

And, before you go to Detroit, you get your gas out here. But park right next to the venue-spend the extra twenty or thirty bucks. We’ve got restaurants out here.’ They don’t even have movie theatres in Detroit-not one.” He went on, “I can’t imagine finding something in Detroit that we don’t have in spades here.

Patterson told me, “I used to say to my kids, ‘First of all, there’s no reason for you to go to Detroit. Oakland County can’t get enough of it.” This credo is now memorialized on Oakland County’s Web site. “I love sprawl,” Patterson once declared. The landscape slid past, a jumbled time line of American suburban innovation: big-box districts, fuel megacenters, shopping malls, restaurants with the interior acreage of a factory. Over his shoulder, he said, “Anytime I talk about Detroit, it will not be positive.

Patterson sat in the front passenger seat. Clair, at the mouth of the Detroit River, for a party on a yacht. Near the end of the first day, we headed toward Lake St. One week in September, he gave me an extended tour of his empire, in a chauffeured minivan. Oakland County embodies fiscal success as much as Detroit does financial ruin, and Patterson, the county executive, tends to behave as though his chief job in life were to never let anyone forget it. Brooks Patterson has governed Oakland County, a large, affluent suburb of Detroit. Brooks Patterson, Oakland County’s chief executive, has declared, “I love sprawl.” Photograph by Lauren Lancaster.įor the past twenty-one years, L.
