From "Little Hellhole" to Cultural Showcase

By P.R. Parker

     My first encounter with Massachusetts Avenue was through a public bus window during my first solo trip downtown. I was in tenth grade at the time and, prior to this, seldom ventured out of my comfort zone. However, it was a special errand for my mother that necessitated remaining on the bus from Broad Ripple to downtown. Also, up until then, I seldom journeyed alone no further south than Thirty-Fourth Street, as my previous downtown trips were by car and in the company of my parents.
     As the bus tooled southbound on College Avenue approaching Massachusetts, my excitement over going downtown "by myself" burst to pieces. I shuddered every tine I passed an endless string of aged, non-descript, ugly buildings inhabited by broken-down people. Of all the places in the central city, Massachusetts, for the most part, was colorless, dreary, and frightening. I thoroughly detested travelling this road and swore this first trip would be my last. I was wrong, for from my junior year in high school through my college years and entry into the working world, the #17 College bus was my primary transport, and Massachusetts Avenue, unfortunately, came with the package.
     During the early 1970's, the Indianapolis Star did an extensive article on Massachusetts Avenue, dubbing it the "Little Hellhole". It was an apt moniker as the entire strip was the epitome of "Skid Row" with its derelict buildings, seedy bars, seedier people, drunken bums sleeping in doorways, and endless parade of prostitutes after dark. I remember the fall of 1972 when I took night classes twice a week. That meant taking the bus home after nine-thirty, which meant every Tuesday and Thursday evenings spent looking at this depressing street.

     Despite the seemingly hopeless state of Massachusetts, and whether this place will ever rise above its much-deserved "Little Hellhole" label, there were a few standouts that I found quite interesting. Call them much neglected jewels trapped in a crumbling environment. Many of these structures hold historic significance, a fact I did not know until the early 1980's during the Downtown Renaissance.
     At the grand triangle where Massachusetts cuts its swath across New Jersey and Michigan Streets, there stands two such buildings. At Michigan and New Jersey, on the southeast corner, stands the Athenaneum (1898). Its function was unknown to me at the time; I later learned it was the center of the city's German population with its accent on music, gymnastics, and theater. Across the street is the Murat Shrine Temple (1908) that evokes an Arabic-inspired mosque.
     Further down the avenue, at the intersection of Alabama and Vermont, there was the downtown Sears with its ubiquitous turquoise and white aluminum siding. I thought the building always looked like this. Come 1986, I was wrong again, and pleasantly surprised when the siding came off, exposing a beautiful blond brick structure.
     Travel further down Massachusetts where it finally comes to its end at Delaware and New York, one sees the old Stout's Shoe Store (which is still there). Now this is an interesting store since I remember my dad taking my sisters and me there every year for school shoes.

(I am temporarily digressing a bit, so please indulge me.)

     Stout's still boasts the widest selection of shoes in town. Hard to find sizes and styles is still their specialty. However, there is a little quirk in the method of payment, and it is this method that Stout's has yet to experience a robbery.
     When you take your shoes to checkout, your order is written up by hand. The shoes and your payment are place into a wire basket which is sent along pulleys to the office upstairs. Within minutes, the basket returns with your printed receipt, change, and your shoes neatly wrapped in brown paper.
     Little things such as Stout's quirky checkout methods, the downtown Sears store's unsightly turquoise siding, and the Athenaeum and Murat architectural masterpieces made Massachusetts Avenue somewhat bearable. However, the rest of street left much to be desired. To me, if a wrecking ball knocked down every crumbling tenement, every dingy overpriced grocery store, I would not miss much.

