On a clear, sunny day in Downtown Flint, a crowd over 200,000 strong had gathered along the length of Saginaw St. They covered the sidewalks, hung out of windows and stood on rooftops in anticipation of celebrating one of Vehicle City’s biggest achievements. They came to witness history. That day, November 23, 1954, the 50-millionth General Motors car was completed in Flint at 9:50 AM, signaling the start of GM’s nationwide “Golden CARnival” celebration. At approximately 10:10 AM, GM opened 125 GM plants and training centers across the country to the public and hosted luncheons for business leaders in 65 cities.
Since the time of the horse and buggy, Vehicle City has shined brightly during the holidays. When the first snow blankets the ground and thoughts of merriment and gift-giving fill the air, Genesee County downtowns come alive. Trees are adorned, buildings gleam and shop windows hold holiday wonders to delight all ages. Take a trip down Memory Lane with some nostalgic holiday scenes courtesy of the Sloan Museum Archives, Factory One, Genesee County Historical Society and area historical associations.
The history of Greater Flint is steeped in relevance. We have seen titans of industry, great inventors, triumphs of commerce, heroes, villains, failure and renewal, and through it all stood our castles of time – the historic homes of Greater Flint.
All was quiet as Margarette Eby approached the entrance to Applewood Estate. She stopped her vehicle but left the engine running as she got out to open the gate leading to the gatehouse where she lived for a blissful and industrious five years in Flint working as provost and music professor at the University of Michigan-Flint. She shivered as she opened her car door and stepped out. The day had become increasingly cold as it waned and the temperature at that time of night hovered just above freezing. The light jacket that provided more than enough warmth during a day spent with friends downtown was no longer adequate. She quickly felt in her pocket for the key but realized she needn’t have bothered; the gate was standing ajar. She opened it fully, stepped back into her car and continued up the drive. It was a long day but a good one and after enjoying dinner with friends, she wanted nothing more than to relax in the warmth of her home for a few hours before officially retiring for the night, readying herself for another full day at the University. She turned off the car and stepped once again into the cold night. The sky was overcast, obscuring all moonlight and threatening to cover the ground in the year’s first blanket of snow. She fumbled with her keys, straining her eyes in the darkness to find the right one as she approached the front door but found, again, that a key wasn’t needed. The door opened with a simple click. Did she leave it unlocked when she left earlier? She stepped inside, switched on the light, then closed and locked the door securing her inside. She removed her jacket, hung it up and moved into the kitchen. As she opened the cabinet to get a cup for tea, she heard a thump from the next room and then another. She froze, afraid to turn and look. She heard footsteps and then, a shadow moved into the corner of her eyesight. Margarette Eby wasn’t alone …
The history of Greater Flint is steeped in relevance. We have seen titans of industry, great inventors, triumphs of commerce, heroes, villains, failure and renewal, and through it all stood our castles of time – the historic homes of Greater Flint.
The history of Greater Flint is steeped in relevance. We have seen titans of industry, great inventors, triumphs of commerce, heroes, villains, failure and renewal, and through it all stood our castles of time – the historic homes of Greater Flint.
The Witch of November came in the night, and she was angry.
Since the 1960s, Flint’s circumstances have slowly deteriorated. The population trickled out of the city, taking their tax money with them; General Motors began to pull up shop closing offices and factories, and small business faltered. With little money or population left, city leadership began to cut back while desperately searching for ways to reverse the situation. The budget quickly became a problem that would grow in significance each passing year. By the late 80s, Flint had taken a number of shots, was out of breath and standing on tired legs. No reprieve was on the way. In fact, one more punch was coming. The city mostly responded by scaling down and contraction yielded mixed results. The mayors from 1987 to today ran into their own battles, scandals and adversity – each of them tasked with searching out and uncovering a miracle.
Hewett Judson, a longtime teacher at Lake Fenton High School, along with his sister Phyllis Judson Heusted, has worked hard to preserve the Judson family’s history. He is the treasurer for the Pioneer Memorial Association of Fenton & Mundy Townships and Heusted is the secretary/editor. The group’s goal is to preserve the history of both townships.
From the early 1960s to the late 80s, the City of Flint rode a roller coaster of social and economic change. While the city made gains in social equality and culture, it lost ground in labor force and development. Crime began to rear its head as unemployment increased and business walked away. Population began to flee, leading to the first (of many) school closings. The explosion of growth reversed and many mayors found that a lack of taxpayer funds inhibited future investment. After 1975, it was everything a mayor could do to keep the city afloat.
Before the cars, the bricks and the buildings, the roads and highways, and before the United States were established, a small footpath led the way from the lands of the Ottawa in the south (Detroit) to the lands of the Chippewa (Saginaw) in the north. Native Americans strode this path for centuries, up and down the state as they hunted, formed treaties, celebrated and settled. In the middle of this long and winding path flowed Peiconigowink – “the river of the firestone.” At the point where the path met the river, a rich history was born in 1811, when a fur trader named Jacob Smith built a trading post around which sprang up a city. The path, named the Saginaw Trail, became an iconic thoroughfare now known as Saginaw Street. This central path through the remarkable city of Flint was the setting for celebrations and parades, protests and upheaval, triumphs and tragedies. It perseveres, as Flint does, through changes both good and bad, still holding open the door for travelers coming home or simply passing through.
