Bloomfield Hills

TIME magazine’s cover story this week features how Mitt Romney’s parents, especially his mother, influenced his political career.  The article brought back memories of when my family lived in Michigan. 

Mitt grew up in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan.  He was 15 years old in 1962 when his father, George Romney, became governor of Michigan.   That was the year my family moved to Birmingham, Michigan, and I started taking my children to monthly programs at the Cranbrook Science Museum in Bloomfield Hills. 

My son David was born in Michigan.  He was a baby when Mrs. Romney, Mitt’s mother, gave a talk at the mid-week luncheon for at St. James Episcopal Church.  I left David in the church nursery, where he cried so furiously that the ladies dining in the church hall could hear his screams.  He quieted as soon as I picked him up, then sat contented on my lap as if listening to Mrs. Romney’s talk.  I remember Mrs. Romney’s warm reception by the rich, Republican ladies, but I don’t remember a thing she said. 

David does not remember Michigan.  He was only 10 months old when Wally was transferred to Dallas. 

Birmingham was a Detroit suburb which, in the 1960's, had a reputation rather like Highland Park, in Dallas, had when I was a teenager in the 1940's.  Big houses for rich folks.  Also, brick bungalows where middle-class families paid a premium to live in this exclusive suburb because of its excellent public schools.  That’s why we bought our little three-bedroom, one-bath house at 2073 Derby Road in Birmingham.

Bloomfield Hills, right next door, was even more exclusive than Birmingham.  The community was entirely devoted to the large estates of the super rich.  The Iococcas lived in Bloomfield Hills, as well as the Romneys.  There were two expensive restaurants on Woodward Avenue; Jimmy Hoffa disappeared after eating lunch at the Fox and Hounds.  Otherwise, there were no shopping centers in Bloomfield Hills.  The rich came to shop at the boutiques on Maple Avenue in Birmingham.

People who lived in Bloomfield Hills did not send their children to public schools.  They had the expensive, private schools at the Cranbrook Institutions: Brookside Elementary School, Kingswood (a high school for girls), and Cranbrook Academy for boys. 

I loved to take my children to Cranbrook.  In the heart of Bloomfield Hills, I turned into the driveway drove through the landscaped grounds, past the handsome buildings of Cranbrook Academy, designed by the Finnish architect Eliel Saarinam, father of the American architect, Eero Saarinam.  (I’m not sure of the spelling, but both were famous as revolutionary modern designers.)

At the top of the hill, I paused to look at the sculptured figures standing in the spray of the large, round fountain designed by the Swedish sculptor, Carl Milles.  Cranbrook was a feast for the eyes even before I stopped at the steps of the modern Cranbrook Museum of Science, where we had a family membership. I took my children there several times a month. 

The neighborhood where children grow up makes a difference.  Living in our little house in Birmingham, my children were privileged to go to good schools, use the town’s excellent library, enjoy the interactive exhibits at Cranbrook’s science museum (Dr. Leaky came from Africa and gave a talk there), and, yes, attend a rich church with a 65-voice trained choir, where every Sunday was a classical concert. 

What my children failed to know was people who were less fortunate than we were.  They had no idea of what it was like to grow up in the slums of Detroit, where their father went to work in his center city office.   The year after we left, bloody race riots killed dozens and burned down whole neighborhoods.

I am not surprised that Mitt Romney has difficulty relating to “ordinary” people.  He grew up in isolation among the rich in Bloomfield Hills.