I had not even seen the movie when I urged my then-boss, Dan Carmody, to explore bringing a statue of the star of the 1980s science fiction film Robocop to Detroit’s Eastern Market. To be fair, I was four years old when it came out and much of my childhood was instead spent with Ghostbusters and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. 

But like many of us around the Motor City, I had followed the fascinating story behind the RoboCop statue going back to 2011: the tweets with Dave Bing, the Kickstarter campaign, his multiple would-be locations, the conspiracy theory that the statue never even existed, etc.

In early 2021, it was reported that RoboCop would not, as previous announced, make his forever home at the Michigan Science Center. His future was uncertain and people in other cities were trying to acquire him, most notably Mayor Mike Wiza of Stevens Point, Wisconsin, the birthplace of RoboCop actor Peter Weller (pop. 25,500).

I am a fundraiser at Eastern Market Partnership, the nonprofit that operates Eastern Market. I am not an art expert or collector, except to the extent that our historic market district boasts the greatest concentration of public art in Detroit. The statue already exists, I thought, so surely it wouldn’t take much to add one more piece of art to Eastern Market, right? 

With Dan’s initial blessing, I hunted down Brandon Walley, one of the leaders of the project, sending him messages on every platform I could find him on, short of dating apps. He was quick to respond and a couple of days later, we met in our socially distanced office. He was receptive to our idea and mentioned that he and others involved had long thought that Eastern Market could be a fitting and interesting place for the statue. As Brandon was leaving, he made a reference to “OCP” that flew right over my head. Clearly, I had to better familiarize myself with the source material. 

At long last, I watched the original RoboCop (1987). Then I watched the sequel, RoboCop 2 (1990). And the next one, RoboCop 3 (1993). And the re-boot, RoboCop (2014). And then the four-part The Creation of RoboCop documentary (2023). I consumed every RoboCop-related Wikipedia article, opinion piece, and relevant news story that I could find. 

A friend tipped me off to some new RoboCop action figures that were coming out, so of course I had to have those, and more. In 2023 a new RoboCop videogame was released — and this one had all the actors’ likenesses licensed. The opportunity to move through Detroit/Delta City in RoboCop’s, um, shoes while wearing my pajamas? Count me in.

Lest you think I consumed all RoboCop media, there are at least eight other RoboCop videogames I haven’t played and four television series I have never seen. But for someone who had never seen the movie, I got about as up to speed as one could and it being a pandemic with stay-home orders, I had ample time.

I came to really appreciate the original RoboCop. When you look past the campiness and its inherent 1980s-ness, there is a compelling narrative and commentary about corporate policing and justice. In some ways, the film predicted the dystopian aspects of our evolving surveillance estate. I was also fascinated by the fact that the film was primarily shot in Dallas, thus making the backdrop familiar not so much to Detroiters, but to people hundreds of miles away from Detroit (some scenes were filmed in Pittsburgh, which arguably was a more apt likeness to Detroit in the 1980s). 

In hindsight, that handshake agreement for him to come to to Eastern Market — before had a specific location or technical specifications or money for the installation — was the easy part. For one, he was monopolizing the workshop space and we had room for him to hibernate until he was ready to fulfill his prime directive.

He made his was from his birthplace at Venus Bronze Works (since closed) on Mt. Elliot near Coleman A. Young Airport, to his equally un-glamorous temporary home: our garage at Eastern Market. Several reporters and others who had kept up with the story eventually caught on to this mysterious new location and the plans that were coming together to erect the statue. That is when the most interesting calls and emails began to come in. 

Richard, a “wood and metal worker artist type” from Toronto, was in Detroit for a few weeks overseeing the installation of decorative doors for the event space at what is now called The Department at Hudson’s Detroit. He had followed the story of the RoboCop statue from the start. When he heard about the statue being somewhere around Eastern Market, he decided to do some investigating, including inquiring with people at market businesses after he finished work each day. 

