"The Detroit News" by Tosh Berman (Detroit)

I’m living in a house that was built in 1899.  It’s huge.  I don’t know what makes a home a mansion, but I feel that I’m living in one.  A house that old always has secrets within its walls, attic, and basement.   I suspect that this house was built by the Ford company for its executives.  It has two staircases.  One for the family/owner of the residence, and the other for the servants.  The servant's staircase is small, steep, and one can easily hit their head on the ceiling as you go down or up.  The other is grand and very inviting, as the other one seems like a pathway to a dark place.   Every old home has a dark path from one questionable area to another.  Or, more likely a path from lightness to dark. 

Upstairs being the lightness.  Perhaps closer to the sky and its stars.  As you wander down the stairs (especially the servant’s entrance), you then turn a slight left, which will lead one to the basement. It’s here that one evening I found torn and frayed copy of “The Detroit News” from June 29, 1947.   It was near an old bottle of bootleg alcohol that for sure, came from the Canada side.   I never removed it, because I felt it was a grave site.  Perhaps not a human one, but a grave for a life spent, and I still think the spirit is in this house.  

The reason why I drink starting at 7pm every evening is that I feel the basement calling on me, to return to a tradition that stuck its tongue out to the old bitches and bastards who tell us what to do.  I don’t want to be told what to do, except by that old magic that is bottled up and sent over in a boat across the river from Canada to my mouth.  I never wanted to remove the newspaper, maybe because I feel if I touch it, it will turn to dust, or feel it’s not respectful to remove such an item placed in one’s (not mine) basement.   But I did remove the paper due that an article caught my eye.

The headline “Home Thugs Get $164,000; Bind, Gag 11”  got my attention, and as I started reading the article, it struck me the address of the robbery is where I’m living now.  It seems the house once belonging to, or at least he was the tenant, a Lewis Weiner, who had a party to raise money for a synagog building fund. It was a quartet of thieves, and they all wore masks and had revolvers.   None were hurt, thank god, but the funny thing is that I notice the date of this newspaper item is June 24, which was the date that I discovered this newspaper in the basement. 

The Purple Gang pretty much controlled Detroit with an iron fist, and wasn’t shy in bashing someone’s head in, if the need was there.  There was a theory that Weiner was part of the Purple Gang, and an off-shoot gang did the robbery to move into the Purple Gang’s territory.  Still, my mood is wearing a blanket of darkness, and the only bright spot in the day is when I start drinking. 

The Purple Gang used to smuggle booze from Canada to Detroit, and then elsewhere if there was any extra juice after the Detroit citizens finished their supply.  The liquor stores here in the Detroit area are called “Party Stores,” but most close by 9:00 PM. I buy cases of booze and place them in the basement, exactly where I found the old bottles.  I feel it’s a tradition of great importance, both for the house and yours truly.   To the Purple Gang, and all those who failed the American dream in their fashion on this day of despair, July 4th.  - Tosh Berman, Detroit.