Justine Smith
Title
Justine Smith
Description
Justine Smith was twelve years old working as a camp counselor and recalls memories of fear and uncertainty in July, 1967.
Publisher
Detroit Historical Society
Date
07/29/2015
Rights
Detroit Historical Society, Detroit, MI
Format
Text
Language
en-US
Type
Written Story
Coverage
Downtown, Detroit, Michigan
Text
I was 12 years old. My life was about to be changed forever. I am Caucasian and lived in the inner city of Detroit, [with] mostly African Americans on our block.
My first "job" was at our church’s camp property in Hartland, Michigan. I left every summer to work in kitchen washing dishes or whatever needed to be done. I was there for several weeks, enjoying being with all the campers and fellow church members. A call came in from my parents in Detroit, which was relayed to me: I can't come home as planned. I can't come home? How does a twelve year old take that in? All the phone call said [was that] there were riots back in Detroit and I needed to stay far away. Riots? I was barely familiar with what a riot was. I was getting "bits and pieces" from some of the adults out at camp. I was truly dismayed. Was my family OK? What about my neighbors? Where exactly was this happening at? [There were] so many heartbreaking questions, [and] so few answers. I felt helpless & scared. Days (seemed like weeks) went by and I was grasping for any bit of information I could grasp.
Then the camp nurse came to see me. We went back to her cabin where she had a small black and white TV. I got my first glimpse of the 1967 riots. I was petrified at what I was watching. This can't be Detroit! Buildings and cars being set on fire. People looting from businesses and sheer devastation. This was my city? My home? I knew Detroit would be changed forever. The tears streamed down my face. I was born in Detroit (on Woodward Avenue)! [I was] baptized in Detroit, [I] went to school and was raised in Detroit. What caused such a tragedy?
[It] didn't matter, though; the damage was done. Talk about timing: My step-sister was getting married in a week, [and] I was in the wedding party and had to come home. It was a feeling I had never felt before. Coming home to what? The uncertainty was chilling. I was told our neighborhood was not involved. My step-sister was getting married! In downtown Detroit!! How, I thought? There are riots. But, by this point the National Guard was there and "Marshall Law" was in force. (I had to learn what that was).
As we headed toward Detroit I was in great fear. I started to see tanks! Tanks!? Rolling down the streets, filled with big men with big guns. I was in shock. I started seeing some of the destruction of the cars and buildings and could not believe my eyes. I was never the same again. My home was different now. Are these buildings going to be fixed? Will it ever be the same? I just remembered the good things about Detroit. J.L. Hudsons, Crowleys, Cunninghams and more. Truly it was never the same. Yes we needed to move.
My first "job" was at our church’s camp property in Hartland, Michigan. I left every summer to work in kitchen washing dishes or whatever needed to be done. I was there for several weeks, enjoying being with all the campers and fellow church members. A call came in from my parents in Detroit, which was relayed to me: I can't come home as planned. I can't come home? How does a twelve year old take that in? All the phone call said [was that] there were riots back in Detroit and I needed to stay far away. Riots? I was barely familiar with what a riot was. I was getting "bits and pieces" from some of the adults out at camp. I was truly dismayed. Was my family OK? What about my neighbors? Where exactly was this happening at? [There were] so many heartbreaking questions, [and] so few answers. I felt helpless & scared. Days (seemed like weeks) went by and I was grasping for any bit of information I could grasp.
Then the camp nurse came to see me. We went back to her cabin where she had a small black and white TV. I got my first glimpse of the 1967 riots. I was petrified at what I was watching. This can't be Detroit! Buildings and cars being set on fire. People looting from businesses and sheer devastation. This was my city? My home? I knew Detroit would be changed forever. The tears streamed down my face. I was born in Detroit (on Woodward Avenue)! [I was] baptized in Detroit, [I] went to school and was raised in Detroit. What caused such a tragedy?
[It] didn't matter, though; the damage was done. Talk about timing: My step-sister was getting married in a week, [and] I was in the wedding party and had to come home. It was a feeling I had never felt before. Coming home to what? The uncertainty was chilling. I was told our neighborhood was not involved. My step-sister was getting married! In downtown Detroit!! How, I thought? There are riots. But, by this point the National Guard was there and "Marshall Law" was in force. (I had to learn what that was).
As we headed toward Detroit I was in great fear. I started to see tanks! Tanks!? Rolling down the streets, filled with big men with big guns. I was in shock. I started seeing some of the destruction of the cars and buildings and could not believe my eyes. I was never the same again. My home was different now. Are these buildings going to be fixed? Will it ever be the same? I just remembered the good things about Detroit. J.L. Hudsons, Crowleys, Cunninghams and more. Truly it was never the same. Yes we needed to move.
Original Format
email message
Submitter's Name
Justine Smith
Submission Date
07/25/2015
Search Terms
arson, wedding, innercity, Hartland-Michigan,
Files
Collection
Citation
“Justine Smith,” Detroit Historical Society Oral History Archive, accessed December 14, 2024, http://oralhistory.detroithistorical.org/items/show/71.