Highland Park — The original Powerhouse Gym still stands while everything around it crumbles.
Woodward Ave., on which the gym has sat since 1974, is sometimes called Detroit’s Main Street. The roads are cracked from neglect. Grass grows through fissures on the sidewalk. Garbage gathers in piles, like fallen leaves. The buildings are boarded up and shuttered.
What little remains open only reveals the same tragedy; there’s no hope to be found among the merchants of desperation. The pawn shops welcome anguished sellers who relinquish family heirlooms. Countless cannabis and liquor stores beckon customers with empty eyes and eager appetites. Gas stations are fortified to withstand the type of violence usually reserved for conflict zones.
Powerhouse stands out in the wasteland. Among the ruins of Detroit, it declares “Health and Fitness” in capital letters. This defiance doesn’t only apply to the place, the bricks and mortar; it also applies to the people inside, the flesh and blood. On the same street where addicts and alcoholics stagger and limp, swelter and beg, in the desperate hope that the world will one day change their situation, there exists another type who knows he can change himself now: the bodybuilder.
Two brothers, William and Norman Dabish, built the gym here 50 years ago. They found success very quickly. It has attracted famous bodybuilders like Arnold Schwarzenegger, athletes like Mike Tyson, and movie stars like Dwayne Johnson. As the brand grew, they founded 350 locations in over 20 countries.
I met Stephen Bynum by the front desk. He’s become a local legend to many bodybuilders and professional athletes. When he removed his sweater, he revealed a ferocious physique. He had a flared back, bowling ball shoulders, and peaked biceps.
We walked around the gym before hitting the weights. Powerhouse is not like other gyms. The vintage equipment and curated walls, which have remained untouched for decades, provide a portal into a better, stronger America. It has the charm that comes with resisting trends. There are no inspirational quotes anywhere, just faded pictures of famous bodybuilders and stunning models. Why try to capture the most glorious aesthetic—the idealized human form—in clumsy language?
Massive muscle-bound men in underwear, flexing and posed, with veins bulging at the surface of their skin, like exposed plumbing. Many of these specimens were from the era when bodybuilders started adding insulin and growth hormone to their already stacked medicine cabinet. They seem like another species of human altogether, evolved from bulls or stallions rather than primates, or grown in the laboratory by Faustian scientists.
Despite the obvious health costs and injuries that came with this type of regimen, including a shorter lifespan, these bodybuilders were able to sculpt and chisel their flesh into mountains and valleys. The female fitness models, by contrast, were paragons of health. Such a naked expression of beauty stands against the modern standard, which is a perversion of health and perception, trying to replace conventional standards with androgynous and eccentric features paired with anorexia or horrific obesity.
I took inspiration from these photos as I moved towards the free weights. Today was back day. We did four sets of three types of rows: dumbbell rows, machine lateral rows, and cable rows. Whereas Olympic weightlifting is about moving weight from one position to another as efficiently as possible, usually in explosive bursts, bodybuilders focus on hypertrophy, tearing the muscle so it grows through repair, which often means moving the weight as inefficiently as possible. We varied the weight and number of repetitions, specifically working on stretching while under tension.
Stephen is an animal despite his mature age. He’s 47. And only in the last five years has he really committed himself to the anabolic lifestyle by focusing more on diet and recovery. He quickly found success. Soon after taking up the challenge of becoming a bodybuilder, he won several events in the Master’s Classic Physique. This year, he achieved a very prestigious award, placing second in the highly competitive Pittsburgh Nationals. Stephen tried out in different styles of competition, attempting to get bigger, but he realized that his body was naturally suited to the Classic physique, which is less about size and more about symmetry. He arrived at the brutal yet valuable truth, “You can’t beat genetics.”
And yet, one must sometimes fight what one inherits. Stephen told me that he grew up in a typical black family. They didn’t eat healthy or in moderation. Though he grew strong playing football, he was fat for a long time. It took him years to unlearn bad habits and eat well. That was hard; Stephen had to be hard on himself.
During the machine rows, which were plate loaded, I put the weights down very gently. Stephen told me to drop them instead, telling me, “It’s not that kind of place here.” He was right. The clanging of free weights was harsh music. The sweat was sour perfume. There was no attempt to sanitize the raw brutality in becoming a monster. The grunting men at Powerhouse Gym have understood this well: being kind to oneself requires self-denial and struggle.
America, in good times, has made weak men who have in turn made bad times. The body is not only a metaphor of civilization; it is a vehicle. In the state of Western decline, we should embrace cold, hard steel.
Mitch Miller is an adventure writer and conflict journalist. He’s more than happy to join in on any extreme activity, and can be reached at mitchenjoyer@gmail.com. Follow him on X at @funtimemitch.
