It's a fun little neighborhood, really. A neighborhood with patina, if you will. Very much unlike the suburban sprawl, where everyone has a big garage bludgeoning the front of the house, and little sucky steel front door with a peephole, and a bunch of neighbors they've never even seen, let alone met.
Indian Village, officially, consists of all the stuff between Jefferson and Mack, Seminole and Burns, roughly three miles east of downtown Detroit. Find Van Dyke and Jefferson on a map, and you're 2 blocks west of it. They started building it in 1896 for the big-time shooters of Detroit. These were seriously rich people, at the time. If we blur over the middle part, Detroit property values took a dump, as did the neighborhood, and in the last 15-25 years, various types of weirdos-- err, people-- have been fixing it up. Of course the city took notice, and they're very happy to tax the crap out of anyone living here. Nasty trade-off. (We're taxed by cubic volume of the house, not square footage. Can you believe that filth?)
Anyway, we rented a carriage house for about a year in 1995-1996, and bought us a big, shabby house in August, 1996. I've written a little report on our first visit to the place on Burns St., plus a follow-up.
I took a lot of pictures of the houses in Indian Villages. Basically a catalog, as they're not professional architectural shots. (I came to appreciate professional photos of homes after seeing some of the work of Indian Village resident Glen Moon.)
updated: 26 June 2000