Remembering Chaldean Town

Joseph and Steve Kada, the owners of S&J Meats, are among the last of the legendary businesses that once populated Chaldean Town.

By Adhid Miri, PhD

It is often said that our Chaldean history in the USA has evident Mesopotamian roots.

Looking back on our immigration saga, it kicks off with the Chaldean-American frontier period, goes through the hardships of the fifties, the tough years of assimilation, and the frenzy of life caused by the rush to riches. Mix in the political turmoil in Iraq and worries about relatives, and you get some defining moments in our history.

But it wasn’t all war, crime, and violence. The early arrivals helped move the community forward toward innovative ideas and identities. A pioneering spirit, quest for success, and the combined love of old and new countries were all positive outcomes we continue to see today from that glorious past.

More than 500,000 people of Middle Eastern descent live in metro Detroit, and combined, they generate billions of dollars in economic activity. Although the road to self-reliance can take years due to language and cultural barriers, the influx of refugees has been a boon to the regional economy. Everyone wants to pursue the American Dream.

A New Homeland

Chaldeans from Iraq began coming to Detroit a century ago. In the 1960s, they began pouring in, some to join their families, some to escape the persecution that this Christian minority faced over the years in their ancestral homeland. Metro Detroit now is home to an estimated 200,000 Chaldeans. Tens of thousands of them started their lives in Chaldean Town; at one point, a quarter of the area’s Chaldeans lived there.

Due to a stream of immigrants attracted to the already pre-established Chaldean community and the monopoly they had over certain industries, the neighborhood boomed in the seventies. The passage of the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 ended the United States’ decades-old policy of limiting immigration based on nationality, thereby enabling an influx of Chaldeans to the neighborhood.

They settled in the Penrose neighborhood which flanks 7 Mile between Woodward and John R., where some streets had homes so old, they didn’t have driveways because they were built before cars were invented. There was barely space to walk between them. The crowded housing meant a life intertwined with the neighbors, not unlike their lives in Iraq. Literally, the whole community was within reach.

On scorching summer nights or warm summer afternoons, without the luxury of air conditioning in their homes, men, family, and friends would sit and socialize on small porches. Usually dressed in their white “wife-beater” shirts (Fannelah), under-shorts, pajamas or dishdashas, they would watch the kids play in the street, worry beads in hand, drinking tea, beer, or their favorite Arak — often with a loud transistor radio listening to the famous Egyptian singer Um Kalthoum singing Inta Umri while enjoying grilled Tikka Kabab (Jarihyatha) as Mezza.

The new immigrants started businesses and brought relatives to work in them, passing down ownership through their families. By the close of the 1970s, their stretch of 7 Mile was dense with dozens of little bakeries, specialty stores, ethnic restaurants, and social halls.

Seventy-five percent of the people who came from the old country didn’t drive, and the small-town walkability of their new neighborhood appealed to them. They could walk to the meat market and walk to the coffeehouse. Everything they needed was there.

The Glory Days

The 7 Mile and Woodward neighborhood has distinct advantages. Centrally located amid sprawling metro Detroit, it is a mile south of the Oakland County border, about a 15-minute drive from downtown and less than a mile from new developments on the site of the old state fairgrounds. Across Woodward to the west sit the mansions of Detroit’s historic Palmer Woods district and some of Detroit’s most desirable neighborhoods.

In their heyday, landmarks like Yaldo, Jerry’s and Fatoohi Markets, Iraqi Bakery, Golden Star Bakery, Beirut Pastries, Bahi, Faraj Abro’s Firdous (Paradise), Royal Kabab, Mr. Kabab, Al-Shimal, Dijla, Sullaf and Mosul restaurants, and Ramzi Acho’s Great Lakes Fish and Seafood Wholesale offered a taste of Iraq here in Michigan.

The famous barber shops of Slewa Yono, Wadi Barash and Golden Scissors were great places to get caught up on the happenings in the neighborhood. Sadly, all of these establishments as well as Bashar Salha Spring Music and Productions, Dr. Shakib Halabu Dentistry, Dr. Yousif Goriel clinics, and most auto repair shops are all closed. Also extinct are the first medical clinic of Dr. Albert Kuhn- MD and the first pharmacy of Najah Sitto (Babylon Pharmacy).

The neighborhood suffered an economic decline that is severe even for Detroit. During the sixties through the late 1990s the area was hard hit by economic and population losses, to wealthier suburbs like West Bloomfield, Southfield, Farmington Hills, Bloomfield Hills, and Troy. Most of the Chaldean population and businesses are now gone. But its glory days live on in memories.

