John James Commits to Help Fix Detroit's Poisoned Holes

Detroit — It’s the second-most famous hole in the city, and Detroit Mayor Mary Sheffield can’t get it filled.

The hole is on 25th Street on the city’s west side, where a house once stood. The house had a piano. And on that piano, in that house, Little Stevie Wonder learned to play music.

There should be a historical plaque there. Instead, there is a massive open pit of super-contaminated dirt that’s been pooling with rainwater for nearly two months.

The house was demolished a few years ago, and the contractor filled it with dirt poisoned with lead at levels so high it puts Flint’s water to shame.

Another contractor won a bid of nearly $93,000 to dig up the dirt, dump it at a landfill, and then re-fill the hole with clean dirt. The hole is so contaminated that the contractor wrapped the neighboring home entirely in plastic sheeting.

The contractor dug a little bit out, saw a swamp of subterranean water running from some unknown origin, and promptly abandoned the project, leaving his excavator parked on the sidewalk. That’s illegal.

The swamp water poured into the cellar of the neighboring home owned by Izellia Smith. Now, Smith’s house is contaminated with lead and the city is going to have to pay her.

Smith’s councilwoman Gabriela Santiago-Romero decided to continue with her summer vacation rather than help her beleaguered constituent.

Mayor Sheffield has not returned Smith’s phone calls, either. Her Honor continues to hide, caught up in a swirling scandal of graft and sex. A seedy scandal entirely of her own making.

One of Sheffield’s former lovers faces federal indictment for poisoning hundreds—if not thousands—of other demolition holes. Sheffield, as a member of city council, voted to award millions in contracts to her lover, Brian McKinney, “while they were getting to know each other”—as her handlers put it. When the relationship was exposed by The Enjoyer, Sheffield’s first instinct was to claim she never voted on her loverboy’s contract.

That was a lie.

Nothing spells municipal C-O-R-R-U-P-T-I-O-N like a dirt hole that can’t be filled by a mayor who can’t be found.

So I called Abdul El-Sayed, the Democrat candidate for U.S. Senate. He used to work at the Detroit Health Department. He claims to be an “expert.” I called three times. Crickets. Too busy with Meet the Press to come out and meet the people of Detroit.

I called his Republican opponent Mike Rogers. His people said he’s more than willing to come check out 25th Street.

I called Jocelyn Benson, the Democrat candidate for governor, who alleges that she lives in Detroit. Nada. Nothing. No dice. No dirt. Nice handbags.

I was going to call her Republican opponent, John James, but he called me first. He’d seen our stories about the Stevie Wonder hole and he wanted to know more. I told him I’d be happy to show his staff around, just as I would with Sheffield’s or El-Sayed’s or Benson’s. Or Rogers’. But his campaign is being run from Washington.

It ain’t politics to me. It’s people.

To my surprise, James himself showed up on 25th Street last week—without security.

I introduced him to Izellia Smith. She talked and he listened. Then he did a TikTok video, naturally. The congressman promised in the short term he’d do what he could to get her situation straightened away. Then James promised that if elected governor, he’d find the money to clean up the entire city, where undoubtedly thousands of holes have been filled with toxic soil under the leadership of Mike Duggan and Mary Sheffield.

James called the fiasco another Flint. He’s right.

I’m not endorsing anybody. But Detroit will need $200 million—minimum—to clean up this crime scene. Only the federal government has that kind of money. It’d be good to have a governor in Lansing who has decent relationships in Washington.

And it’d be good to have a governor who isn’t afraid of Detroit.