In the shadows of Detroit’s worn and forgotten brick and steel-framed buildings, the ghosts of Motor City’s Ford, Packard, and Dodge still fill the streets. At its peak in 1950, Detroit was home to nearly 5 million people, but less than a fifth of them remain. The decline has left the city in a state of limbo, with skyscrapers and homes vacant, falling victim to the elements.

The Metropolitan, built in 1924, was once occupied by shops, offices, and the facilities of jewelry manufacturers and wholesalers leading it to also be known as the “Jeweler’s Building.” While the front is boarded up, the back has been converted into public art, with graffiti reaching to the top of the building. On the city’s east side, the Heidelberg Project has turned abandoned homes into art, but many of them were torched in a spate of arson cases last spring.

In the quiet streets of downtown Detroit in late December, the faint sound of people, buses and cars from a past time lingers in the silence, and now even in the middle of the day only a few people linger outside, even though one of the largest sporting events in history was taking place in Hockeytown.

Following the spoke-like streets that fan out of the Grand Circus Park from the Renaissance Centre towards Comerica Park, the home field of the Detroit Tigers had been transformed into a hub for the Hockeytown Winter Festival. During the Winter Classic, hockey legends and fans alike from Detroit and across North America had come to the city to history in the making.

In the streets, bars and restaurants surrounding Comerica Park, fans proudly sported the Red Wings’ red and blue in a city that prided itself on its hockey history. It isn’t just the Detroit Red Wings, who have won the most Stanley Cup championships of any US team, that gives Hockeytown its name — it is the dedication to the sport that is seen even in restaurants and bars like Cheli’s Chili Bar, owned by former Red Wing Chris Chelios, and Coaches Corner, which boasts itself as Detroit’s best sports bar.

During the excitement around the Winter Classic, it was hard to tell where the real Detroit was in all the hockey paraphernalia, but far from the Joe Lewis Arena, Comerica Park and the popular sports bars on Park Avenue, a hint of the city could be found.

Weaving our way through stalled traffic near the city’s MGM Grand Casino, we made our way to Park Bar to ring in the New Year. Surrounding the circular bar, perched on bar stools was the real Detroit sipping on cocktails and local draft beer. Here as the smell of garlic and grilled meat moved from the adjoining Bucharest Grill to the bar friends hugged and chatted preparing to ring in the New Year.

It was a scene that could have played out in a club or bar in Brooklyn, Toronto, Vancouver or Seattle:  young people dancing in their New Year’s best as other lined a wooden bar waiting for a drink. As the minutes passed bringing everyone closer to midnight, the well-dressed and well-liquored made their way up the stairs to the party.

Through the windows of the second story of Park Bar the lights of the city sparkled through the snow. With midnight passed, the party continued and soon people drifted into the streets in search of a cab, snow still falling.

From the back seat of a taxi in the early darkness of January 1, it was hard to tell which of the passing buildings might still be home to offices and businesses. The unlit skyscrapers and buildings contributed to the stillness and quiet that has made its home in Detroit.

—Megan Cole