The Chai-khana

Coffee and tea houses (Chai-khanas) were a mainstay in Chaldean Town and the center of entertainment for years. They were for men who enjoyed playing cards, billiards, and backgammon before or after going to the DRC or Hazel Park racetrack. They were a place of gathering and played a significant role in making sure the community stayed connected, as one close-knit family, and that clients and visitors felt like they were at home.

There were no menus at the Chai-khanas; all the customers knew what was available. There were few grilled choices, and the entrées (if any) were whatever the cook made that day. Depending on when you were there, the smoke from the charcoal grill was thick and the whole scene was a bit chaotic; it was a personal place, and that is partly what made it fun.

An old Chai-Khana on 7 mile that has since shut down.

The first Chai-khana in the area was opened by Bottani Abro and Fouad Garmo and was later converted by Father Yasso to the Chaldean Church. Another pioneering coffee and tea house was owned by Salim Malak. Perhaps the most popular Chai-khana on the north side of 7 Mile was the one owned by Jabbouri (Gabriel Rabban) and Adil Aqrawi. Jabbouri sold it to Habbi and Akram Kassab, who did very well and were profitable for years. Zuhair Shina, Ramzi Zakar, and Emad Samona owned one on the south side of 7 Mile Road. It was later sold to Sabah Siman and Makhou Bashi. At one time Malak Anan had a Chai-khana, and Sabah Qadesha (Ayar) opened a Chai-khana at the site of the famed Yaldo Market building.

Interestingly, these operations were incognito, almost clandestine in their nature, for there were no door signs, banners, or establishment names on any of these buildings, just a number. However, every gambler in the area knew exactly what they were and what they offered. People would come late at night and hang out all day; many establishments stayed open until 4 in the morning and were always busy.

The exterior of these operations was nondescript, the doors, windows (if any) were foggy, tinted with tobacco smoke, and covered with a combination of thick layers of frying oil. Ventilation being non-existent, the indoor odor was distinct, with the occasional exceptions upon opening the back kitchen door to allow for a short breeze.

The Raid

The Chai-khanas were a social magnet and the gambling mecca of their time, long before the arrival of MotorCity, MGM, and Greektown Casinos in Detroit, and were often a target for police from the second precinct across Woodward Avenue.

On a cold December night in the late seventies, police officers raided one of the crowded coffee houses looking for local gamblers and bookies. They came in large groups, surrounding the building and placing police dogs by the front and back doors.

Inside, the authorities set a table and one-by-one searched the crowd, collecting their cash and jewelry (including many gold crosses) and issuing receipts for the confiscated items. A few patrons attempted to escape through the back door, but the dogs were waiting for them, ready to attack. They quickly returned to join their friends that were stranded facing the wall. Chaldeans fear dogs more than police!

As the squad was about to wrap up their job collecting the trophies, one of the men turned to his poker friend and said, “I have $600 hidden in my socks, I keep them safe and away from the inspections by my wife. What should I do?” The wise friend said, “Why did you not declare them? Call the police back and they will give you a receipt.”

The honest man shouted to the police as they were leaving, “Sir, I have $600 in my socks, do you want them? The police officer, stunned by the unexpected declaration, reportedly said, “Give it to me, you MFer, and here is your receipt!”

Saddam Hussein and Sacred Heart

The Sacred Heart Chaldean Church was located in the East 7 Mile neighborhood and was built in 1975 using Chaldean Revival architecture. The original architect was Mike Sitto, who was also instrumental in designing the Mother of God Church and Southfield Manor.

Strangely enough, one of Chaldean Town’s earliest and most notable boosters was Saddam Hussein, the infamous dictator of Iraq.

Fr. Yasso, pastor of Sacred Heart Church, congratulated Hussein in 1979 on his new presidency and told him that he was going to name the church after him and place his initials on its walls. The initials went up, but in reality, S.H. stood for “Sacred Heart.” That misleading flattery prompted the dictator to send the church a check for $250,000.

An old photo of the Chaldean Center of America showing the initials “S.H.”

Later, when the pastor went to Baghdad and told Hussein of his church’s debt, he got another $200,000, which helped pay off the bank loan and build the Chaldean Center of America next door to the church. And for that, Detroit Mayor Coleman Young awarded Saddam Hussein the key to the city of Detroit!

In 1974, Fr. Yasso organized and held the only Palm Sunday parade on Charleston Road, like the one celebrated by the Christians in Iraq. It was a festive event on a rainy day that attracted people from around the area who walked together from their homes to Sacred Heart Church.

Yasso also had a head for business and opened a language school with a local partner to teach English. Sacred Heart closed in 2015, as the local Chaldean population was very thinned out, and so it moved to a new facility in Warren, still named Sacred Heart. 

