Priceless antiquities

"Look at this. It's worthless - $10 from a vendor in the street. But I take it, I bury it in the sand for a thousand years, it becomes priceless." - Belloq, Raiders of the Lost Ark

The contents of the Accidental Duplex are far from 1,000 years old. All of that stuff is also far from priceless. However, a lot of these things are fascinating. The building is full of random surprises. None of these items are as sought after as the Ark of the Covenant, and the Accidental Duplex can be a bit like the hole the Ark came out of, but it is full with just about as many surprises. So far none of them have caused anyone's face to melt or head to explode.

However, it's fun to wonder how these random treasures ended up there. So I am starting a new section called Priceless Antiquities, which will profile all of the curious crap I am coming across in the Accidental Duplex. The first items are the game boards for Monopoly and Clue.



I found these among a pile of mostly tools near the Accidental Duplex's backdoor shortly after entering the building. There were no boxes or game pieces nearby, just a couple of warped pieces of cardboard for board games based on building up real-estate holdings and figuring out a mystery. Further proof that God has a sense of humor.

Suitcase full of drug money...

Everyone has a theory about what's inside the Accidental Duplex. These theories range from construction equipment (me) to a dead body (just about everybody else). My dad believes there is a suitcase full of drug money. My wife says it's much more likely there is a dead body.

Such musings didn't stop my dad from dreaming. He believed his suitcase-full-of-drug-money theory so much that he talked his way into coming along when I opened up the Accidental Duplex. In fact, when I told him I planned on opening it with a cop buddy of mine, dad suggested I not bring him along. My friend (a Detroit PD officer) would have to report the cash and turn it over it to the city, dad explained. When I suggested bringing along my sister-in-law's boyfriend (a former Marine sniper) my dad advised against it. We would have to cut him a share, too, he said.

I chuckled when dad told me this. My wife was ready to ban him from the Accidental Duplex. She pointed out that even if there was a suitcase full of drug money, it's highly unlikely its owner would not miss it. Drug dealers don't just write off loses like that because a couple of bald, middle-aged white guys decided to walk away with their suitcases full of drug money. It's more than likely that we would have met someone like this while trying to walk away with his suitcase full of drug money.



Unfortunately, there was nothing Hollywood about what we did find in the Accidental Duplex. It was literally filled with random crap. Four floors of stuff that most people wouldn't use a word like value to describe. We did find a couple of suitcases. Actually, we found two suitcases and four trunks, including an old U.S. Army footlocker.



There was no drug money. No money at all, much to my dad's disappointment. There were also no body parts, thankfully. Both suitcases and all four trunks had the same thing inside of them.

Urban Spelunking

I walked through the Accidental Duplex recently. Well, crawled and climbed through in spots would be a more accurate description. My dad was in town and wanted to see the inside, partly because he's intrigued by the whole thing and partly because he's convinced their is a suitcase full of abandoned drug money hidden inside (more on that later).

The last time I had been inside I had managed to make my way into the kitchen. I choose not to go much farther because there was a large, overturned love seat in my way and I was alone. That didn't even slow my dad down when he got that far. So much for senior citizen stereotype. We crawled past the rest of the junk in the kitchen and found fire damage, lots of of it. Looks like an intense fire had burned through this side of the building by the kitchen, bathroom and stairway.

The next easiest path was to the basement, which also suffered from fire damage. There was also a lot of stuff down there. Go to the other side of the basement and the fire damage disappears. It turns out the side of the duplex furthest from the back door dodged most of the fire damage. However, both sides are about equally full of junk. The fire side of the duplex has stuff thrown all over it. The other side has it mostly stacked.

Most of the stuff is on the first and basement floors. It begins to clear out in the second and third floors. Those floors have a lot of stuff in them in spots, but they also have empty rooms. Someone had even tried to sweep the floor in one of the rooms. Getting up to these floors is a little bit of a trip. Two of the staircases are badly damaged. One up to the second floor is passable, but just barely. The other leading up to the third floor is non-existent. Luckily there are mirror staircases on the other sides that are solid.

The third floor has a room and a half each and big hole that should have a door in it that leads to the back flat roof. When we got out there you could see for a while. The flat roof is pretty solid. The peaked roof was in the middle of a reshingling before the previous owner stopped. Some of the architectural shingles were nicely laid. The rest of it is either tar paper or cheaper rolling shingle material on it.

Getting from the basement to the penthouse and back again was tough because of the fire damage, but the real challenge came from all the junk everywhere. Here are some of the highlights we found: old Troy Athens HS computers, numerous cases of carpet detergent, skis, plastic flowers, a Nordic Trac, fire damage, a crash helmet, intact fine china, an old Army trunk and a gymnastic balance beam. However, we did not find a suitcase full of drug money. My dad remains hopeful.

Hoarders Paradise

Ever watch the TV show "Hoarders" and think, 'Thank God, I don't live like that. How do people get to that point?' Or worse yet you see it and realize, 'OMG, that's the old lady across the street' or your grandparents or the house you grew up in. Well, I opened up the Accidental Duplex and quickly realized that house is now my house.

