat suits to work should be socially acceptable.

Post No. 4

Tue, 15 Apr 2008 02:35:07 GMT

The Most Worst Place

I remember in college being in love with Montana because it had a reputation as "The Last Best Place." With that simple phrase, the whole state just nestled into my consciousness as some kind of national Eden.

Two decades later, I believe one of the things holding Detroit back is the universal perception that we’re "The Most Worst Place." Newspapers talk up how we are dangerous, corrupt, plagued with troubled industry, etc. It’s like we are forever typecast, over and over again, as the down and out kid who can’t tie his own shoes.

In the narrative flow of American history, right now we symbolize the worst than we can do. We are actually serving a purpose, anchoring down one end of the spectrum, if New York is the tops, we are the bottom. I’m not saying if that perception reflects reality, I think to the collective unconscious, reality is largely irrelevant.

Honestly, until someone beats us in last place, it doesn’t matter what we do, we’re stuck. GM’s business model appears to be the best it’s been in years, Chrysler is making bold management moves, and Ford’s quality now rivals Honda and Toyota. These should and could be bright days for Detroit. But we’re stuck in some larger narrative, one that we’re going to have to bust out of if we want to succeed.

So I think it’s time we broke the cycle.

I would like to suggest we all work together, collectively, in an open and cooperative fashion, as a true community, and find another national scapegoat to pick on, some wretched urban center than can signify everything that is wrong with our country. Because once that’s done, once we have a worse national boogieman than Detroit, only then will we be free from the shackles of our nation’s imagination. And only then will be able to symbolize more aspirational things like industry, innovation, hope and excellence. The stuff that made us great to begin with.

Here are the nominees:

Buffalo: I thought I should mention this early, because whenever I bring this subject up, people always say “Yeah, Buffalo!! Let’s make Buffalo the bad guy!!” But I actually don’t think it’s a good choice. It’s really too similar to Detroit. It’s actually just a smaller version of the same town. So, we should leave Buffalo well enough alone. The same goes for any city in Ohio. We’re all in this together.

New Orleans: Now they could easily be a symbol of failure. But, boy, that city has some immense troubles, challenges I hope we never know, and so it doesn’t seem right to kick that town when it’s down. In fact, I might nominate it for sister-city status. In any case, New Orleans is not going to be our scapegoat, so let’s keep looking.

Baltimore: If you were addicted to “The Wire” like I was, you probably see Baltimore as a city facing a lot of similar issues to ours. So, for the same reason we can’t pick on Buffalo or Ohio, we have to give Baltimore a pass. Karmically speaking it’s just not a good choice. Sort of that whole “pluck the splinter out of your own eye before you throw the stone at the glass house” thing.

We’re not making a lot of progress here. So, what’s left? Atlanta, no. Denver, no. Portland, no. Spokane, Sacramento, Fresno, no, no no. But then there’s one city down near the bottom of the map. And it fits the bill pretty nicely.

Albuquerque: Nobody knows much about this town. Can you name one trivia fact about Albuquerque? I can’t. For all we know, it very well could be a whole lot worse than Detroit. It’s just nobody has taken the time to notice it. Last I heard, Bugs Bunny took a wrong turn there, so it can’t be all that good.

I would like to suggest we start trash talking Albuquerque immediately. Maybe we can begin by saying "Well sure Detroit may not be perfect, but at least it isn’t, you know, Albuquerque." Or "Could be worse, we could be in Albuquerque." If anyone asks you what you’re talking about, just roll your eyes and say, "Oh, you know." and then walk away.

Yes, finding another city to disparage isn’t the ideal way to cure Detroit’s woes. But it is a start. And while I’m sure Mitt Romney and the Dalai Lama have a whole host of more noble and enterprising solutions to our problems, frankly last time I checked, they weren’t helping. Not one bit.

Post No. 3

Sun, 13 Apr 2008 23:18:36 GMT

How to talk about Detroit

Since I moved here from back east and started living downtown, people from New York always ask (with arched eyebrows and cynical smiles,) “So…how do you like Detroit?” I think they expect me to burst into tears or something, because in their eyes Detroit is a really scary burned out place filled with danger, depression and the distant sound of gunshots.

