Dead at 300: The Sad, Sad Story of the City of Detroit
City of Detroit
Built by Whites
Destroyed by Blacks
Lest We Forget
by Etienne Brule
Open your Detroit paper today, and these are the stories you'll read about:
-- a 15 year old girl from (nearly all-white) Livingston county, who got conned by a
black into running away from home with him, and learned too late that reality is somewhat
different from MTV. "When he arrived, her mother said, she felt something was wrong." No
shit! A black arrives on your doorstep to take your daughter away, and you let him?
Probably she was more afraid of being called a racist than of having her daughter
-- two black "families" who got into a feud over a dress, resulting in a 4 a.m. bongo
party, Molotov cocktails, and roast niglet for breakfast.
Note that this is the second house this crew has been burned out of in recent
But it wasn't always this way...
Fifty years ago, my parents were looking for a home to shelter our growing family, and
wanted to buy in Detroit, but couldn't afford to. At that time, the city had nearly 2
million residents. Today, it has half that number, and you can find endless bleating
about "lack of affordable housing" in the news media. They never mention that the source
of the problem is that the city is now filled with blacks who treat housing like it is
disposable, since Uncle Sugar will always buy them a new one.
My parents wound up buying a house just outside the city limits, in a new subdivision
consisting mostly of small Cape Cod houses along an unpaved road. The houses, though
modest, were well-built and if maintained by whites, could stand for centuries. The people
who lived there were not wealthy, but they had a true neighborhood. When women noticed
there was a pervert peeking through the windows at them, the men formed a patrol and caught
the sorry bastard. People trusted their kids with the neighbors -- during summers, our
moms cut us loose in the morning and didn't need to start worrying about us until
suppertime. If something bad happened, one of the other mothers on the block would be sure
to call. There were kids, tons of them, and all of them were white, and we never felt any
embarrassment about that. We had enough diversity for a good white neighborhood --
English, Irish, French, Italians, Germans, Poles, Finns, and probably others as well -- but
we were Americans, first and foremost, and proud of it.
By today's standards, many of us must have been near the poverty line, but in truth, we
were richer than any White kid is today. Every morning, at school, after the Pledge of
Allegiance, we recited the preamble to the U.S. Constitution. When we got to the part
about "and secure the blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity," I remember
thinking, "our Posterity" -- that's us. We were the inheritors, future citizens of a
nation-state carved out of the wilderness by our ancestors for our benefit. But not just
for our benefit. We were entrusted with the responsibility of bequeathing it to our
descendants in a condition at least as good as that in which we received it.
We are failing them miserably. I pity the white kids of today. Most will never know the
feeling of pride I once felt. They are being raised as ritual scapegoats, blamed for the
"sins" of their fathers, taught that loving their ancestors is an unpardonable act of
hatred, and that they should serve at the feet of their new masters to atone for the
My mother still lives in the house where I grew up, and several brothers live nearby. When
I visit her, there are usually blacks lounging around. I see their handiwork - "Section 8
tombstones" -- burned out, boarded up hulks of houses where good families once lived. There
aren't too many of these yet, but having lived here so long, I've developed an eye for the
warning signs. Whoever named that HUD program "Section 8" was right on the money --
seeding decent white neighborhoods with black arsonists is as lunatic as seeding healthy
farm fields with locusts. Now they're devouring a place close to my heart, and it is hard
My relatives are now buying guns and using their locks religiously, which they never did
before. (The government makes buying guns so difficult, it makes me wonder when they'll
start banning locks, on the theory that they are "exclusionary".) My relatives are holding
their ground for now, but for how long? There isn't a working-class white who doesn't know
1) Any number of blacks in an area reduces the quality of life for Whites.
2) The more blacks, the worse thing get.
3) Once the number of blacks reaches a certain threshold, conditions become
intolerable and the neighborhood is irretrievably lost.
4) The longer Whites wait to leave, the worse their fate will be.
