Thomas Sugrue carries history inside himself like unfinished business.
It makes sense when you consider the fact that his birth took place in a city in mid-rupture: just northwest of Detroit in one of those blocks with a thousand different stories just waiting to be told – an an upbringing punctuated by the low hum of moving trucks indicating white flight.
For Thomas, Detroit was an abstraction, which is precisely why he was willing to ask harder questions than most historians:
Questions about why some cities seem to burn away overnight while others slowly fade away.
Questions about why corporate opportunities come in one way and policies for the people always seem to come in a decade too late.
And questions about why race, geography, and poverty are so tightly knit together that they practically form a noose.


