My Love Affair with the Detroit Central Train Station

Photo from the Architectural Digest, June 25, 2024

After arriving in the United States on March 17, 1949, on the army ship General Hann, from a war-torn Europe and living in the hustling and bustling East Village of New York City, at 87 St, Mark’s Place (7th Street), my mother temporarily placed my sister Chrystyna and me in the Ukrainian Orphanage in Philadelphia. Once the decision was made that Detroit offered her more job opportunities, we were reunited and traveled to Detroit by train.

I remember very little about the train ride, but upon arrival, I was very impressed with the Detroit Central Train Station on Michigan Ave. Upon disembarking, we walked up a long uphill ramp to the waiting room, where I saw soaring ceilings, floors, and walls covered in marble. I was dazzled by the gleaming chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. A deli stand with seats was in one corner. Crowds of beautifully dressed people were rushing every which way.

I attended Girls Catholic High School on Putnam Street, behind the Detroit Symphony Orchestra building. My classmate Vera Hnatushko’s parents rented the restaurant space in the Roosevelt Hotel across the Street from the train station. We would ride the Woodward bus and then take the Michigan Ave. bus to their restaurant to be gladly fed by her parents. Often, we would wander into the train station just for fun, but the steady decline became evident with time.

I often would depart from that station for other cities or meet friends upon their arrival up until the train station was closed.

The Central Train Station was abandoned for many years and fell into disrepair. Ford Motor Company recently purchased the station and renovated the building to its former glory. The neighborhood surrounding the station is a popular go-to area for restaurants.

My son Tanas photographed the deteriorating interior when the train station was in shambles. His photograph was honorably mentioned and displayed in a photographic art exhibit at the Scarab Club.

Every time I drive by the train station, I remember my first day in Detroit. The Detroit Central Train Station is one more fond memory of the many journeys in my life.