Rogue Columnist

Wartime on the Santa Fe

In March 1943, the photographer Jack Delano made a remarkable journey across northern Arizona on the main line of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway. He was working for the federal Office of War Information, documenting the massive work railroads were doing bringing troops and war materiel to both the European and Pacific theaters. In the process, he gave us images of small-town Arizona stretched along the railroad and U.S. Route 66. For example, above is downtown Flagstaff seen from the old depot looking across "the Mother Road." Flag's population was about 5,000.

Between 1941 and 1944, American railroads carried 83% of the increase in all traffic, along with 91% of all military freight and 98% of military personnel. Pullman put its thousands of sleepers into the effort and built thousands more troop sleepers and kitchen cars. The Santa Fe through northern Arizona, a critical route to the West Coast, saw a 175% spike in freight traffic. More than 1,000 cars a day went through the Albuquerque division headquarters of Winslow, with its 33-track yard and massive roundhouse and shops, along with passenger and troop trains.

The Southern Pacific through southern Arizona, including wartime Phoenix, saw similar challenges. But it didn't have a Jack Delano to document it.

This gallery comes from the Library of Congress. Click on a photo to see a larger image.

Passing a freight train carrying M-3 Lee tanks from the Arsenal of Democracy.

Superstition Vistas

In 1977, when I was working on the ambulance as an EMT-paramedic, I was temporarily exiled from the city and worked for Aids Ambulance (the former Mesa Ambulance Service). This involved rotating to stations in Mesa, Tempe, Chandler, and Apache Junction. At the latter, two 24-hour units were maintained and the crews could expect major trauma calls, even lake rescues, in largely empty country. We proclaimed ourselves the Junction Medics. Superstition Mountain loomed to the east, not unlike the late 1940s photo above.

In those days, we left behind Mesa around Gilbert Road and were enveloped by massive citrus groves. This continued for about 12 miles, broken only by an occasional trailer park. Not much was out here. AJ's population was closing in on 9,000.

We christened Rossmoor Leisure World, a pioneering gated property, "Seizure World" because of the nature of calls from its elderly retired population. Williams Air Force Base sat miles to the south, down two-lane roads crossing farmland. Completion of the freeway was years away, so Main Street in the Maricopa County part of our territory wasn't even named or part of Mesa. It was four-lane U.S. 60, primevally dark at night, no curbs or sidewalks, lethal to pedestrians. Otherwise, it was empty desert all the way to the iconic mountain.

I couldn't imagine it would be anything else.

Fast forward to the 2000s. Mesa had ballooned from 63,000 in 1970 to nearly 400,000, grown all the way to the Pinal County line. The little suburbs I served had grown supersized and merged together into a sprawling conglomeration called the East Valley. The groves and farms were gone. Superstition's slopes were profaned by subdivisions. And all that empty desert was the most coveted piece of land in central Arizona. The boosters called it Superstition Vistas.

The finish line

Carl Muecke illustration

Joe Biden appears to have a commanding lead in the polls. This gives me little comfort. Hillary Clinton held what appeared to be a similar unstoppable advantage four years ago. And although she won the popular vote by 3 million votes, Donald Trump topped the Electoral College.

As I've written before, about 80,000 votes in three Midwestern states gave us this nightmare. It could happen again. And if it does, I don't think the Democrats will simply fold their tents. Both sides are lawyered up and this election might not be settled immediately, barring a Biden landslide.

Trump may refuse to concede or leave. Who knows the mischief he and the Republicans have planned. The lies, vote suppression, and Kremlin interference of 2016 will be on steroids this time. No wonder the Atlantic's Barton Gellman wrote an article entitled "The Election That Could Break America."

My day job, along with writing an article on Arizona's role in the election for CNN Politics, have me slammed today. So I'll leave it for you. Please discuss in the comments section.

 

 

Central through the years

The trouble with Central Avenue is it's not central to anything now." So a real-estate mogul told me in 2001. He was totally bought into endless sprawl at the expense of Phoenix, but he was also wrong. With the metroplex spread from Buckeye to Gold Canyon, Phoenix's most important street is more important and convenient than ever, as has been shown by light rail (WBIYB)  and growing infill.

I've written about Central before. But let's take a photo journey. Click for a larger image.

When it was Center Street, a southward look at Washington in the 1890s. Construction workers are installing water lines.

Here's a view of the Hotel Adams in 1909. It burned down a year later and was replaced by a "fireproof" hotel.

The Center Street, the first across the Salt River. Completed in 1910, the 2,120-foot-long span was claimed to be the longest reinforced concrete bridge in the world.

Commerce in old Phoenix

The McCulloch Brothers, who have left a priceless archive at ASU, were primarily commercial photographers. Their work, which spans from 1884 to 1947, offers a variety of images of business in the young, growing city. Most of this gallery is thanks to them.

You can read about the decades on these earlier history columns: Phoenix at statehood, the twenties, the thirties, the forties, and the fifties. Enjoy and click on the photo for a larger image.

