Cass Corridor neighbors vow to save Detroit park: 'It's heartbreaking'

Kat Stafford | Detroit Free Press

Memories ran through Patsy McMahon's mind as she gripped the fence of the padlocked Brainard Hills Park next door to her Cass Corridor home.

It’s where she married her husband, George McMahon, in 1968, a year or two before the land was officially designated as a small community pocket park by the now-shuttered St. Patrick Catholic Church in Midtown.

And for the past five decades, the couple has spent much of their lives tending to the park at 469 Brainard near Cass Avenue, hosting countless picnics and parties for generations of children who grew up in the neighborhood.

But now, the park's future is at risk, and the McMahons and other community members have pledged to do everything they can to save it — even if that means embarking upon a potential legal battle after the Detroit Archdiocese quietly sold the land in March to a couple who has expressed a desire to redevelop the half-acre plot.

[On Detroit's RiverWalk, plans are being made for a park that includes a 'huge sandbox designed to feel like a beach.' Tap to read more.]

The park is less than a mile north of the Little Caesars Arena that's under construction.

“We called (the Archdiocese) and a woman said she would call back in a few weeks but that call never came," Patsy McMahon, 82, said, adding she also sent a letter. "We were totally surprised when this guy came and said he bought the park. We couldn’t believe it. … If they turned it into something else I would cry. I feel like I will have lost part of my life. This feels like gentrification. It's heartbreaking.”

According to city assessor records, the land, which is valued at $221,000, was sold by the Archdiocese for $5,000 on March 15 to Simply Well Communities, a company registered to Detroit resident Kimberly Williamson.

But Williamson's attorney, Lawrence Walker, told the Free Press last week his client "exchanged real estate" with the Archdiocese. According to the community members, the Archdiocese traded the park for a parking lot near the Sacred Heart Major Seminary on the city's west side.

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Williamson owns the land with her husband, Lawrence Williamson, who is the associate director of housing for the City of Detroit.

And although Lawrence Williamson is a city employee, he hasn't broken any rules by purchasing the land, according to Detroit Corporation Counsel Melvin Butch Hollowell.

Hollowell said in a statement to the Free Press on Monday that the city charter requires certain employees and officials to disclose any ownership interest in real property if it is subject to city regulation.

"Also, if the city itself had any interest in property being sold or transferred, it would be subject to prior approval by the City Council," Hollowell said. "In this case, neither provision applies since neither a city official nor the city itself have any interest in the property.”

In an e-mail to the Free Press, Archdiocese of Detroit Director of Communications Ned McGrath said the park was previously "under the care" of the St. Patrick Parish, which the Archdiocese closed in May 2015.

“Its geographical territory was given to the care of three nearby parishes: Blessed Sacrament Cathedral, Most Holy Trinity and St. Aloysius,” McGrath wrote. “As is standard practice in such circumstances, the Archdiocese of Detroit took over care of St. Patrick’s property … until a determination was made on future use. Being no deed restriction or acquired interest by others in the Brainard property, it was sold March 14th of this year.”

But Patsy and George McMahon, who were parishioners at St Patrick's until its closure, said there was an original deed that restricted the use of the land, saying it had to be used as a park and if it wasn't it would go back to the church. She said the couple has searched tirelessly for the deed but has yet to find it.

“The Archdiocese has really just had to pay the insurance,” she said. “We never asked them to maintain it or take care of it. George and I have paid people to keep it clean. We replaced the roofs on the shelters when they were going bad. We repaired the fences in the back when they were starting to go bad. We, the community, did that. The contributions of the Archdiocese were minimum.”

Francine Dorn, another nearby resident, said the community was unaware that the land was even for sale. Dorn said many neighbors were upset when the park was recently padlocked and a newly purchased swing set removed.

"We had all been members forever," she said, clutching family photos taken at the park. "They didn’t contact people who had maintained the park or who had been parishioners to even let people know they had an option."

McGrath declined to comment further on the matter.

Walker said his clients purchased the property fair and square in an arm's-length transaction, and pushed back against the notion that the community has rights to the park.

"There were no indications whatsoever that this was something to be dedicated as a park and a matter of fact, there is no such restriction on it," Walker said. "I know these good citizens allege that they have always used it as a park or they have maintained it as a park with the permission of the Archdiocese, but that's not a legal basis to take someone's property away from them."

It's not yet clear what the Williamsons plan to do with the land, but a Green Garage profile of the business states the couple designs "living spaces."

According to the page, the couple moved to Detroit from southern California three years ago. The profile goes on to say that the couple "noticed the excessive blight and barely livable neighborhoods Detroit offers" and decided to set out on a journey to pull Detroiters "from the snares of poverty, mental illness and obesity."

"I don't know what the intentions of the Williamsons are but these people just can't take someone else's land from them just because they've had the beneficial use of it," Walker said.

Clara Doutly, 95, has seen the community change in the near century that she has been alive, but for her, the park has been a mainstay. Doutly said she spends her time now relaxing at the Parsons Senior Center or at the park with the McMahons, whom she has known for more than 30 years.

"All the years that I've been coming here, when the children got here they were just happy," she said, standing outside of the locked park. "People come from all over. It was our place to go. It was just a lovely affair. It gives children a chance to know people care about them."

Nine-year-old Sebastian Dorn said he's worried that he will no longer have a place to play near his home. His mother, Rachel Dorn, said most of the children in the neighborhood live in apartments and don't have an actual backyard.

"You could just come here anytime," Sebastian Dorn said. "It was open to everybody. It makes me sad that it might not be a park anymore."

Walker said his clients, who declined to comment directly to the Free Press, hold no ill will against the community near the park but he's prepared to represent the Williamsons if the situation escalates to a lawsuit.

"If there is somebody who wants to bargain to buy it or exchange, I'm sure the Williamsons would listen," Walker said. "... But whatever they do is going to be a decision they make, not something the people in the neighborhood force them to. That's up to the community if they want to pay an attorney to proceed on a frivolous case."

Patrick Dorn, executive director of the nonprofit Cass Corridor Neighborhood Development Corp., said his organization attempted to negotiate purchasing the property from the Williamsons but they weren't interested. The CCNDC owns several affordable housing apartment buildings in the Cass Corridor area.

"We have a lawyer and we’re thinking about suing because there’s something with squatters rights," Dorn said. "If you maintain a property for 50 years, you get some sort of claim to it. We’re going to fight this in whatever way we can.

"There's a tradition and a sacred ground here and once you build that, it takes years to build something like it. To lose that tradition overnight is devastating for our family. We worked all our lives to make this neighborhood a working great neighborhood and now we’re getting pushed out through gentrification."

Contact Katrease Stafford: kstafford@freepress.com or 313-223-4759.