Invited were friends and members of Detroit Federation of MC Clubs. Inner city Detroit was beyond rough in the late ‘60s. A war zone of concrete and corrugated steel empty warehouses with interspersed with functioning businesses. The dirty pothole strewn streets, cluttered with debris, were dotted with greasy spoon restaurants and dive bars.
Every building was wrapped with chain link fence and razor wire. It wasn’t rare to see burning abandoned cars or dumped refrigerators in the middle of cracked, tar-patched streets. The name Pothole City fit.
This particular club house operated for years on the east side. The original rental agreement turned out to be bogus and the building’s ownership uncertain. No rent was paid for years, and no funds used for improvements. We formed a kitty for a new clubhouse and saved for just the right building.
The location, dumpy and surreal, exploded with hard-driving activity at night, while surrounding warehouses and businesses remained locked down tight.
– Read the rest of the story here.