     Nevertheless, despite my ardent desire to see the entire thoroughfare and its environs bulldozed into oblivion, changes did come albeit slowly. By the onset of the 1980's things began to look up for the much beleagured Massachusetts Avenue. This was the time of the "yuppie", of sudden gentrification, with those children of the 1960's white flight returning the urban landscape. Armed with advanced degrees, lucrative new careers, ambition, and much disposable income, these young dynamos saw much potential in Downtown Indianapolis, and Massachusetts was a prime target for those initial improvements. Witnessing the gradual change made my bus ride that much more pleasant.
     There was, and still is, much interest in preserving the many historical structures. Buildings that had been in danger of the wrecking ball were soon upgraded and restored. The Athenaeum, itself finding its days numbered, was spared and transformed into the cultural showcase it once was. This wonderful structure now houses the historic Rathskeller restaurant, serving the best German cuisine in town. There is a downtown branch of the YMCA, no pool but plenty of workout equipment, aerobic classes, and other activities for the busy executive and downtown denizen. Also, the American Cabaret Theater is housed at the Athenaeum, presenting some of the best musical revues and shows.
     Across the street, the Murat Centre has taken on a new life as a premier performing arts venue. Live presentations ranging from top recording artists to smash Broadway musicals have graced the Murat stage. This sudden surge in various entertainment options, previously not available downtown, created another need: dining and shopping opportunities. If one is attending the theater, a concert, or gallery opening, one must be able to find a suitable restaurant or, perhaps, a unique shop that caters to the cultural crowd.
     Massachusetts Avenue offers an eclectic assortment of dining establishments from inexpensive casual to pricey and impressive. It has been said that one can visit "Mass Ave" restaurants, every day, every meal, for a week and still not explore all of them. For sheer variety, there is the spicily delicious Cajun offerings at Yats, fine Italian cuisine at Agio's, and, for that special occasion, one cannot pass by the fantastic Scholar's Inn, one of Indianapolis' best places for classic American food served with a creative twist.
     Shopping on Massachusetts Avenue is a unique experience. In keeping with the "Mass Ave arts district" theme, many retailers follow this pattern, offering highly unusual, hard to find, funky and fashionable merchandise. Antique teapots, collectible silverware and coins, paintings and sculpture, fashion with a youthful flair are just a sampling. One can always find that special gift.
     Although it is not exactly on the Avenue, the old Sears building is, for me, the most dramatic transformation. The downtown Sears store closed in 1983 after nearly seven decades of business, creating another unsightly eyesore. The same ugly turquoise and white aluminum siding popped and corroded during the building's vacancy, the parking lot's blacktop cracking and peeling as weeds threatened to reclaim what was theirs. However, the building was destined for greater things.
     By the mid-1980's enough well-educated, adventurous young professionals had made the move from the suburbs to downtown, necessitating the establishment of one of life's little amenities: a grocery store. Prior to 1986, the only nearby supermarket was Kroger at East 16th and Park Avenue. Unfortunately the selection was painfully limited to those items that sold in the "'hood". Want a fine French burgundy to go with that filet? Looking for imported cheeses, flavored coffees, or a good bottled pesto? Chances are one would have to drive from downtown to the northside suburbs to find those items. Even so, at the time, Indianapolis was far from a "foodie's" paradise.
     Enter O'Malia Food Market, a specialty grocer which was already a fixture on the northside. In September 1986, O'Malia's opened its new downtown store in the newly renovated and restored Sears building. As stated earlier, the transformation was startling, and I had no idea that underneath the hideous siding lay a tastefully designed Art Nouveau buff brick building complete with setbacks and limestone carvings.

     Lastly, amid all the positive structural changes, there are the people. Gone are the drunken derelicts, the prostitutes, the broken down people who helped earn Massachusetts Avenue its former moniker "Little Hellhole."
     Now when I travel down Massachusetts Avenue, I see a delightful mix of young and old, black and white, young professionals rubbing elbows with old-timers who remember how things were before the revitalization. The entire length of the thoroughfare literally crackles with energy around the clock. During the day, one can watch people scurrying to and from work, stopping in Bazbeaux for a slice of gourmet pizza or Chez Jean bakery for an afternoon treat. In the evenings "Mass Ave" comes to life again as diners and theater-goers vie for parking and walking space. Many a Thursday evening, on my way to choir rehearsal, I delight in observing how different life on the Avenue is: hungry diners packing restaurants, others hurrying to take in the latest production at the Murat, Athenaeum, or Theater-on-the-Square.
     Weekends, especially during pleasantly balmy days, are just as active if less hectic. People enjoying a leisurely stroll, taking the dog for a brisk walk, casually window-shopping, or sitting in Davlan Park enjoying a cup of coffee and people-watching. Sunday mornings, on my way to church, the Avenue takes on a rare calm; all I see are firefighters on a morning jog through Chatham Arch, a handful of people walking to one of the many houses of worship in the area.

     As mentioned earlier, Massachusetts Avenue was one of my least favorite places Downtown. It never ceases to amaze me how much the Avenue has changed, a steady thirty-five year transformation from "little hellhole" to the cultural showplace that elicits pride and admiration from all who visit.
     What a pleasure my daily bus commute is now! Instead of cringing at crumbling eyesores or turning away from the sight of dishevelled, drunken men lolling in dingy doorways, I marvel at the incredible, renewed vitality. From observing what is so dramatically different, I am hard pressed to remember what was there more than thirty years ago.
     That really does not matter now as I return to the red-brick triangle where the "Viewfinders" stand at the gateway, ready to welcome all who love Indianapolis at its quirky, adventurous, eclectic best.

Copyright © 2005 by P.R. Parker. All Rights Reserved.