Rogue Columnist

Christmas in Phoenix

I never dreamed of a white Christmas because I grew up in Phoenix.

We felt disconnected from the world depicted by television and the movies. As a child, I had no idea what snow really looked or felt like. My one experience, when I was four, was seeing flakes coming down. I was so excited that I ran to the side of the house to tell my mother. By that time, they were gone. Not until my thirties would I experience a snowy Christmas.

Growing up, I wasn't fleeing snow or staying in a resort. Christmas in this preternaturally green oasis surrounded by the Sonoran Desert was all I knew. And yet it seemed right and possessed no little sense of enchantment and meaning. After all, Jesus had been born in a desert. In the Phoenix of my youth, going to the Christmas Eve service at Central United Methodist Church and exiting into the chill, dry air and canopy of stars, I felt very close to those shepherds abiding in the field. Every valley shall be exalted.

In the 1960s the luminaria on the sidewalks of Willo were decades away. Willo wasn't even a name. The fancy light shows were to be found in Palmcroft and Alvarado, where more affluent people lived. Even so, most houses in the contiguous neighborhoods that ran from Roosevelt to Thomas and Seventh Avenue to Seventh Street had some sort of lights. We always had a tree in the picture window of our house. My grandmother had her favorite tamale vendor.

The end

I've been writing this blog since 2007 and little has changed. Now, I'm done. The archives will remain open, especially for those interested in Phoenix history. So will the comments section, although substantive and informative posts are most appreciated.

The Arizona Problem, as Soleri aptly named it, remains. Despite a Democratic governor, attorney general, and secretary of state, the Legislature — the most powerful branch of state government likely will remain in Republican hands.

If so, stopping sprawl, enabling cities to chart their own policies, planting real shade trees in the older parts of the city, recovering the garden city of my youth, adequately funding public education, shutting down the charter school and private prison rackets, restoring Amtrak service to Phoenix, and overpowering the Real-Estate Industrial Complex. Forget about it.

And now, Donald Trump — convicted felon — wins the 2024 presidential election. Don't believe for a nanosecond that Trump 2.0 will be a replay of his first term.

Anxiety

Carl Muecke illustration

It seems impossible that we've reached this crossroads. The choice between a disgraced, convicted felon who denies the validity of the 2020 election and incited an insurrection versus a seasoned, if flawed, vice president in one of the most successful administrations in my lifetime. But here we are. And Arizona might represent the tipping point that allows Donald Trump to win the election.

If he does, America's experiment in self-governance will be over. In the future, our "elections" will be similar to those in Russia and China. Anyone who believes we can live through a second Trump presidency and move on is kidding themselves. Trump 2.0, with the lying J.D. Vance (who was no hillbilly but grew up in a middle-class family and attended Yale), will utterly change the nation.

Anxious? I certainly am. And you should be as well.

Constructive actions

I've always been skeptical of "media" attempts to offer solutions. Most of our pressing issues, especially where what Soleri aptly termed the Arizona Problem, can't be solved. But they can be made better. Steve Jobs aptly said that today's axis isn't between left or right, but rather between destructive and constructive.

With that in mind, here are some constructive measures I'd love to see happen in my home state and city.

Maintain and plant more shade trees, hedges, grass, and other cooling elements in central Phoenix and some suburbs. The beautiful view above is of the Encanto-Palmcroft Historic District. People come from out of town and throw down the output of the Arizona Rock Products Association, ripping out "turf" and shade trees, crowing, "We live in a desert!"

Actually, we live in a natural oasis in the actual Salt River Valley — much of what is termed "the Valley" is on basins. That oasis, thanks to the dams and water system created starting in the early 20th century, supported an agricultural empire. Investments in water for the cooling efforts I mention is far better than using it for more sprawl far out on the metropolitan Phoenix fringes.