Despite this, some of my relatives still vote for Democrats, and many are unconcerned that
the area of Detroit where my parents grew up (the southwest side) is turning Mexican. I
guess the latter is based on the idea that anything on two legs is preferable to blacks.
And, to tell the truth, that part of Detroit is still better off than the all-black
wastelands in the rest of the city.
This year, Detroit is "celebrating" its 300th anniversary. Earlier this year, they dug up
a time capsule left by the whites who ran the city back in 1901. It was full of best
wishes, high hopes, and optimistic predictions for the coming century. I suspect that if
they had also dug up the remains of the authors of these letters, they would have found
them doubled over in a skeletal version of the dry heaves -- "YOU, our posterity??!!"
I'd like to rent a billboard near the city limits on behalf of all the dispossessed whites
of this area. On the left side of the picture would be Cadillac and his men planting a
fleur-de-lis flag in a green clearing by the river. On the right would be a troop
of blacks in front of a gutted crack house, displaying that angry glare of hostile
stupidity so typical of them when they spot a White on "their" turf. In the center there
would be a tombstone inscribed with the following legend:
City of Detroit
Built by Whites
Destroyed by Blacks
Lest We Forget
The last fifty years...
Last Sunday, the Detroit News started a five-part series on the history of a single
neighborhood in Detroit over the last 50 years. At a Father's Day party that day, it
initiated a lot of conversation, and for me, a lot of reflection on the city and my
family's history here.
The Jews have enshrined the Holocaust(TM) as the centerpiece of their collective memory,
and blacks have done the same with slavery (of course, White on black only). We Whites,
the people who built this nation and its cities, should develop a nice healthy grudge about
the expropriation and destruction of what should have been the pinnacles of our civilization.
Any mention of the fate of our cities should produce the same instantly hostile reaction on
the part of whites that "Holocaust denial" produces in Jews, and just about anything said
by Whites produces in blacks.
There is now an almost automatic revulsion among many Whites when discussing cities, and
this is understandable given who lives in them now. But this was not the case until very
recently. The ancient Greeks, our cultural ancestors, based much of their civilization on
the city-state. Our ancestors on this continent prided themselves on building "the city of
the future," whether it be Chicago, Buffalo, Detroit, or Los Angeles. Now, our shrines
have been turned into cesspools, and we should neither forgive nor forget those who did
this to them.
The series discusses one neighborhood, starting in 1951. It's not a coincidence that the
neighborhood was Jewish then. According to my parents, at that time, "Whites would sell to
Jews, but not to blacks, but the Jews would sell to blacks, and that's how they got
My parents lived at 12th and Seward at that time (about a mile south of the neighborhood in
the story), and still recall that the apartment building they lived in then was well-built
and beautiful. Then the blacks came, making crude sexual propositions to my Mom and other
White women, chasing down their own women with knives (these days, we've become so craven
that they do this to our women as well). Fifteen years after they moved, their old
neighborhood is where the 1967 riots began.
My Mom talked about the house where her parents lived then, on Livernois, and how proud her
mother was of that home. Now, that street is called "Niggernois" by those unfortunate
enough to have to venture there. One of my brothers is in that group, and despite the fact
that he is only there occasionally, then only in daylight, and parks his truck in a locked
and gated yard, he's been ripped off numerous times. Thieves and whores prowl constantly.
It's a zoo in reverse -- the human beings lock themselves in cages while the apes roam
The series is so "non-judgmental" that it stops at descriptions. But it's possible to
reach some conclusions from it.
1) The destruction of a healthy white community can occur with amazing speed. A thriving
city of two million, 83% White (Whiter than this nation is now), went in 25 years to one
with a black majority led by a White-hating black mayor. Another 25 years finds it 82%
black, its infrastructure crumbling, half the housing destroyed, the city government as
corrupt and incompetent as any in Africa. Without massive outside government aid, it would
2) Jews are a major catalyst in this process. The story points out their roles in passing
"fair housing" laws and their real estate agents working block-busting schemes on White
homeowners. This continues to this day -- the suburbs that the Jews moved to (e.g.