I’ve discovered a few ways to respond which I thought I’d pass on in case you find yourself in a similar situation. I’m sure you have your own answers, but these seem to work for me:

#1: the Savvy Real Estate answer

"Oh, love it. Detroit’s like New York was in the 70’s, back when it was filled with muggers, Travis Bickle wannabees and the Son of Sam, back when you could buy a townhouse in Park Slope for two hundred thousand dollars. Speaking of which, I got my Mies van der Rhoe in downtown Detroit for just over a hundred thousand. Yeah, that Mies. How much do you think it would go for in Manhattan? Three million? By the way, how much did you pay for this place? Ouch."

#2: the Ecological Prophet’s answer

"Oh, love it. ‘Cause you know, I don’t know if you’ve heard about this climate change thing but you know New York’s at sea level, right? And since the melting glaciers in Greenland and Antartica will be raising the oceans something between 7 to 70 feet in the next twenty years, that’ll going to make your loft here a pretty nice wading pool. Or maybe it’ll be an aquarium, right? Meanwhile, Detroit’s about 600 feet above sea level, so like Bill Murray says, we’ve got that going for us, which is nice."

#3: the "Everything is Relative" answer

"Yeah, well, I love it. I mean, you hear it’s dangerous in Detroit, but I don’t know, depends how you define "dangerous." I tell you what I think is dangerous, all those millions of people living in the middle of the desert, watching as their water tables dry up and their rivers disappear. Phoenix, Tempe, Vegas, those places are actually terrifying. Those cities are living an utterly delusional existence. Vegas gets four inches of rain a year, we get thirty. So, I don’t know about you, but sitting next to a few great lakes makes me feel a whole lot safer. "

#4: the Economist’s answer

"I love it ‘cause you know what they say about New York: walk twenty feet, spend twenty dollars? Well, in Detroit we don’t walk anywhere."

#5: the Wide Eyed Optimist’s answer

"I love it, ‘cause it’s like a blank slate. You want to do something in New York? Good luck, a hundred people had the same idea and already failed at it. You want to do something in Detroit? Go for it, the rent’s practically free, everybody know’s everybody, and they’re all willing to help. It really is the land of dreams."

Now, I’m not saying these answers are particularly effective at changing minds, I haven’t exactly inspired a mass migration to the motor city, but they are, honestly, solid reasons why I think Detroit is an under sung jewel of a city.

(Of course, these all pale beside the best answer, supplied by Detroit native Moodymann when asked by Real Detroit if he looks to New York for influence, "Why look there when I’ve got the baddest city under my feet and the most beautiful black women on the planet?")

Post No. 2

Fri, 11 Apr 2008 12:22:52 GMT

Boutiquarama

Why would you ever take a vacation to the same place you’ve always been? If you already find yourself surrounded by a bunch of Banana Republics and Gaps and Pottery Barns, well, why go anywhere else? Socks, toasters, you’ve got it all right there.

And yet time and again when I’m traveling, I am always shocked to see the same vanilla big box stores and restaurants plopped down in the middle of unique places that once had character. Sure enough, everything gets less interesting. Why travel to Georgetown or Charleston when you can buy buy fancy deodorant at the Body Shop right there in Lansing and Troy?

Which is why as Detroit develops its downtown, it has to stop praying that big box stores will come save it. The Catch 22 is that only way to do lure the stores downtown is to prove there are already shoppers there. And the only way to lure shoppers downtown is by having stores there. So how do you do it? And where will they go?

I’ll never forget the first time I turned the corner and discovered Capitol Park. It felt like someone had stolen a chunk of London and dropped it right down in the middle of South Eastern Michigan. It’s like one tiny corner that a century of lousy city planning didn’t screw up, at least not physically. The area was as desolate as any place else in downtown, with the exception of the people sleeping on the benches of the bus depot, but it was easy to see that this spot was different, it had potiential.

Soon after, I heard how now that the city is moving the bus terminal, it has some kind of master plan for Capitol Park. I have no idea what the plan is or what it involves, but I hope that it goes something like this:

Introducing Toby Barlow’s Slightly Delusional "If I Were King of Detroit This Is What I Would Do With Capitol Park: A Fantasy"

The only way to get shoppers downtown is to cram some corner of downtown with cool, curious, easily accessible shopping experiences.

