The Palace of Auburn Hills is shut down.  In fact, it is being destroyed as I type these very words.  The Detroit Pistons won three championships playing at the Palace, but they have moved downtown to join the Detroit Red Wings at the shiny and new Little Caesar’s Arena.  Many of the staffers here at the Sound Vapors Building first crossed paths with each other at the Palace in a previous lifetime, a previous career.  There are lots of shared memories.  Wonderful memories.  Memories to which I have a difficult time letting go.  The Palace was a building not only dedicated to basketball but was also the focal point of concerts in the Detroit area for nearly 30 years.  The Red Wings previously played at Joe Louis Arena, but when it came to the two competing arenas, Joe Louis Arena and The Palace, it seemed like 95% of the arena concert tours ended up taking place at the Palace rather than at the Joe.  A testament to many of my former Palace coworkers that helped make the arena the preeminent place to have a tour stop.

I could list the shows the Palace hosted, but there are too many to mention.  The biggest names of all time.  Michael Jackson, Frank Sinatra, Barbara Streisand, The Rolling Stones, Prince, Paul McCartney, U2, The Who, and Luciano Pavarotti just to name a few.  Think of every big name that had a tour in the last 30 years, and they played the Palace.  Taylor Swift, Shania Twain, One Direction, Justin Bieber, Eminem, etc.  Country, rap, rock, you name it. 

I have memories of the Palace as a ticketholder.  Cheering the Pistons on against the Bulls, wondering if Grant Hill is the next Jordan.  (The answer is no.  No one is the next Jordan!  But that’s another column for another day.)  Watching Gordie Howe take one last shift with the Detroit Vipers of the IHL.  Seeing Bill Laimbeer get his number retired up in the rafters.  Sitting courtside for a meaningless game between the Pistons and Nets, at that time two very bad teams.  But still, I was there, in the front row!  

Memories of concerts too numerous to mention.  Seeing Bruce Springsteen in the round, from behind the stage.  Standing in the middle of the floor as U2 performed Where The Streets Have No Name.  Sixth row for Michael Buble, feeling as if the horn section would literally blow me away.  Being in a suite with my brother, after his friend had won tickets, watching hometown hero Bob Seger perform his who knows what number, probably 30^th, show ever at the Palace.  There are so many great memories I have as a ticketholder.  So many great shows, I could fill up dozens of more paragraphs just with wonderful memories I’ve been blessed to have throughout my life seeing different events at the Palace.

More important than that though are the workplace memories I have acquired through the years.  The lifetime of friendships that were forged working side by side with such wonderful people.  A second family.  Most of whom I try to see fairly regularly, but it’s not quite the same as it was.  Nothing against the coworkers at any of my other jobs, but there is something special about that Palace family of mine.  A comradery that maybe can only come from hours passing time with nothing much to do waiting for the throngs of people to arrive.  Only to then have the most insane two-hour window of intensity as all of the guests finally do arrive.  Leaning on each other, running around, stressing out, adrenaline pumping, only to turn around and do it again the next night.  If I could write dozens of paragraphs about being a ticketholder at the Palace, I could probably write hundreds, if not thousands, of paragraphs about working various events through the years.  Madonna Live On HBO.  Mike Tyson getting DQ’ed in the first round.  Ron Artest attacking the fans.  There are countless amazing memories which I will never forget.  The important things aren’t the events though, but my coworkers.  Countless times spent laughing the night away, unfortunate times spent crying over ones that left us too early.  Eating terrible food together, freezing our butts off in the winter, getting sunburned in the summer.  I love my Palace family, there is nothing else like them.

The Palace is still such a beautiful building.  Joe Louis Arena, where I had some wonderful memories as well, was well past its prime.  The Palace aged so gracefully, it still looks like new in so many ways.  I genuinely feel offended to see such a nice building be destroyed.  Frankly, I like the Palace more than the new, shinier arena, Little Caesar’s Arena.  The seating at the Palace was more comfortable, the sightlines were better. Not that the LCA is bad by any means, but I’m surprised at how much LCA has underwhelmed me.  I expected more, something that was light years ahead of the Palace.  Instead, at best LCA is an equal to the Palace, despite nearly 30 years difference in age. 

I’ll never understand why the Pistons embraced being a tenant at an inferior building rather than be owner of a legendary building.  There is something to be said for a suburban team re-embracing the downtown Detroit core, and the healing of the Detroit area city/suburb rift by relocating downtown.  But I don’t know, to me, it seems like the Pistons abandoned their core fans, relegating themselves to always being an also-ran in this town by abandoning the House That Isiah Built.  It just seems wrong to destroy that which is still so good.  

Tom Gores, the owner of the Pistons, probably did not make his billions by being sentimental.  But I can’t say he is making many fans of his team or himself.  Anytime you want to sell the team and leave town, Tom, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

It’s just a building.  In a sports world in which Yankee Stadium, America’s version of the Colosseum, is razed and destroyed, the Palace is not much in comparison.  The Palace’s premature destruction by Tom Gores means nothing in this world of far more important problems.  And boy, are there bigger problems in the world right now.  I sure will miss that building though.  I will still see the smiling faces of my Palace family around town in other places, but I sure will miss the old place.  One last message, one last time, to my Palace family:

Lot Clear.

– MTR

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