stevenpiziks (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stevenpiziks) wrote2019-11-04 06:24 pm
stevenpiziks) wrote2019-11-04 06:24 pm
Entry tags:
Albion Call
So Darwin got a call for a job interview in Albion.
Albion is a small town of about 8,500 people located at a fork in the Kalamazoo River. The abundant access to water power attracted mills and foundries to the little town, and by the turn of the 20th century, it had set itself up as a major manufacturing center. By the 1950s it had become one of the most successful manufacturing towns in Michigan. The biggest part of this was the Albion Malleable Iron Company, which occupied several acres of land at the edge of town and employed thousands of workers. A great many of these were African-Americans, lured up from the South with promises of work. Albion became a multi-cultural city before it was fashionable.
The town is also known for Albion College, a prestigious educational center with a sizeable campus just north of town.
But a series of economic crashes hit the mills and foundries hard. Albion Malleable shut down in the 60s. One by one, the other manufacturers shut down, throwing thousands out of work. A lot of people left, and the ones who stayed on tried to eke out a living at the two or three small factories that remained. Beautiful houses fell into disrepair. Schools closed. Eventually, Albion was forced to combine its school system with nearby Marshall, a serious blow to Albion's pride and something the Albionites still lament.
The downtown emptied of stores, and the beautiful 19th century buildings fell into decay. Attempts were made to revitalize the place, but they fell short, and Albion began sputtering slowly down a disastrous spiral.
When Darwin got the offer to interview, he dove into a flurry of research. When Darwin interviews for a job, he looks into everything. He reads every city document on-line, he watches countless hours of city council meetings, he researches history, news, economics, and more. He goes over the budget with a fine-toothed comb. And he forms an action plan to improve the city.
Darwin and I also visited the town. Albion is about 80 minutes from Wherever, which meant if he got the job, we'd have to activate the retirement plan, so I was looking around with an to what it might be like to live there. I grew up near the small village of Breckenridge, Michigan, and Albion reminded me a little of that place, if Breckenridge had also had a small college attached to it. The town is surrounded by fields of corn and soy, and the closest city of any size is Battle Creek, a 20 minute drive away.
We arrived in town, dropped our bags at our room, and set out to explore. The very wide main street, lined by many empty storefronts, is paved with bricks--an Albion tradition. It was a blazing hot summer day, and the main street runs east-west, meaning it was unshaded, and we worked up a sweat checking out the buildings, the businesses, and the river.
The Kalamazoo River creates three forks in Albion, which as I said, made the city attractive to mills and factories. Now, the rivers have decreased in importance, though the biggest event of the year is the Festival of the Forks, a street fair that several people we met mentioned to us. "You have to come to the Festival of the Forks," everyone said. We explored multiple parks along the river and found several sites where mills once sat, but now have nothing but foundation stones and a dam. The combination of river and parks are actually very pretty and pleasant, especially on a summer day in July.
We visited the downtown library, poked our heads into a few businesses, and explored the residential areas. Housing in Albion makes a strange patchwork. There's no "poor" and "rich" section of town. Instead, everything is all mixed up. Lovely, well-maintained Victorian mansions sit next to decaying homes. Several areas have vacant lots which are generally well-mowed, but which clearly used to have houses on them. A common practice is for a city to tear down a condemned house and offer the plot to a neighbor for a dollar so the city doesn't have to maintain the spot. This drives Darwin crazy because it makes for bad fiscal policy--the vacant plot doesn't add to tax revenue, and no new houses go up to replace the condemned ones. He said he'd definitely put a stop to that if he got hired.
Lunchtime arrived, and we hunted for food. We passed a garage-sized place called The Little Red Lunchbox. Darwin was leery, even though he generally likes little diners, but I said I didn't want to drive forever to find somewhere else, so we went in.
More . . .
Albion is a small town of about 8,500 people located at a fork in the Kalamazoo River. The abundant access to water power attracted mills and foundries to the little town, and by the turn of the 20th century, it had set itself up as a major manufacturing center. By the 1950s it had become one of the most successful manufacturing towns in Michigan. The biggest part of this was the Albion Malleable Iron Company, which occupied several acres of land at the edge of town and employed thousands of workers. A great many of these were African-Americans, lured up from the South with promises of work. Albion became a multi-cultural city before it was fashionable.
The town is also known for Albion College, a prestigious educational center with a sizeable campus just north of town.
But a series of economic crashes hit the mills and foundries hard. Albion Malleable shut down in the 60s. One by one, the other manufacturers shut down, throwing thousands out of work. A lot of people left, and the ones who stayed on tried to eke out a living at the two or three small factories that remained. Beautiful houses fell into disrepair. Schools closed. Eventually, Albion was forced to combine its school system with nearby Marshall, a serious blow to Albion's pride and something the Albionites still lament.
The downtown emptied of stores, and the beautiful 19th century buildings fell into decay. Attempts were made to revitalize the place, but they fell short, and Albion began sputtering slowly down a disastrous spiral.
When Darwin got the offer to interview, he dove into a flurry of research. When Darwin interviews for a job, he looks into everything. He reads every city document on-line, he watches countless hours of city council meetings, he researches history, news, economics, and more. He goes over the budget with a fine-toothed comb. And he forms an action plan to improve the city.
Darwin and I also visited the town. Albion is about 80 minutes from Wherever, which meant if he got the job, we'd have to activate the retirement plan, so I was looking around with an to what it might be like to live there. I grew up near the small village of Breckenridge, Michigan, and Albion reminded me a little of that place, if Breckenridge had also had a small college attached to it. The town is surrounded by fields of corn and soy, and the closest city of any size is Battle Creek, a 20 minute drive away.
We arrived in town, dropped our bags at our room, and set out to explore. The very wide main street, lined by many empty storefronts, is paved with bricks--an Albion tradition. It was a blazing hot summer day, and the main street runs east-west, meaning it was unshaded, and we worked up a sweat checking out the buildings, the businesses, and the river.
The Kalamazoo River creates three forks in Albion, which as I said, made the city attractive to mills and factories. Now, the rivers have decreased in importance, though the biggest event of the year is the Festival of the Forks, a street fair that several people we met mentioned to us. "You have to come to the Festival of the Forks," everyone said. We explored multiple parks along the river and found several sites where mills once sat, but now have nothing but foundation stones and a dam. The combination of river and parks are actually very pretty and pleasant, especially on a summer day in July.
We visited the downtown library, poked our heads into a few businesses, and explored the residential areas. Housing in Albion makes a strange patchwork. There's no "poor" and "rich" section of town. Instead, everything is all mixed up. Lovely, well-maintained Victorian mansions sit next to decaying homes. Several areas have vacant lots which are generally well-mowed, but which clearly used to have houses on them. A common practice is for a city to tear down a condemned house and offer the plot to a neighbor for a dollar so the city doesn't have to maintain the spot. This drives Darwin crazy because it makes for bad fiscal policy--the vacant plot doesn't add to tax revenue, and no new houses go up to replace the condemned ones. He said he'd definitely put a stop to that if he got hired.
Lunchtime arrived, and we hunted for food. We passed a garage-sized place called The Little Red Lunchbox. Darwin was leery, even though he generally likes little diners, but I said I didn't want to drive forever to find somewhere else, so we went in.
More . . .