Capitol Park, right by the Book Cadillac hotel, will offer special city grants on low ten year mortgages for unique boutique stores and shops that have already shown a commitment to the inner city.

So, a visitor finding themselves downtown might swing over to the Capitol Park and stop in at the Mezzanine to look at furniture, the Bureau of Urban Living for some nice wine glasses, Design 99 for some funky design piece, or the John King Annex for a cup of coffee and a book.

Now, these are all businesses that already exist in the city, but you have to drive for twenty minutes around town and find three parking spots to see them. By consolidating them you will offer visitors something they can’t get anywhere else, unique Detroit places with unique Detroit visions.

Get Ryan and Philip Cooley to open a little stand equivalent to Danny Meyer’s Shake Shack and suddenly the little square is a bonafide unique destination, one people would actually come visit.

Once the nick-nackers, cool hunters andgift shoppers start rolling into town, those Banana Republic, Chipotle Burrito, Pottery Barn conglomerates will come scurrying in too, all set to push the little guy out of the D. Who knows, maybe Detroit will protect the small businesses who helped bring the city back, or maybe the greater forces of evil will prevail.

But that would be a nice problem for the city to have, wouldn’t it?

Post No. 1

Thu, 10 Apr 2008 14:05:04 GMT

Bar Fight

I began in this town like many newcomers do, wide-eyed and dreaming of possibilities. But Detroit is a tough town. You bring any idea for a brighter, shinier tomorrow and into the room someone is always ready to knock you down.

For instance, when I first showed up, I found myself downtown idly musing about the train station.

"Aw, waddaya gotta bring that up for?" asked the fellow at the next barstool.

I ordered another beer and explained how I worked on a film crew once and when we needed a shot of down-and-out urban grit, guess where we filmed? The train station. When tourists want to see signs of what the rust belt’s ugly decline, where do we take them? Locals like to ignore it’s even there, but for the rest of the world, that the Michigan Central Station’s broken down façade stands out front and center as the pre-eminent symbol of our city’s decline.

Meanwhile, plans for the site seem to be eternally stalled. Matty Moroun appeared on the verge of selling it to the city but as far as I know, nothing has happened. There’s no "Save the Station" organization and no visible plan for what to do next.

This is a tragedy of no small order, after all, the building was designed by the same architects who built Grand Central Station. Ideally, something bold and visionary could be done with the station.

Either that, or it should be razed.

That’s when the guy on the barstool came to life again, "Yeah! Tear it down!" he shouted.

"Wait, wait." I said, "If it were renovated, it would cost something like three or four hundred million dollars. But we shouldn’t stop there, we should spend whatever it takes to make it one of the pre-eminent green buildings in the world."

Now the fellow got all ornery, "Woah, what? Detroit is lucky to get ANY kind of development and now you want to jack up the cost by making it all eco-green? What are you, some kind of communist hippie?" That’s when he took a swing at me.

I ducked his punch and pushed him off the barstool before continuing. "Yes," I say, "Because among other issues, Detroit’s problem is that it’s perceived as a throw back to the industrial age. They think we’re dirty, polluted, and frankly kind of backwards. Having an icon like the train station reborn as a geothermal, solar powered building with wind generators on the top, would turn everyone’s idea of Detroit on its ear. Bill McDonough could do it. He did an amazing job on the River Rouge plant."

At this point the guy pushes himself up from the floor and puts up his dukes in a classic Popeye pose. "Come on!" he mumbled, "Come on!"

"Or, I suppose you’re right, we could raze it." I said, trying to appease him in the hopes he’d settle down, "But in that case I would raise money to make a nice city park on the grounds, one that ran to the river. We could save a few pillars from the station and make the park sort of like classical ruins of old, say like Hadrian’s Villa in Tivoli. It would be a lot less expensive and the town could probably use a nice park like that. Kind of like what they’re doing with the High Line in New York."

"High Line?! High Line?! I’ll show you a High Line!" I’m not sure what he meant, but at this point the fellow was dancing around, winding up and getting ready to deliver one doozy of a punch. I tried to ignore him.

