The Flint Anthology: Call for Submissions
It’s time to tell the stories of Flint. That’s stories of Flint, mind you, not story, because there is no one story, no singular narrative that can define the Vehicle City.
It’s time to tell the stories of Flint. That’s stories of Flint, mind you, not story, because there is no one story, no singular narrative that can define the Vehicle City.
“I think people are seeing this can have a lot to offer,” said Beth White as she walked along the dozen or so red-bricked blocks of Saginaw Street that constitute Flint, Michigan’s downtown.
No state’s cities are more decrepit than Michigan’s. Detroit has become a showcase for urban blight, an international symbol of decay that attracts art photographers and ruin pornographers from all over the world.
After an hour-long drive, Doug Suiter is sitting at high stool at The Machine Shop in Flint, Michigan, one hand on his knee and the other wrapped around a sixteen-ounce can of Bud Light, waiting to see if Whitey Morgan is the real deal.
Sarah Carson’s new collection of prose poems, Buick City, begins with freight trains rattling past Flint’s closed automotive plants, and ends with a mechanic spitting on the city’s grave.
Most auto jobs in Flint are gone, but the city is still saddled with unhappy souvenirs of an industrial past. What comes next for the Vehicle City?
Fixing up a cheap house in a Rust Belt town is tough -- and a well-meaning buyer can end up doing more harm than good. What qualities do the right buyers have, and what's the value of land banks?
An excerpt from Teardown: Memoir of a Vanishing City