Resurrecting 'Black Eden:' Idlewild launches journey to restore resort's glory

Mark Hornbeck / Detroit News Lansing Bureau

IDLEWILD -- The unassuming, brown and pale yellow cinder block club sits on a hill overlooking azure Idlewild Lake, a silent, padlocked symbol of Black Eden's historic past and its uncertain future.

A peek inside at the splashy mural of surf, palms and flamingos suggests what this place once was: The Flamingo Bar, where African-American vacationers gathered on hot summer nights to escape the harsh realities of a color-conscious society and lose themselves in the sounds of some of the greatest entertainers ever to grace the planet -- the Four Tops, B.B. King, Sammy Davis Jr., Aretha Franklin, Louis Armstrong, Cab Calloway, George Kirby.

That the nightclub has been abandoned for three decades, like the community itself, the Flamingo's decline was an unintended casualty of self-inflicted wounds and of the 1964 Civil Rights Act that gave black people many other choices.

At the same time, the Flamingo is a boarded-up monument to Idlewild's stubborn inertia, a community torn between those who want to restore some of the heyday glory and those who cherish the memories of the "high-steppin'" times but now want to be left alone to enjoy the sleepy serenity of the northern Michigan woods.

The push for Idlewild's resurgence is part state and part federal. Federal money has been sent to the town for a museum and state grant dollars may eventually pay for historical markers.



"Idlewild is on a slow and gradual comeback, but it really needs an identity," said Ronald Stephens, director of African studies at Ohio University and a native Detroiter who has written a book about Idlewild.

"You have three groups there: Those who want no development at all, no urban-rural intersection; the retirement community that wants moderate development, some street lights, a few more paved roads, some restored buildings. And the resortists, who know Idlewild can't be what it used to be, but believe there's no reason it can't be an active, vital community."

The state is gently nudging Idlewild toward the latter approach. About a half-million dollars was spent to tear down derelict buildings, although many remain. A $93,000 grant is intended to restore historic landmarks, put up markers for tourists and plan a centennial celebration for 2012. Federal money was funneled to the township to build a small museum. The Department of Natural Resources wants to put in a fishing pier and boat launch on Idlewild Lake.

Gov. Jennifer Granholm has appointed a centennial commission that has met a couple times. She wants to see a renaissance in the town, about 35 miles east of Ludington and some 250 miles northwest of Detroit.

"We have this cultural gem inside Michigan," Granholm told The Detroit News. "Hopefully, we can restore it to lure visitors from across the country again. We want to focus on tourists and the idyllic location.

"The mapping out of the future has to be done in partnership with the community. There won't be 100 percent consensus, but there is a great desire to reinvigorate Idlewild."

A community divided
John Meeks, a 54-year resident and local businessman who has a stake in some of Idlewild's historic treasures, is among those pushing hard for redevelopment. " said Meeks as he slapped the hood of his van. "Idlewild to me is like an uncut diamond. We can bring people back; we can bring some of the entertainment back. But we have to get everybody on the same page and it's difficult." "It's like the state is saying to us 'wake up,'

Norman Burns, a 26-year resident whose family visited Idlewild in its prime, counts himself among the skeptical.

"I hear they're going to build this and that but I don't see it happening," he said. "I'm 100 percent for cleaning up the blight. Go ahead and fix up the Flamingo Club. But we can't come close to the heyday."

Yates Township Supervisor Donel Brown, whose jurisdiction includes Idlewild, acknowledges that there are "some citizens who'd prefer to keep things exactly as they are. We also have citizens who want moderate change so we're not the last outpost.

"We all want to have a clean, tranquil community citizens can be proud of and to open our door to let people see what Idlewild is about. This centennial is involving more and more people and could make the difference in bringing everybody together."



A national team of consultants with credentials in cultural tourism and community planning sees great untapped potential.

"Idlewild is a national treasure, and possesses the physical resources, history, authenticity and broad culture to achieve great success with economic development via cultural tourism," the team's 2-year-old report says. The panel encourages the state to "proceed as quickly as possible."

William Anderson, director of the Michigan Department of History, Arts and Libraries, who heads the centennial commission and the transformation initiative, said Idlewild is a work in progress.

'More than a resort'
Idlewild came to be in 1912, when a group of Chicago businessmen saw the need for a vacation spot for black Americans, who were barred from whites-only resorts. They bought land in Lake County and sold hundreds of lots for $35 -- $6 down and $1 a month. NAACP founder W.E.B. DuBois was among those who bought property. African-Americans from Detroit, Chicago, St. Louis and Indianapolis purchased lots and built homes.



"Idlewild became more than a resort; it was part of a movement of racial pride and development," wrote Lewis Walker and Ben Wilson in "Black Eden."

"To be a part of a development that offered relaxation away from the daily grind and racial bigotry ... was meaningful to many blacks who purchased lots in Idlewild."

Black Eden also attracted luminaries such as author Charles Chesnutt, whose cottage home remains intact and may become a bed and breakfast. Boxer Joe Louis hung out there. And in its prime in the 1940s to early 1960s, many black entertainers flocked to Idlewild to perform in the clubs, including the Flamingo, the Paradise, which burned down in the 1980s, and the El Morocco.

The decline began in the mid-1960s, when civil rights laws integrated other resorts and Midwestern African-Americans suddenly had a variety of options.

But Meeks said there were other forces at work that caused Idlewild to slide. He said some black youths intimidated white families who made up about 20 percent of the tourism base. Those families stopped coming.



He added that Idlewild businesses were slow to add modern conveniences, such as air conditioning and updated bathrooms.

"People can stop saying integration killed Idlewild," Meeks said. "It played a part, but there were many factors."

Vacationers have returned in recent years to see weekend concerts. This summer's music festival is July 10-12. A fine arts camp has started up. The Historic and Cultural Center hosts music and theater. "We're headed in the right direction," said Mabel Williams, 35-year Idlewild resident and widow of black activist Robert F. Williams.

"We can't have Idlewild the way it was. Nobody wants Las Vegas here. But given its historic significance, we can do economic development and have it be a historical attraction where tourists want to visit. We're making small steps."