The Burning of Al-Hadaf

Al-Hadaf (“The Objective” in Arabic) was a weekly newspaper first published in Detroit in September 1970. It was located on 7 Mile Road near Sacred Heart Church between John R. and Woodward Avenue. It was a neighborhood paper but concerned itself with a wide range of cultural, social, and political subjects that were relevant at the time.

Al-Hadaf editor Fouad Manna (Abo Gibran) recalls an incident that occurred in the early seventies when members of the of the Ba’ath party in Detroit contacted him and offered a large amount of financial aid to support his magazine. Of course, this support was not without strings. They wanted his support for the policy of the Ba’ath in Iraq. They did not receive it.

The paper was subjected to many intimidations by the regime’s agents deployed among the Arab expatriates. Manna remained steadfast and unaffected by the hostile foes and refused to bend his principles and bow his head to them, going on to expose their policies, agents, and the corruption dollars that they were distributing in Detroit.

In this regard, Manna says, “Truthfully, had it not been for the existence of the Iraqi Democratic Union in Detroit, and its honorable stand in the early 1980s against the Ba’ath Party, and lessons it taught to its agents within our community, the Ba’athists would have been dominant to this day within the Iraqi community in Detroit.”

There was a case of escalation and intimidation in 1971, when an FBI agent called the Al-Hadaf office and asked Fouad Manna, “Sir, do you know Dawood Khami? He has received a postcard from Moscow. Is he a spy? Come to a meet me at this address...”

Manna called a Palestinian attorney who advised him not to go, it could be a trick. He did not go, and a half hour after the appointment time, the agent called again and asked, “Why did you not show up?” Manna’s answer was, “If you need anything, come to the print shop.”

The agent showed up at the print shop and showed his badge. After a quick search of the place, he asked, “Do you know John (Hanna) Yatouma? Is he your friend? He publishes a newspaper; is he a local communist?”

The next day, still intimidated by the FBI agent’s visit, Abo Gibran wrote a critical editorial. Within days, he received a threating call stating that the print shop would be shut down.

Two weeks later, the print shop was burned to the ground. There were three suspects, including a man called “Johnny Mafia.” It was determined that Mafia was the mastermind; he was sentenced to 7 years in jail but fled to Iraq after posting bail. It came out that the group had contracted an African American to do the job for $100. Johnson, who was caught burning the store of Naiem Yatouma, confessed to the arson and other crimes as well.

Manna did not have insurance at the time, and this was a huge loss and financial setback. To add insult to injury, the FBI agent investigating the case disclosed that the 7 Mile priest was behind the arson. Journalist Yousif Nadhir authored a blazing article about this arson titled, “The Coward Burns Al-Hadaf Print Shop.” The article added even more flame to the fire and caused a major stir.

The Riots

The 1967 riots and downfall of the automobile industry created new conditions in the city of Detroit and Chaldean Town. Worsening Black-white relations boiled over into violence, proving to be another turning point for the growing community; Chaldeans assumed the operations of grocery stores abandoned by white business owners during the city’s infamous “White Flight.”

As many of the area’s wealthy white residents and business owners left, it gave the Chaldeans an opportunity and monopoly over certain businesses such as grocery stores, supermarkets, and retail stores. They rushed to fill the void, often popping up in poor, majority-Black, inner-city neighborhoods where the residents had few alternatives for their food and shopping needs.

African American residents complained that Chaldean store owners employed almost exclusively other Chaldeans, even though they operated in mostly Black neighborhoods. Their concerns were aggravated because, in many cases, Chaldean grocery stores were their only source of food for miles around. 

Similarly, many Chaldeans were frustrated with the high rates of crime in Detroit’s inner-city neighborhoods, leading them to increase security in their stores, hiring more family members who they knew they could trust.

Ultimately, Chaldeans and African Americans in Detroit knew little about one another, leading to a heightened distrust that was only amplified by the tense racial and political atmosphere in post-1967 Detroit. Tensions between Chaldeans and African Americans were already high due to the looting of numerous Chaldean businesses in the ‘67 riots. In the following years, these tensions escalated, contributing to the death of the Chaldean Town project.

Moving On Up

After the glory days in the 1970s, the neighborhood deteriorated. Crime and abandonment of property caused by the crack epidemic during the eighties and nineties, a common fate for many Detroit neighborhoods, led to its ultimate demise. The residents now are typically only very recent immigrants, holdout business owners, and the elderly who cannot afford to move to the suburbs.

An attempt to revive Chaldean Town was made in the late 1990s, when the Arab American and Chaldean Council built their community center at West 7 Mile and John R. roads. A later extension that was built across the street included a charter school. Other shops and new homes were planned but never fulfilled. Chaldean Town was suffering its death throes. Violent crime was everywhere.

