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5:30 p.m. Beneath a gray
September sky, kissed by rays
of a waning sunset, a few shut-
tered windows framed with
stone arches stare down from
the white faade of the old Jam
Handy building on Detroit's East
Grand Boulevard. Above the
arches, on a blue sign with faded
lettering, read the words, "The
Jam Handy Organization," tes-
tament to a bygone era when this
neighborhood housed an adver-
tising studio that owned many
of the buildings on the street,
employing between 500 and 600
people - General Motors its big-
gest client.
Down the block, in an aban-
doned gas station with graffi-
ti-stained pumps, weeds and
grass spring from cracks in
the pavement - a scene of ter-
rible beauty. A black cat wan-
ders the street, pausing briefly
and staring at its own tail, as
though curious or bored. A
man emerges from a nearby
home, taking out his trash. He
calls to the cat. "Where you
going?" he asks. "Huh? What
you doing?" A moment passes.
He laughs, shakes his head, and
then swings his trash bag into
the bin, before crouching low
on his front steps and lighting a
cigarette.
But inside the old Jam Handy,
the pace of life moves faster
this Sunday evening. Volun-
teers dash about the cavernous
warehouse, making last-minute
adjustments for the evening's
upcoming event that will tem-
porarily transform the space
into a hub of creativity: Detroit
SOUP, a monthly dinner that
uses money given by attend-
ees at the door to fund micro-
grants for community projects
seeking to improve Detroit.
For $5, anyone can attend
the dinner - which consists of
donated soup and salad - and
listen to four different present-
ers discuss their plans to better
the city. At night's end, diners
vote on which project to donate
the night's proceeds to. Projects
can range from a recycling edu-
cation program to a non-profit
dedicated to assisting relatives
of prisoners.
-' "Detroit SOUP reaches those
people you don't read about in
the news," said Kristen Selle,
whose MACC Lit literacy and
tutoring clinic won the August
2013 SOUP dinner. "It's grass-
roots. It's small and it's on a
very personal level."
Slowly, people arrive. Some
park cars in the gas station,
haphazardly filling up unused
space. Others arrive by bicycle
or by foot, gravitating toward
the entrance of the old Jam
Handy. Upon entering, smiles
and laughs are exchanged and
money is deposited in a large

steel pot.
In the room, people min-
gle. There's an excited buzz
to the atmosphere. Twenty-
somethings newly relocated to
Detroit for City Year swap sto-
ries with local residents about
urban farming initiatives and
entrepreneurial opportunities.
An iPhone playlist transitions
from Miles Davis's "So What" to
Outkast's "So Fresh, So Glean."
Next to the entrance, pinned
to the beige wall, paint peeling
from its surface, are handwrit-
ten signs advertising brands of
beer being served at the bar:
Pabst Blue Ribbon, Stroh's,
Miller High Life, Busch. The
beer is free, but $2 donations
are recommended. Eventually,
some people take their seats in
foldable chairs at long rectan-
gular tables, while others opt
for floor seating at tables assem-
bled from pieces of plywood,
covered with black tablecloths
and stacked on crates. On each
table rest two loaves of bread
and a candle.
Inspired by Sunday Soup, a
meal-based micro-grant dinner
started in Chicago in 2007 by
the arts research group InCU-
BATE, Detroit SOUP is but one
iteration of the Sunday-Soup
model. Similar micro-funding
projects have emerged in more
than 60 cities around the world.
In 2010, visual artist Kate
Daughdrill and Detroit musi-
cian Jessica Hernandez brought
SOUP to Detroit, holding the
first dinner above the Mexican-
town Bakery on a snowy Super
Bowl Sunday, with fewer than
40 artists. On that day, nobody
shared proposals. The goal was
simply to explore what SOUP
could be and what it could
become.
Since then, the event has
expanded and grown. It has
changed locations twice, find-
ing its current home at the old
Jam Handy. The types of pro-
posals receiving funding have
shifted from art to community-
based projects, often with a cre-
ative bent.
And with recent grants from
the Knight Foundation, United
Way of America and the Brooks
Family Foundation, SOUP
has begun neighborhood din-
ners based on the same model,
allowing Detroiters to give back
to Detroiters on a more regu-
lar basis, giving each other the
cash they need to spur their
ideas onward. To date, after 50
Detroit SOUP dinners, $50,674
has been distributed in micro-
grants.
"It's becoming a little bit
more formal, and it's becoming
a lot more rooted in the com-
munity," said Amy Kaherl, the
program's director.
See DETROIT SOUP, Page 4B

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