One such person, who was aware of the real storage site, helpfully misdirected Richard as to the location, but gave him my contact information. Richard wrote me the kind of gushing letter only a true fanboy could, so I wrote back, had him take an oath of secrecy, and gave him a private (no photos!) showing. 

“Private showing” might be playing up the elegance a little. In reality, the statue was on its back on a pallet and wrapped in thick black plastic. It was tucked into the back of a dark, crowded garage, positioned behind water-filled barriers, market signage, garbage cans and a golf cart, among other things. Getting to the statue often involved squeezing between these items and getting at least one article of clothing dusty or greasy. But for Richard, none of that mattered: you would think I was Santa granting him 100 wishes the way he beamed when he saw the statue. 

Ulf Zander, a Professor of History at Lund University in Sweden, emailed Eastern Market in fall 2023, looking to talk to someone about the statue, as he was (and still is) writing a book about RoboCop. A few weeks later, he and his wife were in our office talking about the statue — and I also administered the same oath of secrecy and photo ban when they got a glimpse of our guy in the, er, “flesh.” 

They were able to return to Detroit this past October, unfortunately just before the statue was erected. We had great conversations over dinner, finding ourselves sharing a lot of interests and opinions. I gave them a brief history of Sweden-Detroit relations (i.e. all the great Swedes who have played for the Red Wings in the last 30 years) and told them about the awkward “Swedish Night” that I attended at Little Caesars Arena (TL;DR: it was mostly Swedish Chef and ABBA). We had a lot of laughs and I am looking forward to their return when they finally see RoboCop upright and on duty.

In March 2024, Gonzaga made the Sweet Sixteen. Cory Howard, an anchor and reporter for KHQ, the NBC affiliate in Spokane, WA, was in Detroit to cover the team. Unlike most of the inquiries I received, Cory had not heard the saga of the RoboCop statue. Instead, when given the Detroit assignment, he assumed that there simply had to be a statue honoring the city’s most famous fictitious public protector. 

He found and contacted me and I loved his unique story, so I met with him and his videographer for an interview. After the usual rites — swear secrecy, cameras off — I took them spelunking into the garage to see Officer Murphy. The adventure made for a “news” segment that they managed to quickly edit and send in for that night’s broadcast, accompanied by a live shot (from downtown) where he elaborated about seeing the statue.

Of course, there was virtually no threat of anyone removing the statue (he is more than 5,000 lbs, so good luck!), but we did not want or need people trespassing in our garage, risking their own injury or damage to the statue. Most inquiries on the phone or in person at our office were politely turned away or declined by our front desk or security staff. Sometimes curious tourists would come by and ask, be told he’s not on display yet, and return to their cars, not knowing they were within 100 feet of the statue. As though being a professional fundraiser isn’t enough adrenaline, I was one of the very few who knew the true location of something that countless people were invested in and interested in. 

On December 3 — nearly 40 years after Robocop premiered and 15 years after Mayor Big tweeted, “There are not any plans to erect a statue to RoboCop. Thank you for the suggestion.” — RoboCop reported for duty on Russell Street.

There were a lot of times during the five years that my colleagues and I were working on the RoboCop statue placement when we thought it might not ever happen, that ours might just be a few more names on the list of those who loved and supported this project but didn’t get to see it to completion. For just one example, we had initially sought to put him closer to the sheds, but during our engagement with RoboCop, the City went through a process that ultimately established a historic district on the market campus, making it next to impossible to place the statue there.

As prominent and proud as RoboCop looks, I feel just as strongly about the pedestal supporting him. Most people who snap a selfie with him will never appreciate the extensive engineering and specialized concrete work required to ensure the statue would not sink or fall over. Sure, he’s 11 feet tall, but that would mean nothing without the benefit of a base is 11 feet wide and 5 feet deep — below the frost line! Few Robocop fans will consider the frost line, and that’s okay.

Reflecting on the all time, all the twists and turns in this adventure, it seems like a grave understatement to say, “I’d buy that for a dollar.” Instead, I’m inclined to paraphrase Calvin and Hobbes: Maybe the real RoboCop was the friends we made along the way.