Harris or autocracy

In a perfect world, when Barack Obama was president he and the Democratic Party would have been building a strong bench of capable younger politicians who could have run for the White House. But we don't live in that world, and for whatever reason it didn't happen. President Biden's decision to step away from the election was courageous but late. His inner circle and first lady Jill Biden should have persuaded him far sooner. And keeping his fading capabilities hidden is deeply troubling.

Nevertheless, Biden was one of the best presidents in my lifetime. He led us out of the pandemic, extricated us (not without blunders) from the Afghanistan war, oversaw a stunning economic comeback, led investments in infrastructure and education. Under the Biden administration, renewable energy is the second largest source of power and climbing. He energized the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau to, among other things, eliminate "junk fees" hidden in many customer bills. His accomplishments are legion and historians — if they exist — will remember him well. Most of all, he believed in our experiment in self-governance and saved us from Trump in 2020.

Now the Democrats have Vice President Kamala Harris and the future of our nation rests in her hands.

Monster

Carl Muecke illustration.

Rogue readers have been imploring me to write again. So I will put my shoulder to the wheel, even though much of this will be repetitive, whether dealing with what Soleri aptly called the Arizona Problem or our national existential crisis.

I hesitate to use the T word, because he and his cult feed on media attention. Whether voters are paying attention is another matter. Many Democrats are panicked by President Biden's debate performance this past week — even though he became much more impressive as the night continued. However, by that time too many viewers had tuned out.

When I was growing up, Arizona was a low-population state with only three congressmen. It didn't matter much in national elections. Now, with an unsustainable population of more than seven million people, Arizona has become a swing state with dangerous possibilities in November. When the totally unqualified former news-reader for the local Fox affiliate comes within a few thousand votes of becoming governor, you know we're in trouble.

The new Dark Age

Jan Van Eyck's The Last Judgment.

When I was a graduate student at Miami University working for my master's and Ph.D. in American history with an emphasis on the Progressive era and Great Depression, an essential book was The Modern Researcher, by Jacques Barzun and Henry Graff. Barzun went on to write another important work entitled, From Dawn to Decadence, 1500 to the Present: 500 Years of Western Cultural Life. 

By decadence, Barzun, a French-born American historian, didn't mean we had degenerated into orgies and widespread louche behavior (too bad). Rather, he argued that the West had run out of ideas. Look at any skyline and you'll see variations of the same International style architecture that has overrun our cities since the end of World War II. But no revival of Art Deco, the pinnacle of architectural achievement in the 1920s and 1930s. Go to the symphony and you'll hear new compositions that only harken back to the atonal music of the early 20th century.

Even pop culture has stagnated. My unified theory is that everything that's bad is getting worse and everything good is at risk, that keeping people stupid allows for every kind of mischief, especially to our democracy.

More than that, we're entering a new Dark Age. The Dark Ages, as every schoolchild once knew, lasted from the fall of the Western Roman Empire until the Renaissance, Reformation and Age of Enlightenment. Our new Dark Age will be different, yet perhaps share some similarities.

The capitol

Arizona never had a state capitol building as such. The charming building at the end of Washington Street topped by a copper rotunda was opened in 1901. It was the territorial capitol. Designed by San Antonio architect James Riely Gordon, it was intended to convey the sense that Arizona was ready for statehood (which happened in 1912).

Gordon wanted a much larger building, with a more prominent rotunda and wings for both houses of the Legislature on each side of the building. Yet problems with funding meant the project had to be cut back in size with the massive segments for the Legislature discarded.

In 1918 and 1938, the building was expanded to the west employing the same architecture as the original territorial capitol. Some of the later construction was done by Del Webb's company. It increased the total square footage from the original 40,000 to a final 123,000.

It was home to the Legislature until 1960, when the current House and Senate buildings were constructed, and the offices of the governor, secretary of state, and attorney general until 1974.

In that year, the Brutalist Executive Tower was built (Brutalist is not a pejorative but rather a style in the architectural vernacular; it still has its champions) which now looms over the original capitol, which has been turned into a museum. The AG's office was consigned to a long, unworkable building on Washington east of the capitol before moving to Central Avenue.