Detroit, concrete jungle where dreams are made

It is fitting that the last place I stopped before heading to the UK to start my MBA at Oxford’s Said Business School was Detroit. I have been to Detroit once before, for a wedding, but this time, I had the opportunity to visit my fiance’s cousin Marissa, and her husband Jon, who are young, hardworking people who have decided to reclaim Detroit as a place of their own.

What I saw on this visit to Detroit amazed me. Yes, of course there was poverty. Yes, tons of homes in neighborhoods across the city lay condemned or abandoned, but I also saw a hope for the future.

Want rental income? Great; buy a house for $1,000, fix it up, and open it as a rental property on Airbnb. Don’t like the quality of bagels? No problem, open your own bagel shop. Want to make sure your children eat only locally sourced food? Sure you do, so open an organic, locally grown co-op with your neighbours.

In my native New York, it is very difficult to open a small business. From paying sky-high rents to managing complex city regulations, if you wanted to open a bar in a trendy area, say, Williamsburg, Brooklyn, it would likely be a multi-year ordeal that would start with finding the real estate and then fighting the local community board to allow another bar in the neighborhood.

In Detroit, the early stages are easy. With so many abandoned properties that you can buy for pennies on the dollar, the dream is still alive for entrepreneurs. At Detroit’s Eatern Market, I witnessed dozens and dozens of home-grown food operations growing and thriving. Back in Brooklyn, every second hipster is “co-founder” of an artisanal kombucha beer brewing company yet still can’t pay his own rent.

Most importantly, I heard stories of people who were given second chances. For example, one man was squatting inside an abandoned house that was purchased for about a thousand dollars by Marissa’s father. He then asked the man if he wanted to work on the house in exchange for continuing to live there. Today, the man owns a truck, rents his own apartment, and works for Marissa’s father on other real estate development projects.

I also heard less sappy tales based more on free will than on economic need: from a cantor who opened the perfectly roasted coffee shop of his dreams to Marissa’s high school social studies teacher who left education to open a Spanish tapas restaurant, stories of second chances abounded.

I recognise that what I witnessed in Detroit was the result of years of labour, and that change didn’t happen overnight. Of course, all was not hunky-dory along the way. But the results surprised me, and they surprised me for good. There is a light at the end of Detroit’s tunnel.

For me, undertaking the MBA is a bit like getting a second chance. Having started my career in journalism with only hints of a business education picked up primarily through the Wharton Venture Initiation Program, which I was selected for while I was an English major at the University of Pennsylvania, and a couple of internships, I am thankful that I have this opportunity at age 30 to, as my friend Brian Reich puts it, “shift and reset.” I understand that few people have the opportunity to ever go back to school. Once you have a family, the idea becomes pretty much kaput for most people. So, in that sense, I look forward to sucking up knowledge for the next year.

My dad always told me, in regards to picking stocks, buy low and sell high. Detroit may never get to be “high” but it certainly a fertile place for entrepreneurs who are big on ideas and short on cash to experiment. After this trip, I wonder: would a place like Detroit make the most sense for me to go after business school? Would it be like going to the Wild West in the 1800s, starting with nothing, and then incubating an idea, a business, a project (or many!)?