For much of its history, Detroit was a patchwork of ethnic neighborhoods, each consisting largely of immigrants from a single place. Whole sections of the city were Italian, Polish, Hungarian, or Jewish, among others. As immigrants flooded these neighborhoods and solidified their particular character, churches, stores, social clubs and restaurants sprang up to cater to them, all offering familiar Old World experiences to the newcomers, whose concentrated presence in turn would draw more immigrants from back home to the same area.

But over the years, as these ethnic Detroiters and their descendants moved to the suburbs, most of their little shops and stores closed for good once their customers no longer lived in the surrounding neighborhoods. Some stores moved north or south with their migrating customers, others simply died off slowly, leaving abandoned storefronts whose faded signs hint at the cultural identity of the neighborhood’s past.

Nowadays, Detroit still has a small handful of these old businesses hanging on in their original neighborhoods, most barely getting by, with some on their last legs.

A classic example is the Nortown Bakery on Seven Mile just west of Van Dyke. The area was once heavily Polish, informally known as Nortown. Today the neighborhood bears little resemblance to what it used to be. The ethnic Poles and other eastern Europeans who crowded the blocks are nearly all gone, with only a smattering of ethnic elderly people still in their old homes, too poor to move from what’s become a rough area.

The bakery is owned and operated by Vasile Sirca, 55, who came to Detroit from Romania in 1980 and purchased the building in 1990, when it was still a Polish business. It’s an old-fashioned store, founded in 1939, more like a traditional general store than a modern bakery, selling not only a variety of baked goods but also everything from ceramic figurines and carpet cleaner to batteries and soap.

Nortown’s specialty is Romanian bread, much thicker than most – “it’s not Wonder Bread,” Sirca said – which sells for a mere $1.50 per loaf, $2 for a megaloaf. Sugar-free and fat-free breads are also available. The deli offers sausage, salami and a number of sandwiches, including a Romanian sandwich piled thick with pastrami, for $3.50, which comes with a free pop or a pickle – your choice. Or as the painted sign outside notes, “Free pop or else,” a funny misphrasing that turns the freebies into some sort of inadvertent threat.

With the bakery’s natural customer base all but gone, times are tough. “It’s kind of a shame,” Sirca said. “You got no business and you try to survive.” He works nearly every day from 10 a.m. to 9 p.m., usually tending the store by himself. The only advertising he does is on a weekly Romanian radio show on WNZK-680 AM. Most of his customers are Romanians who live in the suburbs, or else Poles who have shopped here for imported foods since the days when it was a Polish bakery. A good amount of his business comes from selling fresh pizza dough to local party stores.

Little businesses like Nortown are on the edge of extinction, usually surviving only due to a persistently loyal customer base or else nothing but their owner’s stubborn determination. These places, whose core patrons are mostly elderly people, are in danger of vanishing if new customers don’t discover them and shop there.

A city is made rich and interesting not by national book or restaurant chains like Borders and Starbucks, but by hundreds of small, mom-and-pop businesses that give neighborhoods character and variety, reflecting the city’s origins and diversity, adding up to a rich tapestry that defines a city as what it is. Small places like this made Detroit what it was for years, but as each one slips away, so does another small piece of the city’s heritage and identity.

Nortown Bakery is located at 7531 E. Seven Mile Road. Hours are 10 a.m.- 9 p.m. daily except Sunday. For more information, call (313) 892-0880.