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September 10, 1981 - Image 64

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The Michigan Daily, 1981-09-10

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S

Page 4-C-Thursday, September 10, 1981-The Michigan Daily

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IT AIN'T WHA T IT USED TO BE
Ann Arbor, circa 1980

BY R. J. SMITH
The mind boggles at the number of
sociological studies, newspaper
editorials, political speeches, and
magazine articles devoted to telling us
that the students of today Aren't What
They Used To Be. The heart sinks.
But it's a message that deserves to be
delivered. Today's more introverted
students have tended to play less of a
role in the activities of the city at large.
Like a tether ball they wander so far
from the center of their life, the Univer-
sity, and then snap back.
THIS IS QUITE different from how
the city was only a few years ago. Let
us examine what is to be called the
Kiosk Interest Factor. (Kiosks are
generally cement obelisks upon which
posters, handouts, bumper stickers,
and other sorts of announcements are
put.) Just a few years ago, kiosks
around campus and bulletin boards
across the city were throbbing with all
kinds of screwball pronouncements.
There were notices for speeches by lef-
tist agrarian reformers, rightist Liber-
tarians, and all else between; shrewd

come-ons for unorthodox classes;
oodles of announcements for dances
and marches and bake sales and third
world music festivals. Which made for
a high KIF.
Poke around a bit, and you'll still find
all this stuff. But kiosks lately have
become concrete editions of The
Trading Times. They are increasingly
layered-over with announcements
hawking concert tickets, motorcycles,
dorm leases - flotsam and jetsam
from A to Z. Students selling to studen-
ts. What was once a useful tool for knit-
ting the student's lifestyle into the city's
has lapsed into a monument to
collegiate salesmanship.
THE DIFFERENCE between
townies and students goes a lot deeper
than just the fact that city kids
generally skateboard with a lot more
confidence than do collegians, or that if
you ask your average students if they
know where DeLong's Bar-B-Q Pit is,
they will most likely bite their lips and
whine "naw."
No, what distinguishes students from
the locals is the number of warts and

callouses on their feet. Your basic Ann
Arborite, if one may generalize, is ex-
tremely ped-antic - must go to work, to
school, to the Farmer's Market. No
available statistics have been published
on the subject, but one imagines the
podiatrists at Health Service play a
heck of a lot of golf. Most students
would rather stick around the cafeteria
or the near-at-hand fast-food joint tharr
forage for food. And if everything else
you need is basically close to you-
classrooms, movies, libraries, liquor -
well, why press on into the wilderness?
It is all very sad.
There's more emphasis, for better or
worse, on hard study these days - a
more powerful compulsion to turn the
University environ into a comforting
space station in the howling darkness of
space. But like Captain Kirk said, space
is the final frontier; to really do it up
right in Ann Arbor, you gotta do some:
hoofing - enough to get away from the
shadows of the bell tower. You have to
explore.
So, journeymen and women, it's time
See THERE, Page 7

w, .

1

Control' key
o future of
'inn Arbor.
development

By GREGOR MEYER
With a major research university, a core of high
technology business, and a considerable amount of
undeveloped land at its disposal, Ann Arbor has the
potential to become an economic oasis amidst the
financial chaos plaguing much of Michigan.
Community leaders, however, stress the need for
controlled development of industry in the area.
"For the first time ever (in Ann Arbor), lots of
people are attuned to the fact that you need economic
growth," said Jim Frenza, president of the city's
Economic Development Corporation and director of
the Chamber of Commerce. "However, we are not
mindlessly pro-development."
COMPARISONS WITH industrial explosions such
as Stanford University's Silicon Valley and the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology's Rt. 12, are
inevitable when discussing high technology develop-
ment, but city officials say Ann Arbor does not seem
to be heading in that direction.
"We can become an area that has a good niche in
high technology without having all the liabilities that
a Silicon Valley faces," said Mayor Louis Belcher. He
said the city can avoid problems like overcrowding,

higher housing costs, and traffic congestion by put-
ting an emphasis on "quality and good planning."
Ann Arbor's unique environment enables planners
to expand its economic base, enhance the quality of
education at the University in the face of declining
state support, and maintain the character and quality
of life in the city and surrounding townships.
"I'M CONFIDENT we can sustain growth without
becoming a blight to the area," said William Ince,
senior vice-president of operations at the Irwin Inter-
national electronics firm, and president of the
Michigan Technology Council.
The council is designed to provide a forum for in-
teraction among high technology leaders and enhan-
ce the positive relationship between the university
and industry. It also assists in the establishment and
growth of regional enterprises.
Ince and others say they think the council has
become the prime mover in aggressively developing
the attitude that Ann Arbor is a leading and expan-
ding industrial center. Cooperation with the Univer-
sity is vital to this effort.
"Anything the University does should not impede
academic progress," said Don Smith, Director of the