"I’d prefer keeping it and restoring it." I continue, "The ideal solution, as far as I can tell, is if someone made the renovation part of a bigger notion. Tie it, say, to a large endowment for renewable science studies at Michigan. The building could be filled with labs and classrooms. The tracks below would carry the students to Anne Arbor and back all day, connecting the two cities with the sort of affordable high speed transit you already find in many of the world’s truly modern cities.

It sounds crazy, but if the right people are approached and the right plans are put on the table, it’s eminently doable. In ten years, the station could go from being an abject grotesque ruin to being the home of world’s next big idea. Until then, it’s just standing there, silently looming over us, taunting us, waiting for the rest of the Detroit to sink down into its ruin."

By the time the drunk finally swung at me, I was so caught up in my thoughts, I’d honestly forgotten he was even there. His fist hit my head – ironically enough - with the full force of a freight train and I was down on the floor, knocked out cold.

Which is too bad, really, ‘cause I think he would have really liked my plans for Tiger Stadium.

Post No. 5

Wed, 09 Apr 2008 00:29:36 GMT

It wasn’t my intention that these blogs become a "manifesto" for improving our workforce and business procedures, but as I look back on what I’ve already written, I could see how one could interpret them that way. Still, I feel so strongly about what must be done. Overcoming the occasional governmental quagmire, as well as public apathy and a sluggish industry, is and will be the most daunting task any of us have ever undertaken.

I began this all by peering through Alice’s wondrous eyes as I looked into the vastness of the governmental, societal and workplace issues I’d undertaken. What I’ve learned is that, while vast, it is conquerable. The trick is to address the economic problems in this state one step at a time; with patience and with a plan.

We mustn’t fear what is down the next hallway or behind the next door, but we must control, to the extent possible, our own environment and, thus, our own destiny. That means educating our workforce, it means developing a culture of learning and improving and it means making that which should be easy, easy.

We’ve started not by chasing the rabbit down the hole, but by prudently examining which direction we want to travel, and by examining every effort in our journey toward improvement. What looked to me before like Wonderland has come to appear to be an opportunity, more encompassing and potentially rewarding than I could have imagined.

Let me close by urging everyone reading this blog to get involved. Work with local organizations, associations, governmental task forces, civic groups and educational foundations to make your voice heard. Become a part of the solutions for tomorrow; provide the answers to questions we haven’t yet thought to ask. Move yourself, your business, your opportunities and your career forward.

It only works if we are all moving on the path together.

Post No. 3

Tue, 08 Apr 2008 00:25:41 GMT

Business is the foundation of a successful economy. Facilitating the smooth functioning of industry and making sure business can progress unhindered are responsibilities state government employees take seriously. Often, however, the business community sees us as an obstacle, forcing them (as Alice was) through ever smaller doors using keys that don’t quite fit.

Unfortunately, in this case, perception is often truth. When one company has a difficult experience with state government, everyone knows about it. Newspaper articles are written and consumer advocates descend. But the twenty, thirty or 100 thousand successful, efficient transactions are nullified by that one complaint. A problem at any level of government stains the efforts of all government in the minds of those not discerning of the distinctions. At a certain level, we become powerless to control our own destiny in the minds of our constituency.

At another level, however, we can and are moving forward to address a primary area of concern for businesses and individuals who must register or license with the state. A One Stop system, or as we call it the Michigan Business Services improvement initiative (MBSii) is an effort that crosses all areas of state government to provide business with one stop “shopping” for information on the “what’s required” and the “how to’s” of licensing and regulation. Private sector efficiency in a public sector program, one governmental source for information for whatever your business needs are.

State government has a myriad of functions and many departments to fulfill those functions. Unless you’re in the system, it’s difficult to know the next direction to turn to start or grow your business. Working with industry, our goal is to change the face of the beast, to provide one, easy entry point for business. Believe me, this is no small task, but it is absolutely crucial as we move into our new economy. Governments everywhere, like private industry, must become and remain competitive … on the cutting edge… or be replaced by that which is “better”.

I’m very excited with the opportunity to be part of this “quantum leap” in customer service. The implementation of these types of innovative private industry techniques represents a step in merging our efforts, and our goals, into one cohesive dynamic. I truly believe that this effort will have unforeseen benefits and strategic advantages for Michigan industry beyond my tenure.