8000 West Jefferson Avenue
Albert Frank Building, Frank’s Hall, Fox Hardware, West End Studios
(Formerly 2102/2104 River Road)
In the early days, Delray was a rough-and-tumble town on the outskirts of Detroit. It would eventually grow into one of the most industrialized neighborhoods of the Motor City—a dystopian environmental smorgasbord built at the hands of many men with dreams of becoming rich. One of those men was Albert Frank.
At one time, the structure pictured here had a cornice that read “Frank’s Hall, 1887.” Back then, Jefferson Avenue in Delray was River Road. When the village was eventually annexed, the road name would change, and so would the addresses with the city-wide change in 1921.
Frank was running a bar out of the building by the turn of the century. In 1899, a man was caught using counterfeit nickles at a gambling machine inside the establishment. He was chased down River Road, eventually caught, and returned to the bar to face punishment.
Frank had become an important player in the community by this point, serving as an election inspector, a member of the Citizen’s Ticket for election, and a Delray Trustee. There are various advertisements and articles about his dealings serving liquor, owning a hotel, and various other businesses.
In 1905, village president Hugh Cary and other key players in the local government decided that the saloons that dotted the landscape of Delray shouldn’t be allowed to have slot machines anymore. As determined as they might have been to rid the village of a gambling problem, many bar owners disagreed with their decision, including Mr. Frank.
Marshal Eugene Adams, President Cary, and three of four police officers went to Frank’s saloon at the corner of River and West End to remove the machines from the establishment. Marshal Adams and the police officers went through the side door, and President Cary entered through the front.
As officers tried to seize the machines, Frank single handily pushed them all out the side door of his establishment. When Cary tried to argue with Frank, he pushed him back out the front door he had entered through. According to an article in the Detroit Free Press, Cary tried to fight Frank, who made quick work of him and ushered him out the door. Cary was described as having his ‘hair disheveled and shirt torn nearly from his back.’
Defeated, the group left, went down to Kunze’s Saloon a block away, and received their gambling machine without much trouble.
In response to those questioning his actions, Frank stated that Marshal Adams was currently under arrest, so the officer had no authority to act. As for Cary, he felt he had the right to remove anyone from his bar that was objectionable to him. This may have been a puff piece run by Frank’s friends at the Detroit Free Press—but it gives some insight into the kind of place Delray was before it was annexed into Detroit.
In the early 1900s, Frank purchased a lot of land around Delray. At some point, his building was used as the village offices and for community meetings. Before and after Delray became a part of Detroit, the structure had storefronts. Over the years, it was utilized as just about every kind of store imaginable, from a pharmacy to a luggage shop. However, most people who grew up in Delray know it as one business alone—Fox Hardware.
The first mention of Fox Hardware I’ve found is from 1949—back then, it was called Fox Furniture & Hardware. Over the years, I’ve also seen it called Fox Hardware & Appliance and Fox True Value Hardware.
I believe that the original owners of Fox Hardware were William ‘Bill’ and Beatrice Casman. Bill ran the day-to-day operations, and Beatrice was the office manager. Bill passed away at 71 on July 24, 1984, and Beatrice died at 87 in 2002. The Casman family was Jewish and are buried at Adat Shalom Memorial Park in Livonia.
I’m not sure when the Casmans sold Fox Hardware. A company called Fox Hardware. Inc. was incorporated in 1983 by Marvin D. Ligon. The company was dissolved in 1986.
On Tuesday, August 26, 1986, there was an auction sale at 8000 West Jefferson. There was fishing equipment, power tools, jewelry, electronics, glassware, novelties, pumps, and doors, among other things. Fox Hardware had closed, and the structure’s contents were being sold for next to nothing. There was another auction a few months later, on November 11.
In 1993, West End Studios was incorporated by Andrew S. Beresford at 8000 W. Jefferson Avenue. According to their website, they’ve been in business since 1992. The company specializes in “set construction, custom carpentry, scenic art and stage draperies.” Their work has been detailed enough to be utilized by museums, colorful enough for theatre productions, and intimate enough for customizing your child’s bedroom.
Assuming the date that once graced the top of Frank’s Hall is correct, this structure turns 136 years old in 2023.
Most of Delray’s iconic establishments are long gone. Delray Cafe, a longstanding establishment a few parcels down from West End Studios at 8032 West Jefferson, was gutted by fire around Halloween in 2014. Kovaks, a Hungarian bar, closed around 2012 and was demolished to make way for the Gordie Howe Bridge in 2017. Piece by piece, what’s left of Delray’s detailed history is being dismantled. Apart from Lockeman’s Hardware & Boats, there isn’t much left that predates the studio.
However, West End Studios is a shining light for the neighborhood’s future. Old timers reminiscing about the community they grew up in won’t remember it, but the structure they used to frequent when it was a hardware store will be around for a long time thanks to their occupancy. New generations of Detroiters can also appreciate the history West End Studios is preserving.
Once they’ve gotten their fill of history at the corner of West End and Jefferson, they might as well head down the street to the only other active business on the block (Black Horse Cantina) for a birria plate.
When the new bridge is completed, Delray might see changes. It’s hard to tell whether those changes will be a net positive for those who have stuck it out in the neighborhood. One thing is for sure—so long as they’re allowed to, people will call Delray home.
