Rachel (Life of a Female Bibliophile) and I have been reading books set in our respective “hometowns” for a long time, but this project is about making time to read a book set directly on the other side of the border in the other person’s hometown, at a time when borders are being wielded like weapons.

Of course reading about Detroit feels a little different now that Rachel and I have become friends (over reading books set in Japan, go figure)—as though I was imagining the book not only through my own eyes and the characters’, but through Rachel’s too. And even reading about Windsor, imagining what a Detroit reader might know or recognise, that changed my experience too.

Rachel’s hometown Detroit choice was The Turner House by Angela Flournoy which had been on her TBR for ages (another handy thing about reading projects, boosting a longtime shelfsitter out of your plans and into your hands). She first wrote about our project here, and she also designed the badge and created awesome graphics to display her choices. I loved how she chose historical photos for both her books and both cities, so that it was instantly obvious that she was travelling as a reader through both geography and time.

She chose Genevieve Graham’s Bluebird and wrote about it a few days ago; my Windsor choice is small-press and homegrown: in Five Days Walking Five Towns, Marty Gervais puts on his walking shoes and explores the five communities annexed into the city of Windsor, Ontario: Windsor itself, Riverside, Ford City, Walkerville and Sandwich.

The book is stuffed full of archival photographs: houses and taverns, manufacturing and industrial sites, shorelines and other landscapes.

Also a lot of parking lots: what remains after those structures were razed. Gervais was born and raised there. My grandfather lived there for much of his life too, and he played the violin on both sides of the border—crossing habitually, unthinkingly, like you might cross your own city—just naturally.

Very early on, crossing was more often by boat. And often welcome. As with the Great Fire of 1871, for instance, when there was a request for Detroit firefighters to come on the ferry and help battle the Windsor blaze.

But not always welcome. When a wealthy Windsor businessman attended a long-ago Detroit Tigers’ baseball game with his mistress one weekend, a reporter snagged a photograph of them and published it in the newspaper; to prevent his wife from seeing the photograph, he had to meet the ferry and buy out the print-run.

The Ambassador Bridge connecting the two cities opened in 1929 and, a year later, the Tunnel (which terrified me, but it was cheaper and, sometimes, quicker). And Rachel writes about this in her “Windsor-book” review too.

But cars weren’t important only for crossing the border, but built on both sides of it too.

Our Windsor reads, Rachel’s and mine.

(Bill: Tried to make this image zoom-able.)

All that started in 1904 with an agreement between The Ford Motor Company in Detroit and Gordon McGregor in Windsor; McGregor transformed the Walkerville Wagon Company into automobile production—the Ford Motor Company of Canada—later that same year.

And, why did the Ford Motor Company think that was a great idea? The answer resides in today’s headlines: tariffs.

Historically, McGregor could market to new customers in the British Empire and take advantage of preferential tariffs as the industry continued to grow. This worked for Americans and Canadians, and both “sides” profited.

By 1913, the workers in the plants earned $4/hour and, soon, people were coming from across the country for the stability those line jobs offered, particularly to immigrant families (Italians, Romanians, Serbians and Ukrainians). Soon, the Ford Motor company outgrew the wagonmaking site (Plant One opened in 1910, Two and Three in 1922 and 1937); demand grew so quickly, Chrysler and General Motors soon established business there too.

“In those days the Canadian plant depended entirely upon American sources for parts and supplies. Sometimes a vital nut or bolt fell down through a crack in the floor, delaying production until a replacement part arrived from Detroit.”

The news broadcasts about the current tariff disputes repeat the same refrain: the entire industry, parts and manufacturing, has developed on both sides of the border, with a presumption of cooperation. That each party commits to their role because it’s beneficial to both. By now, these are deeply ingrained patterns. Entire industries will need to pivot to reflect new economic policies that prioritise independence over interdependence, nationalism over international agreements.

But that industry didn’t only yoke economies but communities. Gervais talks about how he felt keenly the historical events affecting their American friends; they could hear the air-raid sirens from across the river during the war. And, when McCarthyism was in full swing, they worried for their friends on the other side.

The border brought (and brings) international connections to one’s doorstep. It created new partnerships, like the International Hockey League which not only included Detroit and Windsor, but also Chatham and Sarnia (1945-2001). But also new disruptions. In 1951, accusations erupted: illegal bookmaking in Windsor (race track betting) was said to have infiltrated Detroit. (And, now, the publicly stated concern is fentanyl, which is not actually flowing from Canada to the  United States.)

Surprisingly, for a local history book, quite a lot of what Gervais considers and highlights remains relevant today. Unless you have some familiarity with the exact area, or a keen interest in southwestern Ontario more broadly, it might not  hold the same appeal as it did for me. But, even then, if you enjoy history and ordinary people’s lives, you could simply enjoy the photographs.

Tomorrow, I’ll share my “Detroit-Book” which some of you may have read.