Chaldean Town has emptied out. What was once a bustling center for vast numbers of Chaldean immigrants and their families is a lot quieter now. The remnants of restaurants like the Bahi, Tigris, Royal Kabab, and Iraqi Bakery just down the street are vacant and fading. The Sacred Heart Catholic Church and community center buildings remain, and a few Chaldean families are currently living on Charleston, Hershey, and Danbury Streets, but for the most part, Chaldean Town on 7 Mile in Detroit is no more.

Rising Crime

Like many immigrants before them, the Chaldeans’ success led them to seek better neighborhoods in the suburbs of Macomb and Oakland counties. Many of them moved on while the neighborhood was still solid; however, rising crime and falling police response accelerated the exodus.

Chaldeans who remember the area’s apex are saddened and infuriated by what it has become.

Halo Fish & Chicken is located on 7 mile and still open for business.

The Last Stand

Perpetuating the unique culinary heritage is one of the most tangible and accessible means of letting people know that the Chaldean way of life in the 7 Mile corridor has not disappeared. A few still believe; some who hold out hope stay in the area. Of the dozens of little businesses on the 7 Mile strip that catered to the Chaldeans and gave this area its ethnic flavor and its name, only three are left.

B & S Collision is still in business.

One is B & S Collision, under new ownership. Halo Fish and Chicken across the street is the continuation of the original Great Lakes Fish and Sea Food Inc. that was owned by Ramzi Acho. It is operated by his family members. Along with S & J Meats, they are the last businesses standing in the old Chaldean Town.

Sullaf Restaurant held out for many years but is now closed.

Joseph Georgies Kada is the owner of S & J Meats, a small, old-fashioned butcher shop on 7 Mile Road that sits in what was once the heart of Chaldean Town, across from the Sacred Heart Church at the northern edge of Detroit.

He is the “J” in the name. His brother Steve is the “S.” Joseph, a frail 74- year-old, shows the scars of his years and the impact of the axe of time. He looks older than his age — although still full of life, humor, and in possession of an extraordinary memory.

You cannot miss him standing proudly in his shop, dressed in his white lab coat. According to Joe, the original S & J founders were Nadir Shammami and Amir Jarbo. S & J represented the family initials, which Steve and Joseph conveniently kept after purchasing the business. The Jarbo and Kada family members are historically the most well-known shepherds (Shivaneh) and butchers (Kasawah) in the Chaldean community since the Tel-Keppe village times.

Kada is pessimistic about his future in the area. He purchased the business 24 years ago at a time when 90 percent of his clientele were Chaldean. All the local coffee shops and restaurants bought products from him. A few Chaldeans who have moved across town still come to his shop, but most have stopped visiting. “We might not be here for long,” he laments.

“It is hard to bring people here because people are not going to drive here for one business or two businesses,” says Kada. “We are hanging in there, but I don’t know how long we will last. I was going to close shop last month and might do it any time soon.”

Kada invested long years in the area. “I love the community, I purchased and operated two restaurants in the area (Mosul, owned by Imad Jarbo and Bahi Restaurant).” Today, Kada thinks his place will be the last business left here on 7 Mile. “This is the last link to the past for people who grew up here, but we need to shut the door and get out.”

Sullaf was the last Chaldean restaurant in Chaldean Town, specializing in Iraqi food whose history dates to ancient Mesopotamia. Chef Safaa Momika stated, “Food is one language that everyone understands.” The area where the restaurant was located has emptied out. Sullaf finally closed its doors in 2022.

“This can’t go on,” said Kada, “and when we leave, when the last man standing closes his door, this part of town will share the fate of Poletown and Chinatown, and several other once-vibrant ethnic Detroit neighborhoods that survive only in the memories of the suburbanites who once lived there.”

A reality check of the experience of 7 Mile Road years demonstrates that altogether, Chaldean history has been an impressive success story. The family plays a vital role in everyday life of the new immigrants. Houses were always full and bursting with young and old and everything in between. They were often crowded houses, with daily visitors and traditions passed down through generations.

Our traditions and culture continue to survive and thrive in the US. It does not matter where we live. It is the people that make us such a strong and unbreakable community unit that breeds love, laughter, happiness, continuity, and security.

Sources and contributors: Fouad Manna Bassim Kassab, Adil Bacall, Architect Mike Sitto, Amir Samona, Farouk Samona, Joseph Kada, Chaldean News Archives, Articles by Kamal Yaldo, Hannah Powel, John Carlisle-Detroit Free Press, Tom Perkins, Aaron Foley, Norm Sinclair.