From the outside, it appears the easiest point of entry to the Accidental Duplex is through the backdoor. Well, don't judge this duplex by its exterior. I was only able to open it about three inches at first because it was so full of junk. A lowered shoulder and a sucked-in gut allowed me to get in enough to actually open the door. This is what I found:



Getting that far, to where you can physically stand in the house or at least its back porch, took more than an hour. I came back another afternoon and started to really dig into the back porch of crap. Maybe it all of this stuff was just concentrated toward the end of the house? At the end of Day 2, it became obvious the answer was no. I was able to get into the kitchen, which was filled with even more crap than the back porch. Much more crap. After about four hours I was able to move enough stuff around and take enough stuff out I could get about six feet inside the kitchen. From there I could see farther into the Accidental Duplex and there was even more crap everywhere. However, to trail blaze that far into the structure I had to take this out of it.



Among the items in there were milk crates filled with old keyboards (think Apple II), a rolling cooler, bottles of new Sierra-brand anti-freeze, a police tricycle for kids and commercial-grade garbage bags. The latter of that really came in handy. So three huge garbage bags later I was able to put a lot of back inside and still be able to walk through it and lock the door.

Other duplexes of note...

I have always had a bit of a fascination with multi-unit housing. There are a number in my neighborhood that I have admired and even thought of buying. For instance, my friend Dave owns a late 19th Century duplex in the Cass Corridor. What I wouldn't give to own something like this:



(Courtesy of my friend Dave)

There is also this beauty on the historic Canfield block not far from my loft:



(Courtesy of Nate Luzod)

I have been inside the Canfield Duplex and, wow, is it a project. Not only is it a project but one that a couple of other people have tried to tackle, unsuccessfully, over the years. The most recent attempt was just before the housing crisis landed. One thing I remember was the expression "F$%& OFF!" written in scraggly red spray paint in its basement. That didn't do much to dispell its haunted house persona.

The most recent duplex to catch my eye is the reputed Arthur Miller duplex in downtown Ann Arbor. A recent story in AnnArbor.com tells how the University of Michigan recently purchased this Victorian duplex adjacent to the university's Central Campus. That usually means the building will be razed to make room for another university expansion. However, my Dad and I talked about the idea of moving it a few blocks to our family's vacant lot a few blocks away if the university would play ball. It's a definite long shot, but who wouldn't want a duplex like this?

Conversation starter

Turns out my Accidental Duplex is quite the conversation starter. Usually just the words "Accidental Duplex" are enough to grab someone's attention. Once I say those words, everyone turns their head, cocks it and asks how those words end up together. When I explain how I accidentally bought a duplex and for how little, that just draws them in even more. Wows and small gasps normally follow.

I know a number of people who have thought of investing in Detroit and decided not to for one reason or another. When I have told them about the Accidental Duplex, they stop and you can actually see the wheels turning in their heads. The wife of one of these friends told me how he couldn't stop talking about my purchase and how he wanted to make one of his own now. Turns out people will flinch at paying six, five or even four figures for property in Detroit. Mention you paid a couple hundred bucks and they start to pay attention.

The thing is, this all sounds amazing on the surface. The reality is the Accidental Duplex is a huge project. It's going to cost tens of thousands of dollars and years of effort. I am happy for the project and ready to take it on, but the only easy thing about it is how I accidentally ended up with it. That and it's an easy way to get a conversation going.

Cutting down the wild kingdom

One of the things I like to brag about is I don't own blight. It's sort of my civic-minded merit badge in a city that inspired the term ruin porn. Yesterday, I started to eliminate the blight at the Accidental Duplex.

Now I am only about 99 percent sure I own the duplex, but I am 100 percent sure that I own a large chunk of the vacant lot next to it. The space where three or four houses used to stand is now fallow urban prairie, growing wildly and collecting trash. Job No. 1 became taming what was quickly becoming wild kingdom.

The original plan called for a fast pickup of the trash and then giving the grounds a quick mow with a friend's lawnmower before winter sets in. I figured this entire job would take about an hour, maybe two, including the time to push the lawnmower half a dozen blocks to the Accidental Duplex and back again. So I bribed my friend with a six-pack of LaBatt Blue for lawnmower time and I shared one with him while watching part of the Lion's game before heading out.

It didn't take long for reality to remind me these sorts of projects always take twice as long on a good day, even on beautifully crisp autumn days when the sun shines on you. Picking up the trash easily took half an hour, including sorting out the recyclables. Then giving it a once over with the push mower at the highest its deck would raise took hours. Those weeds and near bushes of crab grass didn't go down without a fight. So it went from looking like this:




To this:



The mower constantly kicked up new trash I had no idea was there. By the end I had uncovered numerous empty water bottles, dead chip bags galore, a "Celebrate Learning" Frisbee, an empty bottle of laundry detergent, an election yard sign, shredded tires for a car and a lawnmower, a left shoe and parts of a car frame. I believe this is just what gets thrown and blown into the lot over a few years. I don't think anyone purposely dumped garbage here, which is not an uncommon occurrence in Detroit. Here is a sampling of what I pulled from the budding urban prairie.



After the game, my friend called to check on me and his mower. I missed the call. An hour later he decided to check on me with his two dobermans to make sure I was still alive since the sun was going down. He caught me while I was finishing mowing. Mowing ate up so much time, I didn't even have a chance to cut back scrubs trees and dead limbs. I was able to give his mower the workout of its life. His yard is the typical Detroit postage stamp size front and back city lot. The Accidental Duplex's vacant lot is easily 10 times that size if not bigger. But the Craftsman push mower did the trick and cut grass like a champ. At least now it looks like someone cares a little for the place.