University's Industrial Development division.
Ince said University-industry interaction is
educationally beneficial. The University is improved
when industry solicits consultation from its faculty,
he said.
"The more that professors relate to real life and get
down to grass root problems, the more they learn and
become better professors," Ince explained. "The
graduates will therefore be better prepared."
James Duderstadt, Dean of the School of
Engineering, agrees that "involvement in real world
problems is critical. The lifeblood of engineering is
industry," he said. "But on the other hand, major
technological innovation occured in universities."
Duderstadt added that he thinks there needs to be a
combination of academic and industrial research.
The city should actively solicit companies from
other states rather than leave the responsibility to the
University and industry, according to Kenneth
Stephanz, president of Manufacturing Data Systems.
"The city should be at the head, and now they are
tagging along," he said. "The cart and horse are
reversed."
See LOCAL, Page 6

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.
44

The city, then and now

By MARY FARANSKI
LIcy Morgan, a Connecticutr iative
who came to Ann ARbor in 1831 (se''en
years after the city's founding), once
wrote, "It is the general opinion that
there is no better land than is to be
fouhd in Michigan. I do not feel as if I
should willingly return to either Ohio,
Newr York, or Connecticut to live. It is
so much pleasanter here."
'Aiis observation still holds true for
maby Ann Arborites, though there are
surbly many from those states who
might think otherwise. Nevertheless,
no one can argue that this city com-
bines the cultural diversity of a large
metropolis with the ambience of a
small suburban town. Ann Arbor allows
students, ranging from your baseball
cap toting fraternity man to your Prin-
ceton-educated law student, to enjoy
the numerous bars, restaurants, and
cultural activities in a setting devoid of
excbssive pollution and crime.
Despite the fact that the University
has played an integral role in creating
this atmosphere, it remains separate
from the city, which is rare in a large
college town. However, the history of
one is tied to the history of the other in
such a way that neither could have
grown to what it is today alone.
ANN ARBOR WAS founded in 1824 by
two entrepreneurs, John Allen and
Elisha Rumsey. Both low in money and
wanting to make quick fortunes on land
speculation, these enterprising men
came upon a spot 45 miles west of
Detroit, the only real village in the
Michigan Territory at that time.
Together they purchased 640 acres for
the total sum of $800!
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IV

, Several legends surround the naming
of the city, but the mopt widely-believed;
is tat "Anon" was chosen because both
founders had wives named Ann, and
"Arbbr" 'Feferred to groves or shady
"oak openings," one of which was
believed to exist in the area.
Allen and Rumsey registered the land
in Detroit. Soon Lewis Cass, governor
of the Michigan Territory, virtually
assured the survival of the new set-

and one classroom-dormitory structure
which was later called Mason Hall.
The next big event was statehood for
Michigan. In 1836, in the three-year-old
courthouse at the corner of Main and
Huron Streets, a convention rejected
the U.S. Congress' proposal in order to
win statehood. A later convention in the
courthouse reversed that decision and
in January, 1837, Michigan's star ap-
peared on the flag.