Southfield, Oak Park) are the first ones that changed to majority black.
3) No non-black, no matter how professedly liberal, can tolerate life in a majority black
neighborhood for very long. The Jews lobbied for "fair housing," then were the first to
sell out and head for the suburbs.
4) The process never stops, ever. When a black moves into a White area, his standard of
life improves, and that of his neighbors deteriorates. As long as this remains true, the
process will not stop.
5) It's coming soon, to a neighborhood near you. Count on it. If your community is
considered "too white," it will soon be in the crosshairs. If anyone doubts this, he
should read Dr. Pierce's latest broadcast.
* * *
The map on this page in Monday's installment of the story brings back my most vivid memory
of the 1967 riots. My family lived just west of the city, and the only way of getting
downtown quickly then was by taking Grand River Avenue, a wide boulevard lined with some of
the best shops in the city.
My grandmother was in a hospital downtown, so my Dad took several of us kids down to see
her. We saw mile after mile of broken glass, looted and burned stores, steel shutters
hastily put up to prevent more pillage. There were Army regulars every mile or so, and
when we got to the worst parts of the ruins, the soldiers stopped us and asked what we were
doing there. I was sitting directly behind my Dad, close enough to reach out the car
window and touch the M-16 the soldier questioning him was carrying. I didn't dare try it;
even kids could sense the tension in the air that night.
Another thing about the riots that I didn't find out about until much later on is that one
of my uncles had his small store burned and looted over on the east side. He had owned his
own business, but would spend the rest of his working life in someone else's pay.
Many of my ancestors lived on this continent a long time as farmers and other outdoorsmen
before finally moving to Detroit. But many of them moved directly here "off the boat", in
the 1850s and 1860s, when this was more of an overgrown village than a city. My German
ancestors were the first to arrive, and served in the Union Army during the Civil War (no
good deed goes unpunished). The Irish moved here shortly after the war. So, my family has
been here for half of the city's existence.
In July of 1862, the 24th Michigan Volunteer Infantry Regiment was enrolled at a patriotic
meeting at the Campus Martius, then a parade ground just north of downtown Detroit. Its
members came from Detroit and other Wayne County villages. Less than a year later, on the
first day of Gettysburg, the regiment fought a wearing, all-day fight west of the town,
suffering 80% casualties. I've often wished for a time machine in which to transport these
naive, idealistic young men through the following 140 years of their city's future. They
could watch it grow into a thriving city, before seeing its destruction at the hands of the
descendents of those they were being asked to liberate.
Would they still have gone to their deaths?
What would they think of us?
VNN readers may wish to visit "The Fabulous Ruins of Detroit" at --
In hundreds of heart-rending photographs, this site details the
destruction of White American urban civilization. The arty,
civic-booster tone -- "Gee, look at us trendies, painting murals on
shattered walls, holding a rap-music 'rave' in an abandoned factory
which used to provide income for hundreds of families" -- in no way
detracts from the stark reality.
This is an especially valuable resource for children who have never
seen anything other than subdivisions, office buildings, and Big Box
mall-stores with theft detectors and surveillance cameras everywhere.
They can see what a city once was.
The _Detroit News_ has a page, with photos, about the Detroit race
riots of 1943 at --
It illustrates how demand for workers to increase production for
White-fratricidal World War II doubled the number of blacks in Detroit
in a very short time, planting the seeds of its destruction.
"On June 4, 1941, the Detroit Housing Commission approved two sites
for defense housing projects--one for whites, one for blacks. The site
originally selected by the commission for black workers was in a
predominantly black area. But the federal government chose a site at
Nevada and Fenelon streets, a white neighborhood."
Of course it did.
The _News_'s obligatory anti-White viewpoint, again, does not blur
the reality that Whites don't want to live with blacks -- not "because of
the color of their skin," but because of what blacks do, in Detroit and