A downtown sidewalk scene circa late 1910s with the Arizona Cigar Co. and the Apache Trail Auto Stage Co.

Washington Street, the city's main commercial drag in 1928. Awnings helped keep pedestrians cool.

Overland Motors at 10 W. Van Buren in the 1920s. These blocks of the city would become the main location of auto dealers.

Phoenix Motor Co., a GM dealership, was at 401 W. Van Buren Street. It's been restored as The Van Buren, a concert venue.

Civil War 2.0

By comparison, 1861 seemed so easy.

The nation was neatly divided sectionally and politically, with compromises over expansion of slavery run out. No large standing army existed. Most Americans saw themselves first as residents of their sovereign states, with the United States of America often taking a plural verb. No wonder Robert E. Lee turned down Lincoln's offer of top command of the Union armies — his "country," Virginia, had seceded.

The break up wasn't that neat. Outside of the fire-breathing secessionists in South Carolina and the Deep South, the decision to leave the Union was agonizing for most states. Virginia lost its northwestern counties which became a state. North Carolina was always ambivalent. Sam Houston opposed it eloquently in Texas. The future Stonewall Jackson, then professor Thomas J. Jackson at Virginia Military Institute, was against it and prayed it would not come. But it did.

We've been in a Cold Civil War for some time — I'd place the start date as the Supreme Court unconstitutionally giving the presidency to George W. Bush in 2000. But as with the hot Civil War, the embers had been crackling for decades. This might be the most important election in American history. But the presidential race should not be this close, given Trump's abundant corruption, incompetence, lies, and treason. We may look back and see that 2016 was our last chance.

I bring this up because...what happens if Biden loses? Or Trump steals the election. Or is defeated and refuses to leave office? These have been the subject of many articles. Hillary Clinton, who won the popular vote by 3 million in 2016 but was deprived of the Electoral College by 80,000 votes in three states, said "Joe Biden should not concede under any circumstances because I think this is going to drag out..."

Miracle Mile

I don't know when the stretch of east McDowell from 10th Street to beyond 16th Street received this nickname. It's certainly not the legendary shopping destination of Chicago. But I do know it was Phoenix's first major retail-commercial artery outside of the downtown central business district. (Grand, Van Buren, and 17th Avenue/Buckeye were mostly motels, restaurants, and "curio" shops for travelers).

The Miracle Mile was special because it had an urban fabric missing from any other part of the city outside, even Midtown and Uptown on Central Avenue. The commercial buildings were densely packed, most right up on the sidewalk. McDowell was only four lanes wide. The result was walkability missing in most parts of a city built for the automobile.

McDowell's businesses continued beyond 16th Street and, going west, to Seventh Avenue. However, the Miracle Mile most exemplified urban authenticity. No wonder efforts are under way to reinvent the stretch. Included is a public art arch. Sadly, they face the headwinds of demolished buildings and a six-lane McDowell which is much more dangerous for pedestrians, especially at night.

A footnote: When I was around nine some friends and I rode our bikes along the mile, then turned around and came back — on the sidewalk but against traffic. I raced to catch up with them when a car pulled out from a side street. I hit the fender and tumbled over the hood, landing on the pavement. The terrified driver picked me up from the asphalt (which you shouldn't do) and carried me to the sidewalk. There an ambulance (Phoenix Ambulance, where I would work a decade later) took me to Good Sam to await my mother and grandmother. I got away with a mammoth bruise on my upper leg.

Come with me on a tour of the historic Miracle Mile (click for a larger image):

Arizona in play

Hope springs eternal. Every election cycle since Bill Clinton carried Arizona in 1996, the narrative has gone like this: The state will change politically as newcomers bring their (more liberal) values. And thanks to Hispanics Arizona is on the cusp (always!) of becoming a purple or even deep blue electorate. The 2016 map above shows how that worked out in the most recent presidential race.

Might it finally happen this year?

Before getting there, a little history. Arizona was a solidly Democratic state until Harry Rosenzweig persuaded Barry Goldwater to run against incumbent Sen. Ernest McFarland in 1952. Political fixer Steve Shadegg switched parties to run Goldwater's campaign — and Barry stunned Mac, the Senate Majority Leader and father of the GI Bill, in a close race.

Shadegg was a talented campaign manager and had a good product: Handsome, authentic, charismatic, sexy, ran with a fast crowd (the real Barry was nothing like he was depicted by the national press). But Mac was dragged down by more than this, more even than changing demographics. The Korean War was still dragging on as a stalemate. Americans who had won World War II were angry over a "police action" that didn't yield victory. Whatever glow Harry Truman attained in recent decades, he was deeply unpopular in 1952 and this hurt Democrats.

Still, it wasn't a sea change. Mac came back to Arizona and became highly successful as governor. And for the next three-plus decades Arizona was a competitive state for both parties. Our longest serving Senator was a Democrat, Carl Hayden.