"Ann Arbor was founded in 1824 by two
entrepreneurs, John Allen and Elisha Rumsey ...
Together they purchased 640 acres for a total sum
of $800!"

tlement by making it the county seat of
newly-established Washtenaw County.
DETROIT NEWSPAPERS adver-
tised the availability of land in Ann Ar-
bor, and one year after its founding the
city contained 30 to 40 families, some
mills, and a small school and soon after
that, inns, stores, and a blacksmith
shop.
The year 1837 was important for the
village. First, the University of
Michigan, which was founded 20 years
earlier in Detroit, moved to Ann Arbor
after legislative action. Five leading
citizens of Ann Arbor bought 200 acres
of farmland east of State Street and
gave 40 acres to the new University.
The first structure associated with the
institution were four professors' houses

THE 1830 CENSUS showed a
population of 973 in the village, mostly
people of British descent. However,
there was one five-member black
family. In 1836 Ann Arbor was the site
of the passage of a resolution espousing
the cause of abolition and supporting
free blacks in gaining voting and
educational rights through the
Michigan State Anti-Slavery Society.
Business and media exploded in the
community, and on October 17, 1839, the
townspeople greeted the first train to
come to Ann Arbor on the newly-built
tracks which ran from Detroit. Soon af-
ter that, Huron Street featured a boar-
ding house catering to University
students.
Ann Arbor was incorporated as a city

and gained a charter and a mayor in
1851. By 1854, the city had grown to a
population of 3,339 and the University
had a student body of 224 with 17 faculty
members. The population was
becoming more heterogeneous, with
Germans, Irish, and blacks moving in.
DURING THE CIVIL WAR, local
businessman George Hill offered a
resolution that the people of Ann Arbor
"stand by the President of the United
States." Ann Arbor did stand by the
Republican Lincoln and continued to be
a Republican community until the late
1880s, when prohibition became an
issue.
A new city charter in 1867 extended
city limits. Laws expanded the area to
have boardwalks and forbade the
slaughtering of animals within city
limits.
In order to protect' the morals of
University students, moves began to
close gambling halls and brothels and
to ban obscene materials. The number
of saloons in the city grew from 10 in
1860 to 49 in 1872. Police were having an
increasingly hard time controlling the
growing population.
The city was hit hard by the
depression that followed the Civil War,
and many residents left the city. A nor-
th-south railroad connecting Saginaw,
Ann Arbor, and Toledo was put off
several times before its completion in
1878. During one of the doubtful stages,
the newspaper Courier rationalized,
"Every town cannot be a manufac-
turing place. Our city is a literary city,
and as such we are proud of it ... should
we attempt to carry on all kinds of en-
terprise we should fail. Everything for
our educational interests and nothing
for outside wild speculators, is our mot-
to."
PROSPERITY RETURNED later,
and with it a boom in the city and the
ever-present University, helped along
by state grants. Before the turn of the
century the city's population doubled
and the University student body tripled.
Modern services like electric lights,
water, sewer systems, paved streets,
and telephones appeared. They were
all supplied by private companies, as
city hall tried to keep taxes down.
The city drew up a new charter in
1889 which gave executive power to the
mayor and legislative power to city
council. The Republican party briefly
fell out of favor with citizens of Ann Ar-
bor through their support of
prohibition, but dominated City Hall.
until recently.
Student spending during the first two
decades of the 1900s stimulated local
industrv .Althnch the auin duStv

State Stre

Streets in the University area were
unsafe for pedestrians because of the
increased number and speed of cars.
Student driving had to be controlled by
encouraging parents to keep the
students' cars at - home, forbidding
driving near campus except by per-
mission, and drawing up laws
prohibiting more than two adults in the
front seat and sitting in the driver's lap.
Things had come a long way from the
city's first auto, built by Staebler and
Son Cycle Specialists,(which was aban-
doned after it had difficulties climbing
hills).
The years of the first world war were
characterized by tensions in the city
between the tight German community,
founders of city breweries, and the rest
of the citizens. University enrollment
declined as young men went off to fight.
POSTWAR PROSPERITY made the

Bentley Historical Library «"'
et, 1893
dropped and construction of buildings.
for the institution, which was a big part
of the city's life during the 1920s, camer
to a halt.
The mobilization for World War II
helped Ann Arbor recover. In 1945 a
multi-lane highway to Detroit was
opened, and the city grew and diver-.
sified after the armistice.
Technological advances at the Univer-
sity played an important role both
during and after the war, giving the city
the nickname "Research Center of the
Midwest.
THE WAR ALSO marked the end of
Ann Arbor's existence as a sedate
college town. The population had grown
to 30,000 and the students numbered
more than 12,000.
The Republican Party domination of
local politics began to falter in the 1960s
because of the increasing diversity of
the city's population, and student votes

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